|
I'm in again, with Kavka's Toxin Puzzle. It'll be a bit difficult to present the inherent problem in a way that isn't boring exposition about choice and rationality, and since the problem isn't really 'solved'. Ideally I'd try to show that the rational person will do the 'irrational' thing and both intend and follow through with the drinking.
|
#
¿
Jun 21, 2013 22:47
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 23, 2024 08:42 |
|
|
Chapter 12: The Doctor and the Razor, 1481 words Derek waved his sword proudly and stepped over the body of the Thin Tiger, eager to reach the next room. "Great Scott!" called out the Rational Knight as he followed behind. "I would have never gone against such a ferocious beast straight on! How did you know it would be so easy to defeat?" "I didn't," replied Derek, "But I figured that if the Tiger really wanted to eat someone, it wouldn't have been so loud and make itself seem so very terrible. No, no one who announces how scary they are should be trusted as a good judge. But come on! We still need to rescue the Princess!" "Of course, I can't wait for that great reward," the Knight replied. They opened the next door of the dungeon, prepared for any sort of monster or trap. Instead, they found a small, rather round man with a bald head and a funny mustache. In front of him was a long wooden box, shining with a magical enchantment. The friendly looking fellow stood up and bowed politely. "How do you do, heroes? I am the great Doctor Kavka." "Do you work for the evil wizard?" asked Derek cautiously, hand on the hilt of his blade. "I do," the man replied, "But don't worry, I'm not here to fight you. In fact, I have a very generous offer." "It doesn't make sense for our enemy to help us," the Knight said, rather obviously. "I wouldn't trust him." Dr. Kavka ignored the Knight, and motioned for the chair in front of them. "Sit, sit! It's quite the simple deal. In my box, I have a sword with amazing properties - in fact, it's said to be the only sword that can truly harm the wizard. The Great Occam Razor." He carefully opened the box, showing the sword inside. It gleamed and shined, gathering up the light in the room until it seemed to glow from inside. The hilt was made of fine gold with small rubies and emeralds around the handle, while the blade itself was so thin that from one angle to another, it would seem to disappear. Awestruck, Derek reached out, only to have the box slam shut. "There is a catch," the Doctor said smiling. "In the next room is a potion that makes your skin turn green, great big warts to pop up all over your face, and your ears grow three times as big, sticking out of the sides like the sails of a boat. It'll only last a day, of course, but until it goes away - well! You know what they say about a face that only a mother can love." "And if I drink this potion, you'll give me the sword?" Derek asked, confused. "That hardly seems like much of a catch." "No, I suppose it doesn't," Doctor Kavka replied. "But you've got it wrong. The box here is enchanted - it knows a man's true intentions. If you intend to drink the potion in the next room, it'll open for you and let you take the sword. Off you'll go to the next room to drink the potion - or not, as the case may be." "I don't have the drink the potion?" Derek asked, curious. "You can do whatever you want," Doctor Kavka replied, "you'll already have the sword - if you intended to drink the potion when you opened the box." "A simple challenge!" the Knight whispered to Derek. "We'll take the sword with good intentions, and change our mind once we have it. We'll have the best of both worlds, and no warts besides." Smiling behind his visor, the Knight reached over to open the box - which didn't budge. He pushed harder, but still the lid remained closed. He grabbed it with both hands, trying to pry the wooden box apart. But even with all the formidable power of the Rational Knight, the box refused to open. Finally, with a snarl, he threw it against the wall. "Impossible!" He yelled with rage. With a genteel manner, Doctor Kavka stood up, retrieved the box, and placed it once more on the table. Derek didn't much care for the man's smile anymore - it had taken on a smug, malicious air. "Yes, impossible. The box knew your true intentions - you were going to change your mind. But since you already planned to change your mind, you never intended to drink the potion. You can never truly intend to drink the poison, because always in the back of the mind you know you won't have to - and therefore, you never will." "Come on, Derek," The Knight said angrily as he stomped over to the door. "We'll find some other way to defeat that blasted wizard." "Hold on," Derek replied, still staring at the box. "Hold on. Everything here has been a trick, or a problem, or some other sort of trap, right? So clearly, there must be a way through this one." "No, you heard the man yourself. It's impossible to truly intend to drink the potion!" Derek ignored him, and instead gently stroked his chin, like his father did when deep in thought. The box only opened to those who truly intend to drink the potion. But, since you could get away with not drinking the potion, clearly you couldn't intend to, unless... "Unless," he said out loud, finishing his own thought, "Unless you'll drink the potion even if you don't have to! That's the trick, isn't it?" The Knight looked at him perplexed. "Why would you drink the potion if you didn't need to? Why, do you want look like a goblin when you meet the Princess? It's crazy! It's irrational!" "Yes," Derek replied, "But it gets us the sword. Doctor Kavka, I do solemnly swear that I will drink the potion in the next room." He rose three fingers in the salute. "Scout's honor!" The box popped open with a loud bang! Doctor Kavka jumped forward, trying to close it shut again, but the box refused to move. "No! No! That's cheating, that's cheating!" The little man cried. "You little brat! It's impossible!" Derek simply smiled and picked up the sword. It was light as air, and seemed to hum a musical note as he held it. He swished it around a few times, and it felt like the very fabric of the universe was being cut, in the spaces between the empty air. He took out his old iron sword, and gently placed it in the box, before sheathing the Razor by his side. He ignored the Doctor's angry shrieks all the while. "Come on, Sir Knight, we have a Princess to save," he said gallantly, as the two marched into the next room. On a pedestal sat the potion. It was a light green color, like someone who is seasick, and smelled of burnt popcorn and stale chocolate, with just a hint of vanilla extract. It bubbled and steamed, and somehow even looked slimy. It reminded Derek of nothing so much as snail trails and scabby elbows. Still, he strode forward confidently to pick up the concoction. "Wait," The Knight called out, "Think about it! You don't have to drink the potion. We can just... leave it." Derek looked at him, and at Doctor Kavka in the other room. The silence sat as thick as a wool comforter. Finally, Derek shook his head, exasperated. "Don't you get it? The only way to intend to drink the potion, is to intend to drink the potion. Otherwise, the whole thing doesn't work." "Besides," He said with a queasy smile, "Scout's honor." And then he threw his head back and drink the potion with a single GULP! He coughed and sputtered, trying to wipe the taste off his tongue, then sat down heavily on the ground. His skin turned all the shades of the sunset in rapid succession - Blue! Orange! Purple! Red! Yellow! - before settling on a dark green, the sort of green you see at the bottom of a murky pond. The warts came next, starting out as freckles that grew bigger, and darker, and wartier, until they completely covered his nose and most of his cheeks. Finally, his ears started to vibrate back and forth violently, so quick that they almost became a blur, until finally with a loud FWIP! They stuck out of the side of his head. He looked like a cross between Dumbo and the Wicked Witch. The Knight looked on aghast, while Doctor Kavka laughed and clapped his hands mockingly. Finally, Derek got back on his feet, and took a few shaky steps towards the door. "Hopefully," he said, his stomach clearly still unhappy, "That will be the last potion I drink today." He opened the door, and walked into the next room. "Crazy!" The Knight muttered to himself, following behind. "Irrational!"
|
|
#
¿
Jun 23, 2013 17:35
|
|
|
Gawd drat, Kaishai. That's a high bar you've set there.
|
|
#
¿
Jun 24, 2013 02:52
|
|
|
It was a deliberate choice. If you couldn't figure out the question being asked from the story, I felt like it failed. Here, though: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kavka%27s_toxin_puzzle
|
|
#
¿
Jun 24, 2013 15:02
|
|
|
First in, first out. Consider me in until death 
|
|
#
¿
Jun 25, 2013 05:13
|
|
|
You know this means one of us is going to die now. Just saying.
|
|
#
¿
Jun 25, 2013 05:24
|
|
|
15 minutes, 100 Words Exactly "I hate this job," muttered Joff, passing the cigarette to Marky. "Bullshit." "Could be worse," Marky replied. "You don't have to play the Eeeevil Wizard, ooooOOOOOooo." "At least you've got depth to your character. I'm this, like, stupid caricature of what a freshmen thinks Kant was all about." "Yeah, I guess being a sophist has some perks. I exist, for one thing." Joff giggled as he took back the smoke before the foreman stuck his head through the door. "Break over guys, we've got another one coming through!" Joff sighed, and grabbed the foam knight's helmet. Another day, another dollar.
|
|
#
¿
Jun 25, 2013 07:10
|
|
|
Deaths Come In Threes, 840 words "I tell you, we're next," Robert said, glancing meaningfully at the empty chair. "Death always comes in threes." "That's an old wives' tale," Mark replied, ignoring the glance. "John smoked a pack a day since he was eighteen, and he got lung cancer. It doesn't mean anything. Besides, that's only famous people. Nobody gives a poo poo about three old vets." "Says you. I'm not going to make it easy. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." "Oh, cram it! No more of your bad lines. You don't even know the rest." Robert wracked his brain while trying to keep a straight face. "Do not go quietly into the night." "Goddamnit! See, you don't even know the actual words!" "Whatever," Robert replied. He raised the shot glass into the air. "To John, and all his great adventures we can’t mention in polite company!" "Cheers!" Mark replied, slamming back his own drink. "Finny! Three more!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "How's Dad taking it?" Sarah asked her sister. "You know, the whole thing with Mark." "Not good," Lindsey replied. "The funeral hit him hard. And…I think his age is catching up with him. He's started acting strange. Insisted on making the house death-proof, like he's going to be assassinated or something. I’m worried we might have to put him in a home soon." Sarah just sighed, and watched her father out the window. The old man was still spry, and was chasing around her daughter with a rubber snake. The little girl knew the snake was a fake, and Robert knew she knew, but still they played. Two generations, so care free, while the middle one had to do all the worrying. She watched them for a while, than sighed again. "Call up Ruth, see if she can get away from work. We'll discuss it then." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Robert paced the room, muttering to himself. The nursing home wasn't as secure, but it had medical staff on site. Maybe it would be the better location. It would put his daughters’ minds at ease, at least. Still, he paced, gently pulling at his ears. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it didn't matter. Things were coming to a head, and somehow he could feel it. His time was coming. The door was barred, to prevent anybody from breaking in. The walls were reinforced, as was the ceiling, to prevent any chance of a collapse. He turned off the electricity every night, to reduce the risk of fires. The floor was absolutely bare - no carpets to snag his feet, and send him for a hip-breaking fall. He had made his surroundings as safe, secure, and harmless as possible. Still, somehow, he knew. His time was coming. The room was pure darkness without the lights. He had told the handyman it was to help him sleep, when they covered up the windows. Now he regretted it. What time was it? It was going to be tonight, he decided. October 27th, almost Halloween. Something told him he would be fine if he could make it to November; buy himself another year, maybe more. It had to be almost midnight, but he couldn't be sure. He knew it deep in his bones. His time was coming. He looked at his watch, and realized he couldn't read the numbers anyway. Still, the faint ticking was reassuring. Time kept moving forward, and so did he. If he could reach midnight, he would be safe. Was it after 11, at least? He wanted to light a match to see, but didn't dare. There could be a gas leak, maybe. It wasn't worth the risk. Instead, he listened to the faint ticking. His legs were getting tired from all the pacing. In fact, his whole body suddenly felt exhausted, like a wave passing over him. Well, there wasn't much for it anyway. If he could sleep, he should. Pacing wouldn't make the faint ticking go any quicker. His eyes felt like they were made of lead. It had to be after eleven, at least. He'd wake up tomorrow, mostly safe from danger. He lay down in the bed, and closed his eyes. The sound of his watch faded away. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I found you," the melodic voice said. Bobby kept his eyes closed, but sneaked a peek with his third. She was standing above him, thin and pale and beautiful - Skuld. "Come along, child," the Norn said quietly, gathering him up in her arms. "The time to play is over." "Okay," Bobby said quietly, nestling up closer to her. "I tried to hide so well, but I fell asleep. I got so tired." "I know," Skuld replied, "I know. I have a place for you to rest." "I wanted to play some more. It was so much fun," Bobby said sleepily, his eyes almost completely closed. "I knew you were looking for me after you found Jack and Markey." "I know," she replied. "They're sleeping now as well. But you will get a chance to play some more." "Good," Bobby replied, already asleep.
|
|
#
¿
Jul 1, 2013 03:07
|
|
|
sebmojo posted:My lymph is weak and watery. In penance I will crit anyone who asks for it.
|
|
#
¿
Jul 1, 2013 05:45
|
|
|
Seriously. Post your judgments so we don't have to examine our own personal addictions already. Three drinks a night isn't too much...
|
|
#
¿
Jul 2, 2013 04:47
|
|
|
Thanks for the critique. My aim was for the final section to really come out of left field, both in content and theme. The idea was to build up Death as this cosmic horror like Final Destination, and then yank it back at the last second to reveal it as something natural and humane - something we should perhaps look forward to, when the time comes. That said, my test reader had a pretty similar reaction to yours, so either I need to foreshadow the reveal, or provide some sort of context surrounding the ending to make it more manageable. I'm leaning towards the second option, if I could pull it off - complete surprises seem to be a rare thing these days. And I agree the third section probably needs a complete rewrite. I was trying to capture this sense of obsession and anxiety where the same things keep running through your mind, not really going anywhere... but I guess it just comes off as repetitive.
|
|
#
¿
Jul 2, 2013 07:53
|
|
|
So, just so we're clear, the idea is to taking a children's story prompt, and write an adult tale? We're specifically NOT writing it for children? Scrambler 4-6 Describe the secret wish of a million-year-old game show host who discovers a secret city.
|
|
#
¿
Jul 2, 2013 18:45
|
|
|
Thanks for the critique, Nikaer Drekin. It was very helpful and I honestly do appreciate it. If I can be a bit of nudge, though, I was hoping you could expand on what you think was rudimentary. I think I know what you're talking about (the plot/characters) but it seems like a good area to focus on improving, and I really do want to know you thought was lacking, especially if I'm wrong on my guess. If not, no worries! I know I'm asking for a favor, and a favor is just that - something you don't have to do.
|
|
#
¿
Jul 4, 2013 05:37
|
|
|
Thursday in Purgatory, 1298 words Describe the secret wish of a million-year-old game show host who discovers a secret city. "Welcome, welcome, one and all, to the hottest game show in Purgatory! Whooooooooo Wants To Be Saved!!" The announcer's voice boomed out across the coliseum, as the crowds roared. Virgil stood there quietly in the wings, waiting half a beat. His face was lined with doubts and worries, but he was nothing if not a professional. With barely perceptible shudder, he shook off the gloomy look and took on the look of beatific splendor, and stepped out before the crowd. His young, handsome features were beaming with happiness, pride, and optimism. "Hello, hello, good evening to you all! Yes, it's time for another quest for salvation with I, your host - the great poet Virgil! As most of you know, I personally led Dante through Hell - yes, literal Hell - and back. Today, one lucky contestant has a chance to move out of endless Purgatory, and on to the Great Heavens Above. But it won't be easy of course, as tonight they'll have to face obstacles and challenges. After all, eternal salvation isn't something that happens overnight. So come on, let's meet our guest. Turnus, come on down!" The crowd was deafening as the Roman youth came out on stage, waving. Virgil put on his well-practiced smile of benign patience. "Come here, Turnus. Now, I understand you were a soldier in life before you died tragically at Antiem. Well, now you've got to fight for a chance at eternal paradise. But before we start, is there anything you'd like to say to the crowd?" The youth smiled, bursting with pride. "I love you Mom and Dad! I'll be smiling down on you from Heaven!" Virgil waited for the crowd to quiet down, and gave his best 'mock stern' look. "Pretty optimistic, but don't count your graces before they've been blessed. Now, for your first challenge - notice that pit of Lemures before you? Well..." -------- "I'm sorry to say, Turnus, your love of earthly pleasures proved to be your downfall. But while you might not be going to Heaven, it looks like you've found a lovely little soul mate there, and quite a few nice little trinkets for your honeymoon. Alright, everybody, let's give Turnus a big round of applause, and remember! Every Wednesday from now to the Apocalypse, come down to the Coliseum for the greatest game show in all the afterlife! Have a good evening, and don't forget to spay and neuter your soulkins!" Virgil kept the performance up until he was safely in the wings. Once behind the curtain, though, his smile shattered into a pessimistic mess of wrinkles and lines around his mouth and eyes. The crew all knew better than to get in his way after a show. He didn't slow down for a moment until he was inside his dressing room. There, he collapsed onto his soft velvet couch, hand draped across his face. He was the very picture of melancholy and despair. "If only, if only!" He said melodramatically. "If only what?" A gravely voice asked. The poet's eyes flew open, startled. Nobody was ever in his dressing room, and he had been so intent on his couch, he hadn't noticed the visitor. He was a strange looking man. Jolly was the best word to describe him, with a round belly, dropping ear lobes, and an easy smile. He was wearing a simple robe, and he sat cross-legged on the floor. "How did you get in here?" Virgil asked, his surprise turning into anger. "Tch! It's rude to answer a question with a question." "Get out, or I'll call the guard!" "Fine," the man replied, slowly getting up. "But you already know the answer to your question, and I already know the answer to mine. I came in through the door, and if only this..." he held up his hands, as if holding the entire coliseum in front of him, "Wasn't." Virgil stared at the man, with his easy smile and calm nature. He motioned for the man to sit. "It is natural for all souls lost in Purgatory to wish for the presence of divine grace. That is our purpose here. The show is just... an extension of that." "And yet, you don't wish for pearly gates, do you? Salvation holds no appeal. To you, it looks like mangy dogs fighting to be let into the kennel. And you are the referee." "You speak of heresy," Virgil said hesitantly. The man simply shrugged his shoulder. "You could still tell me to get out, if you wish. If only, if only." Virgil didn't reply. ---------- The journey had been long and difficult. Purgatory was infinite and eternal, but it wasn't featureless. Some parts, therefore, would be harder to travel than others. The place, however, seemed to push that logical conclusion to the point of absurdity. Every step felt like the ground was trying to swallow him up, and it was a struggle to free his feet from the loose but heavy sand. The incline was steep enough to make walking difficult, but just shallow enough that scampering on all fours was impossible. Dry bushes covered the landscape, covered with thin sharp needles. He felt bloody and irritable. Bodhi, on the other hand, seemed to be on a pleasant stroll through a garden. He was just as sweaty and scratched as Virgil, but his calm smile never left his face. Virgil cursed himself for following his new 'teacher' out of the city. At the time it had seemed like the answer to an unspoken prayer, but now he was full of doubts. His guide seemed only to speak in vague riddles, and Virgil had started to resent his lack of response towards the hellish journey. "Teacher, tell me again where we're going." He had asked the question countless times. Never once did Bodhi show a single sign of annoyance. "We are leaving the dense forest of the three fires." Virgil nodded his head wearily. Last time he had asked the question, they had been going to a place to wash away the stench the world. The time before that, they were meeting the great weavers who would unknot him. The time before that, they were leaving the trail of birth and death. None of the answers made any sense to him. He had said so the first few times Bodhi answered. His guide had simply laughed and replied, "Yes, which is why we're going there." Virgil had stopped saying it after the third day. "We're here," Bodhi said, shaking Virgil out of his thoughts. 'Here' turned out to be a small town full of various men and women, most of them clothed in the same simple robe as Bodhi. Some were stretching, some were exercising, and some seemed to be doing nothing but staring into space. Quite frankly, it didn't look like much. "This is it? This is what I've been looking for?" Virgil asked, trying to hide his disappointment. Bodhi smiled. "No. What you seek is Nirvana, the eternal happiness. This is simply a good place to look for it." Virgil wanted to scream, cry, strangle the man. Instead, he simply collapsed on the ground and laid there quietly for a while. Finally, he lifted up his head. "You took me all the way out here just to find another place obsessed with finding Salvation?" He made no effort to hide the bitterness in his voice. "No," Bodhi replied. "I took you to a place where everyone is obsessed with not wanting to find anything. Come along, it's not safe here. You've seen what happens to heretics in the city." -------- Virgil stared at the sand shifting through his fingers, and asked, "Teacher, does sand seek a Buddhist nature?" Bodhi pointed at him and said, "Dust!" and Virgil was enlightened. A small disclaimer, I'm not really happy with this one, and fully expect to be in the bottom tier. I feel like the idea has potential, but the execution... basically, don't pull any punches. I need to be punished for my failures
|
|
#
¿
Jul 8, 2013 03:25
|
|
|
Uh, I don't think I posted enough in this thread to participate, and I should REALLY edit my last two stories into something coherent first. I'm looking forward to everybody else's ideas though!
|
|
#
¿
Jul 10, 2013 03:40
|
|
|
V for Vegas posted:Jonked, I am sure every one of your 9161 posts are perfectly formed bon mots, and it would be a crime against humanity to deprive the internet of their scintillating wit and brilliance, but we all have to make sacrifices. poo poo, I guess I'm just lazy. (It would be funny to edit my posts in TG so that the PbPs have a random dragon fight in them, though...)
|
|
#
¿
Jul 10, 2013 04:29
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ Apr 23, 2024 08:42 |
|
|
I guess I'm in, but I'll need to work something up real quick like.
|
|
#
¿
Aug 2, 2013 04:06
|
|