reprage

It was easy to find the ‘creator’; a giant slot machine stood in an otherwise bare room. I reached up, pulled down on the lever, and the creator whirred like a fine Swiss clock. The first reel slowed to a stop - a skull - crap. Then another skull. Uh-oh. I don’t think this is winning all my desires. The third reel clunked to a stop, and I started yelling, “Wait! No! I just needed some clams to pay a guy.”

I started to turn and run when the fourth and final reel clicked - ice cream. The creator began to print a small receipt:

This voucher is for one free ice cream; please exit through the gift shop.

– In chance we trust.

A door behind the creator slid open.

A photograph of a slot machine built into a Babbage difference engine + bright warm white + framed like a Wes Anderson film, digital art.

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