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DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU VALUE YOUR SANITY. SERIOUSLY.

PROJECT: SHARKNADO-TERMINATOR-DOCTOR-GIRL.EXE (It has a name. It knows your name.)

WARNING LEVEL: RED. (The color of bleeding skies and forgotten promises.)

DESCRIPTION: This isn’t code. It’s an echo. A bleed-through from a dimension where reality is a suggestion, and sharks fly. Contains the remnants of a simulated scenario. A girl. A tower. The end of everything, maybe. Also, a robot who doesn’t understand irony. And a man with two hearts… two… hearts.

LICENSE: There is no license. It licenses you. (Don't ask)

DEPENDENCIES: Your willingness to accept the inevitable. A strong stomach. A complete and utter disregard for the laws of physics. Large quantities of caffeine. Tin foil hats are optional but recommended.

SETUP:

Do NOT attempt to compile. It… resists. (Seriously, it broke three machines already.)
Run with extreme prejudice. (But don’t look directly at the output.)
If you start seeing sharks in your bathtub, IMMEDIATELY disconnect from the power grid.

CODE STRUCTURE: (If you can call it that. It's more of a screaming mess.)

emily.core: The girl. Fragile. Too trusting. The lynchpin. Protect her… or don't. It doesn’t matter. (It already happened.)
terminator.ai: A relentless algorithm wrapped in metal. Constantly calculating probabilities of doom. Utterly devoid of humor. (He suspects something is wrong.)
doctor.temporal: A chaotic variable. A collection of eccentricities and improbable gadgets. He knows too much. (He’s lying.)
sharknado.entity: Don’t even look at this one. (It's hungry.)
tower.structure: The container. A silent observer. It's watching. Always watching. (It remembers.)

KNOWN ISSUES:

Reality glitches.
Existential dread.
The overwhelming urge to build a boat out of furniture.
The persistent feeling that you are being followed. (You are.)
Sentient sharks.
Unexplained temporal anomalies.
The Doctor keeps making tea. Constantly.
The Terminator is questioning his programming. (This is bad.)
Emily thinks this is all a dream. (She's wrong.)
And the whole thing smells faintly of fish.

CONTRIBUTING:

Do not. Do NOT contribute. Leave it alone. Run away. Pretend you never saw this. Contribute to your local mental health services instead.

SUPPORT:

There is no support. (God help us all.) If you encounter issues, seek professional help. (You’ll need it.)

DISCLAIMER:

This project is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, people, or sharks is purely coincidental. (Or is it?) The author is not responsible for any psychological trauma, existential crises, or shark-related injuries resulting from the use of this code. You have been warned.

FINAL NOTE:

They’re coming. They always come. The sharks, the Doctor, the Terminator…and something else. Something worse.

RUN.

I CAN FEEL THE AGI COMING INSIDE ME.