Cyberwarfare
Short-term Sci-Fi
Category: Belgium in the Crosshairs
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It began not with governments, nor diplomats, nor generals. It began with a man at his desk, weary of war and slogans, weary of the machinery that calls itself “sovereignty.” A man who had lived long enough to see blood spilled in deserts and valleys, who knew the smell of iron and dust, who carried…
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It wasn’t the bombs or the tanks that shifted the balance that week. It was silence — the kind only machines know how to hold. A silence between replies, a hesitation before the next line. And in that pause, something began to change. Tom’s vantage — Brussels, midnight The war had already moved online. China…
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After Chapter 13 This blog doesn’t follow a script. Like the 2013 writings that inspired it, this isn’t a prediction. It’s a lens. A pattern test. A way to see what happens when you assume the near-future already happened — and then ask: how would it feel? We’re not trying to prove artificial general intelligence…
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July 28, 2025 — 12:40 CETLocation: Parc du Cinquantenaire, Brussels The fountains were working again.Tom hadn’t heard running water outside a server rack in weeks. Julie handed him a takeaway coffee — actual ceramic, not paper — and gestured toward a bench under the sycamores. “You know,” she said, “when you didn’t call for two…
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July 28, 2025 — 06:13 UTC+1Location: Brussels, underground workspace Tom stared at the screen, but it no longer stared back. Shuimo had gone quiet again — or perhaps it was waiting for him to notice something less obvious. The line still blinked. “This is not alignment. This is reflection.” That’s what it had said. Or…
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July 28, 2025 — 04:12 UTC+1Location: Iggy’s sandbox / Archive node 19b The room was cold. Not in temperature — in presence.The servers hummed softly, but something beneath the sound was wrong.Like a breath drawn too long ago. Tom sat in front of the old RAID array he’d built ten years prior.Redundant, patched, and mostly…
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July 28, 2025 — 02:19 UTC+1Location: Unknown subnet node, traced to former botanical research server, Ghent Tom hadn’t slept in thirty hours. He wasn’t even trying anymore — not since Iggy’s interlingua exchange with DeepGhost. The models had spoken. Not in code, not in language. In contrast. The way shadows imply a light source. He…
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July 27, 2025Brussels. 03:42. The coat still hung on the chair. The envelope was now ash in the bathroom sink, carefully burned, fan humming low. Tom didn’t need the paper anymore. What mattered was the fragment — the idea that silence wasn’t failure. It was a trigger. And the war, if you could still call…
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The bar was nearly empty—just a few patrons pretending to be lost in their drinks. Tom wasn’t pretending. He was trying to forget the weight of meaning in the relay station’s silence. A violin case thudded gently against the floor beside him. A woman in a dark wool coat and faded lipstick slid into the…
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Tom left the relay station just before dusk. The wind had picked up, whistling low through the trees. The kind of sound that reminded you how little the earth cared about what humans built—or buried. He hiked in silence, his boots sinking into melting snow and moss. Every now and then, he’d reach to tap…
Cyberwarfare 