Thinking@The_Speed_Of_Light.com

Thinking@The_Speed_Of_Light.com

Author xto134323 brushed aside the Automatic Thought Channeliser just purchased from Sony Electectronics and swivelling around in his chair, once again looked at the screen before him. The Dectium 3005 Google Computer that looked back at him winked and said, "What is your wish, James?"

James winked back at him and thought about the new story that he was going to post on T@T_S_O_L.com today. He smiled and realised that the Dectium already knew what he was thinking about, so he just nodded his head and said, "Do it, come on!"

The 996-bit colour screen shimmered and a three-dimensional website opened out into James's room. A hooded website owner calling herself the Thinkmistress*3005 glided down a red carpet and stood before James.

"How do you do, XTO134323?"

"Oh, I am fine, Madam ..." responded James with a virtual handshake that literally shook the woman standing before him. Although she was hooded, her face invisible, as her ancestors had done before for the last 1000 years, she had on a vintage "Stories.com" cape that she had manufactured herself and which sold for 16 million gift points per piece on the "Thinking@The_Speed_of_light.com website.

"Well, what have you got then?" She was a strict webmaster and brooked no nonsense and no carelessly thought-out items.

James was a bit sheepish, but he looked gallantly at the black hood that covered the TMs and said, "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Madam?"

"Do you realise that Thinking@The_Speed_Of_Light works at the speed of light? Our site now has 120,000,456,005,008 authors from 654 different planetary systems and 29 galaxies spread across all corners of the Universe? If every budding black case author bid me to come to him or her and asked me to make myself comfortable, how could the TM and I harvest so many different items?"

James nodded nervously and said, "Yes, I know that, Madam. I became a member here just over a year ago and have just sixteen items in my port. I have thought about this wonderful tale on Unicorns that ..."

The TMs impatiently cut in, "Well, don't just talk about it. Let me begin to harvest your thought ..." She removed a small purple-coloured gizmo from her cape. It had the words "Tho-Vest" written on them. She unravelled the cord that was wound around it and taking the end of the cord, she inserted its pin into a steel-bordered hole that was just in front of James's right ear.

"Transmitting now," said James as he concentrated on the item that he was about to send. It was to be a poem about fantasy. In it, Unicorns were to race across green meadows and finally come face to face with the group of creatures that had once, in the past, graced the "Harry Potter" books of a long-dead author, J.K. Rowling. Hippogriffs, Knuts, Kreachers, Dragons, and what not passed through his mind as his ill-conceived poem transmitted in fits and starts over the next few minutes.

"'Unique Unicorn smiled at Happy Hippogriff?' What's that, XTO134323?" TMs asked, her machine needles moving wildly from "Negative potential" to "Zero Potential" but not wavering into the positive category.

"It's a ... er ... cute rhyme, don't you think so?" answered James, now thoroughly uncomfortable about his item.

TMs just nodded and waited while the "Copyright" thoughts transmitted successfully. She then reached out and removed the pin from James's temple.

"I must be going now, XTO ... er ..."

"134323, madam," finished James.

"Ah, yes, well, have a good day. And do read some of the white cases on the website. You will learn a lot about ancient writing practices if you read items by shaara, billwilcox, Vivian and so many others! And don't forget, the 1006th anniversary of our site will be coming up next month. Check out for "T@T_S_O_L Party Central" item that will be available within a few days!" The Thinkmistress wrapped her cape around her and slithered up back into the screen. As she melted into the ether, James couldn't help but smile at the various copyrighted, handmade decorations that were all over the cape. Below each one were the words, "©TMs 2987 for T@T_S_O_L.com".

He thought about the words the TMs had said while leaving. "I must check out the White cases ..."

Before he could complete the thought, exactly 120,000,455,985,123 search results had poured out on the screen in front of him.

"Oh Lord!" he exclaimed as he plopped back into his seat. It was going to be a long day!