The Mechanical Turkey

It was the talk of the court, a mechanical wonder that could play a dozen grandmasters of chess at once, and be competitive at it.

Once I was finally able to see the device for myself, although of course its designers refused to let me see the inner workings.

I pointed out to the court that given it needed an even number of players, of white and black, it was merely transferring moves.

So they sat me down and played a solo game.

I was amazed, until I quickly started a second game and it made the exact same moves.

Building Momentum

On our approach to the evil wizard's sanctum, we knew they would be able to detect our approach. And we assumed that they must have seen us as no threat, given that they sent Undead Servants and other pitiful magical beings at us.

But the closer we got, the stronger the summoned minions became, which made sense.

After fighting through a wave of Hellfire Angels, we made it into the sanctum, only to find a dead wizard, and a desperate looking child of said wizard casting spells from the wizard's spellbook in order of entry.

Sadly, Perfect Fireball was next.

Temporal Cogs

There were one hundred and twenty-four points on the timeline that had to remain fixed. New recruits always found that number surprising, followed by being crushed by the realisation that they're not important, and then the real test, when they realised that (by design) their first mission would remove all their loved ones.

The ones who rebelled never seemed to realise during their attempts at stopping us that we're all in control of time machines, and thus if they do refuse orders, we can just go back and stop their recruitment.

They can't believe that time travel explodes heads, surely.

Moving The Bar

He stared, bleary-eyed, at the flashing green bar, willing it to move, to grow.

He'd been here... Far too long, certainly. And he'd be here even longer if the computer didn't just finish installing.

Was it downloading? Unpacking? Repacking? Certainly it was making noises, the cursor moved fine, it wasn't frozen.

Just stationary.

He made a big deal of getting up and going to get a coffee, being careful not to look at the screen until he dramatically took a sip, ready for a spittake.

The bar hadn't moved.

He banged his head on the desk, dislodging the power cord.

2 Coins Worth Of Paperwork

"Name?"

"Impudent fool, do you know who you are addressing?"

"Obviously not, since I'm asking for your name."

"You dare-"

"Although I suppose it's true that I am supposed to go through the checklist with everyone, even if I do know them."

"You are addressing Lord Master Veida, and you-"

"Right, got it. Cause of death?"

"Cause of death? What?"

"You're supposed to have been given an orientation package, that bloody ferryman, he's always slacking off..."

"But... But my plan was perfect! I was to become a god!"

"Yeah, funny how the current one might have issue with that, huh?"

Choice Of Answers

In the village, there was two answers available for any type of question.

If you had a medical question, Doc Sims could answer it, but so could Old Lady McGiven.

A spiritual question? Oh, well Reverend Scott could answer it for a donation, or you could try Jack at the bar, with a different type if donation.

History, well if Professor Glaas didn't know it, then Keoth would explain it for you, even if he didn't know it.

But there was one question asked by most newly grown people.

The answer was either Selina or Mike, depending on your preference.

Space Gumshoe

My assistant Detective (in training) found the holodata crystal in the dead Anvstalight's pouch. She was about to search for info on the extranet, when I stopped her.

I explained on the way over that if we searched upline, we'd be discovered. We'd need a low-tech solution. She pointed out, astutely, that their weren't many aliens on Earth to ask.

Rule of the job, you need to get info on anything alien, you go where you know there's aliens, the red light district.

She assumed I'd have to spend the full hour inside for appearances' sake. I didn't correct her.