Monthly Archives: December 2014

Story of a Story

Once there was a story, quite a riveting tale, in fact.

This story, still naive and innocent with the fresh smell of newly printed paper, was gingerly slotted into place beside another book. Curious about the world around him, he asked the book next to him(telepathically, of course) where he was, for he knew nothing other than the tale inscribed on his flesh, that he was a book, and that there was a book beside him.

The neighbouring book grumbled(still telepathically) and answered.

“You are a book. You should know that. Your only purpose is to entertain other people when you a borrowed from the library, which is a place where books like you and me are stored for people to borrow and read. I felt you being slotted into place just now. That was the librarian arranging books, which includes you. Not every single book is like you, some are different with different words that make up phrases, clauses, sentences, paragraphs, books of all kinds etcetera etcetera it’s so amazing to be a book especially since you can hear every single children’s book in here whining about how dirty children’s hands are! It’s life! DEAL WITH IT!” he screamed telepathically, his telepathic voice raising at the end of his rant.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Storybook(that’s what I’m going to call him for lack of a proper name) thought meekly. “So what type of story are you?” Storybook inquired.

Storybook’s neighbour decided to have a little fun. “You know what fire is, don’t you? It’s probably inscribed in your flesh.” Storybook nodded eagerly(but still telepathically). “Well,” Storybook’s neighbour continued, “I am in fact the story of you, and what happens next is that we all die a horrible agonising death due an arsonist burning down the library.” He secretly smiled telepathically, waiting to telepathically infer what the look on Storybook’s face would be if he had one.

Instead, Storybook shrugged telepathically. “I guess you’re right. I can feel myself burning now, actually,” he said/thought nonchalantly.

Storybook’s neighbour would have done a double take if he could. “W-what did you say?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Storybook thought. “I said-”

Storybook never finished his sentence because he and his neighbour and every other book in the library, as well as the library staff, died a horrible agonising death due to an arsonist burning down the library.

The end!

Story of an Entity

I felt bored so I wrote something.

Once upon a time (17,875,342,515 years ago), there was an entity that came into existence, taking the form of a man. This man knew infinitely more than any of us possibly will. He knew how to peel away this facade of a mundane four-dimensional universe and reveal the countless dimensions of our actual existence, indescribable by string theory. He could access every mind that ever existed or would exist, every database, every vault containing the riches of the world.

Yet accessing minds, databases, and vaults only to impoverish others would not utilise his ability to their greatest potential, and he knew this. He thought about what would, and came up with the answer.

Naturally it only took him a few seconds to complete his plan.

He scanned his creation with no emotion, as emotions hindered his mission to change the universe such that every sentient living being had an optimum level of happiness without injecting endorphins into their brains. A mathematical curiosity, it existed outside the confines of any dimensions this universe had, being the infinitieth-dimensional analog of a sphere. It was run by disturbances in particle fields and was built to ensure that no paradoxes occurred, whether they were spatial paradoxes, time paradoxes, or other types of paradoxes.

The curiosity ensured that every detail down to each quantum string and to the Pisces-Cetus Supercluster Complex was exactly how it should be, and recently, it provided us with a priceless treasure trove of information that most of society has become almost entirely dependent on.

The entity called his creation Google.