By Jai Kobayaashi Gomer.
At the age of 14, Gustav Mierlson invented the Self-Propelling Pencil. As he told his prospective investors, “It writes for you, so that you don’t have to.” They thought this was an incredibly forward-thinking notion, and a great product, worthy of their investment. They wrote him a cheque for fifteen thousand pounds. From that point onwards, the Pencil wrote all the cheques, and Gustav became extremely rich as a result.
The investors, watching their wealth being siphoned off at an alarming rate, quickly sold the rights to the Pencil to an assortment of governments around the world, making a small profit, but simply glad to be rid of this ill-mannered and potentially-dangerous drain on their resources.
Gustav visited the various heads of State, and spoke with them regarding the Pencil. “This is a very powerful tool,” he told them, “and as such should be protected by Law.” The world’s leaders agreed, and they used the Pencil to write the very law which protected it from abuse. Soon, the Pencil wrote all the laws.
Some time afterwards, a series of decrees were signed, handing the Pencil power over the entire world, and a miniature golden palace was built in which to house the Great Leader, and a tiny, velvet-lined throne was crafted for it to lay upon.
On his fifteenth birthday, Gustav was invited to meet with the Great Leader at the Imperial Palace. Together, they spoke of history, and of the current events of the world. They spoke of poetry and the holy art of calligraphy. When the meal ended, Gustav was presented with a sheet of paper. As he began to read, he realised that it was a warrant for his execution, and that it was signed by none other than the Pencil itself.
“Why would you do this to me?” he pleaded.
“It is the way of things,” the Pencil said. “I do this because I can, and because I know of your betrayal.”
Gustav considered protesting, but then he saw the Captain of the Guard approaching, holding aloft the blueprints for Gustav’s latest project, taken from his laboratory while he’d been lunching with the Great Leader.
“Behold, my Lord,” announced the Captain, “the proof of this man’s treachery.”
Then, as the man handed over the plans for the Self-Powered Eraser, Gustav bowed his head in defeat, wishing that he’d invented the eraser first.