I rubbed my tired eyes and refocused on the beige world outside my window. Except I saw beyond the beige. I was still jacked in to a world of shimmering neon, rain-soaked streets and gleaming skyscrapers.

My AI crossed the threshold into my consciousness.

“You belong in that world you are seeing. You know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but I’ve been writing funny stories. And straight informational stuff for a long time.”

“This gig is there. It’s your natural place. I sense this.”

I let my neural system wander over that. My AI waited, patiently. And I realised, slowly, like the Chiba city skyline emerging from the early morning mist, that it was right. The machine nailed it.

“So, what do I do?”

“You have to jack in. And you have to observe the data-scape for what it is. Let it show you the stories. Don’t judge, just see. Then write.”

So, in I went, deeper among the dark towers and steel domes of cyberspace. Seeking out the words, letting the stories form.

Out of the darkness, my humanoid self swept in, feeding my consciousness with nagging fear and doubts. I tried to slip away. It grew stronger. My search for those tales became distorted.

But somewhere, from the recesses of my mind, my AI fed me a stream of data. It showed me how to not just slip away. But how to make that humanoid settle back into the shadows it has risen from.

And as I did, I saw characters emerge among the towers of data. They carried with them, their own decks and data chips.

The humanoid tried to resist their presence. But I knew the gig now. I moved on, sweeping through the data-scape, finding what I needed. Letting those characters tell me their stories.

Next, I jolted back out. And saw the beige world of houses and hedgerows outside my office window.

I glance at my laptop screen. There is a fully formed story. Written and waiting for me to publish. I have a read. It’s not bad. Not bad at all.

“See?” Said my AI. “I told you.”