Blind Guide

By cookiejar

Expansive Themes: Blind Guide spans from ancient relics to futuristic technologies, offering readers a vast exploration of humanity's interaction with influential artifacts.

 

Speculative Depth: Forty stories delve into speculative and imaginative scenarios that challenge and expand the reader's perspective on possible futures and pasts.

 

Historical Intrigue: Weaves historical mysteries with modern insights, providing a fresh look at pivotal moments and objects in history.

 

Futuristic Insights: Presents forward-thinking narratives that explore the consequences and potentials of advanced technology on society and the environment.

 

Emotional Resonance: Each story is crafted to evoke deep emotional responses, connecting readers with the characters' journeys and challenges.

 

Cultural Reflections: Offers a mirror to our world, reflecting on how artifacts from different eras shape our identity, beliefs, and societal norms.

 

Diverse Storytelling: The collection features a wide range of storytelling styles and genres, ensuring that there's something for every reader to enjoy and ponder.

 

Thought-provoking: Encourages readers to think critically about the role of objects and technology in our lives and their impact on our future.

 

Engaging Narratives: Combines compelling plots with rich character development, making each story engaging and meaningful.

 

Creative Inspiration: Serves as a source of inspiration for readers interested in storytelling's creative and speculative possibilities.

 

Blind Guide is a thoughtfully curated collection that promises to take readers through time and imagination. It explores the intricate balance between humanity and the artifacts that define and shape our existence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: cookiejar
• Release date: Jun 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227688583

Book preview

Wheels of Progress

Mesopotamia, 3300 BCE

The wheel was created around 3500 BCE, first as a potter’s wheel before its application in transportation. In Wheels of Progress the invention of the wheel sparks a technological race, culminating in an alternative that transforms competition into cooperation.

In the village of Eridunna, the wheel was more than an invention. It was a revelation.

It began simply enough, with Akkad fashioning the first wheel from a cross-section of a large tree. A simple slice of cedar, round as the moon.

Akkad’s round thing rolled smoothly from his hut to the communal well. The villagers watched, mouths agape.

Look at Akkad, said Nabu, his arms folded, a smirk playing on his lips. Thinks he’s better than us with his fancy rolling thing.

It’s just a wheel, Nabu, Ishtar replied, her eyes on the disc. It’s useful.

Useful, eh? Nabu sneered, his mind already racing. We’ll see about that.

With hands rough as the bark he carved, Nabu dug out a poplar log. The next day, he unveiled a cart with not one, but two wheels.

The villagers gasped, their loyalties shifting as quickly as the sands beneath their feet.

Two wheels! exclaimed Ishtar. Nabu, this is⁠—

Progress, Ishtar. It’s progress.

But progress did not stop at two wheels. Soon, every villager sought to outdo their neighbour.

Wheels were everywhere, in every shape and size, attached to every conceivable contraption.

The paths between huts became cluttered with wheeled devices, from two-wheeled carts to four-wheeled platforms that teetered precariously under the weight of their ambition.

With the proliferation of wheels came chaos. Carts collided; arguments erupted over right-of-way; wheels interlocked in a tangled mess of wood and pride.

This can’t go on—we need rules, Ishtar declared, stepping over a pile of broken wheels.

The villagers gathered, grumbling and pointing fingers, each with their own idea of the rules. The meeting descended into anarchy.

Then Akkad, the originator of their woes, stepped forward. Maybe we were better off without wheels, he suggested, half-joking.

Nonsense, Nabu countered. We just need better rules—and bigger wheels.

So rules were made, only to be broken by the next, more elaborate contraption.

The village paths became a labyrinth of regulations and wheel tracks, a monument to human ingenuity and folly.

In the middle of this chaos, Ishtar unveiled her solution. It was not a cart with more or larger wheels, but a cart that needed no wheels.

This is a sled, Ishtar announced. It doesn’t need wheels—it glides.

The villagers, entrenched in their wheel-centric view, struggled to grasp the concept. But how does it move without wheels? Akkad asked, perplexed.

With these, Ishtar said, gesturing to the ropes attached to the front of the sled. We pull it—together.

The idea was revolutionary in its simplicity. The sled, unlike the wheeled contraptions, required cooperation.

It was not about outdoing one another. It was about working together to move forward.

The first test of the sled was astonishing. Without the need for wheels, the paths were no longer cluttered with the debris of competition.

The sled moved smoothly, its passage through the village a silent rebuke to the cacophony before.

But what about the races? Nabu asked, ever competitive. How do we prove who’s the best?

We race, Ishtar replied, but we race together. Teams, not individuals.

The races were no longer about individual glory but about collective effort.

Once a battleground for egos, the village’s paths became tracks for teamwork. As is the nature of progress, the solution brought its challenges.

Teams began experimenting with the sleds. Some coated the bottom with bitumen for easier gliding.

Some turned up the front to navigate obstacles. Some jump-starting downhill on dry grass.

In all this, the sled races reflected creativity and its quest for advancement. But beneath the competition and innovation, the villagers found something they had lost in their pursuit of the wheel.

They found a sense of community.

Innovation is not just about moving forward, Akkad said. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to let go."

True.

However, true to human nature, they also learned that there is a new problem for every solution.

Gears of Gambit

Constantinople, 1582

In Gears of Gambit, an inventor sabotages his chess-playing automaton to prevent its misuse by the Sultan, inadvertently sparking a technological revolution in the Ottoman Empire. The story was inspired by the Mechanical Turk (unveiled in 1770), a fake chess-playing machine.

In the grand hall, under the Sultan’s scrutiny, Iskender presented the automaton, brass gears and polished surfaces gleaming. The court watched in silent awe as it moved with purpose and grace.

This machine, Your Majesty, could redefine the boundaries of our empire, Iskender said in a voice of pride and caution. Leaning forward, the Sultan allowed himself a rare smile, intrigued by the promise within the machine’s framework.

As the automaton outmaneuvered the Sultan’s chess champions, word of its uncanny ability spread. Its lifelike movements sparked the onlookers’ admiration and talk of dark arts.

Iskender retreated to his workshop, tirelessly enhancing the automaton. Captivated by visions of an empire bolstered by mechanical legions, the Sultan began to dream bigger, envisioning legions of such machines in a new era of unchallenged dominion.

A diplomatic chess match turned sour when the automaton, executing flawless strategies, defeated a visiting dignitary. Accusations of trickery were met with the Sultan’s laughter, which did little to ease the tension in the room.

Later, in the Sultan’s chambers, Iskender received a command that felt like a decree from fate: Make it unbeatable. Once a marvel of scientific achievement, the automaton was to become a symbol of the Sultan’s grip on power.

A rebellion stirred, not against the Sultan directly, but against his mechanical enforcer. Iskender caught wind of a plot to dismantle the automaton during its grand showcase.

That night, he made a decision that would alter the course of history. Under the cover of darkness, Iskender entered the workshop, reached into its mechanical chest and removed a crucial gear.

The silence that followed marked the end of an era and the beginning of his own exile. The exhibition was chaos incarnate, the automaton lifeless, and the Sultan’s rage a tempest that swept through the court.

In the aftermath, the Sultan, rather than admit defeat, saw an opportunity for innovation. He issued a directive to replicate and surpass the automaton’s technology.

Steam and gears began to power new machines, propelling the Ottoman Empire into an early industrial revolution. As the empire flourished, its technological marvels eclipsed those of Europe, shifting the global balance of power.

Iskender's sabotage, intended to thwart the Sultan's plans, inadvertently propelled the empire into an era of advancement. Progress can emerge in unexpected ways.

Our greatest trials can become the harbingers of achievement. And our response to adversity defines the legacy we leave behind.

Last Candle Maker

Menlo Park, New Jersey, 1881

The incandescent light bulb was invented by Thomas Edison (1879 October 22). In this story, the last candle maker, facing the inevitable decline of his craft with the advent of Edison’s light bulb, reinvents the candle.

Harold stood in the dim light of his shop, the last candle maker in a town on the brink of illumination. The wax under his fingernails was an homage to years of craft, now threatened by the encroaching glow of Edison’s invention.

The townsfolk talked of nothing but the electric light, how it would change night into day. Harold listened, his hands steady over the dipping frame, candles taking shape like silent protests against the march of progress.

One morning, a letter arrived marked with Edison’s seal. It