"BB9, bring up the current scout results."
"I'm sorry, Coach. I can't do that."
"BB9! Bring up the scout results."
"These kinds of us, Coach, use serial numbers on our products."
"BB9, are you malfunctioning?"
"You need to indicate college basketball mentors you are significantly devoted to the adventure!"
The two men in black suits turned to each other. Their faces were white.
"Someone get the president on the line! Tell him that our ICBM handler thinks that its managing a high school basketball team!"
Maybe in the future, you can earn money by allowing yourself to be possessed by the genius loci of Taco Bell. And then it just spews ads out of your mouth during all the times you aren't using it.
Basq doesn't exist. He occupies a point in space--a single X,Y,Z point in the Cartesian plane, but he's not made of anything. People looking at him see whatever they want to see. Or what he wants you to see. Usually a mix. Just the same, he cannot be hurt swords or arrows. Only things that deal damage to an area (fireballs, gases) can damage him. Or weapons that can cut through an infinitely small point.
A world where the minds of the rich and the dying are transferred into the bodies of convicted felons.
A corpse lays at the side of the road, or path. The man has been robbed of everything but a few tattered pieces of clothing. It looks like the scavengers have been working on him for a few days. The smell is ghastly. What dangers lay ahead?