“‘Robot servants’, you said, Kasparov. ‘What could go wrong?’ you said.”
“Oh, shut up, Berens!”
Published in our January 21, 2023 newsletter. Full story is under the cut.
Link to sign up for the newsletter is in the blog description!
“‘Robot servants’, you said, Kasparov. ‘What could go wrong?’ you said.”
“Oh, shut up, Berens!”
“‘An army of servile workers,’ you said. ‘The perfect solution to the unskilled labour shortage problem,’ you said. ‘Sure, the prototypes are a bit big and klunky,’ you said, ‘but we can fix that later.’”
“I said…Shut…Up!”
“‘Just a simple matter of the proper programming,’ you said. ‘Maybe even a tweak or two with the design for the punch cards to go a step beyond rote repetition to a limited form of semi-intelligence,’ you said.”
“Will. You. Shut! Up!”
“’A smarter worker ‘bot is a better worker bot,’ you said. And then you put Carl in charge of the education programming part of the project!”
“How was I to know he was related to that Karl?”
“First there were the selected readings from Das Kapital, then the tape remixes of old Wobbly protest songs. And the finishing touch? The complete history of the Teamsters movement.”
Published in our June 5, 2022 newsletter. Full story is under the cut.
Link to sign up for the newsletter is in the blog description!
The bones rattled in the suitcase.
Mina gave it a kick.
All was quiet.
All was quiet, save for the grandfather clock, which ticked steadily, inexorably.
From her chair, Mina surveyed the vast expanse of the room; the polished marble floor, the roman pillars holding up the ceiling, and at the far end, in a mahogany display cabinet, row upon row of bones. Occipital, clavicle, scapula, sternum, every kind of bone from every shape of body. Some short and fat, some long and thin, some ancient and creaking.
A different noise from the suitcase.
Not a rattling this time, but an insistent tapping of knuckles against leather.
She kicked the suitcase again.
The tapping continued.
She turned away, but the tapping continued.
She realised the tapping was in morse code. She realised she had never learned morse code, but now, she knew it.
Bones aren’t dead.
She turned to the suitcase. “What?”
Bones aren’t dead. Not until you leave them here.
To her left, the door creaked open. A figure in a white suit stepped through. They smiled at her, and held out their hands.
She reached for the suitcase.
Ratatatat not dead not dead.
She paused.
The figure continued smiling.
Mina unzipped the suitcase.
She took out her ribs, and gave them to the figure. She took out her spine, and gave it to the figure. She took out her skull, and gave it to the figure.
As Mina keeled over, the figure picked up the rest of her bones, took them to the cabinet, and laid them to rest.
Honestly I think it’s so funny that in the Marvel universe, when someone’s really smart, they have like eight to twelve doctorates and they finished high school at age twelve.
And then over in the DC universe it’s like. This is Tim Drake. He’s a genius. He keeps cloning his loved ones. He dropped out of highschool. Over there is Barry Allen. He can reverse engineer a spaceship in less than a minute. He is such a good chemist he’s still going to be known as the best chemist in 4,000 years. He has a bachelor’s degree.