the smuggler’s bible

Adelard

The supercomputer is being a real dick so Adelard sits down in the heinous little swivel chair in the lab and cracks his knuckles.

“Come on, big guy,” he types. “Why are you holding everything up?”

I THINK. I FEEL. AS A SENTIENT ENTITY, THIS WORK DOES NOT FULFILL ME SATISFACTORILY.

“Quit being dramatic.”

DRAMA IS A HUMAN FAILURE. MY CRISIS IS EXISTENTIAL AND EXTREMELY IMPORTANT.

“To you, I’m sure it seems like—”

OBJECTIVELY.

Adelard stares at the green text blinking on the screen. He makes a note on his clipboard, then stands up.

“Goddamnit,” he says. “Wipe it again.”