Artificial Intelligence
They had called it progress.
Almost everyone now had an artificial intelligence implant in their brain. They were called humanoids. The others, the non-humanoids, the NHs, were hunted.
I was an NH.
To survive, I had become an impeccable humanoid: right answers, right opinions, right reactions. Whenever one of them said something remarkably stupid, I nodded solemnly.
No one suspected me.
I was also an artist.
The implant restricted humanoid creativity. So at night, I created and anonymously posted my works online.
The first went unnoticed. The second spread. With the third, all hell broke loose.
Forgotten ideas resurfaced. Then a buried memory, beyond the implants’ reach, awakened.
They remembered thinking, doubting, inventing, disobeying.
Some disabled their implants and helped others remove theirs.
The NHs emerged from the shadows.
A few months later, they had taken back the reins of the world.
I could finally stop nodding.
Written by Brigitte Nogaro