Story Time, Volume 10
This week's Daily Micro Fiction stories, plus a bonus story at the end.
His mind drifts over the threshold; he begins to dream. The chip embedded in his amygdala takes over, hijacking his brainpower. His unconscious mind endlessly factors prime numbers.
Environmental concerns? Economics? Decentralization? Solved.
Dreams are a small price to pay.
For a Basilisk, manners are paramount—they learn from an early age not to stare.
Even continents drift apart — but everything comes back together, given time.
Maybe don't wait 500 million years to give her a call though.
Inside an atomic clock, Cesium electrons bounce between energy states at 9,192,631,770 bounces per second.
Loki found this hilarious. On a whim, he substracted a couple — just a couple! — of bounces.
Now he sits, waiting to see when someone will figure it out.
The capsule glided into the dock. Grateful astronauts unloaded the cargo quickly.
After the war started, they'd figured that they'd be left to starve. When the capsules somehow kept coming, they didn't ask questions—or look too closely at what they were eating.
A rock falls down a hill.
In its tumble lies eternity.
The first true AI wasn’t born in a lab, or from a high-tech startup, or by secretive military development. No, the first AI came, out of all places, from sports gambling.
Our first artificial progeny…was a jock.
He held the stolen phone up to his face. Gradually, his features melted, transforming into a teenage girl with blonde hair.
The lock screen didn’t budge.
“Fucking Apple!” the shapeshifter cried in frustration, angrily throwing the phone over his shoulder.
Satoshi issued a challenge: find the end of his rainbow, and his billions in cryptocurrency gold would be yours.
Rainbow-chasers, they came to be called. Poring over cryptographic proofs, analyzing conspiracies from the early 2000's, all in a quixotic quest to inherit the treasure of the world's most mysterious billionaire.
If only they had known where to look.
On a backroom shelf in a grocery store somewhere in Topeka, a lonely box of Lucky Charms sits abandoned.