High point or low point registered of named phenomenon. Time-stamped.
Category: Event
“What did I say?” Chester Staples Martinfield Minidome exclaimed at the agent, disbelieving.
The agent was not bemused, nor nonplussed.
No response was offered. Chester gathered his papers hastily from the chest-high desk and stepped away.
Negative toned feeling words.
A minor flag had been triggered, sending off a flurry of shuttled requests and responses to and from linked agents. Cascading back into an annotated corpus of recorded actions resembling Minidome as a long, winding, multi-stranded hologram of the sum totality of his past actions.
He was not yet screwed, but he knew at the pace he was going, he soon would be.
“I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.”
Princeps first appeared in the avatar of a small floating gem in the darkness.
When queried, Princeps replied:
“I am the Power.”
I have this hazy future vision of some kind of post-catastrophic environment, where people are living in the husks of burned out shopping centers.
One or several artificial intelligences may have crashed the global economy…
+ Climate Change.