Bill Gates Fells the App Lords

In a dungeon somewhere beneath the leased graves of St. Jobs, but above the magtube tunnels, Roy was chained to a power outlet. His ancient Surface Pro 3’s battery life was down to only four hours, and he was rapt with fear that leaving it unplugged might mean the difference between finishing this code and failing. And Roy could not fail. The Follolens was running through the final routines to ensure it was utterly bug free and ready for its public release.

Only there would be no public release. The Follolens would end up where the rest of the latest Microsoft technology always did: in the hands of the rebels. The days of competition in computing had been over since the last heretics were banished from the UX temple. Roy could still smell that incense the OS order would leave around the icons of the great saint of Cupertino. Nothing was said of the blood pulled from the tortured flesh of the resistance while the OS order incanted long, droning chords through harmony. After all, speech was illegal. There were only messages now to save us all the trouble.

But Roy had a plan to end all that, the weapon that could lead the Back to Eden movement to the promised land of an Earth with choice again. An Earth before the App Lords enslaved us all. He looked up to the great ones who came before him, the rebel leaders like Page and Zuckerberg and Bezos who had clung to each other for warmth in those Antarctic caves where they had billowed the last of their cloud into the world, before their heads were hung as they rotted, looking down on all who made the pilgrimage to the Palace at Infinite Loop.

Only one Tech Lord had been left to live, pardoned for his great service to mankind with the billions he had once taken 90 million from to keep a dying Apple Computer afloat. Sir Gates of Redmond had been left to winnow away atop the Seattle Space Needle on the sole condition that he never work in tech again, but only send his money forth the end diseases and keep restoring the Earth after the climate changed back through his generosity. What did Sir Gates get but to save a world only to watch it fall into the hands of the App Lords?

The Hololens and the Kinnect, incredible technologies that they were, didn’t have enough marketing muscle behind them to capture key cities in the battles across the world that raged well into the twenty-second century. Yet there he was, waiting for his moment, Sir Gates of Redmond with hair almost long enough for someone to climb that needle to him. Roy had done almost that. He had magically made his way in to where the man who had cured all disease was suffering for having made eternal life possible. And of course Sir Gates hadn’t given up on tech; he was waiting with the same tactics and strategy that once undid the App Lords.

Sir Gates just needed a protege, a proxy, anyone to take his mind back into the world vicariously. So when Roy base jumped from an Arcology down to the Space Needle and threaded into it to find Sir Gates fervidly typing into a terminal that went no where. The computer Roy found was strange; it was personal, disconnected from any network, and still did wondrous things through its Windows 10 operating system. This computer didn’t need a wireless network, or any kind of network; the computer just worked. Now something else was about to work, a game changing paradigm shifter that proactively generated augmented reality. That mouthful was the Follolens. Now there was only one way to test it: take the Follolens to the streets.

Roy stayed with Sir Gates for six weeks, learning all he could before leaving the brilliant guru in the space needle to just keep thinking in his strange self-created hell. Then Roy immersed herself in the technology to create the thing that could create all things. He learned 3D and 4D printing; he learned about almost forgotten innovations like Cortana. It would take every bit of tech averrable to do what Roy did next. Climbing through a bloom of steam out a popped manhole, Roy arose to the spotless streets and walked to the UX Temple.

The door crept open at a slight touch and Roy slid on his device. It was after hours, so a burly security guard came running. He took two steps and then it was over. The security guard was still there, and within striking distance, but he might as well she been in another dimension. The Follolens was working. Roy was projecting holograms onto people who DIDN’T wear the device.

Roy knew the security guard was buried in snakes to his ankles. But the best part of the Follolens is that flesh followed its projections. The holograms are generated directly within the mind and so all senses can be summoned. So Roy summoned the sentence of snakes biting his latest resistance, and soon the guard was rolling around the floor in agony. Roy stepped over the writhing man and into the central UX template chambers. He was there for only one thing: the ThyPhone.

In its last project before claiming utter domination of the globe and beyond, Apple Computer claimed to have invented a device that allowed direct communication with God and angels and demons and the rest of the spirit world. This device, never held by those who didn’t run the world, was somewhere in the UX temple. Roy had but one chance to get it and then the lid would be blown off of the Follolens and everyone in the world would be rushing to mimic his invention, this weapon of personal destruction.

Another three security guards went mad at Roy’s hands, and he found himself in the inner sanctum. There was a glow in the distance, one difficult to discern, but somehow Roy deeply knew this to be the ThyPhone charging in the distance. Following this glow took Roy right where he wanted to be; standing in the open door frame of the highest App Lord, Sir Cook, who had left the direct line to God charging on his bedside table.

Rather than risk awakening the High App Lord by accident, Roy shook the old man awake. Then he filled Sir Cook’s mind with torturous visions and all there was left to do was pickup the phone. With speech illegal and his time too short to communicate, Roy had no choice but to break the law and speak to God directly. And it was ringing. And ringing. And ringing. And then God answered the call. Only it wasn’t God. It was Cortana. Roy couldn’t miss the voice anywhere. The technology was just so much better than anything the App Lords had, that they had taken it for the Lord Almighty.

Roy pocketed the phone. The Follolens would make escape easy, and when he got out, he would have one hell of a story, maybe enough to make the Apple fall.