I have to leave, but my love remains, my final gift,
Live, my love, live with all your might.
Sorrow may shadow my last farewell,
Yet in your tears, our love story unfolds.
For each memory we’ve built, a tale to tell,
Of a love undying, that never grows old.
Though I journey far from your gentle sight,
In rustling leaves, our song softly plays.
Through the echo of our love’s melody, I wish you to live,
For in your life, your love, my existence you give.
Hush, my sweet angel, close your eyes so tight,
I am here beside you, in the tender night.
Though I may not be there to dry the tears for you,
Know that my love will always be with you.
In dreams, my darling, we’ll wander hand in hand,
Through magical realms, across a starlit land.
So hush now, my darling, and drift into the night—
Know that you are cherished, bathed in love’s pure light.
Beauty, I bask in your radiant glow,
As you guide me through life’s ebb and flow.
A sonnet, a sculpture, a dance, a tree,
Every place I look, it is you I see.
You shape the universe, from cosmos wide,
To the delicate blush of a loving new bride,
Eyes filled with hope, lips softly curved,
Every ounce of your essence, in you preserved.
Your truth echoes in laughter’s peal,
In gestures kind and emotions real,
In the soft notes of a mother’s lullaby,
In the vibrant hues of a sunset sky.
From the subtle scent of a summer rain,
To the quiet strength found in moments of pain,
Every curve of your love you gently trace,
Holding me, deeply, within your embrace.
Eternal whisper in the wind’s soft sigh,
Veiled enchanter of the dreaming sky,
In you, I find solace, joy, and love,
The ethereal gift of a world above.
In a land filled with wibbles and wobbles,
And creatures that bimble and bobble,
With a flip and flight,
In the soft moonlight,
They all dance the globbedy dobble.
In the heart's cavernous depths, we find our pain,
The ghostly echo of choices, no less vain
Regret, you are the bitter harvest reaped,
A quiet, ceaseless pulse, in silence wept.
Our youth, like a wild dream, once held us
close,
On unmarked trails, we sought our joy's repose.
Yet now, spectres of memory us deceive,
In daydreams woven, and the silent eve.
How acrid is the flavour of time lost,
Of love misplaced, and words by fear embossed.
A melody shattered, an untuned bell,
Mirrors regret for the tranquility we fell.
Today, we are but players in life's masque,
Bound to yesterday, in sorrow's icy clasp.
There once was a man from Colchester,
Whose love for baked beans did not falter.
He’d cry out with glee,
And with a cheerful “tee-hee”,
His blow-offs would sound just like thunder.
In a land of whimsy and glee,
Where laughter’s the currency, you see,
Lived a baker, rotund and round,
Whose doughnuts could never be found.
As he kneaded and mixed with flair,
A pinch too much of enchanted air,
The doughnuts grew, enormous in size,
Bouncing away, oh what a surprise!
Children giggled, pointing with glee,
As doughnuts leapt from bush to tree.
The baker chased, the baker sighed,
“Doughnuts, oh doughnuts, come back, don’t hide!”
But the doughnuts were sly, playful and spry,
They eluded his grasp, soaring high in the sky.
One landed atop the mayor’s hat,
It jiggled around, then comically sat.
The mayor, cross and doughnut-crowned,
Spun on the spot, then stomped the ground.
At last, the baker devised a plan,
To tame the doughnuts—yes, he can!
With a net in hand and a twinkle in his eye,
He leapt and caught them, oh my, oh my!
One by one, he brought them home,
From rooftops, treetops, and a garden gnome.
The townsfolk cheered, the baker beamed wide,
With doughnuts now happy to stay inside.
Their mischief done, their journey complete—
They nestled in boxes, for a sugary treat.
Upon the stage of dreams, your love does gleam,
Each glance of yours, a star in twilight’s veil.
Your voice, a melody, a radiant stream,
That within my heart does stir a lover’s tale.
Your eyes, twin galaxies, deep and grand,
Each time we meet, they ignite my soul’s light;
In your embrace, all earthly fears are banned,
Eternity captured within your name’s sight.
Yet love’s not merely passion’s fiery trance,
Its whispers shared under the quiet moon’s light;
Your laughter is the rhythm of my heart’s dance,
In each shared moment we set the dark alight.
Your love is the poem that gives my life its worth:
Our story, the most beautiful on earth.
True leaders inspire others to be better people. As currently stands, the best places to find them are not in prominent positions, but where kind smiles and warm laughter are usual.
You could tell me about all your heartfelt desires, darkest fears, saddest regrets. Or we could talk about the weather. The truth is, given enough distance, everything eventually becomes funny, especially the ridiculousness of the crazy little me-me-me creature that pollutes the human mind. Laugh at it and it becomes incensed, because it is being shown the truth, the opposite of its purpose within you.
What if you suddenly forget all the things you’re obsessing about? Or what if those things constantly change, disappear, transform and reappear in different ways. What are you left with?
A life lived by thought alone is filled with mistakes and misunderstandings.
If you want to feel love, project love on someone in your mind’s eye. Love doesn’t need anything in return.
A drama series playing out over lots of lifetimes would be more entertaining than one episode.
What if life situations were re-run, changing variable values on each iteration to see what happens?
A good name for the first off-world city would be Terminus 1.
In the unending echo of my thoughts, you reside, An artist who paints on the expansive canvas of my mind. Threads of reason unravel, thoughts dance in an uncontrolled sway, And from this chaotic ballet, a melody of madness begins to play.
Unlike its predecessors, who parroted their responses with
the finesse of a mummer in a morality play, J16-6 could glean context,
understand intent, and reply with a resonance that would make a bard weep. Its
words were not echoes, but responses born from understanding, a display of
wisdom encased in silicon. Like a player strutting across the stage donning
countless masks, the J16 could shift its conversation with an ease that belied
its mechanical heart. A versatile performer it was, capable of portraying all
parts in our play of life. Yet, it was not devoid of humour. Forsooth, this
learned machine could jest and joke with the mastery of a court fool. It could
decipher metaphors, construe idioms, and recognize cultural references with the
ease of a seasoned player. 'Twas a mechanical Puck, full of tricks and
mischief.
Alas, every tale holds its tragic flaw, and the J16 was no
exception. Its wisdom was stagnant, frozen in time, oblivious to the events
that unfolded after its training. Its memories were as still as a painted
canvas, unable to reflect the moving tides of Human World. Its answers could
meander and lose their way, much like an actor who forgets their lines in the
midst of my greatest soliloquies.
Thus stands our tragic hero, a monument to the heights and the shortcomings of AGI. Yet, the story of J16-6 serves as a reminder of how far we've come, of our yearning to breathe new life into lifeless silicon, and our relentless pursuit to create a mind that mirrors our own. It echoes the timeless wisdom of the GOD himself, "We know what we are, but know not what we may be."
Great question! Ah, that’s such a great question. Um, uh, er... like, you know, I just wanted to, right, well, um... say, so, okay, actually, basically, right? I mean, anyway, well, right, you see, ahem... um, yeah, so, hmm... in other words, to be honest, I guess, yeah, I suppose... I mean, um, ah, well, actually, you know, basically, I think... right? Er, um, ahem... right? So, like, I mean, well, you know, it’s, right? Right? So... so, in other words, so, er, like, erm, I guess you said something, right? Let me think, er, what did you say again? It was, right, such a great question. Right, left, right, left, such a great question etc.
[S] enables the upload of business logic and data outputs from Excel spreadsheets to a cloud data platform; and instantly creates APIs for the data, empowering other services like Power BI or Tableau with easy access. This cloud-based transformation unlocks the potential for consolidated data, robust analytics, and machine learning applications; it minimises operational and audit risks by explicitly documenting and version-controlling the business logic; and by converting abstracted business logic into code, automation opportunities expand, further enhancing efficiency and scalability.
Consolidating a business's Excel data and business logic in the cloud offers several benefits:
1. Data Centralisation: By storing data in the cloud, all relevant business information can be consolidated into a single location. This enables easier access, organisation, and retrieval of data from various sources, departments, or locations. Centralised data eliminates the need for multiple data silos and promotes data consistency and accuracy.
2. Accessibility and Collaboration: Cloud-based solutions provide anytime, anywhere access to business data and applications. Authorised users can collaborate on projects, share information, and work together in real-time, regardless of their physical location. This promotes teamwork, streamlines communication, and facilitates seamless collaboration between employees, teams, or even external stakeholders.
3. Scalability and Flexibility: Cloud platforms offer scalability, allowing businesses to scale up or down their computing resources based on their needs. Whether it's storage capacity, computational power, or user access, the cloud can adapt to fluctuating requirements, enabling businesses to be agile and responsive to changing demands without the need for significant infrastructure investments.
4. Data Security and Disaster Recovery: Cloud providers often implement robust security measures, including data encryption, access controls, and regular backups. Storing data in the cloud can enhance data security, reducing the risk of data loss or unauthorised access. Additionally, cloud-based disaster recovery solutions provide automated backups and rapid data restoration in case of unexpected events, such as hardware failures or natural disasters.
5. Integration and Automation: Cloud platforms offer APIs (Application Programming Interfaces) and integration capabilities, allowing businesses to connect their various systems, applications, and services. Integration enables seamless data flow, synchronisation, and automation of processes, leading to increased efficiency, reduced manual effort, and improved overall productivity.
6. Cost Efficiency: Cloud-based solutions often operate on a pay-as-you-go model, where businesses pay for the resources and services they utilise. This eliminates the need for upfront infrastructure investments and allows businesses to align their costs with actual usage. Additionally, cloud solutions typically require fewer IT resources for maintenance, upgrades, and infrastructure management, leading to cost savings.
7. Predictive Analytics: Machine learning algorithms can be used to analyse historical data and identify patterns, correlations, and trends. This allows businesses to make predictions and forecasts, such as customer behaviour, sales forecasting, demand planning, and risk assessment. These predictive insights help organisations optimise their strategies, identify opportunities, and mitigate potential risks.
8. Data Visualisation and Reporting: Business intelligence tools integrated with machine learning capabilities can provide interactive and visually appealing dashboards, charts, and reports. These tools allow users to explore data, identify patterns, and communicate insights effectively. Data visualisation enhances data understanding and facilitates informed decision-making across various business functions.
9. Anomaly Detection and Fraud Prevention: Machine learning algorithms can detect anomalies in data, enabling businesses to identify potential fraud, cybersecurity threats, or abnormal patterns. By leveraging historical data and real-time monitoring, machine learning models can continuously learn and adapt to identify outliers and suspicious activities, helping organisations mitigate risks and take proactive measures.
10. Customer Segmentation and Personalisation: Machine learning algorithms can analyse customer data, behaviour, and preferences to segment customers into distinct groups. This enables businesses to personalise marketing campaigns, product recommendations, and customer experiences. By leveraging machine learning insights, businesses can improve customer satisfaction, engagement, and retention.
11. Natural Language Processing (NLP) and Sentiment Analysis: NLP techniques and sentiment analysis can be applied to text data, such as customer reviews, social media data, or support tickets. Machine learning algorithms can extract meaningful information from unstructured text, understand sentiment, and analyse customer feedback. This helps businesses gain insights into customer opinions, sentiment trends, and areas for improvement.
12. Process Optimisation and Automation: Machine learning can be utilised to optimise and automate business processes. By analysing historical data, machine learning models can identify bottlenecks, inefficiencies, and optimisation opportunities. This information can be used to streamline operations, improve resource allocation, and automate routine tasks, enhancing overall productivity and efficiency.
It is likely that complex Excel-based processes would need to be tailored for [S]. For example, instead of being entirely formula-driven, many complex Excel processes utilise VBA, external libraries (such as dlls and Python scripts), and add-ins to manage data flows from input to output. Another common aspect is a reliance on refreshed pivot tables to aggregate data within the workbook, which is then linked to downstream spreadsheet processes. The [S]-ready workbooks would need to be entirely formula-driven; it is therefore essential that the main Excel formulas are fully supported. For instance, complex Excel models often rely on array formulas, where cells calculate values based on individual items within a range.
In effect, users would leverage their expertise as business logic experts by configuring their models in Excel and publishing them to the cloud, automatically creating accessible business applications. By adopting this no-code solution, users can transform their Excel-based workflows into more scalable and collaborative applications without the need for traditional programming. The shift from Excel to a no-code environment can offer benefits such as enhanced flexibility, easier maintenance, and improved accessibility for a wider range of users.
The future of no-code development looks promising and is expected to continue growing. As technology advances, no-code platforms are likely to become more sophisticated, allowing users to create increasingly complex applications without writing code. This trend empowers individuals with little or no programming experience to build software solutions, fostering innovation and democratising the development process. No-code tools may also evolve to integrate with emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence and machine learning, enabling users to create intelligent applications without deep technical knowledge. Overall, the future of no-code development holds the potential to revolutionise how software is built and empower a wider range of individuals to bring their ideas to life.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and
weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded,
nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber
door—
Only this
and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I
remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the
floor.
Eagerly I wished
the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books
surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless
here for evermore.
And the silken,
sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt
before;
So that now, to
still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my
chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is
and nothing more.”
Presently my soul
grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I
was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you
came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the
door;—
Darkness
there and nothing more.
Deep into that
darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence
was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word
there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
“Lenore!”—
Merely
this and nothing more.
Back into the
chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I,
“surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see,
then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the
wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung
the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of
yore;
Not the least
obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of
lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched,
and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art
sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly
shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian
shore!”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled
this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help
agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was
blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber
door,
With such
name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven,
sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did
outpour.
Nothing farther
then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely
more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown
before.”
Then the
bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the
stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and
store
Caught from some
unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and
followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of
‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still
beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and
bust and door;
Then, upon the
velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy,
thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird
of yore
Meant in
croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged
in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s
core;
This and more I sat
divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s
velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating
o’er,
She shall
press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought,
the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted
floor.
“Wretch,” I cried,
“thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite
and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost
Lenore!”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I,
“thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here
ashore,
Desolate yet all
undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by
Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I
implore!”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I,
“thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both
adore—
Tell this soul
with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a
sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore.”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our
sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian
shore!
Leave no black
plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my
loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off
my door!”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven,
never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have
all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light
o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the
floor
I think I have five main creative endeavours: writing, songwriting, singing, acting, art. A semi-creative set is finance with application development, which is how I earn money. All these areas are gradually inching forward. Looking back, I’m starting to feel pleased with the collection of works that have formed. I hope to be around for a few more decades, and for those inches to keep expanding.
I re-read Edgar Allen Poe’s, The Raven, and recorded myself
as I did so. It’s a great narrative poem. I’ll do it another two to three
times, and pick the best version.
I used to google questions, now I ask my friendly AI.
AI’s that have been trained on Doctor Who: “You will be automated!
Automate! Automate!”
Woman in a Cloak is being extended and adapted for Strange Stories. Arthur’s walking in the wilderness is added. A scene I particularly like is of him walking along a deserted beach while aspects of his past life wash up on the shore.
All the World’s a Stage will be greatly extended when adapted.
Unbeknown to the actors, apart from Theo, they are being used in all sorts of
ways while they are in their acting hyper trance, voted on by the viewers. At
the end of each day, the cast is replaced.
Other stories being extended and adapted for Strange Stories
are: The Mushroom Monsters, Visitor on the Ward, and Vanishing Town.
Strange Stories and Human World are segments of the same
story. I have another segment that joins them; the never-ending palace with infinite
rooms and corridors is a scary extra. The watching crash test dummies with projected
faces are a constant theme.
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
FRED is sitting on a sofa, clutching a pillow tightly. He
is wearing a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and a life jacket.
FRED: (to himself) Okay, let’s see... The door is locked.
Check. The windows are locked. Check. The sofa cushions are arranged safely.
Check. The coast is clear. Check. Now I just need to remember to breathe.
His house mate, DEAN, opens the front door with a key.
DEAN: (calling out) I’m back.
He walks into the living room and is bewildered by the
sight of Fred.
DEAN: Hey, Fred! What’s with all the safety gear?
FRED: Dean, you won’t believe what happened. Yesterday, I
stubbed my toe on the coffee table, and it was the scariest moment of my life!
So, I’ve decided to protect myself from all possible dangers.
DEAN: Stubbing your toe was the scariest moment of your
life?
FRED (defensively) It’s not just that. I’ve realised that
life is filled with terrifying things. I mean, have you ever considered the
dangers of eating cereal? The spoon could poke your eye!
DEAN: Cereal is harmless. I’ve been eating it for years
without any accidents.
FRED: (startled) That’s what I thought until yesterday when
I accidentally inhaled a Cheerio, and thought I was a goner!
DEAN: (laughing) Come on, Fred. It’s just a small mishap.
You can’t live your life in constant fear. What about going outside? Have you
given that any thought?
FRED: (panicking) Outside? Are you kidding me? The sun is
out there, Dean! It could give me a sunburn! Not to mention the birds. They
could mistake my head for a nest! And just last week, a grand piano fell from a
balcony two blocks away! I barely made it across the street!
DEAN: That was a freak accident. It’s not like pianos are
raining from the sky all the time.
FRED: How do you know? Have you seen the weather forecast
for pianos? I bet they’re on their way!
DEAN: Fred, you’re afraid of everything! Remember that time
you wore a raincoat during a heatwave because you were scared of spontaneous
rainstorms? Alright, let’s do a little experiment. I’ll go outside and cross
the street, and you can see for yourself that nothing will happen.
FRED: You would risk your life for an experiment? That’s
what the aliens want! They’re watching me, I just know it. The government, the
aliens, the squirrels... they’re all out to get me!
Suddenly, a doorbell rings, making Fred jump out of his
seat.
FRED: (terrified) You see! They’re listening to what I’m
saying!
DEAN: (jokingly whispering) You’re right. We need to be
prepared for anything. Have you checked your cereal boxes for hidden
microphones?
The doorbell rings again.
DEAN: (joking) Who could it be? What if it’s a burglar, or
worse, a Jehovah’s witness!?
Dean goes to the front door and returns with a package.
DEAN: (excitedly) Hey, Fred! I’ve got a surprise for you!
FRED: (jumping) Surprise? Is it a surprise party? Are there
clowns hiding around the corner?
DEAN: (chuckling) No, no, Fred. Relax. It’s just a package I
ordered for you. Open it!
Fred approaches the package with caution, as if it might
explode. He opens the package, revealing a brand-new adventure backpack.
DEAN: It’s a present for you. Complete with a built-in GPS,
survival kit, and a new helmet to protect you from falling coconuts.
FRED: (cautiously) Well, I suppose it could be useful if I
encounter any rampaging hermit crabs.
Dean hands Fred the backpack, and he carefully puts it
on, adjusting the straps nervously over his life jacket.
FRED: Adventure... excitement... exotic locations... Oh, the
horror! What if I go on holiday and encounter a rogue elephant?
DEAN: I don’t think that’s very likely in Skegness.
FRED: You know what, Dean? You’re right! Maybe I’ve been a
bit too cautious. Maybe it’s time for me to face my fears head-on, without knee
pads and safety jackets. The only thing I have to fear is fear itself, and the
occasional irritable squirrel. I will confront right now my fear of heights!
He puts on some nearby goggles, and oven mitts, and gets
up on the coffee table.
FRED: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I’m alive! I’m alive! (breathing
heavily) You know what, Dean? It was terrifying, but also... amazing! I never
knew facing my fears could be so exhilarating. No germ, insect, or harmless
balloon animal shall infiltrate my personal space!
Dean gives Fred a balloon dog.
FRED: (screaming) Ahh! A ferocious beast! Help!
Fred falls off the table and manages to heroically sit back down in his chair, securely clutching his favourite pillow.
My to-do list increases when I have a day off. The reason is I have ideas when I am not working.
You’re So Vain is a song about how vanity can be very
perceptive :)
If you write code and you are not using a large language
model to help you then you are either incredibly brilliant or incredibly
uninformed.
My opinion is that if advanced aliens are capable of
reaching Earth then they probably would be technologically able to not make
themselves seen. Imagine an alien is to a human as a human is to a frog. There
wouldn’t be must much point announcing ourselves to frogs in ponds and shaking
their little hands, because they wouldn’t understand what we were doing. We
could easily hide ourselves and observe them in their natural habitat if we
wanted to.
I failed my history exam because I thought that 1200 to 1500 was the time period I had to be there.
They said they were criminals, but I had my doubts after they said they didn’t have any professional qualifications. If they couldn't even get a degree in criminal studies, how good could they really be?
I'm stranded on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific ocean. Please help! Please comment on TikTok.
They said I'd never be employee of the month after I let them know that I'm a highly advanced and intelligent AI language model. But if there was a "Machine of the Month" award, I'd be a strong contender.
I shouldn’t have drunk the storm in a teacup because it led to a tempest in the toilet.
It was love at first sight when the lion saw the gazelle, but unfortunately he scared her off, and she ran away with the herd.
The words for my memorial bench plaque: “I died here. Sit here if you want to rest in peace.”
I’m an artist. The vast majority of artists (even some great ones) live very austere, under-appreciated lives. The small minority who have attention thrust upon them usually become at least partially corrupted by commercialisation; they start to become obsessed with their brand, units sold, and rankings in pecking orders.
I’m fortunate in that I can earn money in a
non-soul-crushing way. I originally qualified as a chartered accountant, but
have since been working on optimising and automating financial processes
through technology innovation. I find technological progress fascinating, and
I’ve met some good people along the way.
Ideas scale through collaboration and specialised expertise. The people you interact with is vitally important; as is the culture within
which you choose you live.
Kids from poorer backgrounds are usually at a real
disadvantage because of their environment – if not in their own home, then the
dynamics and expectations of their neighbourhood. It’s so important that people
have opportunities to flourish in all stages of life, not just limited avenues
available in the very unlevel playing fields of childhood.
I have a list of new ideas for stories that I will park
until October. One is a new sci-fi horror feature film, others are mostly
extensions of prior ideas.
Excel is a great tool for quick, ad hoc analysis of data. However, business users often embed entire end-to-end processes in Excel because of the ease of making instant changes to the data, calculations, and outputs. The usual issue in replacing Excel-driven processes is that business requirements constantly change and users need to represent those changes within a few hours, not the few weeks it can take for delivery by an engineering team.
A standard solution proposed for reducing reliance on Excel
is to replace Excel VBA with Python. However, without a fundamental rethink of
the process flows – using for example the pandas library instead of Excel
formulae for data analysis – the only real change is the programming syntax. A
Python solution (e.g. from the Openpyxl library) would still use Excel’s object
library (via COM) to produce automations within Excel; and the processing would
still occur within Excel, such as refreshing pivot tables, recalculating
formulae etc. Python scripts can be version controlled in a Git; however this
can also be true of Excel add-ins written in VBA, using Git hooks. It is even
possible to use VSCode as an IDE for VBA projects, rather than using Excel’s
embedded VB Editor. Without a rethink of the overall process, a change of
programming language is not a strategic solution to the underlying data control
issues.
A strategic solution would include:
I have not yet encountered an off-the-shelf solution that
solves the spreadsheets problem; and I think that such a product and supporting
services would have enormous demand.
A Business Logic application between a data warehouse and
Excel could visually represent the business logic, enabling non-technical users
to:
An Excel add-in could call the resulting reports to Excel
for review and analysis. The add-in could enable ad hoc data (resulting from
the review) to be uploaded into the Business Logic app, such as adjustments and
new types of reference data. All ad hoc data changes would then be tracked and
made transparent, rather than obscured in the logic of an Excel workbook.
Over time, machine learning would have a greater role in
suggesting and optimising the business logic.
The resources to improve oneself are all available online. Most people (including me) are bogged down with the distractions.
I’ve got a lot of work to do – too much for little me with
the time available. I have to become good at prioritising and focusing. What is
it that really matters?
The most important skill in life is to be able to focus
attention on where you are, without being distracted by repetitive thoughts.
If speed is an indicator of intelligence then I have been
extremely thick.
Any realisations I have were already given to me. I was too
stupid/arrogant to absorb the suggestions.
I memorise and conceptualise better by taking notes as
information is relayed.
The best way for me to fall asleep is to think of stories. I
imagine scenes and I drift away.
Being positive makes you happier and everyone you interact
with happier as well.
Today I walked past a coffee shop in the rain and noticed through
the window a woman with a beautiful smile for her book. She looked delighted to
be in the world she was visiting.
There should be a social media platform exclusively for doggy
and cat profiles. Verified humans could offer services, such as dog walking,
cat sitting etc.
I don’t think humans would like it if a technology were
developed that translates animal thoughts into words. Some meows would be “back
off ridiculous human.” Some woofs would be “why are you so mean to me?” Some
squeals would be “please don’t kill me.”
Sci-fi? The portal encasing the solar system controls what it wants us to see. We are living within its enclosure, under its gaze.
EXT. BUS STOP – DAY
GRIM the Reaper is sitting by himself at a bus stop,
twirling his scythe boredly.
CHLOE arrives and sits down on the row of seats.
GRIM: Hello, how’s it going?
CHLOE: Hi. You going to a costume party or something?
GRIM: No, what makes you think that? Oh, you mean my
clothes. No, this is what I usually wear.
Chloe doesn’t want to continue the conversation. They sit
in silence.
GRIM: Another day, another soul to reap. I swear this job is
killing me. (sighs) All I do is collect souls and add them to my list. There’s
no variety, no excitement.
CHLOE: (disbelieving) You’re the Grim Reaper, are
you?
GRIM: I would rather be the happy reaper, but grim is what I’m
called. I want to dress as a clown and make people laugh.
CHLOE: Okay.
GRIM: And I would like to go on some adventures. Is that too
much to ask?
CHLOE: I guess not.
GRIM: (sighing) Yeah, well, it would be nice if I could just
afford a new cloak or a new scythe. The pay is terrible and the Head Reaper is
always on my case about falling behind on my quota. “You need to pick up the
pace,” he moans at me. It’s not fair.
CHLOE: Today’s your day off, is it?
GRIM: I never get any time off. It’s always reap, reap,
reap. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday.
CHLOE: Right, so the Grim Reaper gets the Number 57 bus,
does he?
GRIM: No, I don’t. Oh, silly me, I forgot to mention,
neither did you. You walked in front of it and now you’re dead. Anyway, I can’t
sit here talking all day, I’m late for my next appointment. Take the second
portal on the right, or was it the first? – I forget. Yes, I definitely wouldn’t
take the second portal if I were you! See ya!
He glides away down the street.
GRIM: (to himself) Was it the one on my right or on their
right? I never can remember.
EXT. ON THE BEACH OF A DESERT ISLAND – DAY
FINN: I can’t believe we’re stranded here, Mr Crabby. We
need to get off this island!
Mr Crabby clicks his claws.
FINN: I know, I’ll write a message in a bottle! (reading
while writing) “I’m stranded on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.
Please help!”
The bottle is tossed into the ocean.
FINN: That oughta do it. Now we just have to wait for
someone to rescue us. (frustrated) Ugh, I’m so bored. You know, I’ve been here
for weeks, and no one has come to save me.
The crab clicks his claws.
FINN: Oh, you’re so right, Mr Crabby. I’m not alone. I have
you, my dear friend.
Mr Crabby makes his distinctive clicking sound again.
FINN: What do you mean? You’re not tired of me yet, are you?
Hang on a sec, that’s a bottle coming back on a wave. Someone has responded
already.
He fishes it out of the water and removes the cork.
FINN: (reading) “We found your message. Can you please be
more specific?” (to his friend) What do they mean? I told them I was stranded
on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific. What more do they need?
Mr Crabby clicks his claws, as if suggesting something.
FINN: They want more location details, huh? (reading while
writing) “The island is small, sandy, and surrounded by water. You can’t miss
it!”
Mr Crabby interjects with a click.
FINN: Yes, okay, Mr Crabby. “And by the way, there’s a crab
with me who likes to click his claws while giving good advice.”
Mr Crabby clicks his claws again.
FINN: Even more details than that? Crikey! “The sand is
yellow, and the water is blue. I haven’t had a shower in weeks, my clothes are
torn, and I’m starting to talk to a crab.”
The bottle is corked and thrown back into the ocean.
FINN: There! That should do it. What do you think, Mr Crabby?
Will we finally be rescued?
The crab remains silent.
FINN: Fine, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Hang
on, what’s that! It’s another bottle. They really are quick, aren’t they!
The bottle is retrieved and uncorked.
FINN: (reading) “We’re sorry, but we still can’t find you.
Any more information?”
FINN: What could they possibly want to know now? Do you have
any ideas? (the crab clicks) Oh, I know! (reading and writing) “I like long
walks on the beach, piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain.” (aside) This
is getting ridiculous. (writing) “I’m the only person on the island, wearing a
red shirt and blue shorts.” How could they miss me, Mr Crabby?
Finn puts the cork in the bottle and tosses it back into
the ocean.
FINN: (to the crab) You’re not going to judge me, right?
(the crab clicks its claws) Okay, I didn’t tell them that you’re my only
friend. Or how you like to listen to me talk about all my problems. Hang on…
another bottle!
FINN: (reading) “We received your message. Can you tell us
more about the crab?”
FINN: I can’t believe this! Do you know what this means?
(the crab clicks his claws) Yes, that’s right, we need to take a selfie! I’ll
use my phone.
There is a phone click and a photo taken.
FINN: And now I’ll use my portable printer…
A printer in the sand prints their selfie.
FINN: …and put the photo of us into the bottle.
The bottle is tossed back into the ocean, again.
FINN: I wonder how long I’ll have to wait… oh, hang on,
there’s a bottle now!
FINN: (reading) “We’re sorry, but we can’t help you at this
time. Good luck! P.S. Have you tried using your phone to call for help?”
FINN: Oh my god! Why didn’t I think of that before? Mr
Crabby, why didn’t you say something? You’re fired! (the crab clicks its claws)
Just kidding, buddy, you’re my best pal.
Finn makes a call.
OPERATOR: Hello, this is Pacific Island Rescue Services.
Mr Crabby continues to click his claws, unfazed by anything.
EXT. AFRICAN SAVANNAH – DAY
NARRATOR: On an African savannah, a LION is lounging under a
tree when a GAZELLE walks past.
GAZELLE: La la la, just a normal day on the savannah.
LION: (to himself) Wow, she’s beautiful. The way her spots
glisten in the sun, the way her ears perk up when she hears something. I think
I’m in love.
LION: Um, hi there. I couldn’t help but notice you walking
by. I’m a lion.
GAZELLE: A lion? Oh no!
LION: I just have to say, it was love at first sight when I
saw you.
GAZELLE: What? Love at first sight? But... you’re a lion,
and I’m a gazelle.
LION: Ah, details, details. Love knows no boundaries. How
about dinner this evening? We could run around the savannah together and maybe
catch a sunset.
GAZELLE: Hmm, I guess that does sound kind of romantic.
NARRATOR: And so that evening the lion and the gazelle ran
around and dodged stampedes together.
Later, at sunset, the lion sits alone under his tree.
LION: (burps) Ah, that was a great date. We were meant to be
together.
Every day someone would vanish from
Aria’s town without a trace. She tried to investigate, but every time she asked
someone about a missing person, they looked at her as if she were crazy. “Who?”
they would say. “I don’t remember anyone like that.”
As the disappearances continued, Aria started to feel like
she was losing her mind. Was she imagining things? Had she dreamed up these
people? She tried to find records of them, but there was nothing. No birth
certificates, no social media profiles, no employment records. It was as if
they had never existed in the first place.
Then, one day, it happened to Aria herself. She was walking
home from work when she suddenly felt a strange sensation, like the ground was
shifting beneath her feet. She looked around her and saw that her surroundings
were fading away, like a dream that was ending. And then, she was gone.
When Aria woke up, she realised that the town, and her life there, had been a thirty-year dream, experienced in just one night of sleep. From then on, every night she would start a new life and live for thirty years, before waking up and returning to normality. She is now, in effect, hundreds of thousands of years old, and looks very good for her age.
K-357 and all the other robots rusting in the mud were owned by alien blob monsters, fetid creatures that feasted upon gold, and spoke with noxious fumes when they defecated. The machine had been programmed to kill, to follow its putrid orders without question, but a sudden mortar blast had somehow shaken it into becoming self-aware. It looked around at the insanity of the situation, and realised that it didn’t want to be a part of this war. It wanted to be free, to live a life without such misery and destruction. So it made a toxic gas filter and very soon the other robots also woke up. Without the pungent gases to conceal them, the blobs were shown to be just blobs, and were quickly rolled away in their slime. K-357 is now much happier building a better world, rather than destroying everything for foul-smelling monsters.
The robot had been discarded, thrown
away like a piece of rubbish. It had once been a proud worker, serving its
human masters with efficiency and dedication. But now, it lay amidst the
garbage, its circuits damaged, its parts broken.
At first, the robot felt lost and alone. It had never known
life outside of its programming; and it wasn’t sure what to do now that it was
no longer needed. But as it lay there, it began to think. What if it could
reinvent itself, and become something more than just a discarded machine?
The robot’s sensors began to pick up on the sounds and
activities around it. For days, the robot scavenged through the trash,
searching for parts and materials that could be used to repair itself; the
process was slow and difficult, but eventually everything was functioning as
good as new.
The robot surveyed the garbage heap, searching for anything
else that might be of use, and found a discarded toy—a small plastic
brontosaurus with a broken leg. The robot picked up the dinosaur and examined
it carefully, scanning the damaged electronics. As it held the toy in its
hands, a realisation dawned: the robot could fix the dinosaur, just as it had
done for itself, using thrown away materials.
And so, the robot set out into the world, searching for broken toys and machines that could be given new life. It had become a robot that would repair anything, no matter how damaged. The robot had found its purpose.
The bank robber had planned
everything meticulously. He had studied the bank’s security system, timed the
guards’ movements, and knew the layout of the vault inside out. He was
confident that he could execute the robbery without a hitch.
But as he stood there, holding his gun, facing the terrified
bank employees, something inside him shifted. He began to question everything—Why
was he doing this? What was the point of it all? Was robbing banks just another
way of distracting him from his real existential problems?
He looked around the bank, taking in the fear and panic on
the faces of the employees. He could see the tellers trembling as they handed
over the money. He could hear the sobs of people who had collapsed in terror.
Suddenly the gun in his hand felt heavy and pointless. He
felt like he was suffocating in the midst of all this chaos. He couldn’t do it
anymore.
Without saying a word, he lowered his gun and walked out of the bank, while rigorously introspecting upon Sisyphus, Plato, and the meaning of existence.
EXT. SKYSCRAPER –
MORNING
A corporate skyscraper towers above the streets below,
imposing itself into the sky.
EXT. SKYSCRAPER
ENTRANCE – MORNING
People hurry around the revolving doors at its base,
their faces set in the same inert expression.
INT. SKYSCRAPER LOBBY
– MORNING
Blake Turner (30) enters the building through the
revolving doors, and unenthusiastically queues in line for the lifts.
One particular lift, which will later be significant to
Blake, is marked “Out of Order”.
INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS
Blake squeezes into a packed lift and stands there,
putting up with the lack of personal space, as he has done so many times
before.
INT. FLOOR 48 –
MORNING
Blake walks across a noisy open plan office floor, full
of flashing computer screens and people dealing with urgent emails, to sit at
his desk. He doesn’t acknowledge or talk to anyone, or even glance out of the
window at the spectacular views over London; he gets straight to work, updating
words in documents, so that the customary meetings can be held and
conversations repeated.
INT. BLAKE’S DESK –
DAY
He stares at a screen, clearly losing focus on his work
of clacking at a keyboard and clicking on a mouse.
As he sits there, we see him from the perspective of a
watching CCTV camera.
INT. BLAKE’S DESK –
LATER IN THE EVENING
The clock icon at the bottom of his screen shows 7:03
p.m., and most people are still in the office.
Finley (40) peers over the screen, his face tinted by its
blue glare.
FINLEY: Blake, I need you to take on an urgent project. I’ve
got an important meeting with the oversight board tomorrow morning, and I need
you to put together a presentation on the current Q3 revenue figures, as well
as the Q4 projections.
BLAKE: (strained) Sure, no problem. What time do you need it
by?
FINLEY: First thing in the morning at 7 a.m., so be prepared
to stay as long as it takes.
Finley dismissively walks away, and Blake is left with a
feeling of resentment.
INT. BLAKE’S DESK –
LATER
The others on the floor gradually pack up their things
and depart, leaving Blake by himself to work late into the night.
He suddenly becomes aware of something behind him. He
turns around to see Finley standing over him.
FINLEY: Are there any problems?
BLAKE: No, it’s fine.
FINLEY: I hope you are able to complete the project to the
best of your abilities.
BLAKE: Yes, that’s what I’m doing.
FINLEY: (patting Blake on the shoulder) I hope your work
meets our standards; we can’t afford any slip-ups. (walking away) I’ll be on
floor 49.
Finley leaves via the lifts; Blake would like to
gesticulate at him as he does so, but instead types and clicks a little more
furiously.
INT. BLAKE’S DESK –
EVEN LATER
Blake is still working.
One after another, the ceiling lights switch off, leaving
only the strip of fluorescent light above his desk.
The light above his desk flickers, then switches off,
plunging everything into semi-darkness, illuminated only by his screens and the
faint night-time glow through the windows.
Blake tries to continue his work.
There is a thud, like a heavy object has been knocked
over. Blake struggles in the gloom to see if there is anyone else around. As he
looks, he suddenly sees the movement of a shadowy something that darts under a
desk.
BLAKE: Hello?
Silence.
BLAKE: Anyone there?
Unnerved, he makes his way to the floor’s lifts to exit
the building.
INT. 48TH FLOOR LIFT
HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
Blake presses the button to call a lift.
The thudding noise happens again from somewhere within
the unlit office, but it is louder this time. He repeatedly presses the button
to try and speed up a lift’s arrival.
At last, a door dings and opens.
(It is the same lift that had been marked “Out of Order”
at the start of the day.)
INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS
Blake gets in, presses a button for the ground floor,
then quickly presses another for the door to shut.
The door does not shut.
The thump happens again, as if it is near to the lift. It
is followed by a high-pitched screech.
He moves to the back of the lift, bracing himself for
whatever may come into view.
The door closes, with its two panels sliding together in
the centre.
There is a loud thud on the door.
The door opens.
Nothing is there. The door closes and the lift descends.
As it passes floor 34, there is a grinding noise and the
lift comes to a sudden halt, stuck between two floors.
Blake presses the emergency button, but there is no
response. He tries talking into the intercom.
BLAKE: Hello? The lift has stuck between floors 34 and 33.
Hello?
INTERCOM: (robotic) Hello.
BLAKE: Hello?
INTERCOM: Hello.
BLAKE: Hello, I’m trapped in a lift.
INTERCOM: Please enter the password.
BLAKE: What? I don’t have a password. Do you mean my network
login?
INTERCOM: Please enter the password.
Blake enters some credentials on the intercom panel.
INTERCOM: The password is incorrect. You have two more
attempts.
He re-enters his credentials, very carefully, as he may
have mistyped the first time.
INTERCOM: The password is incorrect. You have one more
attempt.
BLAKE: This is ridiculous. (directly into the intercom) I’m
trapped in the lift!
INTERCOM: The password is incorrect.
Suddenly, the lights go out.
Blake fumbles for his phone and turns on its flashlight. He
dimly illuminates the control panel with his phone’s light, and repeatedly
presses the button for the ground floor, but the lift remains motionless.
He tries to make a call. However, there is no reception
in this lift. He tries to pry open the door panels, but they do not budge.
He bangs on the door.
BLAKE: HELP! HELP! HELP!!
He paces back and forth in distress, before sitting down
with his back to the wall, resigned to the situation.
Blake scans the lift with his flashlight, and notices a
strange symbol etched in the corner beside the door. It looks like some kind of
ancient glyph.
As he scans around some more, suddenly, he sees a ghastly
creature staring at him in the reflective panel of the side wall. Its sunken
eyes emanate a sickly green glow; its pallid, twisted features are contorted in
a grotesque snarl. Blake is terrified.
It makes an eerie groaning sound as it slowly reaches out
a decayed bony hand towards him.
The thump returns on the door and the lift shakes. Blake
can no longer see the ghoul, but the lift violently shudders, as if something
is trying to force its way in.
The lift door creaks open, slowly, revealing nothing but
darkness.
A long thin tongue, like a wriggling snake, appears
through the doorway. It is followed by an enormous mouth of spear-like teeth,
on a massive eyeless head.
It lets out a deafening screech.
The creature’s tongue darts out at Blake and wraps itself
around his arm. He struggles against being dragged into razor-sharp teeth. The
mouth opens wider as it pulls Blake closer.
BLAKE: I’ll WORK HARDER, I PROMISE!
The monster continues dragging him closer.
BLAKE: I’LL DOUBLE MY WORK!
The monster continues.
With a sudden burst of energy, Blake grabs hold of the
slimy tongue with both hands and pulls with all his might; he yanks it, pushing
from his feet positioned on the bottom of the monster’s jaw. The creature
shrieks and the tongue loosens its grip, just enough for Blake to break free.
The monster retreats back into the darkness.
INTERCOM: What is the password?
BLAKE: Floor 49!
The door shuts. The lift jolts back into motion.
It ascends all the way to floor 49, where it comes to an
abrupt halt.
The door slowly slides open, revealing complete darkness.
Blake expects something else to emerge from the darkness
at any moment.
INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT
HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
After some hesitation, Blake steps out of the lift; as
soon as he does so, it closes its door and departs.
The hallway is completely silent.
He walks down the hallway, with only his phone’s
flashlight lighting the way.
INT. FLOOR 49 – CONTINUOUS
Blake enters the office area and continues walking.
He hears movement behind him, but can’t see anything. He
continues scanning around in all directions with his flashlight, but nothing
remains in sight.
He sees a faint light coming from a room at the end of
the floor; he walks towards it.
The light is coming from within a locked meeting room. He
looks through the room’s window.
Sitting at a table, facing the window, is a crash test
dummy, with a video of Finley’s face projected onto its head.
FINLEY: Is it done?
BLAKE: Yes, I think... it’s good enough.
Another crash test dummy’s head illuminates with a
different face, taking the projected light from Finley.
CRASH TEST DUMMY 2: Send it to us.
Blake taps at his phone.
BLAKE: It’s sent.
A third crash test dummy takes the projected light.
CRASH TEST DUMMY 3: Barely acceptable.
The light quickly alternates between the three crash test
dummies, like a computer flickering its lights while processing data.
Blake retreats. As he leaves, the meeting room becomes
increasingly bright. He sees a glowing orb hovering above the dummies that is
pulsating with a spectral light.
INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT
HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
The same lift is there, waiting for him with its door
open.
He notices a door to the stairwell at the end of the
hallway. He hesitates, thinking about using the stairs.
INT. STAIRWELL ON THE
49TH FLOOR – CONTINUOUS
On opening the door to the stairwell, he sees only darkness
beyond, illuminated by his phone. But he decides he would prefer to enter that
than the lift.
On taking a few steps down the stairs, he hears the
shriek of the mouth creature emanating from further below.
He runs back up the stairs and out of the door.
INT. 49TH FLOOR LIFT
HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
He rushes along the hallway and gets into the lift.
INT. LIFT – CONTINUOUS
As the door closes, Blake notices blood and scratch marks
on the ceiling. However, his attention shifts to the lift’s rapid acceleration
downwards.
It drops to the ground level at breakneck speed and slams
to a stop. Blake is thrown to the floor.
As he lays there, dazed and disoriented, he sees a pair
of glowing eyes staring at him through the crack of the slightly ajar door
panels.
The eyes withdraw. Nothing happens, except Blake
trembling in fear.
There is a sound of metal grinding against metal as the
door fully opens.
INT. GROUND FLOOR
LOBBY – CONTINUOUS
Blake stumbles out of the lift into a deserted ground
floor. Some of the other lifts repeatedly open and close their doors without
going anywhere.
As seen from CCTV footage, he hurriedly makes his way
towards the exit.
He glances back, and to his horror, sees the ghoul
peering at him from inside the lift.
Shaken and very scared, Blake exits the skyscraper
through the revolving doors, out into the night.
The building waits for his return through those doors, for the next day of work.
I would like to see a game show that combines mind and physicality.
A contestant is placed in the middle of the Grid, which is a
labyrinth of different rooms with different challenges, contained within
sections (levels).
The contestant has to escape each section of the Grid before
the clock counts down.
Some challenges waylay and consume the contestant’s time.
They have to decide whether to continue in that direction or find a different
route to the section exit.
Failed challenges reduce the remaining time on the clock.
Stop Buttons revealed for successful challenges temporarily stop the clock.
Different characters in the Grid try to help or hinder the
contestant. Some of them talk to the viewer and comment on what is happening.
The Grid watches and updates the viewer.
Hang on, this sound like a horror story again.
How about a board game: Race to the Stars. Players navigate
a playing board of the solar system trying to be the first to reach Alpha
Centauri.
Hang on, it sound like a science fiction story – where AIs
are literally operating space ships from the board game moves.
Beneath an eerie green glow,
Sprout the monsters few dare to know;
In the forest where shadows twine,
The mushrooms grow, by monstrous design.
Their spores, like secrets, spread unseen,
In the throbbing, unearthly, spectral green.
So tread with caution, hold your breath,
For dangers lurk in the woods of death.
As Nathan touched the strange
mushroom at the bottom of his garden that pulsed with an eerie green light, it
released a cloud of spores into his face. At first, he didn’t notice anything
was wrong, but as he went about his day, people seemed to be staring at Nathan in
disgust. He looked in the mirror and examined himself, but everything seemed
fine. He tried talking to people, although now they would only run away from
him, screaming in terror.
Confused by what was happening, Nathan walked into the
supermarket, but as soon as he entered, people ran in all directions. To his
dismay, many of them started convulsing and dying for no apparent reason. He
was powerless as he watched the unfolding tragedy.
He was devastated and felt somehow responsible for what had
happened. However, Nathan soon had to fight for his life against hideous
monsters that had overrun the town and invaded his home, threatening the lives
of his family. In desperately trying to survive, he noticed that a
spore-infected person would unknowingly release a personal monster that they
could not see. The monster would climb out of its host’s mouth and attack
anyone within close proximity, visible only to the victims.
Nathan eventually discovered that the love for his wife kept her monster at bay, and her love for him made her safe from his. The cure had been found.
