“We’re calling it an act of God,” Francesca Thaddius Reed said to the board room. “Everyone needs to keep the wording consistent. Not just with PR but with internal communications as well.”

Ms. Reed’s stare traveled around the room before settling on Bryce. Not one word, it said. Not one goddamned word, or you’ll throw this whole company under. Everyone will be after you so fast you’re going to wish you spent all that retirement money on a protection racket. You’ll wish you had fled the country. But it’s too late for that. You’re stuck with us. So, you play by my rules.

“That won’t be a hard sell to this country. 90% of it is Christian.” Harrison Ocampo—Head of Operations at Intervid—tilted his neck as if working out a kink. The guy was too young to start getting sore necks, unless from a cushy desk job. “We can joke that God has taken our side because our lineups have been too good.” He chuckled. “Think of that. The Great God Above watches the same shows as you. That’ll bring them closer to their beliefs.”

Laughter ran through the room. Bryce didn’t share it. He was more pissed off that everyone was in on this.

“That’s a simplification,” he blurted. The quote about 90% of the Philippines being Christian didn’t concern him because it was accurate. Bryce’s people—he considered them his people because he was half Pinoy—were devout. That did not make them idiots. “They’re going to see through this.”

“They will choose to remain ignorant,” Ms. Reed continued. “As they often do.”

“So, we’ll give them what they want,” Harrison said. “An umbrella of ignorance to hold over their heads.”

Bryce clenched his teeth, holding back his words. Loads of innocent people worked at Metamatics. People like Herman. That was the only reason he kept his mouth shut. Eventually, though, someone would figure out that Metamatics was behind the albularyo. What would happen to those innocent people after that?

This got Bryce thinking.

It was clear to Bryce and everyone who knew about the entity that it had orchestrated the events surrounding Philippine Airlines Flight 578. Just that morning, he had read a brief report in the Philippine Daily Inquirer about the incident. It was a sparse recount. There wasn’t much detail. Metamatics hadn’t mentioned the event in its internal memos, either. Everyone was keeping hush about it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“What was the deal with the rescue, anyway?” he asked. Phrasing it as a ‘rescue’ put Ms. Reed in the crosshairs. “Something about a broken engine?” The Philippine Daily Inquirer hadn’t mentioned much.

“An investigation is ongoing,” said Liena Pascual, Head of Operations at Distro Premiere. She babbled as if defending Ms. Reed. As if she knew she was to blame.

“My PR department can roll with that,” Gregory Fernando said, the Head of Operations at Delta Reel. “We’ll work it into our marketing.”

Nods all around. PR, the lawyers, marketing, and communication representatives all chimed in with their plans.

“An act of God.”

“A sign from above that we’re doing the right thing.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“God himself approves of our actions!”

Bryce heard all this and more. They sounded like religious zealots, devoted to profit and company reputation and deceiving the people of Manila, but nothing else.

Fuck it.

“You have my boss to thank for all this,” Bryce said. He felt the smile etching its way across his face. “It’s an AI. It likes to call itself the albularyo. Our R&D division created it to produce television series from scratch. Start to finish.”

Shit, that was a relief to get out. It was even more satisfying seeing Ms. Reed’s jaw hanging open. Her eyes widened. She clenched her fists. Bryce readied himself to get fired. Oh well.

But Ms. Reed said nothing as her shock disappeared, a smile replacing it. A sly one—one that showed teeth.

Harrison Ocampo sighed. “So, Francesca… it’s finally loose?”

Ms. Reed nodded. “Unfortunately.”

Bryce stared. “Wait. Wait a minute. You guys knew about this?”

No one reacted. No one even responded to his question.

“Ours is a bit juvenile still, unfortunately,” Liena Pascual of Distro Premiere put in. “It’s doing a stellar job of creating our ads, though.”

“And ours is too shy to put itself in the limelight just yet,” said Harrison Ocampo. “We just started another round of learning. Francesca, I don’t know how you got enough processing power for yours, but good on you.”

“Talented software engineers,” said Ms. Reed.

“The albularyo?” asked Gregory Fernando. “That’s cute. How did it come up with that?”

“It’s actually impressive it did all that,” said one of the PR reps.

Soon, HR, the assistants, and even the lawyers were chiming in. The lawyers, for God’s sake. Meanwhile, Ms. Reed clasped her hands on the table and said nothing, nodding as if they were all sitting around a campfire telling stories.

“Hey!” Bryce yelled. “Listen. What the fuck is going on?”

“What?” asked Harrison, looking at Bryce. “He didn’t know? Your field agent didn’t know?”

Ms. Reed held up what was supposed to be a reassuring hand. “He knew, just later on. He’s talked to her.”

Bryce still tried to process everything. He said his following words through clenched teeth. “What’s fucked up is that you all know about this. And, apparently, you all have your own AIs?”

Ms. Reed cracked her hands. “Next time, Bryce, consider the situation and do your research before you strike.”

He searched the room. “I can leak this, you know. All of Manila will hear about it.” He thought of telling news outlets. He thought of Janice.

“Mr. Desmond, is it?” asked Harrison Ocampo. He also folded his hands, matching Ms. Reed’s stance at the table. “You can scream it from the rooftops if you want to. Vlogs and Reddit posts are already circling the idea that what happened with PAL 578 was caused by an AI. You have to ask yourself: who is going to believe what? This was an Act of God, or did an AI do this? Do you think most people believe we’ve reached this level of sophistication? And us, the Giants of all companies? Why not Microsoft or Google or Apple?”

“We’re the richest companies in the world,” boasted Liena Pascual. “But yes, even still. That’s the beauty of it.”

“The beauty of it?” Bryce looked around. He suppressed the urge to scream, but his voice cracked. “You know what? Fuck you all. You have to take responsibility for what happened.”

“No, we don’t.” Ms. Reed wrapped her knuckles on the table. “Stop talking, Bryce. Please. You’re digging yourself a hole you can’t get out of.”

“Fire this man, Francesca,” said Harrison.

“I would if he weren’t a competent field agent. However, he’s entitled to his opinions, just like the rest of us.” She tilted her head. “Was that ample time to voice your thoughts, Bryce, or do you need another minute?”

This was messed up. He wasn’t going to sit around and be belittled by these twats. They were leagues ahead of him in the corporate ladder, but none of that meant shit here. He only wanted to be heard.

And he knew someone who could do it.

He rose, stepped out of the board room, and eyed the pair of security guards standing outside. They didn’t escort him out.

They didn’t need to.