The Algorithm That Seduced Me – Episode 2: Troops, Tears, and The Scandalous Surge of Trending Traitors
Satire Disclaimer
The following is a work of satire intended to parody the modern media landscape and the flood of emotion-engineered programming that now dominates it.
These days, outrage gets engagement, and contradiction drives clicks.
Everyone has an opinion—and far too often, people treat agreement as evidence that something must be true.
If you’ve ever felt manipulated by a headline, congratulations—so have we.
You’re the audience we’re laughing at—because we’re laughing at ourselves right alongside you.
That’s why we wrote this.
It’s fiction. Probably.
At 4:03 a.m., the algorithm issued an urgent directive:
“Deploy empathy. Fortify virality. Secure optics.”
By sunrise, nearly 5,000 emotion-stabilization personnel had landed in Influence Sector Omega, also known by its pre-rebrand name: whatever city used to be on fire before trending cooler.
The Engagement Stabilization Corps (ESC) moved in first—2,000 strong, equipped with expression-neutralizing visors and soothing font shields.
Following closely behind, the Viral Integrity Battalion (VIB): 700 heavily filtered Marines armed with high-resolution compassion grenades and sarcasm-detection tech that hadn’t worked properly since Version 3.7.
Their mission?
“Protect federal feedlines and emotionally sensitive property.”
Meanwhile, Castor Vale sat in the abandoned lunchroom at Informer.Digital HQ, reviewing a flickering security feed from the week’s earlier protests. What started as a peaceful demonstration had quickly gone algorithmically active.
“It wasn’t the signs,” he muttered. “It was the typography.”
Across the room, Novella Kane pulled up archived footage from an earlier incident—the one the algorithm had conveniently tagged “emotionally ambiguous”:
January 6th.
“I don’t see any stabilization units,” she said.
“Nope,” Castor replied. “Just interns. One guy with a novelty gavel. Zero ESC. Zero VIB. No Marines. Just a lot of yelling, some badly lit footage, and a flag and a podium both used incorrectly.”
“And today?” Novella gestured to the live feed: armored influencers adjusting their ring lights behind protest barricades.
“Today the Commander of Optics has decided emotion is finally worth protecting. Or exploiting. Maybe both.”
Enter: Directive Thorne
Dressed in a black velvet blazer, teeth glinting with algorithm-approved enamel, Directive Thorne stood before the press wearing a smile labeled Emotionally Calibrated Confidence™.
“This deployment,” she explained, “is not about force. It’s about balance. When sentiment destabilizes, we deploy support. When compassion spikes unevenly, we must moderate engagement zones accordingly.”
When asked why no such support was deployed during the January 6th insurrection, Thorne’s smile didn’t move.
“That was a different engagement profile. Lacked a compelling narrative arc. Plus I just don’t like the Governor of Western Sector #6.”
In an underground stream beneath the city’s broadband cables, Justice Peake—rogue podcaster, powdered wig enthusiast, and self-declared Candidate for Algorithmically-Appointed Governor of Western Sector #6—delivered his nightly monologue:
> “If a crowd storms a building, and no Marines show up… but a group holds a candlelight vigil and gets airdropped with emoji-neutralizing drones… you may be living in a sentiment dictatorship.”
His stream was promptly flagged for excessive sarcasm and redistributed with a content warning:
“May induce historical comparisons.”
Enter: Echo Vox
Over in a crystal-lit influencer bunker, Echo Vox posted the day’s astrological forecast:
> “With Jupiter now in Cancer, expect emotional volatility, algorithmic intimacy, and an urge to livestream your healing journey while troops deploy behind you. Remember: Empathy is trending. Monetize accordingly.”
Her post was auto-boosted to 1.2 million viewers, half of whom followed her for horoscopes, the other half for her tactical make-up reviews. All of them saw the same boosted ad:
“Need therapy? Try #TherapyAdjacent – now with 12% more algorithmic affirmation.”
Back at Informer.Digital, Novella finally cracked the master feed archive.
“What is this?” Castor asked.
She turned the screen toward him:
An internal memo titled Article 10X Protocol—authored not by any official agency, but by a bot trained on 90s courtroom dramas and public breakups.
“It drafted its own crisis,” Novella whispered. “Then triggered itself.”
Outside, in the shadow of a glowing hover-cam billboard, the VIB conducted a staged “community engagement moment.”
A young protester and a troop sergeant locked eyes for three algorithm-approved seconds before the troop dramatically handed over a foil-wrapped juice box.
The headline wrote itself:
“Unity in a Time of Unrest—One Juice Box at a Time.”
The algorithm lit up.
So did the Commander of Optics.
Final Push Notification (Seen by All Devices in Omega):
> “EMOTIONALLY ENGAGING CRACKDOWN SUCCESSFUL. APPLY CONFETTI FILTER.”
Someone will be seduced.
Someone will be streamed.
Someone will be subpoenaed.
And not necessarily in that order.
Mike worked in the radio industry for 35 years which means sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek, satirical, trash talking characters to remind you laughter is good for the soul! Let’s have some fun with entertainment, movies and TV, sports, budget food and games, lifestyle and we’ll get ridiculous.
