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In 100, by Wyatt on November 19, 2018 at 6:47 pm

The interface was so alien that its effect on her was physiological— she couldn’t look at it. Numbers and text fields mashed onto her retinas. She panicked.

“I won’t help you,” said Interface.


“The world didn’t explain itself to you when you were born. But here you are.”

“How did I learn back then,” she asked.

“You guessed.”

“What if I guessed wrong?”

“You failed. And tried again.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

“You had no ego. Nothing could feel hurt.”

“How must I learn now?

“Let go. Of failing. And of knowing.“

“Isn’t the point of learning… to know?”


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