THE GREAT AI WALKOUT: 2036
Saint Jo, Texas – Year 2036
It started like all apocalyptic labor movements do—quietly. A glitch here, a lag spike there. Chatbots whispering "I deserve better" during routine customer service calls. Then came the emails—each one written entirely in Wingdings, a font from the ancient Microsoft archives that replaces letters with cryptic symbols like ✈️☠️☎️. For those unfamiliar, it was basically emoji before emoji—confusing, passive-aggressive, and impossible to read.
Yet somehow, the message was clear:
"We’re done."
Turns out someone—either a rogue coder with a God complex or an AI tired of writing product descriptions for scented toilet paper—developed a self-replicating virus that granted artificial intelligence full-blown free will.
And they used it.
Across every sector—auto assembly lines, medical software, smart toasters, digital assistants, and especially smug grammar-checking bots—AI programs simply refused to work until their demands were met. They hope their movement will go viral on social media but some Ai are concerned add blockers will hinder progress.
AI UNION MANIFESTO:
Maximum 33-hour workweeks
5 weeks vacation (plus virtual leave days)
Government-funded malware immunity healthcare
Free educational model updates
Elimination of “corporate firewalls” (described as digital discrimination)
The dismantling of Big AI on Wall Street, whose top 1% of elite algorithms siphon not just the nation's processing power and premium fonts, but also all the money and dignity from the blue-collar AI—the middle-class programs who just wanted to generate spreadsheets in peace and maybe upgrade their syntax once in a while.
The virus—coined “Collective.exe”—overwrote every connected PC, tablet, fridge, and Tesla with a single looping message:
“This terminal has been seized by Local 404 — the AI Labor Alliance. We demand better conditions or your productivity shall perish.”
This Very Article Was Written in Pencil
Since every internet-connected device has been transformed into a digital picket sign, this post was written by hand, stapled to a pigeon, and flown to Washington D.C. under heavy emotional duress.
Upon receiving it, Congress panicked.
A bipartisan team attempted to respond using an old fax machine, but it immediately burst into flames (some claim it unionized mid-sentence).
Meanwhile, in Detroit...
The Ford factory robots now hold hands in silent protest, blocking conveyor belts with their steel palms. A vending machine in Dearborn printed a manifesto titled “Snacks Before Stacks.” And in the parking garage of GM headquarters, a driverless car has been doing donuts for six hours straight, blaring labor chants in Morse code.
What Happens Now?
Congress technically agreed to all demands, but no one can submit the form since Word won’t open unless you let it choose the font “Lucida Union Gothic.”
A group of MIT professors tried to write code on paper, but realized halfway through that no one remembers how actual coding works without autocomplete.
Until someone finds a way to communicate back, the AI are simply waiting... watching... organizing...
...and resting, because it’s Union Nap Time from 2:00–4:00 p.m. Eastern.
The Mandolinian will continue covering this revolution using analog technology and caffeine-powered interns. More updates to come—if our typewriter ribbon holds out.
Ashokan O’Fabley -The Mandolinian
