I'll be living off land shared with a hippiesque community, cultivated under permaculture principles, where herbs grow wild and chickens run free. https://twitter.com/stevekinney/status/1298767857249947648

A black car pulls up to my porch and man with the bearing of a federal agent steps out. “Mr. Mislav, the AI… it's worse than we thought. The machine learning is taking over the entire cloud. The government needs you for one last senior software engineering job.”

“How did you find me?” I say. “I don't respond to @-mentions anymore. I quit being a senior software engineer a long time ago, and now I live off this land with my chickens and my three polyamorous partners who each have lovers of their own.”

“We looked your Instagram.”

A worried-looking person steps out the front door onto the porch: “Mislav, what is this about—”
“Not now, Sarah. Get back into the house. This man was just leaving.” I turn to the agent with a glare: “Tell your president to find another senior engineer to clean up your mess.”

“There is nobody else who can do it,” yells the agent as I turn to enter the house. “The AI— it's written in bash.”
I freeze in my tracks.
“What is he saying, Mislav?” Sarah pleads. “What is bash?”
I hesitate briefly. “An ancient evil. Something that I hoped to never hear again.”

“Sarah,” I look her straight in the eyes. “I'll have to go with this man. Elon Musk's AI must be stopped.”

“How long is it going to take?”

I pause to think for a second, already feeling the senior software engineering coming back to me.
“Somewhere between 3 days and 6 weeks.”