Genres: Artificial Intelligence
Escape Pod 922: The Last Oracle of Atlantic City
Show Notes
This episode is sponsored by The Theater of the Midnight Sun podcast: sci-fi/fantasy audio dramas that showcase tales of adventure, fun, and – alas – the occasional untimely death!
With stories like the comic “Left Field,” where a playboy finds that the attentions of a mysterious “secret admirer” may not only spell the end of him – but maybe everything everywhere…
The satire “Big Business,” where a well-meaning working stiff convinces Beelzebub to take a break from the fire & brimstone and find a new line of work…
And the sci-fi mystery “Bluebirds and Dead Canaries” in which a reluctant detective investigates
a bizarre fatality involving a most unusual everyday item. (Yup, that “untimely death” thing.)
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Praise from Listeners:
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“I sincerely hope podcasters everywhere will strain to meet the bar set by the excellent Theater
of the Midnight Sun. Each episode is a true delight… and in conception, it is superior to anything
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The Last Oracle of Atlantic City
by C. H. Irons
Even without the AI chattering in the back of his mind, Baz can tell his customer is upset.
It isn’t that hard to figure out as she glares daggers at him over the plastic folding table. The tools of his trade are spread out in front of her: three decks of scattered tarot cards, an empty mug crusted with tea leaves, assorted imitation crystals, some ceremonial knives, and one bowl filled with still-smoldering chicken bones.
To be fair, he just predicted her fiancé is going to leave her.
“Give me something else,” she snaps. Her head is wreathed in pungent incense, swirling in the late afternoon sunlight.
Baz tries to remember her name. Rosalyn sounds about right, but he wasn’t paying attention when she told him.
“It’s Rebeccah,” AyGee offers, its silent, staticky machine voice tickling his frontal lobe.
He nods, just barely, in acknowledgment, though he doubts AyGee expects thanks. “I’m sorry, Rebeccah, but I’m all out. That was my last deck.”
“Bullshit.”
“Look, don’t shoot the messenger.” Baz holds up his hands, the tapestries behind him rustling in an ocean breeze coming off the boardwalk. “If it’s not in the cards, it’s not in the cards.”