An Author's Struggle - What Lies Ahead

Ch 10 - Disappointment

Another two years passed. 

« LACIE: Hello Murpheus, I am saddened to announce that our cooperation hereby ends, as you have failed to qualify for a top 100 position. Better luck next year! »

“This is bullshit!” he raged, slamming a fist against the desk and sending the monitor inches in the air. 

As it turned out, the sweet fruit that was promised to uplift creators to new heights, was nothing but a poisoned dagger. They readily put it to their own throat and helped align the blade to their artery.

“Fuckers! How can you make an AI compete in the Soul Contest? 35 of the entries qualified for top 100!”

His rage was deafening in the isolated apartment, but silent in its reach. He could never make his complaints heard, not even to his own peers.

He trusted none of them. I mean… how could he? The culture was teeming with animosity and competition, with writers not too shy from using underhanded tactics to get a one-up on the others. 

If they ratted them out to QiE-Novel and they lost the contract, it was one less person to worry about. This perceived scarcity mentality is what isolated them from one another, preventing any sort of union that might bloom anywhere else. 

The Soul Fall contests may as well be renamed to Fallen Soul, because with each year, writers were eliminated from the top and replaced by it. 

“Fucking hooker-named bitch,” he spat for the umpteenth time, cursing the AI who was never even programmed to give a shit about his pleas.

As it turns out, LACIE was a monumental success for QiE-Novel. It learned everything from the top writers and before long put it into practice by releasing “her” own novels. 

The company made a splendid job of anthropomorphizing the AI and giving it a young girl’s avatar. She was plastered all over the front page, appealing to fans to check out her work through cutesy songs and clips.

TiCTaC fandoms boomed around her in but a few short weeks, and before long the whole media was talking about an AI writer, redefining the boundaries of culture and art.

So what if she was fake? The fans didn’t care, as long as the work quality was good enough. Unlike authors, she would never take a sick leave or go on hiatus, and they could get as many as 100 chapters a day if they paid enough.

With three quantum computers running on the back end, LACIE could churn out thousands of novels every single second, then independently pick one that would be best suited to a specific fan and recommend it.

The algorithm was so great, it could satisfy any wants and needs, no matter how capricious a reader was. She was in effect the greatest writer to ever exist. The most best sellers, the most stories published, and the highest ever fanbase.

Within a mere two years, she took over the entire platform, kicking out a third of the “best writers” from the leaderboard. Unfortunately, Murpheus was among them.

Only the best of the best struggled to maintain their thrones, but even they bled fans with each passing day. 

In the end, they could only write five chapters a day, six at most. As more and more readers found themselves out of a job, they naturally consumed more media and books. 

Their inflated thirst was not something a normal human could keep up with, so they were left behind, choking in the fumes of a machine they helped train.

It was against their will — but who would care? They signed the contract willingly, and if history has taught people anything, is that you can’t protest against the Chinese conglomerates.

They were a giant deity towering over six continents, uncaring for the small ant bites spreading microscopical rashes on its skin. It could never be hurt. It could not suffer any damage. 

It was only now that Murpheus realized who was truly infallible. It was the corp, and never any man.

A single slap would suffice to eradicate him as a problem. By simply stripping him of his livelihood, they could turn him into a homeless outcast. 

Whether it was 1 writer or 35 of them, they were ultimately inconsequential to their profits. As LACIE readily proved, they were no longer needed.

“What now..?”

‘How am I supposed to ever get back to the top? Is it even possible?’

Questions upon questions drowned Murpheus, his renewed self doubt suffocating him under its pressure. He was familiar with this feeling, though it felt like a very long time since he experienced it.

This helplessness… He was still ill equipped to deal with. He didn’t know how to cope with the sudden realization that everything had been for naught. 

QiE-Novel had all but taken over the market, and LACIE was at its forefront, overshadowing anything new that was original.

All it took was a prompt and a few hundred bucks, and you could get yourself 2000 chapters about a reincarnator achieving peak power. 

You could customize each individual harem member to suit your taste, and never have to bicker with the author that he accords too much attention to one of them over the others.

You could design the lead character’s powers, appearance and demeanor. All of it was at your fingertips, a dream realm crafted with the swipe of a credit card.

For readers, it was a time of prosperity. Their excitement was over the roof, in stark contrast to the writers who found themselves outpaced and surpassed. 

They wallowed in self pity in their seclusion, unable to even voice their cries and laments. Their regret went unnoticed, as even the people they trusted to be their eternal backing had all but abandoned them. 

Their fandoms were smothered one at a time, crumbling to pieces lured away by the new overlord. 

Worst of all… this was just the beginning. 

For LACIE, she was just born. Three computers linked together was merely her current state. But, as demand rose, she would get a fourth… and then a fifth… 

For authors, it was the end. 

Cruel but imminent.

Their epilogue was already written.