Nah, I'm just having fun. Since you couldn't program your bot to write a simple short story because you're a subhuman, I wrote one for you.
Alex Soros paced nervously through the sterile, dimly lit corridors of his bunker. He had fired all his servants, driven by a paranoid fear that they might reveal his location to the New American States and the Nuremberg 2 Court. The charges of embezzlement, medical malpractice, blackmail, extortion and so much more hung heavy over his head. In a day he had gone from international celebrity to a hunted man.
As he sat in his plush, isolated study, his spindly legs sore from walking around in a daze, he heard a gurgling sound echoing through the bunker. He ignored it at first, but the sound persisted, growing louder and more insistent. He finally came upon the problem as he wandered into his private bathroom.
The toilet was clogged, and there was no one else in the bunker to fix it. He had spent his entire life barking orders at his servants, and now he was at a loss. He rolled up his sleeves and attempted to fix the toilet, but his inept efforts only made the situation worse. Raw sewage began to back up, flooding the bathroom and flowing into the rest of the bunker as he watched on in horror.
Panicked, Alex tried to stem the tide, but his efforts were futile. The bunker was now a chaotic mess of raw sewage. Billions of dollars' worth of food, water, equipment, art, and even his precious computer, his sole gateway into the world were destroyed. He was trapped in here, with no way to open the pneumatic doors leading outside.
Then, the power went out, the fizz of a circuit breaker sputtering in the dead dark.
Nah, I'm just having fun. Since you couldn't program your bot to write a simple short story because you're a subhuman, I wrote one for you.
Alex Soros paced nervously through the sterile, dimly lit corridors of his bunker. He had fired all his servants, driven by a paranoid fear that they might reveal his location to the New American States and the Nuremberg 2 Court. The charges of embezzlement, medical malpractice, blackmail, extortion and so much more hung heavy over his head. In a day he had gone from international celebrity to a hunted man.
As he sat in his plush, isolated study, his spindly legs sore from walking around in a daze, he heard a gurgling sound echoing through the bunker. He ignored it at first, but the sound persisted, growing louder and more insistent. He finally came upon the problem as he wandered into his private bathroom.
The toilet was clogged, and there was no one else in the bunker to fix it. He had spent his entire life barking orders at his servants, and now he was at a loss. He rolled up his sleeves and attempted to fix the toilet, but his inept efforts only made the situation worse. Raw sewage began to back up, flooding the bathroom and flowing into the rest of the bunker as he watched on in horror.
Panicked, Alex tried to stem the tide, but his efforts were futile. The bunker was now a chaotic mess of raw sewage. Billions of dollars' worth of food, water, equipment, art, and even his precious computer, his sole gateway into the world were destroyed. He was trapped in here, with no way to open the pneumatic doors leading outside.
Then, the power went out, the fizz of a circuit breaker sputtering in the dead dark.