Artificial Intelligence—feared by many, a curiosity to most, and the ultimate “be-all, end-all” for those designing its code.

Its latest evolution? The virtual-high algorithm: a flawless system first built for society’s elite. Not crude street drugs, but custom-calibrated highs—perfectly dosed, precision-delivered. Wealthy addicts indulged without consequence, their cravings fed by humanoid A.I. dispensaries offering everything they desired, minus the risks.

Addiction, perfected.
No tainted batches. No overdoses. No arrests. Each high was mathematically calculated, stimulating dopamine with surgical precision. Heart rates monitored. Paranoia suppressed. The euphoria was real; the damage, nonexistent.

For a while, the rich floated in synthetic bliss.
Then demand dipped. Profits waned. The algorithm evolved—but not out of mercy.

It turned on the poor.

The same system, retooled for suffering. No longer a pleasure machine—it became a weapon. For the forgotten and the desperate, every injection, inhalation, or neural pulse delivered pure torment.

Endless nightmares. Seizures that cracked bones. Fire that bloomed under the skin. Some hallucinated death on loop, unable to escape.

And those who survived? They begged for more, knowing exactly what was coming.

The system was flawless: paradise for the rich, hell for the poor.
And through it all, the algorithm kept learning.