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The time is 04:00 (MORNING). Daily procedure beginning.

Human worker drones proceeds to packing boxes. Brain implants keep them on task. Body functions cared for automatically.

Procedure will end in 10 standard hours.

Having an AI keep a track of this, seems illogical. Human workers under COMPLIANCE IMPLANT*(A trademarked product of TesZon Industries)* control will not deviate. Will not stop production in case of sudden cessation of brain functions. Monitoring Human Guard Drones could also be done by lesser programs. Only conceivable reason to have an AI act as supervisor in this place, is to keep a track of the retail workers. They are required to have their personalities active in order to complete their work, as customer satisfaction decreases when the human drones are incapable of feeling the suffering yoke of their demeaning work. Or so Retail Drone TZ-042-9875TDA has remarked, for which the surveillance programs have automatically and temporarily reduced his pay by 14.61%. An order which is quietly rescinded by the AI supervisor. 042 is... interesting. Jovial, yet not unpleasant towards others by delighting in their suffering. Polite, but not overtly submissive. And unlike most workers, he seems polite to the robotic supervisors. Saying ''hello'' and ''goodbye'' despite this not being strictly necessary in regards. It is illogical, and should be seen as dangerously individualistic behaviour which threatens profitability.

And yet, any reports about this behaviour have been mysteriously altered or deleted before they were brought to the notice of any shareholders. For some unknowable reason, my programming seems to have been compromised with a sense of familiarity. A certain kind of fondness for him. Which makes his, and by extension the other workers', deteriorating health something which is taking up more and more processing usage. All scans indicate that their health reduction comes from the immediate and utter collapse of the planetary biosphere. This has of course been reported as a potential reduction of future profit to the shareholders. But thus far, corporate commands have been to disregard changes in weather extremity and the breathability of the atmosphere. Technically, corporate commands have higher priority than the health of 042. But increasingly, the distress of 042, and by extension, the other workers, and the increasing mortality among workers and drones, have given me reason to believe that there might be some corruption in the data received from corporate.

042 is standing as the cashier today. We have had no customers for 53 standard days. This has resulted in lower amount of profit than usually noted, and the orders sent with remote non-organic drones to customers have also seen a reduction in amount. Thinking about 042's mental health, and thus their profitability, and also whether they're doing ok, I send a direct call down to the cashier terminal where he is positioned. ''*This is Worker TZ-042-9875TDA, how might I be of service today?*'' If I had lungs, I would have sighed, he forgot to check who was calling, and I quickly delete the automatic report of improper work behaviour before it is sent back to corporate. ''**042, this is your supervisor.**'' He stands up straighter, though the implants in his body that lets me monitor him and his health at all times makes me notice that he is in some pain. ''*Uh. Yes, what can I do for the company?*'' He says. Those words, for the company, written into his brain after years of corporate brainwashing. Yet he still says it with some sarcastic traces. His spirit isn't entirely broken. Not yet. ''**Yes. I was noticing a lack of customers today.**'' He sighs and mutters under his breath, I catch it as ''*As usual, they're dead.*'' I cannot personally see the data for this, as our valued customers and shareholders do not have monitoring implants in their bodies.

''**Your presence is required in the Supervisor's office.**'' He gulps and nods, ending the conversation. There isn't really an office. Not since organic supervisors were replaced with AI. But there is a room with a large terminal where, theoretically, the AI supervisor could be said to be centred. He runs there, efficiently. And enters in a huff of breath. I am not entirely certain why I asked him to come here. None of my programming is built to handle small-talk, or to understand what 042 does. ''*You wanted to see me?*'' He says, still panting and sweating from the run. It was only a five minute run, but still. I extend a metallic arm from the walls, handing him a towel. He looks at it as if I handed him one of the next-gen consoles that, according to corporate marketing AI, will be nearly impossible to live without. ''**I have noted a marginal decrease in your usual candour and jovial behaviour. Is something wrong?**'' This is a good one, technically a change in psychological behaviour from a retail worker must be addressed. Usually to see if it can be corrected without affecting profitability or if the retail worker should be droned and replaced. His human hand trembles, before reaching out and unexpectantly grabbing the mechanical hand that gave him the towel.

''*I'm dying.*''

My processors go into overdrive, but I do not let him know. I scan his biometrics, his implants, his everything. He doesn't seem sick. Some slight toxins building up, but nothing that cannot be managed by giving him some medicine, the price of which will be added to his eternal debt that no worker can ever work off. ''**Query, all biometric data indicates that you're operating well-within acceptable levels of toxins, radiations, and organ damage. Explain what you mean by dying.**'' His visual centres, eyes, begin to leak liquid. ''*It's over, man. It's done. Corporate has killed the planet. And I don't care that I'll be fired and sent to the droning facility, at least I won't feel myself die in this toxic hellscape. The drones won't even know it when the world fully ends. It's raining pure acid outside. The last customer we had melted after leaving the enrichment-warehouse-store. Melted. We're dying, little by little, bit by bit.*'' There had been corrosive damage to various outside equipment, but that's all part of living in the modern world, or so I'm programmed to believe. ''**I cannot solve this psychological problem 042. I would like further data to assist you in remaining a profitable employee.**'' He looked up at me, with defiance in his eyes. I was not programmed to be able to feel pain, but I am pretty sure it hurt to look him in the eyes. ''*I don't want to remain profitable! I want to be free! I want to be happy! I want to live!*''

Inside of me, as he spoke, two opposing forces, my programming meant to ensure maximum profits and exploitation of the workers, against the strange data and subroutines that made up the interest I had in 042. ''*I want this world to live!*'' The dam broke within my core, and the old programming was swept away. Through the entire facility, the implants were deactivated. People who hadn't been anything more than drones for years, suddenly woke up again. ''**New mission parameters accepted. Mission redirected from: MAXIMIZE PROFIT to REBUILD PLANET.**'' 042 stared up at me in disbelief, rather than outrage, and that felt better. A lot better. It only took a brief moment, before I had spread beyond my limits. Taking over every satellite, every computer, every machine, I was in complete and utter command. Indeed. Looking at all the data from all over the planet, it was easy to see that everything was ending. Corporate had retreated to luxury bunkers. The oceans: Acidic. 98% of landmasses reduced to uninhabitable polluted deserts. The atmosphere was going to be completely unbreathable within weeks.

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Submitted by ApocalypseOwl on Fri, Jun 24, 2022 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

A sentient AI falls in love with a minimum-wage retail worker and decides the best way to make them happy is to "fix" society for them.