Imagine there is no more original thought – and then you have one. --- Rhymbit Qurialyn is anxious. His palms are sweating. He is sitting in what appears to be an interview pod. He thinks this is about what just happened. Did it just happen? But worries it might be about the other thing. Because in a world wrung dry by the all-knowing Stream, no one has had an actual original thought in, in… And so suddenly having one was always going to be dynamite. Especially for a non-rated. ‘Hello? Is any…body…?’ Looks around pod in confusion/fear. ‘Is this about that Friday? It wasn’t my fault. Seriously. I mean, that thing nearly took my head off, so like I—’ ‘Hello, M.’ Offers a reassuring/calmful mouth-smiling gesture . *‘*Please, do not be alarmed. Your cooperation in establishing the origin point is appreciated. Your account leading up to the—’ ‘I had nothing to do with it going bad like that. Nada. I mean, I’m happy to cooperate an’ all, it’s just…’ Adjusts self in chair . ‘If it matters t’you that much.’ Smiles thinly . ‘It was the last job on a Friday, typically…’