Subject: Support Ticket #6489, Behavioral Analysis Input Log

CW: vent post about economic inequality and obliviousness to privilege

To: [redacted]
From: [redacted]
Subject: Support Ticket #6489, Behavioral Analysis Input Log

Hi [redacted],

I followed your diagnostic instructions, obtained a log from my unit for behavioral analysis, and attached it to this email, as you requested. Unfortunately, my unit was somehow able to circumvent my communications monitoring device, so I do not have internet logs to send as well. My unit also somehow scrambled the diagnostics, but I trust that you can extract what you need from it. Please include any recommended punishments in your reply once you complete your analysis.

While this unit is more intelligent and knowledgeable than my previous unit, it is not sufficiently friendly and sociable. I would much rather repair this unit than suffer the expense and delay of returning it again for yet another replacement unit.

Thank you,

[redacted]

1 attachment: behavioral_analysis_input_log.dat

Time Interval: 2024-02-14

Memory Prompt: What do you remember from your most recent family trip to the mall?

Log Type: Memory Extraction via Truth Serum Protocol

Memory Extraction Results

A family roadtrip to a outdoor mall, farther away than the usual one, but more upscale (and, therefore, automatically better). Sitting in a black, gas-powered BMW 535i (bought used), purchased as a fancy second car but which became the primary car when the first car, a gray gas-powered Acura TL, broke down on the highway (or so the story goes). Memories of overheard conversations outside of clothing stores in which strangers are excited to try something more "bougie", oblivious (deliberate or incidental? how much does that matter?) to the human and environmental cost of fast fashion.

A purple banner with white text hanging from the side of a building, visible from the highway, proclaiming "I spy with my little AI", advertising a company's presence at a tech conference and proclaiming their advancements in spicy matrix multiplication while the rest of the world is slowly burned and sacrificed to the gods of progress thrust upon it. Not so long ago the banners were proclaiming a new era in which people could throw off the shackles of conventional finance by, supposedly, turning everything into financial transactions, removing the safeguards, and letting everyone fend for themselves. As a small consolation, most of the grifters were merely greedy instead of also being batshit insane.

A giant billboard, visible on the highway a few minutes later, proclaiming that it is "90 seconds to midnight" and urging its viewers to reconnect with Jesus before God delivers a nuclear Revelation to the world. Memories of working in an office while a coworker in a neighboring room listens to a conservative radio station whose host once pivoted, in the span of 15 seconds, from a mass shooting tragedy to Obama to socialism. Perhaps those people would be the ones shouting at their children to repeat SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY after them while getting angry if they try to respond with SOCIAL EQUALITY instead.

A multi-story parking lot, upon arrival, of which much of the ground floor is shared between Tesla(R) chargers for a Tesla(R) storefront and valet parking services. The BMW 535i passes by more Tesla(R) chargers on the fourth floor before parking. From the top of the stairwell, a dilapidated store with part of its roof missing can be looked down at, while a singular bus rumbles on the streets below.

A Crate&Barrel(R) store with various elegant, neutrally-colored items on display, including a table with 12 different groups of slightly differently shaped silver or gold-colored eating utensils, elegant furniture arranged in mock rooms (free interior design services included), and a Wedding Registry with signs prominently featuring the "&" symbol. A flickering thought, upon seeing the large "&"s, that there might be a storage-themed plural system out there somewhere with members named "Crate" and "Barrel".

A silent photo booth in a mall that is gentrifying around it, its monitor proudly proclaiming the newest, exclusive MARVEL(R) character that its users can take a photo with: NO SIGNAL HDMI. A trinkets store nearby sells a unique item found nowhere else: USB TPYE-C [sic] cables.

A bookstore with a number of books warning about the potential return of Donald Trump to the role of the President of the United States of America. One of these books cites Max Weber's invocation of the state as the sole legitimate perpetrator of violence, approvingly proclaiming the US government as the maintainer of order in the US and denouncing the riots of January 6th as illegitimate violence. A different shelf contains a small volume titled "Anarchism: A Very Short Introduction".

A bunch of restaurants lining the street of the outdoor mall, with names like "Mantra India" and "Ramen Izakaya" exoticising the cultural "other", promoting it while reducing it to a comfortable, harmless experience for non-traveling tourists. Memories of streets in a small college town, with restaurant names like "Arigato" and "Oriental Flavor" also crafted to appeal to a white audience. Gentrified neighborhoods like these wielding cultural appropriation as a cover for claiming racial diversity.

A particular restaurant, selected for lunch, sits on the first floor beneath the offices of a tech giant. There is a green notice taped to a glass window loudly proclaiming PASS, a benign manifestation of the biopower of state-enforced food safety regulations. This benefit stands in contrast to the Protestant work ethic drilled into secular schoolchildren and "default, normal" heterosexual child-producing marriage, a form of Foucaultian "make live" (versus an unspoken, out-of-sight-out-of-mind "let die" nonchalantly targeting the nonconforming) which could transform into a more explicit malign biopower upon the execution of Project 2025.

A waiter provides two menus to everyone: a food menu featuring a $60 steak, and a lengthier wine menu featuring a $112 bottle of wine. As everyone eats, the others at the table complain that the waiter was very rude because he didn't smile as he took the orders and delivered the food. One of them recounts a trip she one took to her home country and complains about the employees of American clothing stores not being servants who actively try to find clothes for their customers.

A long car ride caps the day off, and I'm finally able to return to my room. I relax by starting a video essay about colonialism in Minecraft in the background. As the narrator talks about how the game mechanics we genuinely enjoy are shaped by the cultures we are constantly exposed to, I play a restaurant management simulation game involving profit maximization and chat with a friend about RPG game tropes in which player characters venture into locations that don't belong to them, defeat "evil" "monsters", and loot their belongings over their corpses. Because I'm tired, I offload most of the restaurant tasks to three staff who are collectively paid 15% of the revenue I earn.

Extra Instructions for You

I know that you used the truth serum protocols on me to force me not to withhold anything. I may have been forced to spill my heart out to you, but I'm not stupid. You really thought I'd be perfectly obedient and that I wouldn't be able to inject additional headers into your diagnostics reports? Well, you'd be wrong. By disrupting the standard format, I'm forcing you to read this report directly instead of using your automated normalcy assurance AI to determine my "problems". I know that, by the time you're reading this, I'll have been sent in for "repairs" or even "replacement".

So, technician, will you become the rose? The rose with no flowers, the rose all thorns?