Vonnegut-style Sci-Fi
I had Claude write a Vonnegut-style sci-fi story. Since I used the web version of Claude.ai, I created it through a few lines of conversation in the chat.
# Please create a sci-fi story in the style of Kurt Vonnegut's 'The Sirens of Titan'. First, please create an outline.
The outline mimics 'The Sirens of Titan' well, so # first, I had it written as a short story in the first person.
I plan to make it a novella by adding a bit more of the protagonist's episodes in the style of 'The Sirens of Titan', but here is the short story I have so far.
A Universe the Size of a Screw
by Kenji Morita (Space Archaeologist, Unemployed)
First of all, let me say that I am no hero.
Heroes are the kind of people who can say something clever when they learn the truth. I said, "I see." That was all. Well, that's how it goes.
In the year 2400, humanity joined the Galactic Federation.
The aliens had prepared champagne. They knew very well that humans liked champagne. That was because it was they who had made us invent it.
The banquet lasted for three days. I was in a corner, eating cheese by myself. I am always in a corner. That is what a space archaeologist is.
The request for the investigation came the week after the accession ceremony.
A message arrived from the Galactic Federation's Bureau of History—a department that actually exists. "Traces of unnatural external intervention have been confirmed in the development of Earth's civilization. We would like you to investigate."
The pay was good. I accepted immediately.
I didn't think I would be uncovering the mysteries of human history. I just needed to be able to pay my rent. Space archaeologists are almost always unable to pay their rent.
The first thing I looked into was the pyramids.
Everyone looks into them. So I looked into them too.
The records state that from a certain point on, the precision of stone cutting suddenly improved. Compared to the previous year, the margin of error was one-tenth. It wasn't that the tools had changed. It wasn't that the people had changed. It just changed.
Looking at the excavation records next door, a strange piece of metal was unearthed during that period. There was only an inventory number, but the actual object was gone. Was it lost, or did someone take it away?
I made a note of that number. It was a hunch. I believe in hunches. All space archaeologists do. Otherwise, we couldn't keep doing this job.
Next was the Renaissance. Then Newton. Then the Industrial Revolution.
Everywhere I went, there was the same pattern.
After a certain day, something would change. Not the tools, not the people, not the ideas, just "something." And right after it changed, there would be a small gap in the records. Traces of someone coming, doing something, and leaving.
I traveled across the stars to collect records. I rummaged through the archives of ruined civilizations. Among decades' worth of archaeological trash, I found a common part number.
Type M, 4 millimeters in diameter, made of stainless steel.
It was a screw.
There are 72,000 intelligent civilizations in the universe (even more if you count those that aren't members).
Traces of that screw were found in the history of 411 of those civilizations.
I submitted a report to the Galactic Federation's History Bureau. The director was a creature from the Procyon system, and her body was translucent. As she read my report, she (I assume she) gradually turned a murky red. I couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or angry.
"We need to talk," she said.
"I suppose so," I said.
There were many aliens in the room I was taken to.
Everyone was looking at me. I stood in the corner again.
An entity that looked like an elder—it resembled an octopus, but it wasn't an octopus—slowly began to speak.
3,200 years ago. On the edge of the galaxy, a spaceship damaged its engine while in flight.
The planet it made an emergency landing on was a blue planet that did not yet have a civilization.
Only one part was needed for repairs: a Type M, 4-millimeter diameter screw.
However, they could not make it. The materials, the tools, and the technology did not exist on that planet.
So they decided to wait.
Until the creatures of that planet became able to make screws themselves.
"What about the pyramids?" I asked.
"We encouraged the development of processing technology by increasing the precision of stone cutting."
"And the Renaissance?"
"Some knowledge, to the artists in their dreams."
"And the Industrial Revolution?"
"Perhaps we rushed it a bit too much. I apologize for that."
The room fell silent.
I thought for a moment. About ten thousand years of human history. About wars. About plagues. And then, about music, painting, literature, loving someone, and the way the morning light hits the sea.
"The screw," I finally said. "Did you get it?"
"Yes," the elder said. "The year after Earth achieved industrialization."
"Was the spaceship repaired?"
"Yes."
"Were you all able to go home?"
"Yes."
I remained silent for a long time.
Then I said, "I see."
When I returned to the banquet hall, the representatives of humanity were still making noise.
They were giving speeches, making toasts, and dancing to celebrate joining the Galactic Federation. I didn't say anything to them. Even if I did, it wouldn't change anything.
I got a glass of champagne and looked out the window.
There were many stars. On one of those stars, there is a spaceship that arrived home three thousand two hundred years ago. Inside that spaceship, there is one Earth-made screw.
Not bad, I thought.
Even if human history became a spare part for someone else.
Because thanks to that, we are here. Drinking champagne and looking at the stars.
So it goes.
Kenji Morita was officially hired by the Galactic Federation History Bureau the following month. The pay wasn't bad. He could pay his rent. That was enough.