"These Hallows And Rivers" (The Scary Tapes)

SPEAKER_1 (0:01)

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Bob Muyskens (0:24)

Not Dr. Bob Muyskens here to tell you that you can buy The Scary Tapes anthology right now as an ebook. As an ebook. I will say we're gonna be selling the ebook as well as a hardcover printed paper book. The hardcover book is just not quite ready. Getting all of the typesetting, getting through the editing, getting it submitted, getting it approved. The whole process is taking a minute. We will tell you the moment that it's available. And it will be available, I believe, in the same place. Go to realgoodai.org/anthology.

Because all five of the winning stories, as well as 10 additional sort of runner up stories are included in the Scary Tapes anthology, as well as a little bonus Easter egg from Mandy. If you want a little bonus content, you have no idea what's coming. Mandy has a thing in there as well. Sort of an origins of this, the idea of this competition kind of thing should be pretty interesting. But check it out right now. The link should be in the description, but also just go to realgoodai.org/anthology.

That's R-E-A-L-G-O-O-D-A-I dot O-R-G slash A-N-T-H-O-L-O-G-Y.

The hardcover is coming. We will tell you when it's available. Just not, it just didn't line up. It's killing me, but that's okay. So thank you so much for listening to this brief advertisement and enjoy today's Scary Tape.

Mark Fischbach (1:49)

Imagine a liminal space of smoke and algorithms between the real and the virtual.

A warning, the danger of unchecked AI, the darkness of the black box. We can illuminate the way, armed with the Scary Tapes.

Bob Muyskens (2:12)

Original music by Dr. Eric Bell, Violin performance by Lois Bell.

Fair warning, Scary Tapes are, in fact, scary. Check the description for a complete list of trigger warnings if you have any concerns about content that may appear in this episode.

Mark Fischbach (2:32)

For Brother Harold, you made me realize what kind of writer and person I wanted to be.

These Hallows And Rivers by Violet J. Williams.

In contemporary interior design, at least 85% of furnishing is light. The truest windows stretch from floor to ceiling, the smartest walls are white and pure, and any tactful sofa or armoire knows better than to draw too much attention to itself. That's the ideal.

But despite being the richest and most powerful person on earth, Benjamin Sahu could only achieve 15% of it. This frustrated him greatly, no matter how many agents ran the numbers and the most aesthetically optimal arrangement of his possessions, his home would always fall short of being the modern man's exemplar sanctuary. See, Benjamin's home, however large, had never been touched by the light of the sun. He lived 50 meters underground and had not seen the surface for six years and nine months.

That was necessary for two reasons. Reason one was security. Epiphany's value in user metrics had grown exponentially in their first few years, naturally leading less fortunate artificial intelligence corporations to seek out their secrets with covetous fingers. The most optimal solution was hiding Epiphany's center of operations off-grid. After siphoning plenty of hush money to the state of Texas, they were allowed to set up shop in a place where their business strategies and CEO were safe from digital spies and physical tormentors. Reason two was the fact that Epiphany's CEO, Benjamin, simply never found the time to take that long elevator ride up to the surface. Even if he did, what would be the reason? Down in the bunker, he had his agents. And as Benjamin wished it, his agents would bring the world to him. On Monday morning at 9, the core analytics agents delivered their report in the main conference room. Benjamin would wake only 20 minutes before and unstick himself from Maria's rubbery, too smooth skin. He'd remind himself that feature needed work, only to forget to bring it up each time he met with the robotics agents on Wednesdays. On this Monday morning, Benjamin nudged himself through the conference room door backwards, whole week toast in one hand and coffee mug in the other. The belt of his silk robe dragged on one floor at the end. He slipped into the only seat in the room and sprinkled crumbs on the empty conference table as he ate.