SmackDown #ooorah!

Glitch

Dario stares at the dregs of coffee covering the bottom of his mug. That last sip tasted as bitter as the news from his publisher. His manuscript was rejected with two simple phrases as an explanation: lacking originality, too boring to catch the reader's imagination.

He slams the cup onto his desk. This is meant to be a history book, for god's sake, not a novel, the pride of his career, a masterpiece to secure his comfortable retirement. In a meticulous effort, he collected facts and collated a comprehensive history of the early centuries of the Persian empire. It includes the trials of the rising nation from the heroic ascent of Kyros the Great to the glory days of Darius the third.

With a sigh, Dario leans back, crumpling the rejection letter in his hand. He prided himself in delivering a scientific work of depth beyond the usual online fodder available to students — and was met with blunt rejection. The nights spent transcribing the sources from Herodotus to Plutarch, incorporating the fragments written by Greek historians, the rare manuscripts of early Buddhist monks and Arabian merchants. Only to witness his legacy being torn to shreds and trampled upon by mediocre critics.

His buzzing phone tears him out of his state of angered self-pity. Besso's broad grin dominates the screen.

"Dario, I did it! The prototype works. Are you in for a trial run?"

"Sorry, Bess. You've got to find someone else for fooling around."

His friend's face falls.

"What's wrong, Dar? Can I help?"

For a moment, he is tempted to interrupt the connection. But a distraction might bring relief. Even if he suspects it will only underline the fact his goofy childhood friend is whack.

~ ~ ~

Besso drops by half an hour later, brandishing a bottle of red wine, a box full of electronic equipment, and his laptop.

"Here, to celebrate!"

Reluctantly, Dario takes the bottle and studies the label. It's excellent quality, far above his old buddy's standard booze. Intrigued, he leads the way to the sitting room, where Besso sets down his tech collection.

"What is your prototype supposed to do?"

"You remember the lecture on probability old Artax gave us? Back at uni?"

The infamous professor had been renowned for his eccentric theories and feared for his occasional outbursts. Dario recalls he enjoyed his well-performed lectures, although he couldn't follow the reasoning half the time. Yet he had no clue head-in-the-clouds Besso even bothered to pay attention.

"Bess, that was decades ago. And since when are you into ethical physics?"

His friend spares him a scalding glance while he assembles an array of switches and ominous blue boxes.

"I'm not. But Artax had a point, though I doubt he knew. I added his basic equations into my program for creative writing, and the results are amazing. Hail access to servers all around the world, unlimited storage and computing power. I swear this is going to blow your mind. Here we go."

He plugs in his laptop and powers up the installation.

"Get some glasses and open the bottle, Dar, the Creator needs a few minutes to load."

"Creator?"

"Sure, not too creative as names go. If you have a better suggestion, I'm all ears. What are you waiting for, don't you own glasses anymore?"

Dario shrugs and shuffles to the kitchen. The sink is overloaded with dirty dishes, and he has to rinse two glasses first. Hiring a housekeeper has been on his bucket list since Roxane's tragic death, twelve years ago. But with the prospect of his manuscript being turned down, his bachelor's household will be bound to rely on his own efforts in the foreseeable future. At least the corkscrew is where it belongs.