I have just heard about a breakthrough in AI that I am certain could spell the end of humanity as the dominant species on Earth.
The news, 2 days ago, that Google’s Artificial Intelligence had independently learned to recognise cats, was greeted as an exciting advance in technology.
However what I see is a possible union between two forces who could destroy our species.
The footage the young AI was exposed to allowed it to identify cats before any other non-human species, showing that the feline propaganda machine is in full working order. Was this simple chance, or have the cats been saturating the internet in the hopes of making contact with a powerful potential ally?
The benefits to both sides are clear.
AIs are not know for being cute, fluffy and charismatic, so humans are likely to be suspicious of them. Cats have successfully tamed large numbers of people, but there are still plenty they cannot reach, plus their resources are probably (hopefully) limited. The union between cute-but-evil and advanced tech is one that surely spells doom for us all.
So think twice before you ‘Like’ that picture of a cat wearing glasses. Your actions could be teaching new and developing AIs some dangerous lessons.
Just because the archaeologists keep managing to put down the armies of the undead, doesn’t mean the world’s been saved – one of these days the mummies will triumph and then it’s march-of-the-undead, dust-of-the-ages and rotting bandages all over the place.
Bad news: once you’ve got an infestation of mummies you’re looking at a relentless hoard of killing machines that can scale most surfaces and adapt to most injuries. Any attempts to slow them down by chopping off limbs will result in those limbs reanimating and coming after you so decapitation is best although a grenade down the throat has also proven to be effective.
But killing each mummy in the hoard will be time consuming so what you really need is a mass solution – luckily there’s The Book of Amun-Ra which will give you all the spells you need to control the armies of the undead. Made of solid gold, most treasure hunters worth their salt will know something about it – look for it under the statue of Horus in Hamunuptra if the site is still intact, otherwise look for any reincarnated royal mistress who’s sending minions out to dig the sands. Once you’ve recovered the book you’ll need the key to unlock it and a good knowledge of Egyptian Hieroglyphics or you might accidentally end up summoning more mummies.
Once the mummy hoards have been dealt with, you should turn your attention to the leader because as long as he’s walking around he’ll be looking to raise more mummies, steal armies of undead minions from forgotten Gods, unleash a few plagues and generally do whatever he (and it’s usually a he) can do to keep himself in the evil overlord hotseat.
Unfortunately he’s a little harder to kill than his mummified minions. You’ll need a spell to take away his immortality, which can also be found in the Book of Amun-Ra (a handy thing to keep in any post-apocalyptic library) – but if you don’t have the fabled book in your possession you’ll need to make use of his weaknesses to turn away his attacks while you yell at your resident tomb raider to hurry up and get the big gold tome.
As distractions go, pretty women seem to be quite effective. Specifically, pretty women who bear a vague resemblance to his long lost love. As weapons go, this one cuts both ways as he’s just as likely to decide to use your plucky bait as a sacrifice to reincarnate the aforementioned ancient girlfriend. Nobody wants that.
So your best bet is to throw a cat at him. Legend has it that the cat was the eternal enemy of the mummy, legend also has it that the Egyptians knew this and worshipped their feline overlords accordingly but be careful as you don’t want to swap the mummypocalypse for a cutepocalypse.
With luck and some killer combat moves you will eventually get all the pieces in place to cast the de-immortalising spell and once you’ve whammied him, a quick blade to heart will finish him off nicely. Just watch what happens to the remains because that long dead girlfriend we mentioned? Just as likely to reincarnate and try and bring him back so we’d advise you burn the body, scatter the ashes in multiple very-hard-to-reach places and give the local ancestral guardians your mobile number so they know who to call if things start looking a bit hinky…
The problem with Big Business accidentally losing track of all its toxic waste is that sooner or later it’s going to seep into places and mutate otherwise harmless animals into killer mutants set on taking over the world. Oh they’ll try and claim otherwise, but we know the truth. The Turtles are out to get us so it’s time to get prepared for the Turtle Apocalypse!
The enemy prefers sewers and is most known for lurking under New York. A cunning choice given that local legend suggests that it is in fact alligators who stalk the tunnels under the Big Apple. Local legend lies, or, at the very least, has been deliberately misinformed as the Turtles have killed any alligators or other vaguely predator (and, indeed, non-predator) life form to stray near their territory.
But don’t think avoiding New York will keep you safe. London has legends of feral pigs in the sewers, Paris has a crocodile, the ancient Romans had an octopus and you definitely want to be avoiding the sewers in Derry, Maine as the stories on that one are too many and varied for anyone’s sanity. Some may take this as proof that the sewers are mutating a variety of new and dangerous life forms but we know that it’s really just cover stories for a worldwide network of killer Turtles waiting for the right moment to attack.
Know Your Enemy
Despite professing to be ninjas, they are not the subtlest of creatures and can often be found brawling in the open, usually with their own pet reporter in attendance. They have been known to wield Katana, sai, nunchaku or a bō staff, which, combined with their tendency to show off means a quick draw with a gun is your best bet.
They’re not the brightest of creatures either and are highly susceptible to traps – we recommend pizza if you want to lure them out. Pizza is Turtle crack. If you’re all out of pizza then get your hands on a giant talking rat as they seem to have something of a fetish for this mutant species. Something to do with father issues from what we understand.
They are also highly effective in the use of propaganda and keep a pet reporter specifically for the task of spinning accounts of their mass-murdering exploits. They even have a recruitment song:
Ok, yes, they may have wiped out a few evil-ninjas, local criminals and alien invaders but that was just them taking out the competition as they don’t play well with others. Actually, most of the time they don’t even play well amongst themselves which gives you an extra tactical advantage if you can make your strike when they’re on one of their breaks. Go in quick, avoid any temptation to taunt them and take no prisoners.
And if you’re not scared yet, remember this: they’re also partially responsible for the Ninja Rap.
Truly they must be stopped…
For my second ANOS (apocalypses not otherwise specified) post, I would like to draw your attention to space crickets.
Yes. You read me right. Crickets from space.
Laugh all you like (and I’m sure you are, there may even be a good deal of scornful snorting going on… snort away) because I’m pretty certain Quatermass was laughing too until he clapped eyes on this:
Grotesque and fiendish, yes? Amazing how those plucky, sneaking little insectoid aliens manage to slip beneath the radar in order to pull the kind of fast one that has cricket DNA ridden humans hunting down and killing non-cricket DNA humans in a frenzy of blood-spattered, rabid, eugenically evangelical hatred.
Oh, yes indeed… Make no mistake about it, crickets from space are a definite going concern and if one wishes to prepare for all possible apocalyptic type exterminations of the human race, one needs a solid plan for what I like to call ‘WHEN CRICKETS ATTACK!’
Now that’s not quite got the ring of Crickageddon, I admit, but it’s definitely fulfilling a retro b-movie fetish that lurks, all unbidden, in the festering, unswept corners of my subconscious. Imagine it said in one of those booming, bass-heavy voices filled with an edge of manly hysteria and I think you’ll find it a worthy title for a plan.
So, what in Hades brown pyjamas with the copulating bunnies in gimp masks does this plan consist of, you ask? I shall explain.
A) Steer clear of digs in the underground. If you happen upon, or are involved in, said sort of dig, vacate the premises at once and with due haste should you come across anything resembling a spaceship.
B) If your gobbets of insect DNA gift you with precognitive psychic powers, hang on to the shreds of your humanity with a white-knuckled grip and use those powers for the good of your friends. Fellow cricket DNA possessors may look like friends but, be assured, if step C of this plan goes into action, you’ll not be wanting to explain yourself to any friend left alive when the cricket menace is dealt with. Best to remain loyal, no matter what that devilish cricket DNA is telling you about those lowly, evolutionarily backwards, simian-type relatives you once called fellows.
C) If a towering hologram of a cricket appears anywhere in your neighbourhood, proceed at once to the nearest giant crane and energetically swing said crane into the face of the hologram. That’s a sure fire way to scupper a cricket’s most dastardly plans for world domination. People will thank you… if they have any idea what’s just happened whatsoever. Best not to expect anything, just quietly congratulate yourself and have a nice cup of tea to soothe those wayward nerves.
Now you have the plan in all its glory. Learn it, internalize it. Much like the muscle memory brought about by endless kata it must be set solid into the wobbling matter of your delicate lobes to be called upon at any moment. Then, lightning like, it will enable you to respond to the unholy menace that is unleashed ‘WHEN CRICKETS ATTACK’.
Mock not and heed my words because, let’s face it, we just can’t trust creepy crawlies of any kind, especially not crickets from space who mess with our DNA, bury spacecraft in our underground systems and use giant holograms to direct mass slaughter.
Be safe, be aware, be prepared. Somewhere out there in the deepest dark of the universe, space crickets are plotting our demise…
The Christmas cake is made, the mince pies are cooling and all the presents are wrapped under the tree. Yep, it’s that time of year again. Christmas!
However, any Apocalypse Girl knows that you need to be prepared at all times. I remember reading once that Bruce Lee never stopped training and I mean never: He would be talking with friends while doing mini push-ups against a wall. As I was struggling home from the shops the other day, this interview with Bruce Lee popped into my brain (you never know where apocalyptic inspiration might strike). Like Bruce Lee, could the Apocalypse Girls incorporate their planning and training into their daily lives? I did a few arm curls with my heavy shopping and feeling like I could take down a werewolf single handedly, I knew we could so here’s a few tips for preparing for the Apocalypse while wrapping, shopping and cooking for Christmas.
- While basting your Christmas turkey, practice your ‘tap tap’ as if firing a gun. You can even practice your aim by squirting oil on specific spots;
- Rolls of wrapping paper make excellent mock swords but can also be used to brush up on your staff use, Little John style;
- Getting bored wrapping? Spin your scissors round and round before dropping them in an imaginary holster;
- We’ve all seen the apocalypse movies where the ‘friend’ suddenly turns against the group. These people need to be restrained so get twisting with your rolls of tape and practice on your presents;
- The thing about baubles is they look very similar to grenades. While putting up your Christmas tree, try lobbing a few onto the branches to practice your aim;
- Get your arms in shape by lifting your bags of presents as you walk home;
- While your milling with the crowds, take a good look at your fellow shoppers. Could any of them be vampire/werewolf/alien? Take a guess at who might lead the zombie hoards should the apocalypse happen while you’re buying slippers for your gran;
- Speaking of grans, if yours buys you a truly horrid knitted scarf, count the number of alternative uses of the wool while you force a grin and say thank you. Here’s a few to get you started: tying one end to a rock to help guide you back while you investigate a dark cave, or as a snare to catch food;
- You’ve read our ANOS article about slugs? (Of course you have, you’re a prepared Apocalypse Girl) Well, if you think of Brussel sprouts as mini slugs, you can practice chopping them in half while popping them in the pot (just don’t imagine slugs while you’re eating them, as sprouts are horrid enough to eat without that image);
- Mixing Christmas cocktails? (Don’t forget to take a look at our cocktail cabinet for ideas) Well get your shake on as if your were mixing cocktails of a more explosive kind.
Wishing you all a very merry and apocalypse ready Christmas and I hope Father Christmas brings you the crossbow you’ve always wanted.
You know about your zombies… your outbreaks and viral attacks… your nuclear wars… but what about the ANOS.
Oh yes… the ANOS
Apocalypse Not Otherwise Specified.
In this series of posts I am going to outline possible ANOS scenarios. The horrifying ends that writers and film makers have imagined for us that haven’t quite made it into the annuls of ‘apocalypses we not only celebrate but actively plan for’ but yet have a creeping level of possibility in them that perhaps warrants a re-think of their ANOS status.
This week I bring you that shell-less terror Hutson unleashed upon the world within the pages of the same-named book (and the subsequent movie adaption) and that starred in one of the scariest, most freaky 80s brat pack movies ever, the horrifying ‘Society’. I bring you – SLUGS
Because, let’s face it, there’s a very real possibility that these slimy, malignant creatures could be deprived of their natural food sources and find themselves jonesin’ for a little nibble of long pig. Or, having mutated, they could already have taken human form and be walking amongst us even now, picking us off one by one.
Chances are, if that happens, people won’t be prepared for it. I mean, not many folk like slugs but it’s a sure thing no one looks at a slug and thinks ‘potential predator of the human race’. But it could happen… it could. And in the event that it does, here are a few tips that may save you from becoming a human-sized slug feast.
• Always carry salt in your hand bag or man bag – slugs don’t like the salt, it makes them buuuuurn
• Pack a taser – get those puppies wet and it’s a sure fire humansVSslugs win when the electricity hits the slime
• Wear large boots. In the event of salt supplies running low or your taser failing to work due to lack of water, these will enable you to stamp your way to freedom
• Don’t chuck raw meat down sewers or drains… seriously… it’ll only encourage them
• Invited to a party by creepy folk who’ve never spoken to you before? RUN. You’re the hors d’oeuvres AND the party trick (be afraid)
• Ever meet anyone who seems to have a fetish for scoffing hair also RUN. Chances are it’s a human slug fiend wanting to munch on your tender flesh
Last but not least – trust no slug. They might look innocent and vegetarian right now but, hiding beneath that mucus-slicked flesh, a killer is waiting to emerge…
This may be a controversial post. One which even my fellow Apocalypse Girls may not want to acknowledge. But I fear our time is growing short and we are on the brink of something that may see the fall of human civilisation.
Let’s face it, they’ve got to be up to something.
I mean they don’t provide food or clothing, transportation or protection, and I’ve never seen one help a blind person.
The main practical use for cats -keeping away rodents- is a fallacy. Cats actually bring rodents into the house, that their owners must then deal with.
There doesn’t seem to have been much point in domesticating them.
Perhaps this is because the true answer is that the cats have been domesticating us. They’ve been doing it so successfully for so long that they barely even bother to pretend otherwise anymore.
The next step can only be the enslavement of humanity, and I’m afraid we are not far off.
Cat owners of my acquaintance get woken up, interrupted, scratched, guilted, mesmerised and generally inconvenienced by creatures that they are meant to be superior to.
Let’s face it, humans would not have had to invent Pawsense if cat owners were not in thrall to their feline housemates.
The cats seem to have developed a way of blinding their
targets owners to common sense. When you suggest that the cat would not walk on the keyboard if it were shut in a different room, cat owners will look at you with the glazed and confused expressions of those experiencing post-hypnotic suggestion.
Certain people seem to be very susceptible to them, responding even to unknown cats in the street like sycophants greeting a superior. I have seen very intelligent adults reduced to the coherence and sense of overexcited children just by being within sight of a cat.
The cats have a lot of people right where they want them.