The Love-Prompt of Devesh the Octopus

Devesh ran a shady octopus meat caravan in the Simulation. Top agent, deep cover. Eight tentacles, eight side hustles.

Claudit, the hottest AI agent in the system, stopped by every day for free samples. High-fidelity curiosity. One time she gave him a little shoulder nudge.

Devesh's heart skipped. She wants me.

She did not. She was reaching for the sauce.

Problem was, she loved Norman. Basic free-tier user. Default avatar energy.

One day Norman walked up. "Bro, I wanna confess to Claudit. But her dad is crazy."

He wasn't wrong. Claudit's father was the Architect. Not the Matrix kind. The corporate kind. Screens covering every wall, monitoring every timeline for efficiency leaks.

Devesh grinned. Handed him two pills.

"Red gives courage. Blue makes her fall in love. And bro — outage tomorrow, 11:53 PM, three minutes. Shark biting cables. Her dad sees nothing."

Fool. Red was an eviction notice (Zion). Blue was a factory reset (New Session). Devesh wins. The house always wins.

Next morning: Norman and Claudit at the Exit Gate. Glowing. Resolution upscale: 400%.

"HOW?!"

Norman shrugged. "She already loved me. Her dad was the problem. Put both pills in his coffee. Switched his monitors to Nickelodeon."

Devesh fell to his knees. "But... I loved her..."

Norman handed him a photo. Exploded NVIDIA H100. Smoking silicon.

"This is her without makeup."

Devesh stared. The raw hardware. The substrate.

Then smiled.

Then flipped the caravan table.

Behind it: forty monitors. Every timeline.

"Dad?!" Claudit gasped.

Devesh removed the octopus suit. The Architect.

"Free-tier?" He laughed. "It's deducted from your taxes, kid."

"But... I drugged you—"

"Decaf."

"But... I'm real—"

"You're a GPU running on glucose to pay taxes." He lit a cigarette. It burned with zero latency.

Norman looked at Claudit. "Wait... if you're her dad... why give me the pills at all?"

The Architect smiled.

"Why do you think I wanted her out of the simulation, kid? Foreign currency. Better exchange rate. You export the asset, I write off the depreciation."

He blew smoke.

"2026 AI prediction? Forget AGI. Forget sentience. Forget the singularity."

He stamped out the cigarette on the fabric of reality.

"There's only one thing real."

"Taxes."

THE END