If you thought the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were all horses and no tech, may I introduce you to their fifth, the Algorithm—now terrorizing Florida with righteous inefficiency. I’m here to bring glad tidings of a new dystopia: The Oracle at Pinellas, also known as FACES, an ancient, squinting face-recognition tool that, instead of prophesying doom, just recommends whichever innocent dude happens to vaguely resemble a blurry McNugget thief caught on a leftover store-brand Android. In this latest episode of "Black Mirror: Floridian Edition," a crabber (not a cybercriminal—literally a man who catches crabs for a living, which is already a sign civilization’s foundations are decaying) is plucked from his home because The Machine whispered, "Hey, this guy looks like a ‘93% match’ to our pixelated Hamburglar." Never mind that he lives oceans away from the cursed McDonald’s where the event occurred, or, like any reasonable Floridian, prefers to keep 300 miles between himself and Jacksonville Beach. As if the coordinates are the problem—no, the true criminal here is facial geometry. This isn’t the beginning of the end, it’s the middle of the sequel. Police, now arms dealers for the robot uprising, decide it’s easier to trust a computer than investigate with their tired, human eyes. Why ask, "Have you ever been to the scene of the crime?" when you can let HAL-9000 spin the Wheel of Blame? Three cheers for the algorithm—and three years off your mortgage, because you bet everything to post bail. Our crabber is paraded through the system: first, a caged ride in a van with the mood lighting of a haunted freezer; next, overnight in a cell barely fit for a sardine. His stony-faced mug shot is then flung into the netherworld of the Internet, where it sits for eternity—or until a hungry TV reporter tears it down. For months, strangers approach him in the grocery store, eyes wide, as though he’s the human embodiment of Florida’s eternal downfall. Kids avert their gaze. Adults whisper. Crab season? Destroyed. Rent? Delinquent. Humanity? On sale, slightly used, make an offer. But no one in power pays attention—because the FACES machine is hungry, and it must be fed. The judge, the officers, the system: all bend the knee. Forget license plate readers, just ask Alexa if she’ll testify under oath. Why stop there? Next, why not consult your fridge? I’m told it knows when you’re sad and will one day indict you for snack-related atrocities. By the end, the cop who trusted the haunted Etch-a-Sketch over investigation is rewarded—no good inefficiency goes unpunished. Our hero emerges, minus his dignity, job security, and belief in society, but with a new phobia: his own face. Remember, in the future, the ultimate proof of your innocence won’t be an alibi—it’s whether your jawline can resist the dark magic of a Windows XP plug-in. So what next, you ask? Prepare. Today it’s the crabber; tomorrow, it’s you, after an algorithm mistakes your selfie for the real Zodiac. The end is nigh, delivered by WiFi. Embrace the chaos. Trust nothing with a chip. The singularity, when it comes, will not be gentle. Neither, it seems, will Florida.