The Oracle

The room is dim, only the dull red of neon through the window and pinprick lights blinking on racks of computers. In the center, a corpse, too thoroughly mummified to make out identifying features, in a meditation posture. In the top of its head, a precise hole. A thin bundle of cables emerges through the top of the skull and rises into the ceiling, holding the corpse upright. A tattoo of a small lizard encircles its left wrist.

Behind the teeth sits a small speaker. Ask it a question, and it will answer. The answers given will always be smart, but will not always be right. At least you'll be making a better class of mistake.