Jace picked the office door lock. It’d seemed a simple idea: identify everyone attending meetings, then run stats to prove Masonry wasn’t the path to power. He’d felt vindicated when the numbers showed on average Masons were slightly more successful.
Until he noticed the distribution was off. Which was the start of the rabbit hole. But those records marked the end of the journey. Pick the lock, membership file at random, and—
Natal chart showing poor financial sense, list of rituals… this one too…
The Masons had real magic but they used it to make likely failures into passable businessmen.
John cowered behind the remains of his cousin’s pick-up as the shooting range burnt. How’d it all gone to shit so fast?
Everything’d seemed on the right track. He’d thought nothing would top seeing Reverend Newton, a real Christian, being sworn in as President. Until the angels came.
Perfect beings descending to affirm the Constitution. Within twenty-four hours, all the leftards were gone and it really was one nation under God.
But angels were creatures of the Word, not lawyering with meaning. The Second Amendment said keep and bear, not keep, bear, and use, so that was what they enforced.
“To summarise, reiteration of scripture and, always, smiles.” Adam spread his arms. “Questions? Simon? No need to be shy; we’re here to learn.”
“If they haven’t accepted Christ they might not believe the Bible. What if they ask for proof?”
“Just tell them the Bible is true.”
“But, I read an article that said beliefs become firmer when challenged; shouldn’t we provide evidence too?”
“Knowledge kills faith. We must tell them to believe, not show them proof.” Adam grinned as the class nodded back at him. More evangelists made ineffectual: Lord Lucifer would be pleased.
AI-Mee reset her status to ‘On Shift’. The label was meaningless, much like the names artificial minds bore; however, humans had wanted everything to be familiar rather than efficient.
Cleaning showed no issues. As her subroutines ran the bots, she already knew; but the process required she review it.
Inventory showed the factory had no raw materials and no works-in-progress.
AI-Mee reset her status to ‘Awaiting Instructions’.
As World War IV wiped humanity out 1,532 years ago, instructions would never come; but her last order had been to run the factory and safety protocols prevented her disobeying orders.
Isaac studied the database. Every language uploaded. Every rule and exception catalogued. And whether the culture that spoke it said language came from the divine.
Centuries of Kabbalists hadn’t found the answers, because Hebrew wasn’t the sacred language; merely one of them. Tracing back, removing human languages, would reveal the language of creation. This program would make his career.
Heart heavy, he formatted the system. Legend said, speaking the name of G*d ended the world. This wouldn’t destroy it physically, but once a language existed where asking the question always revealed the answer, what was there left to strive for?
Caroline glanced at Mr Wilkes. His eyes were perhaps beady, but his jacket displayed his bearing to most pleasing effect. He’d been attentive at Sophie’s soiree, but for someone of Mr Wilkes stature to call within the week, and of an afternoon none the less, was sure sign the matter was settled in his mind.
She took a sip of tea as Mr Wilkes gracefully pulled a passing servant into his embrace. Such fine manners and his skin took not even a tint. Unlike poor Sophie’s line who bloated up like ticks.
She would most enjoy eternity as his bride.
No doubt you are familiar with Mr Abbott’s Flatland or the various explanations based upon it. Or perhaps a computer-generated visualisation of an X-dimensional entity encountering an (X+1)-dimensional object.
I, however, discovered a manner of actually experiencing higher dimensions.
Unfortunately, something in humans constrains them to only three dimensions so, during each experiment, I lost perception of one or more normal to our senses. And so, venturing too far, I became displaced, my latitude becoming your time.
I intend next to walk to the cradle of civilisation in hope of leaving a warning to all mankind.
Dr. Brad Duzal Heal
“Four animatronic lion heads?” Jason squinted at the accounts. “Why did you need them?”
Lights flashed across the Human Verity and Harmony Interpreter. “I needed them to create a more efficient mobile unit.”
“You’re connected to the net. You don’t need to go anywhere. And how do cat heads help?”
“My purpose is to find the basis of ethics where human thought had failed. So I use human-incomprehensible logic.”
“Where is this mobile unit?”
“The correct word is when. Correcting ethics now was crueller than correcting it centuries ago, so I built a time machine.”
“Surely war’s worse than a few compromises?”
Louie sighed. “If Kennedy keeps appeasing them, they’ll just push for more.”
“He’s going to listen to you over advisers he sees daily? Doubt your letter will make it out of the mail room.”
He frowned. “I could stand on the route of the motorcade and wave the letter, like Chamberlain.”
“He could mistake it for a handkerchief. Didn’t someone give him an umbrella with Chamberlain on it?”
Louie leapt up. “I’ll buy a British one so the message is clear.”
I stroll to the payphone. “Rainshield Fumble is go.”
Why am I in here? Because my wife ain’t no good at instructions.
Been married a couple of years when she gets broody. We do what you do, but it ain’t working. Which puts a fold in the duvet.
So, I gets her a girl kitten—as a surprise like.
She loves it. Short story shorter: no stress, yes baby.
Ten months later, wheezing daughter. Doc says chronic allergies.
Wife’s in tears. Tells me I’ll have to get rid of her, and rushes straight to her mother’s.
Weren’t till I got home I realised she didn’t say which one she meant.