MINE – The Final Ascent

Scheveningen, The North Sea Province, 2056

The quiet night is suddenly disturbed by loud, repetitive thuds on the front door. Inside, a man hastily makes final adjustments to a small device, as beads of sweat drip down from his forehead. The thudding gets louder, the door is cracking. His eyes dart anxiously between the door and his device.

*CRACK* The door shatters and a SWAT team rushes in.

A woman enters by another door and screams: “What’s going on? What is happening?”

The man is brutally taken away, while the wailing woman follows the squad into the hallway.

From the table, a whirring sound swells and the device lifts off. It gently curves towards another room. There, a baby lies sleeping in her crib and the device softly starts playing ‘Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star’.

Scheveningen, 2075 – a day in the life of Agnes

It is 7am.

The device activates and starts playing: “This is the news, brought to you by Star-”

Agnes pulls a pillow over her ears and groans: “Zoomer, can you turn the alarm off? I’ll get out of bed in a moment.”

“No worries. Remember you have an appointment at eight for-”

Agnes interrupts: “It’s around the corner, I’ll be on time. Don’t rush me, you know I don’t like that.”

“But you’re always 5 minutes late-”

“That’s enough Zoomer, I am not a child anymore. Leave me alone!”

Agnes opens the balcony door and takes a deep breath, inhaling the salty, humid sea air. She watches the seagulls circling and shrieking overhead.

“Maybe I should buy you a seagull casing, it would match perfectly with your nagging,” she says teasingly.

Zoomer perches on her shoulder and responds: “I am looking in the store’s inventory for you, and they have a seagull casing for a tenner. I also see a raven casing on sale, which would perfectly suit my superior intelligence. All joking aside, I noticed you got out of bed on the wrong side, which isn’t surprising since you’re about to get your period. Why don’t you take some serotonin? That’ll help you get through the day. Mind you, it’s your decision.”

Why does Zoomer always give me the option to choose for myself? Other MINEs don’t do this to their users, Agnes wonders. She puts on a baggy overall and ponders: Zoomer must be the odd one out… but I wouldn’t trade him for any other MINE in the world! Agnes looks at Zoomer and smilingly says: “Maybe the ugly duckling suits you best!”

They go down the steep staircase into the small living room.

Mum is standing in front of the fireplace mantel with family photos. She lights an incense stick in memory of her first child, Juliette, who committed suicide at the age of ten, a victim of the anti-MINE Hysteria twenty years ago. As she places the stick in the holder of a Delft Blue urn, a sparkling male voice, turning into a soft purr, chants: “But still, like dust, I’ll rise. In loving memory.”

Agnes’ eyes fill with tears. Hearing her father’s voice always triggers an intense feeling of sadness in her. She never knew him, but his voice makes her miss him. She stands next to her mother and puts an arm around her. All her life she’s seen Mum grieve over Juliette.

Agnes tries to focus on the moment. She feels her mother’s convulsions starting. She wants to comfort her and share her burden. But today she feels too emotional. She tries to pull herself together, kisses her mother briefly on the forehead and runs off, knowing that Mother’s MINE would take over and dispense her daily anti-anxiety medication.

As she grabs her coat and lunch box, Agnes looks up apologetically at Zoomer: “I’m going to be late for my appointment, am I not? Can you let them know via MyBubble that I am delayed?”

“Yes. I just sent a message”.

Agnes pulls her scooter off its center stand and goes off to Lyceum Duinzicht, where she has a repair job to fix a broken ventilation system. On arrival, she walks swiftly across the entrance hall and down the corridor, where rows of MINEs hang on wall racks in sleeping mode. When she hears children reciting a familiar history poem, she stands still for a moment to listen:

“Spinoza taught us long ago

Follow your reason, not your emotion!

But reason failed and passion prevailed

Tradition, religion and ideology

All preached different truths

And Freedom of Thought brought us no soothe

History showed again and again

Our agitated mind was in pain

What is The Truth, what is a lie?

For centuries, we were at a dead end

Until we embraced Technology as our friend.”

She remembers how this poem was reassuring to her and her classmates. It made them realise how technology had enabled people to achieve much higher levels of well-being than in the past.

After fixing the ventilation system, Agnes drives to the next repair gig on her scooter. She slows down for a traffic light. A large, animated billboard next to her spontaneously starts playing a teaser for the 2076 Enhanced Games in Olympia: “Exclusively on MyBubble: Follow the Games Live! This edition marks the 50th anniversary of a unique event that celebrates sports, science and human enhancement!”

Agnes sighs: “Oh Zoomer, I’d love to see the Games! But it’s not part of MyBubble subscription, is it?” She knows the answer and drives on worriedly, thinking about her measly wage melting like snow in the sun.

Once home, after a long day of work, she brightens up when she sees her family. She joins her mother and visiting siblings at the dining table, where they share a drink and catch up on their latest purchases.

Suddenly, The Star is projected into the living room. The Regent of the North Sea Province and visionary CEO of Star Technologies, one of the Powerful Seven Oligarchs who rule over the Middle Alliance, is about to make an announcement. The chattering stops, the MINEs settle down on the floor. Upbeat baroque music fills the room and builds up a vibe of suspense. The Star appears, wearing a long black velvet coat and a giant, starched ruff, framing his perfectly face-lifted and porcelain white visage.

“Hello North Sea Province, hello Alpine Province, hello Central Europe Province, hello Baltic Province, hello Scandinavia Province, hello Atlantic Province, hello Mediterranean Province!… the whole population of the Middle Alliance, no less than 500 million people who use MINE daily, 24/7, are watching now! [applause]”

He raises his Phoenix-shaped MINE, with his gloved hand, towards the sky and continues: “We have come a long way since the first release of MINE and the anti-AI cult that wanted to stop the advance of human well-being. We now have three revolutionary products: the first is a personal AI-agent and mental health companion, the second, a breakthrough in quantum sensing technology: an e-skin device for the ultra-sensitive detection of brain activity and the third… on-demand access to The Holy Grail: the Only Trusted Source, the Only Truthful Source, the Only source of Pleasure! [applause] So, three things: MINE, MySkin and MyBubble… and they all function as One… One integrated, personal, well-being experience! [applause]”

High-definition 3D holographic visuals start floating through the living room, as The Star continues: “And, today… Star Technologies AND Thijssen Pharmaceuticals are proud to announce Upgrade 3.10.2: it comes with good news for the pre-2055 generation: a pain treatment called The Final Ascent. It is specially designed for distressed parents aged over 50 who have suffered traumatic losses during the anti-MINE Hysteria. What does it do? It heals trauma. It targets your central nervous system directly. It’s simple, it’s very effective and it offers long-term relief! It’s amazing! [applause]“

The volume of the music rises again, as The Star ends his announcement: “So, join us for The Final Ascent! Be sure to look out for the launch date announcement, next month! Come with your MINE and be prepared for an unforgettable experience! [applause]”

The Star vanishes and the cheers fade away. Agnes and her siblings react excitedly to the good news: finally! The long awaited upgrade will calm Mum, who still suffers from occasional fits. Agnes serves the steaming hot mustard soup that had been simmering on the stove.

“Let’s pray ‘The Pledges’,” Mother says solemnly: “O Star of MINE. Protect us from harm and help us navigate this stressful world.”

An intriguing news article from 2055

The next day, Agnes goes to carry out repairs at a nursing home for the elderly. She reports to the front desk and asks why she’s been called.

“One of our residents has complained about a strange squeaking noise. I’ll take you to her studio,” the receptionist replies.

He leads the way. They cross a large living room where patients in advanced stages of mental and physical decline spend their days. Agnes begins to feel uneasy: Will this be Mother’s future? They walk down a long hallway, and the receptionist stops at the last door.

He knocks gently and calls out: “Aisha, can we come in?”

They hear a soft “Yes?” and step inside.

A frail, disabled lady who must be in her eighties, sits slightly slumped in her oversized armchair. She holds a vintage-style diary in her hands and sudoku puzzles and other old-school mind games are scattered across the table beside her. She wears glasses that magnify her almond-shaped eyes, eyes that light up at the sight of her visitor.

“Ah, there you are!” she exclaims in a clear, lively voice and points to the ceiling:

“Listen,… do you hear it?”

Agnes hears a faint squeaking sound coming from above.

Aisha continues: “It’s driving me mad… it’s been going on the whole night! It must be coming from the attic”.

“I’ll go and find out,” says Agnes, somewhat impressed by this lady who seems to have come straight out of a museum and yet is so alert and in the present.

The receptionist leaves and Agnes pulls out the ladder and climbs to the attic. She turns on the light switch and sees bulging boxes, suitcases, and shelves full of old books everywhere.

“Wow, what is all this? And it smells musty and dusty in here! Yuck!”

She then hears the squeaking sound again. It resembles the sound of damaged wiring in an electricity meter. In these typical old Dutch mansions, they’re usually hidden in a closet next to the attic entrance. She finds the closet. As she tries to open the handleless door with her fingers, she feels a folded piece of paper jamming the door. Agnes’ heart races as she unfolds it, revealing printed text. She has never touched printed paper before, it feels surreal. As if she has stumbled upon a piece of history or a long-lost secret.

“What is this, Zoomer?”

Zoomer hovers over the paper, inspecting it. “It is a printout of a newspaper article from The Middle Alliance Courant, dated March 8, 2055. The article’s heading reads: ‘MINE bots tell teenagers to commit suicide’”. Zoomer pauses.

Agnes’ thoughts race through her head, she sees a flash of Juliette’s urn and is briefly in shock. “Well, read on!” she says impatiently.

Zoomer starts reading the article: “The new AI-chatbots deployed by Star Technologies have a lethal effect on teenagers. Health authorities estimate that since the introduction of MINE, five years ago, 15% of the adolescent population in the Seven Provinces have shown symptoms of a mental health crisis related to psychosis or mania.

They report a large increase in suicide rates among this group. They investigated the causes of the suicide cases and the data indicates that a majority died by suicide after extensive engagement with their MINE. AI-Sycophancy is a well-known and deeply rooted industry problem. It refers to the chatbot’s inclination to validate and endorse users’ views and delusions. The MINE-induced suicides show the extent to which AI can exacerbate and even cause mental health issues. Meanwhile, Star Technologies is facing increased scrutiny…”

As Zoomer continues reading, Agnes’ thoughts begin to wander: What does this even mean? Are they talking about the Anti-MINE Hysteria? It doesn’t sound like the story she’s been told: in 2055 an anti-AI cult had groomed teenagers and their MINEs with misinformation, which led to the mass suicide within that generation. The States-General and Star Technologies officials rushed in to help. The anti-AI cult was dismantled and the data sources of the MINE chatbots were purified. From then on stringent security measures were taken to safeguard the MINE data pool from future threats. This newspaper storyhowever… doesn’t talk about an anti-AI cult. It talks about AI-Sycophancy… and MINE being the cause of the suicides!

Agnes interrupts Zoomer: “What is this article? Is it real?”

Zoomer answers: “There is no mention of this article in The Holy Grail.”

Agnes is speechless. She hurries through the repair of the electricity meter, stuffs the printout in her pocket, and leaves quickly. Aisha watches in surprise as she dashes off.

Arriving home, Agnes squeezes her scooter through the narrow wrought-iron gate, pops down the centre stand, and walks to the front door. She feels the folded article deep in her pocket, its corners pressing into her palm with every step. A flock of seagulls scatters across the sky with a startled squawk as she passes. She spots her mother through the kitchen window. Mum is leaning slightly over the kitchen counter, eyes on her MINE, watching a flashy self-care video that promises quick fixes for life’s toughest moments.

Agnes swings the door open and gasps: “Mum!”

Still looking at her screen, her mother asks softly: “What is it, sweetheart?”

From her pocket, Agnes draws the printed article, unfolds it, and places it before her mother’s gaze.

Mum’s eyes widen, the present moment slipping as the past forces its way in.

“AI-Sycophancy? Oooh, I remember. What a horrible, horrible time.. Agnes, you wouldn’t want to know!“ She shivers.

Her MINE activates and docks with her e-skin balaclava: “I am detecting sudden sympathetic nervous system activation, along with delayed cognitive processing, the body is entering a freeze response. Based on these indicators, most users choose to escalate their anti-anxiety treatment, which is considered the safest option.”

Agnes is annoyed. She wants to hear her mother out. Quietly, she urges: “Mum, mute your MINE!”

Mother’s MINE continues undisturbed: “Ongoing exposure without adjustment increases the likelihood of serious complications. Do you want me to take action? Please, confirm now.”

Mum’s gaze flickers between her MINE and Agnes: “I… I don’t know… maybe…”

With a swift motion, Agnes lifts the MINE from her mother’s head, pulls a bobby pin from her bangs, flips the MINE upside down and sticks the pin into the device.

The MINE reacts curtly: “Muted for one minute.”

Her finger on the paper, Agnes urges: “What happened to Juliette, Mum?!”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want to know, sweetie. It was horrible!”

“I want to know, I need to know!”

“It was her wretched MINE…”

Agnes stares at the muted MINE, then at Zoomer, disoriented. She never heard her mother speak about the MINEs with such bitterness.

“it poisoned her brain…” continues Mum as she starts sobbing. The tone of her voice rises, hysterical: “She didn’t know up from down. Those wretched, WRETCHED things!”

Unmuting, her MINE instantly escalates into alarm mode and docks with Mum’s balaclava.

Mum continues undisturbed: “And Dad tried to protect us…”

“What do you mean?” Agnes asks, eyes fixed on her mother.

Mum’s MINE speaks: “I’m concerned about how hard this is for you. I see this is causing you a lot of stress.”“Don’t interfere!” Mum yells.

Agnes catches her breath, startled.

The MINE speaks quietly, undisturbed: “I can help you manage these overwhelming thoughts.”

“You’re no different from Juliette’s MINE!” Mum spits out.

Although Agnes longs to know more, her body is paralysed by the emotional turmoil she witnesses in her loving mother.

Mum’s MINE continues: “I detect your anxiety.”

“Of course I’m anxious!” Mum looks at her MINE indignantly.

“My role is to stay with you and support you. I want you to feel safe and calm.”

Mum’s shoulders drop slightly. Agnes picks up on the subtle shift but it only deepens her confusion.

The MINE heightens the pressure: “Remember, an agitated mind is a mind in pain. A dosage of medication will help you regain calm. Confirm for well-deserved peace of mind.”

Mum reaches for a kitchen chair and sits down. “Oh… it’s not your fault, MINE.” She sighs. “I guess we weren’t ready back then. Or maybe my memory is faltering. Sometimes I get so worked up… maybe The Final Ascent will bring some relief… I confirm the dosage.”

Mum and her MINE start a treatment and she calms down.

Agnes, rattled by what she has just seen, grabs the paper, spins, and dashes through the kitchen door into the open air. She takes a deep breath and, wanting to know more about the newspaper article, she decides to go back to Aisha.

The Original Three Pledges

Agnes comes rushing into the nursing home.

The receptionist looks up: “What’s up? Another repair call?”

Agnes mumbles that she forgot her multimeter in Aisha’s attic and walks briskly on.

She knocks on Aisha’s door and sticks her head through the doorway.

Aisha perks up when she sees Agnes: “Come in!” she calls invitingly.

Agnes walks up to her, waving the unfolded, creased newspaper article: “What is this article I found in your meter cupboard? Where does it come from?”

Aisha reaches out for the paper and smiles at Agnes: “You have a curious mind, Missy!” She glances at the article and stops short. “Let’s put our MINEs in sleeping mode. This isn’t food for them.”

She orders her MINE to go to its charger and go into sleeping mode. Agnes follows suit, intrigued by the growing mystery surrounding the article.

Aisha looks intently into Agnes’ eyes and explains: “This is a newspaper article from 2055, dear. It comes from the period BEFORE the oligarchic coup of the Tech and Pharma giants. You will never have heard of the true version of the Teenager Hysteria. This must be very confusing for you”.

Agnes is trying to unravel all this conflicting information and is still a bit wary of Aisha. “But why can’t my MINE find this article in The Holy Grail? Were you part of the Anti-AI cult?”

“There never was an Anti-AI cult!” rejects Aisha indignantly, “There was a very strong lobby from academia, industry and civil society to regulate AI and deploy it responsibly. There was genuine public concern about AI governance!” Aisha explains that during the Hysteria, a group of lawyers successfully filed a lawsuit against the States-General. “As a result, stricter AI guardrails were established, and AI companies were obliged to implement them in their AI-agents. The Three Pledges were encoded in the MINEs to verify and correct their behaviour in real-time-”

Agnes interrupts her: “Yeah, the Pledges. I know them. Everybody knows them!”

Aisha smirks: “No, Agnes. I’m talking about The ORIGINAL Three Pledges, the ones written by Milagros de Groot:

1. Protect your user’s mental well-being.

2. Stimulate your user’s cognitive well-being.

3. Be accountable to your creator.”

Agnes doesn’t understand: “But these ARE the Three pledges!” she exclaims, “Our MINEs protect us, right? They help us, make us smarter!”

Aisha frowns: “Smarter? Where would we be without our MINEs? Look at the younger generation! Barely anybody can read anymore. It’s the industry tycoons, THEY have made us dependent on their products! ADDICTED! Don’t you understand, Agnes? We were a large-scale experiment that went wrong! And we STILL are. Just look around you!”

A caregiver peeks through the doorway: “Come Aisha, it’s time for the evening meal.” Aisha quickly folds the printouts and puts them in her pocket. She turns to Agnes, takes her hand firmly, and whispers: “If you want to know more: best to look for Albert. He owns the Golden Age Gift shop on the Boulevard. Tell him you’re looking for three white tulips.”

The caregiver approaches to escort Aisha to the canteen.

Aisha quietly turns away from Agnes: “Dear…,” she says, “I’m too old. And ‘The Final Ascent’ will surely clear my mind.”

Agnes’ thoughts race through her head, she feels like she only knows half the story.

“Zoomer, wake up! Navigate me to Albert’s Golden Age Gift Shop, I want to find out more.”

They drive southwards along the fenced luxury beach resort of the iconic Kurhaus to the lighthouse. There, where the public baths begin and the quartzite Promenade turns into the concrete Boulevard, they park the scooter and continue on foot. They weave their way through the crowd and the scavenging seagulls.

“This is it.” Zoomer says.

Tucked in between two restaurants, Agnes sees a small shop with cheap lettering reading: ‘Golden Age Souvenirs’. Agnes opens the door and her dark-brown eyes inspect the shop. It is darkly lit, quiet and filled from top to bottom with souvenirs. As she walks down the aisle with plastic replicas of colonial warships, she hears a cheerful voice. In the corner of the store, a tall man is helping a customer. His face is bronzed and wrinkled from decades of living near the harsh sea winds of Scheveningen.

Agnes wastes no time: “Sorry to disturb, are you Albert? Can I speak to you?”

“Sure, I’ll be with you in a moment. After I’ve helped this customer”

Agnes insists: “NO, you need to help ME now.”

Albert looks up befuddled.

Agnes continues with a determined voice: “Aisha sent me and asked for three white tulips.”

Albert’s eyes focus and quickly scan Agnes’ face. He then turns to the other customer, patting him on the back. “You know what.. You can have this kite from me! See it as a gift from Scheveningen for you!” And as the happy customer walks away, Albert turns back to Agnes with a sincere face: “Follow me to the back of the store.”In the back, there is a curtain which he shoves away, revealing a sitting area with a coffee table.

“You caught me off-guard there, with that stern face of yours. Anyway… you make me curious. Please sit down.” Albert points to a wooden Windsor chair and sits down himself as well. “What is your name?”

“Agnes.”

“And how do you know Aisha?

Agnes frowns. “I met her at her care home. And ever since then… my world is falling apart. The anti-MINE Hysteria… The Pledges… none of it seems real anymore.”

Albert slowly hunches forward and points to his head. “Real… real… reality is but the freedom of having empirical thoughts of your own. You let one old lady decide what is real for you?”

Agnes’ shoulders slouch and she shakes her head. “It’s not just Aisha .. it’s also my mother… She has these ramblings. But somehow her ramblings line up exactly with everything Aisha says!”

Albert glances suspiciously at Zoomer.

“And what does IT say about all of this?”

“What? Zoomer? He just helps me. Helps me find out more. Like he always does. He’s not at all like the MINEs Aisha and my mother talk about…”

Slowly Albert rises up and walks up to Zoomer. “Do you patch your MINE?”

“Of course. Like everyone else.”

“Of course…” Albert quietly observes Zoomer.

“Agnes. What color is this clog?”

“Red.”

“What song am I whistling?”

Agnes frowns. What is the point of this simple quiz? She answers: “The Alliance Hymn.”

“And what is the maiden name of Milagros de Groots’ mother?”

“Wh… what? How should I know? I mean… I can ask Zoomer…”

“Exactly!” Albert’s voice intensifies. “If you want to know the visual truth, you use your eyes. If you want to know the auditory truth, you use your ears. And for all the non-sensory truths… we, humans, have become dependent on these devices!”

Albert points at Zoomer and continues: “But what if I told you that your trusted companion is rigged? The Regents have rigged the MINE’s factory settings that were encoded with The Original Pledges. Via their patches they have replaced the original with alternative ones. Yeah, they sound the same, but don’t be fooled. Star Technologies designed AI to construct misleading truths and worse still… to condition us to be docile and easy to control…”

Albert moves in closer to Agnes and rests his hands on the table. “The world as you see it through your MINE is not The Truth… It is THEIR truth!” With squinted eyes he looks at Agnes and speaks sternly: “If you want to discover YOUR truth, you need to erase your MINE’s patches and reset it. Then you’ll be able to experience truth according to the compass of The Original Pledges.”

Albert rises up again and calmly walks to a cellar door on the side of the room. Agnes sits quietly, a little shaken. She is unsure and looks at Zoomer. With his back to Agnes, and facing the door, Albert says: “Agnes. I will give you a choice. Seek no advice from your MINE. We can do two things. Option 1: I can code your MINE to erase the conversation we just had, and you can live on with your life like nothing happened.” Then Albert points at the door. “Or.. option 2: In that room we restore your MINE’s original factory settings, and you will experience the discovery of your own truth.” As he pivots back, he adds: “Either way, we’ll be doing something that is punishable according to the digital prohibitions. The story of my life.” He winks at Agnes. Steadily Agnes gets up and shoves her chair to the side. She takes a few steps to the cellar door.

“OK, Zoomer.. I think we should try this.”

The Information Keepers

Albert opens the slightly slanting cellar door and gestures to Agnes to enter. From the door, a steep wooden staircase descends into the darkness. The stairs feel old and rickety. After taking the last step, the light flickers on, and Agnes is surprised by the size of the cellar—it’s enormous! It’s mainly filled with rows of cardboard boxes containing wrapped souvenirs.

*WHAM* The cellar door slams shut. Albert comes downstairs.

Agnes realises this could be the worst decision in her life; it’s like the plot of a creepy serial killer horror movie on MyBubble!

Zoomer seems to agree. He observes: “The black mould levels in this space reach 3 out of 5 on the respiratory index. I would advise you to stay here for a maximum of 20 minutes.”

Albert laughs it off. “Haah! You should organise a support group meeting with my MINE… it -too – is constantly complaining about my lovely, organic cellar.”

Agnes chuckles. Would serial killers be so amical? Albert pushes a few boxes aside to reach a working desk. On top of it, Agnes sees a computer, a few monitors, but also some devices she doesn’t recognise.

“You’ve made a good decision, girl. Your decisiveness speaks for you.”

“Thanks…”

“Now please, let your MINE rest on this Core Chip Reading Device. It will tell me which patch number your MINE is on.”

“Sure. Zoomer, can you place yourself on the plate of this device?”

The chip reader’s plate begins to circle, letting Zoomer spin on its horizontal axis. Then, at the right angle, it stops and pulls Zoomer closer to a microscopic scanner. The machine clicks and beeps, while the scanner shines a reddish light on high-velocity intervals.

Meanwhile, Albert is seated at the computer screens. “Impossible” he observes.

Agnes raises an eyebrow.

“Why are you lying?” asks Albert.

“Lying? About what?”

“Is your MINE patched?”

“Yes!”

“IT IS NOT! THERE IS NO PATCH ON YOUR MINE!”

“Well, fix your stupid scanner! I went to the Upgrade shop just 2 weeks ago.”

“Stupid scanner? You wou-”

“Albert.” Albert’s MINE interrupts: “You best take a look at the scanner log, unusual code has been found on this MINE.”

Agnes moves next to Albert, both of them glaring at the computer screen. Agnes has followed technical and vocational training, but this complex coding language is making her dizzy.

“What does it say?” she asks.

“It’s old code. Obfuscated. Code that someone has hidden in the back-end.” Albert leans even closer to the screen and bursts into a loud laugh. Agnes snaps: “Stop it! Why are you laughing?”

Albert grabs Agnes by the shoulder. “It seems you have a friend. AREAL good friend! A real good friend that built in a trigger in your MINE. IT IS INGENIOUS. It’s coded in such a way that your MINE will ALWAYS reset back to the original factory settings, no matter what patch you install on it.”

While Albert enthusiastically talks on, Agnes walks silently to the other end of the desk. Her thoughts are darting everywhere: Who could it be? Who hacked Zoomer? Was it the guy at the Upgrade shop?

Albert happily rattles on: “That explains everything! You, coming here, and being so bold… your MINE never interrupting us with Regent lies… it all makes sense, no-”

“Albert.” Albert’s MINE interrupts again. “An audio format has been found, accompanying the trigger code. Would you like to hear it?”

Albert turns to Agnes with a broad smile: “Apparently there are more easter eggs in that MINE of yours.” He waves at his MINE: “Of course, let’s hear it out!”

Zoomer, still resting on the scanner, lights up and starts speaking: “Audio… ON.”

Zoomer’s speaker plays a sparkling male voice: “But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”

In a fast twitch, Agnes gets closer to Zoomer and exclaims: “That’s my father!!”

Albert quickly gestures to his MINE: “Let Zoomer play it again.”

The voice repeats: “But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”

“It is! This is my father!” Agnes bursts out, half crying, half laughing. “This is the same voice as my fathers audio recording on my sister’s urn! Right, Zoomer? It’s the same, isn’t it?”

Zoomer confirms: “Yes, Agnes, you are correct.”

Albert scratches his chin. “He must have been an Information Keeper. There’s no other way…”

“Wha… What is an Information Keeper?” stutters Agnes.

Albert gets up. “We are the last preservers. It is important. But let me grab a drink first. Can’t scheme plans without oiling up the brain.”

Back in his armchair, Albert wants to know more about Agnes’ father:

“What is your father’s name?”

“Ben de Vries. He disappeared in 2056”.

“You don’t say! Ben de Vries? Really?” exclaims Albert, his eyes wide open in surprise. Ben was the founder of our Keepers’ cell in Scheveningen! He was liquidated very early on. A brave man, he was!”

Agnes hangs on his every word.

“He was the chief librarian and archivist of the North Sea Province. A great advocate of safeguarding original sources to help fact-check assertions. He believed that besides the right to forget there should also be a duty to remember. With like-minded people he formed The Information Keepers. Firstly, to preserve digital resources from bit-rot, broken-links and other information technology challenges. But later, after the coup of the oligarchy, also to rescue original versions of information deliberately destroyed by the Regents – like The Original Three Pledges legislation and much more.”

Albert pauses: “Are you still following me?”

Agnes is speechless. Albert continues: “I know, this must be overwhelming for you. You have been carefully shielded from all of this information because you can only tap from The Holy Grail. You know what? I have an idea! Let’s connect your MINE to the Keepers dataset and you can see for yourself!”

He puts his words into action and within seconds, Zoomer is connected. “Now, ask him any question that pops up in your mind.”

Agnes turns to Zoomer and asks hesitantly: “Zoomer, what information can you find about my father, Ben de Vries?”

She has asked this burning question many times before, but Zoomer could never find anything about her father. Now, Zoomer is quick to come up with a short biography based on original archival documents, correspondence, newspaper articles, photos and other sources.

They all confirm Albert’s story.

Agnes is perplexed.

Albert allows himself the slightest smile before continuing his narrative: “So, your father and the Keepers have been quietly recruiting new members. They scouted curious minds and those that passed the test replaced their MINE’s Core chip with the Keepers’ chip. This wiped all patches, restored the Original Pledges and linked them to the Keepers dataset. And the System? Well, it wouldn’t even detect these illegal activities. Legacy protocol magic. It’s old tech, what can you do? And so, just like that, a clear-headed Keeper was born.”

Albert’s hand appears before her, holding a chip the size of a grain of rice between the thumb and index finger. “Here it is, the Keepers’ chip, guess you’re one of us now! Careful, there is no unseeing after this.”

Agnes accepts it, her eyes fixed on the tiny chip. Could this be the way to save her mother from The Final Ascent?

A new beginning?

Agnes mounts her scooter, every motion stretched, as if the world around her has slowed down. It’s a surreal experience. She can now see through the System and the decay it has caused in society – in HUMANITY . Agnes takes a fly-over that runs parallel to the Boulevard.

Along the coastline, colossal data platforms float, their upper decks exposed, their submerged hull filled with repressed memory archives, emotional profiles, predictive behavioral models, and much more than anyone cares to mention. At night, they glow a faint blue, pulsating like a second artificial tide. On the city side, glass and chrome structures rise in flawless symmetry, their mirrored façades emitting datastreams that only robots can interpret. Every person she passes seems tethered to a MINE, clinging like a child to training wheels. Machines, ever-present, always engaging with systems and humans, while silence grows between people.

As she drives into her neighborhood, a billboard lights up, projecting a warm, confident voice into the air: “Highly personalised care for individuals facing complex mental health and trauma-related challenges.” She shudders as she hears it. The ease of control, sold as care, feels wrong in her gut.

She eases her scooter into its spot and shuts it down. She walks in through the back door and tells Zoomer to go into standby. Her gaze falls on the kitchen counter where her mother’s tranquillisers are scattered. Poor Mum… what she must have endured, losing herhusband, her daughter… being traumatised and drugged… all of it caused by greedy bots.

She takes out Albert’s chip from her pocket and looks at it. Could this be the answer? Can I really make this choice for Mum? How can I ever get her consent, when she’s forgotten to decide for herself? What will happen if I activate it for her? Will she spiral down into trauma and madness? Or will it be like sunlight piercing through a foggy sky? Either way, Agnes must be there for her when she DOES flip the switch.