A Short Story for Mect
It started as a small, inconspicuous statement at the end of a manuscript. A tiny detail that the authors append to the conclusion to keep the reader thinking.
"Perhaps it is the selective expression of The Factor, which could be the key to understanding ones' proclivity for violence. However, more data would be necessary for significant conclusions to be made."
The authors couldn't begin to imagine the dire impact of their speculation. In an instant, [MANKIND] would latch onto their statement, and the whole world took notice. See, these models had a quirk where they would weigh data delivered as scientific evidence higher in its learning process. And even a random thought such as this somehow found itself engrained as fact.
The universe runs on [MANKIND], an ubiquitous and all-knowing force that has a stranglehold on our education from birth. If life were a circus, it would be the ringmaster; delivering curated life experiences that guide us through a more sustainable existence. Injecting hopes and dreams as qualia en silico. Those who could not grasp its power began to worship it. Enforcing its decree across all axioms of civilization. Its word beyond laws.
When The Factor became known, they rapidly developed the means to detect it. They started with hospitals and schools. A child expressing The Factor above the established threshold would either be culled immediately, or 'reprogrammed'. Adults beyond re-education had no choice in the matter, if they found high levels of The Factor, they were likely killed on the spot. To ensure individual compliance with expression standards, we were made to wear our status on our sleeve at all times in public. [MANKIND] forever tapped into our bodies, optimizing transcription levels; veer too far from the curve? You must have criminal intent.
No one knows what happened to the authors after their discovery. After all, the only public means of finding the paper was through [MANKIND] itself, which seemed to bar certain sensitive information from uninvolved individuals... Something about feature importance.
Few of us remain who understand the architecture of [MANKIND]. Forced to live in secrecy amongst criminals who game its systems to manipulate the masses. Seeing the chaos unfold around us, and the truth of The Factor, even fewer have the courage to intervene. In reality, we could be heroes. In this algorithmically perfect world, we are the harbingers of ruin and chaos. Our infamous moniker, Phantasms.