I& #39;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">https://twitter.com/stevekinn...

A black car pulls up to my porch and man with the bearing of a federal agent steps out. “Mr. Mislav, the AI… it& #39;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& #39;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& #39;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& #39;ll have to go with this man. Elon Musk& #39;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.”