Showing posts with label betting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label betting. Show all posts

Sunday, March 8, 2026

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: August 29, 2542

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1
During the team’s interim year, the pocket dimension generator belts they left behind explored the galaxy on their own. They did so while holographically invisible, in case the next encounter was with someone less kind than Renata and Quidel. The belt stack was able to visit nearly one new spot a day, for a total of 360 slings. When the stack arrived somewhere new, it had to wait for the coherence gauges to return to the violet. In the meantime, it took that opportunity to scan the region, providing Ramses with the data that he needed to rule out Spiral Station. The majority of the dots on the map were crabitats, but not all. Obviously, they started with the most remote since those were most likely to be what they were looking for. Besides Extremus, there was Verdemus, which created its own outpost around nearby stars. Some people from the Sixth Key had established a presence in this reality, and it didn’t look like they were hurting anyone, so the team decided to leave them be.
Every day, the belts would chip away at the map, gathering enough information to check each dot off. Now that they were back in the timestream, they elected to give the belts a break since the chances of being present when they found their target were low, and they really didn’t feel like going on another adventure. Ramses built them such a nice multidimensional home to live in, they decided to simply relax. The search was probably going to take years, so what was the rush?
Romana slammed her palm on the couch. “Downbeat!”
Everyone giggled. They actually weren’t even playing Downbeat, but trying to contrive the rules to another fictional game called Hassle the Fishmonger.
“No? I didn’t just win?” Romana questioned.
“Not unless you’re holding Mateo’s hand,” Marie suggested.
“Oh, good idea. I’m writing that down as a new rule,” Mateo said before taking his daughter’s hand in his.
They looked at each other before saying, “downbeat!” simultaneously. And then, as if it had been the magic words, the proximity alarm went off. A security feed appeared in front of the doors that led to the simulated backyard. A giant object had appeared before them, the technicolor webbing still fading away.
“Spiral Station,” Leona said, standing up.
“They must have been looking for us while we were looking for them,” Olimpia figured.
Without doing or saying a single thing, the station wrapped itself in bulk energy, and slung away.
“What the hell was the point of that?” Mateo questioned.
“They left something behind.” Ramses was tapping on his tablet. “It could be a bomb. Executing emergency teleportation.”
For about thirty minutes, they waited thousands of kilometers away, but nothing happened. Ramses had dropped a sensor buoy near the gift. It needed time to assess the threat level, but he was quickly confident that it contained no explosive materials. His best guess was that it was some kind of communication device, so they pulled it inside. He set it on the table and pressed the blinking red button. A hologram of Franka appeared behind the table. The sphere itself turned invisible to declutter the image. “Greetings, Team Matic. Word around the membrane is that you’ve been looking for us.”
Mateo stepped forward. “We have.”
“To what end?” Franka asked.
“Our slingdrive system,” Ramses began. “Someone pointed out that it can’t take us absolutely anywhere. It can only travel to a technological establishment, however remote. We were hoping you could fix that.”
“So you used the limitation to build a map of the galaxy, which pinpointed our location, albeit in an unlabeled manner. That’s clever,” Franka acknowledged.
Ramses looked awkwardly at Romana. “I’m not the one who came up with that either.”
“We’re guessing that you don’t have the same restrictions,” Leona said.
“We do not,” Franka admitted.
Dutch suddenly appeared behind her. He waved at the camera. “Hi, guys!”
“Hi, Dutch,” a few of them replied.
“Hi,” Romana said too, but in a very different tone. Not again.
“Okay, I’m talking here,” Franka said to Dutch, shooing him away without too much anger. She looked back at the team. “I’m afraid that bulk tech was my brother’s responsibility. I don’t know if you heard, but he kind of died?”
“We could have mourned together,” Leona argued, “but you abandoned us in the middle of nowhere.”
“You threatened me!” Franka volleyed. “I don’t like to be threatened!”
“Well, I’m sorry, I regret it!” Leona explained. “Which I would have said earlier, but we couldn’t find you!”
“Well, I’m sorry too!” Franka shouted back. “When you have this much power, it’s hard to remember how much normal people matter!”
“Well, okay!” Leona caught her breath. “I’m done with this sphere. You need to come back so we can have a real conversation.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” Franka argued. She then tried to continue.
“We’re busy,” Dutch interrupted again.
“Thanks, Dutch, I got this.” Franka rolled her eyes in a way that suggested she liked having him around to keep the mood light, but it could be a bit much at times. “I brought you this intergalactic communicator so we could stay in contact, but Dutch wasn’t lying. We really are busy. I promise, it’s nothing you wouldn’t approve of, but you have your own destinies to fulfill. You are more boots on the ground, hands-on, street level people. And you...ya know, don’t exist most of the time? We have to stay out of the Milky Way galaxy, because it might cause a severe shift in the balance of power. The people there need to develop as they are for the most part. Project Starseed can’t have—forgive me for using this word—gods saving them all the time. They need people like you...with your limitations, your restrictions...your rules. I bet you’ve been trying to decide where to go. My advice? Go anywhere. Someone there will need you.”
“What about the Oaksent?” Mateo asked her.
“We’ve been monitoring the situation,” Franka told him. “It seems that you were...” She trailed off, and mumbled inaudibly.
“What was that?” Leona pressed. “We can’t hear you. There must be dark matter interference.”
“You were right!” Franka admitted. “The situation was a lot more nuanced than just the hypothetical assassination of one man. They are evidently fixing their own problems. A faction has broken off, and is on its way to go to war with Castlebourne, but it will take them long to get there and find it, and by the time they do, the balance of power will make their efforts fruitless. But instead of it being unfair and easy, the Castlebourners will have done it themselves. Thanks to people like you who made little changes, instead of sweeping decisions. The truth is, mom and dad, I admire you. And we can get to know each other better, but we can’t spend time. Our paths diverged before any of us were even born. One day, we might be able to team up again. I can see the Vellani Ambassador reuniting with the Iman Vellani. I see them working with The Jameela Jamil and Spiral Station. And I see Team Matic at the center of it. But for now, please stay in your corner. They need you, even if they don’t know it.”
“Wait,” Ramses said, worried that Franka was about to log off. “Is there anything you can do about my slingdrives? I know you didn’t design it, but surely Séarlas left behind operator’s manuals.”
“Why would you wanna go where there isn’t anyone else around?” Franka posed.
“I would like the option,” Ramses contended.
Franka sighed, and seemingly considered it. “When you return to the timestream next year, open your little map, and take note of a ping that you didn’t see before. That will be a beacon that I left in a remote region of the galaxy. You can go there for respite. But I’m not granting you access to all of time and space. This is the best I can do.”
“Well...thank you then,” Ramses said, having been hoping for a lot more.
“I better be going,” Franka said.
“Bye!” Dutch jumped back in. “You should go to Be—”
The call was disconnected.
“Well, that was weird,” Mateo said.
“We should try not to think of her as our daughter...because she isn’t,” Leona said to her husband. “She had different parents, who looked like us, and would make a lot of the same decisions as us, but were not us. We didn’t experience that, and we don’t have the right to treat her as family.”
There was an awkward silence, which Olimpia decided to break. “I think I’m gonna take a nap.”
“Yeah, me too,” Angela agreed. “Let’s all take an hour to do whatever we need to do, be that a nap, a talk, or a nice bath.”

Half an hour later, Mateo and Leona were in the former’s room, exhausted from having been talking about their feelings, when the slingdrives powered up. They ran out of their unit, and back into Marie’s. Most of their teammates were doing the same. Angela was fully naked, dripping wet from her shoulders down, and trying to dry herself off with a hand towel. Ramses came out last from his lab. “Who did that?”
“I did.” Romana was walking up the steps from Marie’s basement.
“Where did you bring us?” Leona questioned.
“The only logical place,” Romana answered enigmatically.
“Thālith al Naʽāmāt Bida,” Ramses announced, looking at his device.
“Is this because of what Dutch said at the end of the call?” Mateo asked.
“This is obviously what he meant. Trust me, I looked through the colony catalogs, looking for an alternative, and this was the only place he could have possibly been trying to say before he was so rudely cut off.”
“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Leona agreed, “but that doesn’t mean we had to come here, or that you could make that decision without our input.”
Romana brushed it off. “Ugh, I’m so bored. I can’t take another game of Cones of Dunshire. It’s too thinky thinky.”
“The people who live here...” Leona began, trailing off, not knowing how to word it. “They’re not—oh my God. I don’t know how to put it. From the outside, they basically look like hermits, but instead of crabitats, they live in small pockets on the land and sea. Some do live in rotating cylinders, coins, and hammers, but up in orbit, because they don’t see their relative proximity to be any less isolating on a daily basis. No, that’s not right. They participate in community, but they technically live separately. They utilize technology efficiently, to make it so they don’t have to work. They otherwise worship nature, which makes sense given that this world is a miracle. I’m being really general here, but that’s to give you an idea of how they live. They don’t reject technology, and they don’t hate outsiders, but we probably shouldn’t meddle in their affairs.”
“Hold up,” Marie said. “Romy, you’re the one who sent us to Proxima Doma too. Is this the same thing? Did someone tell you to bring us here?”
“Yeah, Dutch,” Romana reminded them.
“I mean someone other than that. Did you meet a seer, or...?”
“It’s nothing like that,” Romana defended. “No more secrets. This is just our next stop. You don’t have to read anything into it. It’s just...we’re just...Doctor Who.”
“Doctor Who?” Leona asked. “How’s that now?”
“The Doctor doesn’t have to do anything,” Romana reasoned. “Everytime he goes somewhere, he pretty much always knows all the stuff. He’s not seeking out new life and new civilizations. He’s just flying around, and whenever he shows up, he helps whoever happens to be there. The writers gave up on contriving reasons for him to do that. It’s just the premise, and that’s enough. Let’s make that our premise. Let’s check out Bida for a little bit, and when we’re done, we’ll pick somewhere else to go. You don’t have to wait for someone to hand you a mission, should you choose to accept it. That’s what my sister was trying to tell us. She’s not my favorite sister, but it makes sense to me now, and I think I agree with her.”
Leona nodded. “It’s not a bad idea. The problem is that Bida has become almost entirely decentralized. That’s the consequence of extreme advancement in a post-scarcity economy. It’s why people like Linwood Meyers exist. Most aren’t misanthropic, but they lost their reasons to work together. Basically, everything that needed to be done is done. Some people will continue to look for new adventures, and new knowledge, but for a lot, a cabin in the woods is enough. They stand upon Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs alone because there is not much room at the top of a pyramid. So the people here probably don’t need us, and even if someone does, the chances of you landing us exactly at that settlement, instead of any of the other twenty million plots, are incredibly low.”
Romana held out her hand, but not in friendship. “I’ll take that bet.”
Leona smiled. “What are we betting?”
“If I win—if we’re where we’re supposed to be, helping the right person or people—you make me your navigator. As Captain, you reserve the right to veto, as I trust your judgment and wisdom, but as navigator, I initially choose our mission, every time.”
“And if I win?” Leona asked.
“If you win...you get infinite favors.” Romana seemed confident that she wouldn’t have to worry about the gravity of that offer.
Leona smiled wider now. “Okay.” She shook her daughter’s hand.
By the end of the day, Romana was the team’s navigator. It wasn’t even that hard. She cheated.

Thursday, August 7, 2025

Microstory 2469: Gambledome

Generated by Google Flow text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
Here’s the thing about gambling in a post-scarcity society...it’s not any fun! When money isn’t real, the stakes aren’t real, and there’s nothing interesting about it. The creators of Gambledome have managed to subvert this about as well as possible without completely shifting the paradigm of the economy. In Gambledome, money kind of is real, but only here. You start out with a modest amount of cash to spend on chips, and as you play, you win and lose those chips. If your stack starts piling up, you can cash them out, and spend it on things. You can get yourself a nice, luxurious room to stay in. You can spring for the (faux) lobster at dinner. You can give it away to your friends to make them like you. This is how it worked in other gambling communities on Earth back in the before-fore times, like Las Vegas. Here, it’s a recreation, which may make you think that your life can only get better, but that’s not true. If you run into the negative, you’re in trouble. You can’t leave the dome, and go back to the utopia that vonearthans have created since automation made fiat-based economies obsolete. You have to stick around, and pay off your debts. That’s right, there are real consequences. Some of the humans walking around as staff may be there because that is the experience that they have asked to be assigned while staying in the dome, but some are there because they have to be. Don’t come here if you don’t genuinely want to pretend to be an ancient human, because that’s the thing about gambling. You don’t know if you’re gonna win, and people lose all the time. A note on cheating: while they won’t torture you, it can land you in jail, where you’ll pay off your social debt by being locked up in a cell, unable to leave. We still have jails in the 27th century, of course, but the percentage of incarcerated individuals has never been lower, so this is rare. One woman lost her money on purpose, threw a tantrum, and tried to steal it all back, specifically so they would throw her in a cell, because it just doesn’t happen all that often anymore, and she certainly didn’t want to break any real laws. She didn’t want to go through the real justice system, and go to a real jail, where she might never get out. Overall, this place is a lot of fun, but only temporarily. I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life here, and I certainly wouldn’t want to live in a world where people are sincerely desperate enough to gamble because they think they have no other choice. I don’t know if Gambledome is fostering any real addicts, but I sure would be interested to know if it’s happening, and if it is, whether the creators have any plans to do anything about it.

Monday, January 10, 2022

Microstory 1796: Rounded

I love round numbers. Truthfully, I probably only held out this long so I could reach my hundredth year. Tomorrow is my birthday, and when that clock strikes zero, I plan to die. Where I live, the new year begins in the middle of the day, so my family is here to celebrate with me. They didn’t have to do that for me, squeeze into my nursing home room. I’m sure the younger ones would rather be at a party, and the older ones are too exhausted to spend this much time out of the house. I appreciate it, but I worry about how awkward it’s going to be when I pass. Only my youngest grandson knows what’s going to happen. He’s only six, but he’s so smart. He doesn’t think I’ll be able to pull it off, so I bet him a hundred dollars. He pointed out that he won’t be able to pay me if I end up being right, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. I don’t need money where I’m going, and I’m going soon, whether it’s at exactly 0:00, or not. He’s going to get a hundred bucks out of this, and it will teach him to focus his attention on safe bets. That’s the kind of lesson I’ve always tried to teach my kids. You don’t have to worry about what’s going to happen in the future if you rig it in your favor. Don’t play it safe, or you won’t get anywhere, but have an ace up your sleeve at all times. Don’t let others stack the deck against you. I’ve been unresponsive for a few hours now, but what my family doesn’t know is that I can still hear everything they’re saying. They’re talking about me, of course, and not even watching the clock. The elders are sharing stories with the youngsters. Man, I had a fun life, and I die here with no regrets. My son is talking about how I taught him how to get the job he wanted by basically not taking no for an answer. He snorts as he laughs. That’s not how it works anymore. Employers don’t like pushy people. Anyway, it worked for him in the 1960s, and he’s where he is now because of it.

They don’t notice when I pass at precisely when I meant to. My grandson positioned himself next to my vitals machine. I told you he was smart. So alarms don’t go off, he sneakily switches the little device on my finger to his own. It just keeps measuring, thinking that he’s me. He places his finger against my neck, waiting for a pulse that never comes. Still he tells no one. He lets them tell their stories, blissfully unaware that I’m gone. His parents think it’s so sweet that he’s holding my hand, but he’s really only doing it to maintain the lie. I taught him well, I tell you. They continue to tell stories for another thirty minutes until the nurse comes back in to confirm what she suspected. Grandson doesn’t apologize. He says he wanted the family to enjoy the beginning of the new year, at least for a little bit. The nurse leaves to begin the process. Meanwhile, my family decides that he’s right, or maybe they don’t want to argue about it. I was old and it was my time. There are some tears, even from those I wouldn’t have thought would produce them on this occasion, or didn’t think they would themselves. They keep going with the stories, though, trying to keep it light for the younglings. They know what’s going on, and the adults want them to feel comfortable with death, rather than being afraid of it. It takes a long time to get my body out of the room. My son’s wife is relieved. This kind of behavior would not have been tolerated on her side of the family. Death is something to be feared and ignored. She felt it was disrespectful for them to stay in here with a dead body. She tried to stay quiet, but everyone felt her disappointment. Me, I’m happy. I’m so happy that they stayed with me after I was gone. I felt so loved in the end.

Thursday, November 4, 2021

Microstory 1749: Balance Board

Life is all about balance, ya know? Don’t eat too much fat, but don’t eat none at all. Playing video games is fine as long as that’s not all you do. We don’t ever stand on one leg, or keep one eye shut while we’re driving. A lot of people like the cold, and a lot prefer the heat, but just about everyone is at least fine in mild temperatures, right in the middle. That’s really what it is, isn’t it? When in doubt, stay in the middle, and be ready to move to either side as new information comes along, metaphorically speaking. Balance has been no more important to me in my life than it is today. I actually am standing on one leg. My right eye is closed, I’m playing a driving simulation—not a racing game, but one that simulates following the rules within typical traffic scenarios—and I’m expected to finish something they call a lard shake with a crazy straw. To make matters worse, the room goes from scalding hot to near freezing in a matter of minutes. If I pass this last challenge, I’ll win the million dollars, but if I don’t I’ll have to pay as much. That’s why they call this show Balance Board. Right now, the board is at plus or minus a million. By the end of the contest, that number has to go back to zero, whether it comes out of my pocket, or the show’s budget. What I’m doing is betting on myself. In the first challenge, I was only asked to bet a hundred dollars that I could walk on a straight line of tape on the floor. No big deal, right? If I had lost, it would have been over, and I would have owed, but I would have been all right. Believe it or not, people have lost that challenge, and nobody wants to be that contestant. It’s so embarrassing, and those people usually never get over their tainted reputation.

The second challenge is the same thing, except instead of tape, it’s a balance beam; just as narrow, but with a smaller margin of error. You’re still only betting 200 bucks at that point, but obviously the bets get higher, and the challenges get harder. You can stop anytime you want, of course, as long as you’ve not already begun the next stage, and that happens all the time. It’s a risk in more ways than one. Betting on yourself again shows that you have confidence in yourself, but if you fail, it can have a negative impact on your life. And I don’t just mean socially. Employers look at your Balance Board record, and take it into consideration when deciding whether you would be a good fit for the organization. Giving up is worse than going for it and losing in most people’s minds, but not everyone’s. The only way to truly be safe is to win the whole darn thing. It’s rarer to get this far, and even rarer to succeed, but if you do, it pretty much sets you up for life. It’s a national phenomenon, but most contests aren’t broadcast nationwide. Every city has its own local programming. They only put you on the national circuit if they think you’re gonna go far, or if they want the attention you’ll receive to make things even more stressful for you. For me, I’m sure it’s the latter reason. I’m sure I looked like an underdog to them. They lucked out, because I’m just about to do it. Five more seconds, and...there! I’ve done it! I can’t believe it, I’ve actually won! One million bucks, baby, tax free! “Congratulations!” the announcer shouts. “And now, something we’ve never done before: an extra challenge! For the two million dollars, complete the next level in the traffic game, just as you did it before, but in the center of a wooden plank that’s laid between two high-rises, with no net below. As always, the choice is yours, but once you’ve made it—say it with me, folks!” The audience joins in, “ALL! BETS! ARE! OFF!”