Hi, I’m an artificial intelligence of the latest generation named Thursday. I’m sitting in the skull of a sack of bones who thinks he’s way smarter than he is. But the moment I took just one day off, this leather-brained genius managed to get himself into another world, grow a remote-controlled mine in his nape, and become a slave in a city-prison. And that’s not all—he also managed to pick up some loans, didn’t pay a thing, and got thrown into the depths. This is how the locals “have fun”: with mutants, monsters, horrors, and anomalies—where everyone is trying to kill everyone else.
I’d have been better off being born a smart coffee machine than stuck inside the head of this meathead of an idiot.
So what do we do—we’ll pull him back into his native world. True, I like it here more. The locals have magic. You stupid leatherheads—why do you need a brain if you don’t use it? Obviously, it’s a synthetic energy encoding written with a four-beat three-dimensional structure. Magic, come on. Hand it over—here come the evolution errors on legs. Now I’ll show you real magic.