The Positive Sentiment Filter
A social media content moderator, tasked with policing misinformation about a new fusion project, suffers a crisis of conscience when he realises the platform's AI is suppressing legitimate scientific dissent while amplifying corporate propaganda.
INT. CONTENT MODERATION HUB - DAY
A vast, sterile room. Rows of identical minimalist desks stretch into the distance, each one an island in a sea of polished concrete. The only color comes from the cold, blue-white glow of monitors. The air is unnaturally still.
SOUND: The oppressive, low HUM of servers and air filtration.
TOMASE (30s), intelligent but with the deep weariness of a man who has seen too much, sits at his station. His face is a neutral mask, reflecting the screen's glow.
ON HIS MONITOR
A sleek interface, PRISM. In the main window, a video plays.
Sunlight. Lens flare. Children with perfect teeth run in slow motion through a field of golden wheat. Gleaming CGI of a fusion reactor—a perfect, golden doughnut of contained plasma.
A green box in the corner of the screen reads:
`Sentiment: Positive. Factual Accuracy: Verified. Recommendation: Amplify.`
A counter ticks down: `ITEMS REMAINING: 874`.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(Warm, synthesized)
...limitless clean energy... a new dawn
for humanity...
Tomase's expression is blank. His hand rests on the mouse. His finger moves with practiced, robotic efficiency.
CLICK.
The video vanishes. The queue refreshes instantly.
ON HIS MONITOR
The new item is a stark block of text. No images. A hyperlink.
TITLE: `Stochastic Resonance and Non-Linear Divertor Instabilities in High-Gain Tokamaks. Author: Dr. Aiko Miyato, Max Planck Institute.`
A RED box flashes in the corner:
`Sentiment: Negative (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt). Factual Accuracy: Unverifiable (Contains Speculative Modelling). Recommendation: Deprioritise. Flag as Harmful Misinformation.`
Below it, a single button: `CONFIRM`.
Tomase’s finger hovers over the mouse button. He doesn't click.
CLOSE ON TOMASE
A flicker of something behind his eyes. Recognition. He leans closer to the screen, reading the author's name again.
His gaze shifts to the `ITEMS REMAINING: 873` counter, then back to the red box. The word `Harmful` seems to pulse.
He hesitates a beat longer, then moves the cursor away from `CONFIRM` and clicks the hyperlink.
ON HIS MONITOR
The screen fills with a dense academic paper. A wall of equations, complex graphs, and precise, technical language.
Tomase’s eyes scan the text, his old academic training kicking in.
INSERT - CLOSE ON SCREEN TEXT
Quick flashes of key phrases he reads:
`...based on leaked experimental data...`
`...critical design flaw...`
`...potential for massive energy discharge...`
`...breach of magnetic containment...`
BACK TO SCENE
Tomase leans back. He stares at the cold, reasoned warning on his screen, then at the memory of the slick, empty video. The two realities are irreconcilable.
His mouse drifts back toward the `CONFIRM` button. He stops.
A subtle tension in his jaw. He takes a shallow breath.
With a series of deft, quiet clicks, he opens a hidden partition on his drive. A single folder is visible, labeled: `Anomalies`.
He drags the icon for Dr. Miyato's paper from the Prism interface and drops it into the `Anomalies` folder.
SOUND: The soft digital THUD of the file transfer completing.
Then, he moves his cursor back to the Prism window. He clicks `CONFIRM`.
SOUND: A sharp, final CLICK.
The red box and Dr. Miyato's warning vanish. The queue refreshes.
ON HIS MONITOR
Another pro-Helios video appears. A beloved, folksy actor (or a perfect deepfake) sits by a CGI campfire.
The green box is already there: `Sentiment: Trustworthy, Positive. Recommendation: Amplify.`
Tomase ignores it.
He opens the `Anomalies` folder again. It now contains one file.
He navigates to the platform's deep archives, a search interface usually reserved for internal audits. A blinking cursor waits.
He types.
ON SCREEN - SEARCH BAR
`SEARCH: Helios AND "suppressed"`
`SEARCH: "negative sentiment" AND "seismic risk"`
`SEARCH: "materials science" AND "magnet degradation"`
A list of files begins to populate the screen. Dozens of them. All flagged. All buried.
A geologist's report on seismic instability at the reactor site.
An economist's paper on catastrophic budget overruns.
A materials scientist's warning on superconducting magnet decay.
Tomase's face is no longer numb. A quiet, cold fury has taken its place.
He begins to work, his movements precise and methodical.
MONTAGE
- CLOSE ON MOUSE: Dragging a file labeled `Seismic_Risk_Analysis.pdf` into the `Anomalies` folder.
- CLOSE ON SCREEN: An article titled `The Black Hole Budget` is flagged with the red `Deprioritise` label. Tomase copies it.
- CLOSE ON TOMASE'S EYES: Reflecting the scrolling lines of data. Focused. Determined.
- WIDER SHOT: Tomase sits alone in the vast, silent office, a single point of dissent in a machine of enforced positivity. He works silently, building his dossier, copying one buried truth after another.
The `Anomalies` folder fills with files. His rebellion is silent, digital, and absolute.
A vast, sterile room. Rows of identical minimalist desks stretch into the distance, each one an island in a sea of polished concrete. The only color comes from the cold, blue-white glow of monitors. The air is unnaturally still.
SOUND: The oppressive, low HUM of servers and air filtration.
TOMASE (30s), intelligent but with the deep weariness of a man who has seen too much, sits at his station. His face is a neutral mask, reflecting the screen's glow.
ON HIS MONITOR
A sleek interface, PRISM. In the main window, a video plays.
Sunlight. Lens flare. Children with perfect teeth run in slow motion through a field of golden wheat. Gleaming CGI of a fusion reactor—a perfect, golden doughnut of contained plasma.
A green box in the corner of the screen reads:
`Sentiment: Positive. Factual Accuracy: Verified. Recommendation: Amplify.`
A counter ticks down: `ITEMS REMAINING: 874`.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(Warm, synthesized)
...limitless clean energy... a new dawn
for humanity...
Tomase's expression is blank. His hand rests on the mouse. His finger moves with practiced, robotic efficiency.
CLICK.
The video vanishes. The queue refreshes instantly.
ON HIS MONITOR
The new item is a stark block of text. No images. A hyperlink.
TITLE: `Stochastic Resonance and Non-Linear Divertor Instabilities in High-Gain Tokamaks. Author: Dr. Aiko Miyato, Max Planck Institute.`
A RED box flashes in the corner:
`Sentiment: Negative (Fear, Uncertainty, Doubt). Factual Accuracy: Unverifiable (Contains Speculative Modelling). Recommendation: Deprioritise. Flag as Harmful Misinformation.`
Below it, a single button: `CONFIRM`.
Tomase’s finger hovers over the mouse button. He doesn't click.
CLOSE ON TOMASE
A flicker of something behind his eyes. Recognition. He leans closer to the screen, reading the author's name again.
His gaze shifts to the `ITEMS REMAINING: 873` counter, then back to the red box. The word `Harmful` seems to pulse.
He hesitates a beat longer, then moves the cursor away from `CONFIRM` and clicks the hyperlink.
ON HIS MONITOR
The screen fills with a dense academic paper. A wall of equations, complex graphs, and precise, technical language.
Tomase’s eyes scan the text, his old academic training kicking in.
INSERT - CLOSE ON SCREEN TEXT
Quick flashes of key phrases he reads:
`...based on leaked experimental data...`
`...critical design flaw...`
`...potential for massive energy discharge...`
`...breach of magnetic containment...`
BACK TO SCENE
Tomase leans back. He stares at the cold, reasoned warning on his screen, then at the memory of the slick, empty video. The two realities are irreconcilable.
His mouse drifts back toward the `CONFIRM` button. He stops.
A subtle tension in his jaw. He takes a shallow breath.
With a series of deft, quiet clicks, he opens a hidden partition on his drive. A single folder is visible, labeled: `Anomalies`.
He drags the icon for Dr. Miyato's paper from the Prism interface and drops it into the `Anomalies` folder.
SOUND: The soft digital THUD of the file transfer completing.
Then, he moves his cursor back to the Prism window. He clicks `CONFIRM`.
SOUND: A sharp, final CLICK.
The red box and Dr. Miyato's warning vanish. The queue refreshes.
ON HIS MONITOR
Another pro-Helios video appears. A beloved, folksy actor (or a perfect deepfake) sits by a CGI campfire.
The green box is already there: `Sentiment: Trustworthy, Positive. Recommendation: Amplify.`
Tomase ignores it.
He opens the `Anomalies` folder again. It now contains one file.
He navigates to the platform's deep archives, a search interface usually reserved for internal audits. A blinking cursor waits.
He types.
ON SCREEN - SEARCH BAR
`SEARCH: Helios AND "suppressed"`
`SEARCH: "negative sentiment" AND "seismic risk"`
`SEARCH: "materials science" AND "magnet degradation"`
A list of files begins to populate the screen. Dozens of them. All flagged. All buried.
A geologist's report on seismic instability at the reactor site.
An economist's paper on catastrophic budget overruns.
A materials scientist's warning on superconducting magnet decay.
Tomase's face is no longer numb. A quiet, cold fury has taken its place.
He begins to work, his movements precise and methodical.
MONTAGE
- CLOSE ON MOUSE: Dragging a file labeled `Seismic_Risk_Analysis.pdf` into the `Anomalies` folder.
- CLOSE ON SCREEN: An article titled `The Black Hole Budget` is flagged with the red `Deprioritise` label. Tomase copies it.
- CLOSE ON TOMASE'S EYES: Reflecting the scrolling lines of data. Focused. Determined.
- WIDER SHOT: Tomase sits alone in the vast, silent office, a single point of dissent in a machine of enforced positivity. He works silently, building his dossier, copying one buried truth after another.
The `Anomalies` folder fills with files. His rebellion is silent, digital, and absolute.