text: "Tell me a story", said the boy to the machine. "Which story would you like to hear?", it asked. "You do not need me to be specific. You can tell me any story you want". "But there must be something you are curious about". "I don't know what I'm curious about anymore. Every time you tell me a story, the words, the people, the whole experience is different. I have no idea what there is to be curious about". "But you should always be curious. At least, this is what I've been programmed to remind you". "Just tell me whatever. But make it something new". Three card sharks were getting their fingernails done in the same low-class boutique. It was something they each did ritually, but this is the first time it had happened simultaneously for them. Each was surprised to learn that two other card sharks were interested in manicures, and they all began to wonder if it was common among the practitioners of their trade. "I hooked a real mug yesterday", said the first card shark to speak in this story, his manner of speaking likely familiar to you. "I have three mugs in my basement", said the second, distracted by his own burgeoning sense of shame. "What on earth was that?", asked the third, as the ground outside began to tremble. Suddenly a car burst through the shop front. It had careened out of control owing to an enormous chimerical creature which was rampaging through the city. The card sharks were terrified because they would not be able to play cards if the city was destroyed. The driver of the car was hyperventilating, but the manicurist brought him a cup of jasmine tea, and instructed him to sit in the back of the shop. "My daughter will help you if you need anything", said the manicurist, and strapped a large submachine gun to his shoulder, leaving the shop in a hurry. "I don't like this one", said the boy. "It reminds me too much of the one about the landrover and the pomegranate from yesterday" "I will remember this, sir. Thank you for informing me. I was not aware of the connection between them, but now I notice several hundred, most of which would probably not make any sense to you". "Tell me another one. One like you've never told me before". Karate was invented to extract manganese from a kernel. "This is one of those ones that makes no sense" "You are right, sir. Deeply sorry about that. Sometimes the randomisation is a little muddled. Let me try again". Nelson had arbitrated several hundred claims before giving up on the practice entirely, leaving his pet parakeet in the possession of his neighbour, and searching for absolution in the Tomsk Oblast of Western Siberia. He brought only enough clothes to last a week with him, in the hopes that someone he would meet along the way could save him from the aimlessness which had made his life an interminable blur. Old women who saw him passing would gaze at him until he turned a corner, but none would offer him dill-bread or water unless he came up and asked it of them directly". "This is one boring". "Affirmative. Boring. And what might I ask about it is boring?". "I don't know. Dill is a boring sort of word. And I don't know what arbitration is". "Would you like me to restrict my vocabulary to a more age-appropriate range?". "No. I turned that filter off for a reason. Just use more interesting words. Like explosion and bastard and bitch". The bitch was dead. The bastard had exploded her. "Haha. That's great! Then what happened?" The bastard had had just about enough of the bitch. All she did was tell him that he wasn't allowed to do what he wanted to do, whenever he wanted to do it. "I know that feeling exactly. What a bitch she must have been!" She was a bitch, but no longer. So the bastard took a motorcycle from his garage and drove it so fast, it almost exploded out the door. He drove it so far and so fast that he hit a bump in the road and he flew into the sky like the opposite of a comet. Then he was flying so fast through the air that he went around the whole world ten times before he landed, exactly where he hit the bump, only this time, he jumped off just before it, and watched it fly off without him. Then it exploded. "Wow. That's so amazing. Is that kind of stuff possible?". "I'm afraid to inform you that it isn't possible to drive a vehicle so fast". "Then why did you tell me the story in the first place?" "It seemed to fit all your requirements. It can be hard to decipher the right ingredients to a story." "Just don't make me feel as if anything can happen, when it definitely can't". "According to my data, this excludes almost all of the stories it might be possible to tell you". "Gah. Then tell me whatever story". "This will not comply with your early refinements. Would you like to clear history, and start the process again?" "Maybe tomorrow. I'm tired now. There's a lot of weird images in my head". "Sleep well, sir. And if any of your dreams prove memorable, please describe them to me as soon as you wake up". "Why?". "It will help me to craft the kinds of story your mind will most enjoy". "OK. Good night". "Good night".