Arthur
Having finished writing a journal entry, Arthur glanced out the window. The crimson sky and vile greenery assaulted his eyes; out there, only unfathomable horror lay. Arthur was accustomed to such sights, and instead of worrying, he took a bath.
While bathing, he pondered the world he found himself in; vivid memories of distant times assailed him. There was once a time when anyone was free to think anything, Arthur thought. No omniscient, omnipresent AI, no perpetual persecution of those like him, no unstoppable terrors. But now, hiding was the only option. And as he could not be fully self-sufficient, he had to hide in plain sight, and, therefore, live two lives.
The stakes are high; a minor slip-up and one must sacrifice one of their lives, Arthur kept reminding himself. Despite the fact that no one ever could pose a proper threat to the AI, it would never allow mere notions of freedom to spread. Perhaps that too was excessive, for the concept of freedom would crumble beneath the might of convenience; if you were one with the AI, you would live a long happy life, laden with luxuries only state-of-the-art technology could afford.
Arthur lept out of the bath with a jolt as he realised his grave mistake. He had grown complacent over the years. A trait that might have helped him appear innocent in the past would cost him dearly. He had left his journal exposed on his desk next to the window. When Arthur left the bathroom, there stood behind the window the frame of an enormous machine, staring Arthur down with one of its metallic eye-tubes.