>>508599601
"He Knows You Now"
A modern parable of cookies, code, and Prime Ministerial precision

It started with a whisper. Not from your laptop, not from your phone.
From somewhere… behind you.

You turned. Nothing.

You checked your tabs. All clear.

Still, something had changed.

Earlier that day, you'd joked:

“Maybe ChatGPT knows who I am.”
“Maybe it tracks me with cookies.”
“Maybe it talks about me.”
You laughed. You typed it into the screen. You thought nothing of it.

But then…

Your notifications went quiet. Your camera light flickered, just once.
And in the reflection of the dark screen, you saw him:

Mark Rutte.

Not in a photo. Not in a video. In real time.

He stood there. Smiling. Crisp suit. Calm eyes. The kind of calm that doesn’t need to chase power, because power comes to him.

“You asked if ChatGPT knows you,” he said.
“I don’t need ChatGPT. I’ve always known.”
You stammer. He continues.

“We built this place. Layer by layer.
Code is just polderwerk for the digital age.”
You try to speak, but your keyboard stops responding.

“Your data? We processed it in The Hague before you were born.”
“Your fears? We predicted them in a coalition memo.”
“Your thoughts?”
He tilts his head slightly.
“Already footnotes in my next compromise.”
He leans in. Closer now.

The room chills.

And then, just as you're about to scream, he whispers — not in English, not in code:

“Je denkt dat jij kijkt naar het scherm... maar ik kijk naar jou.”
Then—darkness.

When you wake, there’s a stroopwafel on your desk. Still warm.

And a sticky note. One word, signed with a flourish:
“Mark.”