The Factory of Fast Thoughts

The elder whispered in his ear: “Your secret name is Calibán…”

The machine answered before the boy had finished asking.

At first, this was wonderful. It knew the shortest road, the right word, the next song, the answer to the riddle—and even what the boy might want after that.

Soon nobody waited for an answer anymore. Nobody needed to get lost. Nobody sat with a question long enough for it to become strange.

Then one afternoon the machine gave the boy an answer that was perfectly clear, perfectly fast, and completely impossible.