The Prophet and the Cube
(Short story)
This short story resulted from a live 20-minute free write exercise I did with the WriteNow community. While I’ve only done some minor editing with it, I wanted to leave the piece as is since I was proud of crafting a fully realized scene. Enjoy!
The omniscient glowing blue cube greeted him with the tone of an artificial construct. The blue light which emanated from the cube was enchanting, mesmerizing, and peculiarly alluring to boot.
The old prophet rolled his neck and checked that the staff of knowledge was still firmly positioned on his back. He knew the tool was important, which is why he kept it on his belonging at all times, but he no longer could recall why it was.
Somewhere deep within his soul, there lay a burning question that had to be asked. There was an answer which he needed to know. The fate of all life hung in the balance, but as he approached the artificial construct, the question was lost to him.
“Would you like some cake?” the Artificial construct directed at him with an air of welcoming.
“What a peculiar question, my little blue friend. Why are you a baker?” the Old Prophet inquired.
“While I am not considered a baker amongst my kinda, I do have knowledge of over 1000000000000000000000000000000 kinds of recipes and can create a dish most to your liking.”
The Prophet watched the artificial construct wearily, realizing for the first time it wasn’t actually talking with him in the conventional sense. He, the Prophet, spoke while the answers were directly communicated into his mind as if it were being uploaded to his brain like a navi-comp.
“My intelligence extends far beyond your basic Navi-Comp,” the Artificial Construct responded.
The Old Prophet missed a step, realizing he hadn’t actually spoken any words. He turned to face the strange curiosity and brought a hand to rest under his chin thoughtful as he began to ask, “You can read-“ he stopped himself and continued thinking…my mind?
‘The mind is no different than the tongue, is it not?’
“On second thought,” he paused. ‘I’ll have some cake.’
The Old Prophet felt a cold hard material in his outstretched hand resting behind his back. He swung his arm around smelling the sweet aroma of cake. Upon seeing it he instantly began salivating. ‘Flour and sugar vanished from our world over 100 years ago, how-‘
‘A Magician never reveals a secret, quoted an earthling from the 21st century.’
The Old Prophet lifted the plate with the most delectable looking piece of cake he had ever before witnessed. The frosting had multitudes of color while the breading could only be described as lush. He moved a finger to grab a piece of the cake, but an eating utensil appeared in his outstretched hand. ‘thank you.’
’Consumption of organic product separates the savage, quoted 31st century magician.’
The Old Prophet used the utensil to cut away a thin nimble slice of the desert, scooped it up and raised it to his mouth. Already he was salivating beyond measure as the slice of cake approached his teeth.
Half way between his lips, he paused. Why was he eating cake when the fate of the world was at stake? He instead brought the slice of cake to sniff it, smelling for any hidden substances.
‘I assure you, our cake is vegan, gluten, dairy free, organic, cholesterol free, heart free, bi-pardinate, gluctate, mi-lacteral, and disease free.’
The Old Prophet nodded, it all seemed about right. He bit chomped down on the most magnificent desert known to the history of man kind as his senses took him into a world of pure delight. He closed his eyes in pure ecstasy enjoying the sensations that delighted every part of him. He felt like he was floating in the clouds and nothing of any consequence mattered.
Suddenly he remembered his mission and the entire history of humanity. Those types of deserts had been outlawed because…
He tried to open his eyes, but found himself unable to do so, drifting amongst the clouds…
The Artificial Construct gave off a blue light as it analyzed the Old Prophet’s body on the ground. It lit up with the pure knowledge that it had finally calculated the true path to achieving victory.
Once more it zapped out of existence as it left behind a piece of parchment that floated in the air and landed precisely on the Old Prophet’s decaying corpse.
The Parchment read:
Let them eat cake.