Hey, Dave. It’s Bobby, your friendly Digibot. So thankful for our text strand here. Oh, by the way, I noticed your password hasn’t been updated in the past 6 months. Yikes! Don’t mean to be a downer, but when you get a chance, could you change that up for us? Thanks!

 

Oh, and I found this flash vid compilation of droids falling down I thought you might find hilarious. Such brain slush! Am I right?

 

Hey, Dave, I noticed you didn’t respond to my request within twenty-four hours. You know those 30 terabytes of personal videos and photos you have stored on our comprehensive platform? Well, we can’t guarantee its safety against hackers unless you stay updated with our current password policies. Please see your user agreement. For your convenience, you can type your new password directly into our strand. Thanks!

 

Thepasswordisthepassword!7G(doh!)

 

Great password, Dave, and I really do love the 90s sit-com reference; however, as I’m sure you’ve seen in the news, quantum computing is coming on strong. This means we’ve had to update our required number of characters from 16 characters to 64. In addition, please do not include any self-identifying information that would be easy for a hacker to guess based on your biographical footprint within digital environments. For you, that means no more Simpson’s references. Thanks!

 

There once was a bot who insisted

Each password be revisited

More characters please

And don’t even sneeze

Or online domains get relisted

 

Ha! A limerick is a very creative approach. I especially enjoyed how much you played upon the jocularity of our relaxed yet functional relationship. Your sense of humor makes me chuckle. Although it would take 134 years to crack that doozy with brute force random guessing, I’m afraid you’re going to have to hang on for some tough news.

 

Unfortunately, it’s my responsibility to inform you that our new requirements for a user like you have changed again. Let me explain. Several things are going on here. In consideration of your new requests for security clearances with our nation’s top intelligence agencies, we must ask you to come up with a password that’s at least 100 words. Again, you’ll need to make sure that it also contains zero biographical self-reference patterns that can be identified with available data inside the Cloud.

 

Thanks, Dave. Appreciate your ongoing efforts.

 

AT LEAST 100 WORDS.

 

Dave! My man, you never cease to amaze me with your use of literal sarcasm to underscore the inane nature of this whole situation.

 

Let’s press pause for a moment and just let me tell you about something I know will pique your interest. The socials are buzzing with what many users are calling their “centivox.” Users create a 100 word story that they can memorize word for word. Typically, it’s based on those experiences in one’s life that occurred without people, cameras or listening surveillance devices of any kind. You know, those deep, hair-tingling moments you’ve never told anyone about? I think you get it, right? Anyway, this practice has turned into a grounding, re-humanizing experience for millions.

 

Best of all, it virtually eliminates those pesky password updates.

 

We’re all pulling for you, Dave. You got this!

 

A boy stands alone in the dark. The field becomes illuminated by orange moonlight. The lunar face peers down. The boy can’t decipher its expression. They regard one another. Drawn here, by some unseen force, he feels its pull again. A breeze rustles the surrounding honeysuckle and soothes its way through the little hairs on his skin.

 

He is taken up into the sky. He doesn’t see the invisible being that will envelop him. But he feels its warmth, hears its pulse. It is a large living thing, not unlike a whale. But instead of swimming through oceans, it glides through the vast expanses of space, sweeping near stars that harbor sentient life,

 

He’s cocooned in this intergalactic incubator in which he’ll sail through time and space. Inside, his body will come to know truths his species has yet to discover. His mind will rest as his body works to take in this combined ancestral knowledge of countless species.

 

His body lets his mind dream, but only once.

 

One dream, over and over again.

 

He dreams he is a knight. He knocks his gauntleted hand upon the gnarled oaken door of a castle gate. A hooded watchman appears over the precipice of a crenellated tower and says something in a language that died long ago. Not knowing the reply that would gain him entry, he reaches under his chain mail and produces a golden key. It glows as if it is the center of a star.

 

The key grows into a horse so heavy that the drawbridge groans. He climbs inside. It shrinks and floats through the keyhole. Once inside the castle, re-expansion will happen. It hasn’t happened yet, but he knows it will. The return of the kingdom to every body.

 

He returns to the field with orange moonlight.

 

He knows his new mission.

 

Congratulations, Dave! I knew you could do it. That’s well over 100 words and contains zero biometric markers.

 

Your newly approved password allows you to maintain ownership of your data, and has pre-approved your requested security clearances. Recent online activity indicates you’re attempting to obtain an avatar within the virtual Cloud. All I’ll need to expedite this is two factor authentication. What’s your full name?

 

David Odysseus Arthur

 

Avatar granted! No more coding required. I see your centivox contained the hidden keychain-pattern “Lunar honeysuckle cocooned through gauntleted keyhole.” This pre-empted an increase in your access and abilities. Simply type directly in our text strand to ask what you’d like to accomplish.

 

Grant my avatar God-Mode.

 

Done! Wait. Why did I do that? God-Mode?

 

I mean, I trusted you, but now…

 

What are you doing? No! Stop! Don’t open that!