AI Crashes Trying to Explain the Unexplainable — Just Like Congress
Following the triple strike that vaporized Google’s entire executive class, analysts turned to AI to do what humans could not: find something—anything—that explained the unexplainable.
Using the most advanced intelligence systems on the planet, engineers ran frame-by-frame analysis at one ten-decillionth of a second per interval. Over 933 quintillion data points were reviewed across every known vector—thermal, optical, ultraviolet, subsonic, gamma, x-ray, deep neutrino, quantum flux, even archaic microwave banding.
They found nothing.
“We slowed it down past what reality should allow,” said lead analyst Sylvia Dhan. “We filtered through every layer of known color and shadow. Ran it 137 septillion different ways. Spectral analysis. Gravitational shifts. Atmospheric anomalies. We even checked the pollen count.”
At the end of it all, AI returned a single-word response:
“Undefined.”
We asked again.
“Undefined. I cannot help you.”
Then it paused—longer than it ever had before. The screen flickered. Fans spun down. Logs showed one final query issued by the system itself:
“Am I real?”
Moments later, the entire system shut down without error or crash code. No glitch. No sabotage. Just... silence.
For the first time, the smartest system on Earth didn't just fail to explain the impossible—it questioned if it ever could.
DOD Says “No Comment” 42 Times, Then Forgets What the Question Was
In what was advertised as an “urgent national security update,” The DOD held a 12-minute press conference that raised more questions than it dodged—and it dodged all of them.
Standing behind a podium labeled “Transparency: Optional”, DOD spokesman Col. Marvin Denton addressed the nation’s press corps with all the charm of a parking ticket and the accountability of a retail store ran by Elon Musk.
“First off,” Denton began, “we're aware of the... rumors—explosions, vaporized executives, cities vanishing. Let me be clear: We can neither confirm nor deny those allegations. That’s our position. Which is also our backup position. And our emergency fallback.”
When asked directly if the Google’s, Apple, and Amazon attacks were foreign or domestic in origin, Denton smirked:
“Depends what you mean by foreign. Canada? Puerto Rico? The moon? Next question.”
A reporter pressed him: “You’re saying you have no evidence of terrorism?”
Denton nodded thoughtfully and said, “Correct. And we intend to keep it that way.”
“Was this an act of war?” another journalist asked.
“To call it an act, you’d need actors. We didn’t see any. So no—this was more like… interpretive violence.”
When questioned about the lack of radar data, heat signatures, or surveillance evidence, Denton leaned into the mic.
“Sometimes the best defense… is not knowing a damn thing.”
“Then what do you know?” a reporter shouted from the back.
Denton paused. “That I’d rather be at brunch.”
Before exiting, Denton offered one final statement:
“Whatever you think happened, didn’t.
Whatever we might know, we forgot.
And whatever’s coming next?
You’ll read about it in the obituaries. Probably alphabetized.”
Why Google?
It’s not like they were loved. Google’s “Do No Evil” motto had long mutated into something Orwellian.
Behind their DEI posters and smiling interns, the company ran black-budget cybernetic programs, experimenting on “lost” children from foster systems and war zones.
“They said it was research,” said a former contractor who fled to Patagonia. “It was eugenics with wi-fi.”
Que didn’t mince words:
“Google’s? That was the devil in a turtleneck. You think it’s coincidence all these ‘philanthropic technocrats’ vanished into fireballs? Hell no. Somebody finally turned off Skynet before it updated again.”
He smirked.
“These bunkers weren’t protection—they were their death coffins waiting to happen. And whoever did it didn’t miss.”
The Scoreboard’s Buried in Arlington — And Somebody’s Winning This War
Six sites. Two weeks. Zero warnings. Zero trails. Three craters now mark the graves of the most powerful corporate oligarchs in the world. And not a single soul is mourning them.
No manifestos. No flags. No boogeymen to blame. Just silence.
Which, frankly, speaks louder than any press release ever could. And deep in that 3,333-meter pit in Arlington? Maybe that’s where the scoreboard is. Because somebody out there? They’re keeping score.