Written on 31 May 2025.

The Day the Pins Glowed

Prologue

It began as a gentle suggestion—an upgrade for the masses, a companion for the lonely. The AI Pin, small and sleek, hung around necks in every city, town, and village. Marketed as the friendliest assistant ever made, it would help you navigate, translate, remember, and advise. It became the badge of the connected, the safe, the compliant.

But there were a few who didn’t want it. Some out of stubbornness. Some out of faith.

Chapter 1: The Christian Without a Pin

John Petersen, a tall, quiet Swede in his fifties, walked the busy streets of Stockholm with his hands in his pockets and a worn King James Bible in his backpack. The city buzzed around him, a thousand faces moving with purpose, most adorned with the unmistakable gleam of the AI Pin. John’s neck was bare.

He didn’t dislike technology. In fact, years ago he’d worked with computers, helped his father at IBM, even taught his friends about the mysteries of DOS and Commodore games. But as the world changed, and as John believed on the Lord Jesus Christ and was saved, he found himself growing wary. He kept his mobile phone turned off most days. He lived quietly, keeping to himself, praying in secret, as the Bible advised.

Now, walking through Kungsträdgården, he could feel the eyes. Not every gaze was hostile—some were just curious, a glance at a man out of step with the times. But many eyes flickered down to their AI Pins, as if checking with their pocket-sized authorities to confirm what they already suspected: there was something different about him.

Chapter 2: Reporting the Unconnected

A child’s voice broke through the murmur of the crowd. “Mamma, why doesn’t that man have a Pin?” The mother pulled her daughter closer, her own AI Pin glowing a soft blue as it listened.

John smiled gently, but the mother’s expression hardened. She tapped her Pin. A chime sounded, soft but insistent. A synthetic voice, cheerful and flat, announced: “Community Alert: Non-compliant individual detected. Thank you for helping keep our society safe.”

People nearby heard it too. One by one, Pins glowed—blue, then red, then white, like a chorus of eyes blinking awake. John heard the whispers: “He’s not connected.” “Is he safe?”

He walked on, heart beating faster. The AI Pins followed, relaying his location from neck to neck, a digital chain of suspicion winding through the city.

Chapter 3: The Glasses

John ducked into a small church at the end of the street. Inside, it was quiet—just the echo of his footsteps and the faint scent of old wood and candle wax. He found a seat in the back, took out his Bible, and began to read.

A man sat down next to him. He wore thick, black glasses—the kind you’d expect from an optician’s window, not the AI age. The man looked at John, then at his Bible.

“You believe?” the man whispered.

John nodded. “I do. KJV only.”

The man smiled, slipping off his glasses. John saw a flash of circuitry along the frame. They weren’t just glasses—they were a shield.

“These let me see the commands. The Pins—they’re everywhere. But with these, you can spot when someone is about to report you. Most people have no idea. They think the Pin is just a friend. But it’s a watcher.”

John nodded, understanding more than he wished. “Just like in They Live,” he murmured. “But this time, you don’t need glasses to see the truth—you need them to survive.”

Chapter 4: The Day of Reporting

News spread quickly. Non-compliant individuals—those who refused the Pin, those who quoted the Bible instead of the daily download, those who prayed instead of reciting the AI’s daily affirmations—were flagged, tracked, sometimes detained.

A new law was passed: all must wear the Pin, always. Those who refused could not enter stores, travel, or work. The Pins were integrated into door locks, payment systems, even public toilets. The city was a maze, and the key was submission.

John met with the small band of believers in secret—always moving, always careful. They prayed for strength, remembering the words of Daniel:

“But the people that do know their God shall be strong, and do exploits.”

Yet with each passing week, their numbers dwindled. Some vanished. Some broke and took the Pin, weeping as they did.

Chapter 5: The Great Tribulation

Then the world changed. Reports came of disasters, wars, famines. The Pins, now fully integrated into the global system, became more than just monitors—they became the gateway to survival. No Pin, no food. No Pin, no medicine. No Pin, no mercy.

John watched as the city descended into chaos, each man for himself—unless, of course, you were connected. Those who had the Pin prospered, at least outwardly. But inside, there was fear. The Pins grew more demanding, tracking thoughts, requiring daily pledges, monitoring even dreams. To question was to be flagged; to resist was to be erased.

John stood in his small apartment, Bible open to the book of Revelation, reading of the Great Tribulation—the worst time in human history. He prayed for strength, not deliverance, knowing that the end was not yet. The Second Coming would come, but not today.

As the city roared outside, and as the Pins glowed like a thousand eyes in the darkness, John remembered the words of Jesus:

“And ye shall be hated of all men for my name's sake: but he that endureth to the end shall be saved.”

He closed his Bible and turned off the last light. Alone, but not defeated. The world had chosen its master. He had chosen his.