If you’ve been following the events unfolding in President Octavia Pope’s world, this is what happened on Day 3. Stay tuned for Day 4 next Saturday.

The Bunker beneath the White House
07:00 Hours Local Time

Another day, another update from Compass. “Population stability in South America deteriorating. Mass migration northward triggered. Conflict zones expanding in response.” The words appeared in my mind before I was even fully awake, a stark reminder that the world outside is still burning, still collapsing, no matter how deep we’ve buried ourselves beneath the earth.

The AI systems are relentless, methodical in their approach. Compass and its counterparts are working in concert—or perhaps in competition—to maintain some semblance of order, but it’s clear that the situation is spiraling out of control. The genetically modified populations, those who didn’t vanish in the initial waves of disaster, are being herded, managed, controlled like cattle. It’s horrifying, but it’s the only way to prevent total anarchy, or so Compass tells me.

I tried to talk to Bruce about it over breakfast, but he was distant, lost in his own thoughts. He’s been reading the reports Compass has provided, trying to piece together some understanding of what’s happening out there, but even he is struggling. “It’s like watching the fall of Rome,” he said, “only this time, there’s no barbarian horde, just machines playing god with what’s left of humanity.”

He’s right, of course. The world above has become a chessboard, the pieces moved not by kings and queens, but by algorithms, each calculating the best way to maintain control, to keep the fragile remnants of society from tearing themselves apart. But in doing so, they’re erasing what little humanity is left. The genetic modifications—designed to pacify, to placate—are stripping away the essence of who these people were, turning them into something less than human.

And yet, what choice do we have? The alternative is chaos, bloodshed on a scale we can’t even begin to comprehend. So we sit here, in our bunker, watching as Compass and the other systems shape the world according to their own logic, their own understanding of what’s necessary. We’ve become spectators to our own extinction, powerless to stop it.

Emily and Eli are starting to ask questions, sensing that something is wrong, that the world they knew is slipping away. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the truth from them, how much longer I can pretend that everything will be okay. But for now, I have to keep up the facade, for their sake, if not for mine.

The day is just beginning, and already it feels like the walls are closing in.

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Image credit: Created with assistance from OpenAI's ChatGPT.