Sevenpool 4102 PGE

  Among the many cities of the United Lornoa Nations, Sevenpool can said to also be one. An urban sprawl enclosing a mountain of skyscrapers reaching towards some imaginary spot in the heavens, all callously sliced in twain by the Evernascent river. Even in the semi-prosperous state of Vex Lurver the city ranked twelfth in economic prosperity, fourteenth in natural beauty, sixth in safety levels, fourth in population, fifth in tourism and lower in a bunch of other miscellaneous metrics. In fact if the cities currently greatest claim to fame was that it had just been ranked as 'One of the Best Obscure Holiday Destinations for your money', on which it came second. Still even this silver medal was bound to catch the eye of at least somebody.

  Somebody disembarked from the gangplank of a passing ship in the form of a young-ish man. He reached into his suit pants taking out a pair of sunglasses which he slid on his face before lowering them and taking in the scenery. It was a familiar sight that this pair of eyes had technically seen for the first time. The salty air was tinged with the subtle hints of smog, indicating some level of increased industry, but nowhere near as offensive as the capital, which had become a vision of smoky hell in the last few years, and would until the legislation for air control was pushed through in a few more years.

  Striding down the road, the young man enjoyed the satisfying slap-slap-slap of slip-slops against the synthetic wooden pier, before he paused in front of one of those giant novelty maps made to give tourists an only-slightly-incorrect view of the city. He scrutinised that, refreshing his memory, before unlocking his phone and holding it up to the code. In a second, a duplicate map appeared on his phone. Smiling in mild satisfaction he flicked a button on his phone to confirm the download and then another to summon a cab to his location.

  Slipping his phone into his jacket suit, he walked towards ths ide of the road, where a floating taxicab had come to a stop. He up to the cab, opening up the door, as the scanners surreptiosuly verified his finger prints, and casually throwing himself into the backseat.

  "To the Sierra Verde, my good man," he said to the robot that sat in the front seat, barely a collection of metal pieces arranged in a vaguely humanoid shape to appeal to the customers. "And play something from the top of the charts."

  "Playing 'The Top Hits of 4095'," the robot stated, in that notably artificial tone, a legal requirement for all robots constructed post the year 4000. With over ninety percent of the work force now occupied by robots, society had entered a stagnant, lethargic period, but with the quiet undertones of a growing desire for change, but likely nothing that would manifest in the next decade or so. It was none of his business in the first place.

  The next few minutes were spent in silence as he enjoyed the sights going by at the default speed. To go faster or slower incurred an extra cost and it was an expense he was unwilling to pay when he didn't need to, despite the fact that money was a social construct and all that. Instead he took the time leaning his head against the window and gazing upon the bustling streets. Flipping his phone against the side of the door caused a panel to retract and a selection of snacks appeared before him and the tourist hesitated for a moment before seizing a sinfully dark chocolate snack. Ignoring the ding that announced the depletion of his bank balance he dug in, tearing through the wrapper and finishing the whole thing within too few bites.

  "The Sierra Verde is the oldest continously operating casino of the United Lornoa Nations," the bucket of bolts in the front seat stated unprompted. "At six hundred years old it predates the founding of Vex Lurver by nearly a hundred years and has only been experienced a brief shut down period during the Bloody Blitz."

  "Fascinating," the passenger opined. "Truly a testament to the unbreakable will of gamblers to drive themselves into ruin," he said, appreciating the irony that he was also one of those gamblers. He let time pass by and five minutes and forty three seconds later, the vehicle came to a stop in a massive parking lot filled with high-end cars. Whistling to himself he admired the face of the casino, done in the style of the Golden Empire, or more accurately what most people thought the style of the Golden Empire was, all columns and curtains and marble.

  He gave a half-salute to the robot which prompted it to drive off and strode towards the entrance, before he paused briefly as he felt a weight settle within him coalescing into a form of restraint. He glanced towards the four obelisks in front of the casino, painted white, trying to surreptiously blend in with the normal decor. To be charitable neither the restriction or the historical discrepancy wouldn't be noticed by the ordinary person.

  "The Golden Empire didn't use obelisks," he remarked to himself, taking one more look at the décor, before stepping inside the bustling casino. It was cooler inside, not that the outside was hot, it was slightly above pleasantly warm at best, but clearly that was not acceptable to the owners of the building who employed air conditioning that lowered the temp by just those few uncomfortable degrees. He paused for a moment, enjoying the feeling before heading to a counter, one that was not occupied by any of the other gamblers and one that was not staffed by a robot.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "200k converted to chips," he said to the chestnut-haired woman dressed in a parody of the Golden Empire's standard dress.

  "At once sir," she said politely as he tapped his phone and she converted it into a caseful of various coloured chips. He nodded in appreciation before he headed onto the main floor. For a while he ambled around messing with the machines, playing a few hands of Catapult and losing most of them, causing his accumulated chips to dwindle, until eventually he found himself in front of the roulette table.

  He looked at his watch, unnecessarily, before casually placing 150k worth of chips on the green zero, a longshot bet that would in the overwhelming majority of cases lead to him going home broke. There were a few glances at the large amount, but none specifically that would engender any suspicion. The roulette, along with most of the other games in the casino was unhackable and constantly monitored by a superhuman AI. Nope, there was no way to cheat at this conventionally.

  Outwardly invested, but inwardly indifferent, he watched the bouncing ball that twirled along the circular wheel, slowly, but inevitably setting down in the green zero slot before a ringing announced that number zero had come up. He plastered a smile on his face as a manager came to greet him and offer him a free suite, while subtly encouraging him to stay and continue gambling with the 2.8 million that he had just become the proud owner, while the AI was no doubt furiously running checks in the background. It would all clear, despite how supremely smart the AI could be, his ID would hold up to all the scrutiny.

  One of the nearby robots came up to deliver a novelty check and he was ushered into the pose trying to look suitably happy despite the facts that checks hadn't been used for over a millennium at this point. The dedicated camera clicked to announce the picture went through and the people in the line up all smiled and dispersed.

  "What are your plans, now," the floor manager a young-looking man asked, a mix between subtle probe and politeness.

  "Well I came here on holiday..." he started. He needed every scrap of relaxation he could get after his time in the feathered isles.

  "I don't know now I mean. Didn't plan to have this much dosh on hand."

  "Dosh?" the manager said.

  "Cash, bucks, moola," he said. "Sorry I read a lot of historical novels. Not good with the modern slang."

  "I get that," the floor manager said. "My dad is well into his third century and sometimes it's hard to get some of his references. You know how it is."

  "I do," he said. "Know any places to get a good dinner."

  "Try our restaurant," the floor manager said, his mouth moving slightly out of sync of the rest of his body, before snapping back to normal.

  "I'm sorry, what did you say?" the casino winner asked as his eyes focused on the manager, now bearing traces of alarm.

  "I said I will coooooo_____," the floor managers head twitched as his words seemed to stretch out into infinity, and as his body moved his face seemed to remain in place, flesh twisting and deforming until it tore in two spattering blood, everywhere and then the next second he was fine.

  "What was that," the floor manager said. "Was that magic? But magic is prevented in the cas_____" Behind him a customer looked over in alarm, reaching up a hand before the hand was turned to bones, he barely had a moment to look in alarm before he was reduced to a lump of flesh and blood. A nearby gambler jumped back in alarm, only for his top half to move and his legs to remain stationary severing him at the waist. Panic broke out and things broke, bodies splitting around and contorting, items reduced to dust or scrap.

  The big winner stepped backwards avoiding a panicking staff member who was trapped in a process of decaying flesh and then back to normal a few seconds later, the whole process of rotting and reverting playing at extreme speeds, her mouth contorted into a wordless scream. A few tables away a dealer, missing the top half of his head was still dealing card after card after card, until there were more cards on the table then any deck in the world. The world seemed to fast forward and rewind, slow down and skip forward like a bull trying to shake off it's rider, except the world was it's rider and everybody was being trampled beneath it's hooves.

  "Well fuck it's a time crash," the unluckiest winner said picking up a nearby glass of wine with dissonant serenity before putting it to his lips and tasting bitter vinegar. "Fuck it's a time crash," he repeated more urgently reaching for his magic and feeling one hundred and eight obelisks scattered around the premises immediately react pressing down his nascent spells with undeniable force. Alarms rang, the standard accusation of cheating being enhanced by the time weirdness, causing it to come out in haunted unearthly patterns.

  The unluckiest winner strode forwards moments, before parts of the ceiling collapsed to reveal a blackened smoke-filled as one by one, the various obelisks around started to break, down from one hundred and eight to ninety, to eighty, to seventy, their rate of destruction increasing as more were left to take up the load and the signs of temporal instability increased, and became briefly more stable in the area about a foot around him. A hand appeared on his shoulder and he briefly turned to see one of the robots, rusting and renewing, holding a card which probably contains the winnings.

  "Not the appropriate moment buddy," he said to the bot that was briefly two robots and then four before collapsing into a pile of scrap. "Sixty, fifty, Forty, twenty, eight," he said as the rate increased the remaining obelisks popping like bubbles. "Two, one, let's go," he finished as the space-time collapsed around him and a hole in the continuum appeared around him, grabbing his body and throwing him into an unknown time.