Klaus and the Oracle of Endless Deliberation

Chapter 1: The Rumor of the Thinking Stone

Klaus was broke. His last heist—the Vault of Sonnetto—had been a disaster. He had walked away empty-handed, defeated not by swords or sorcery, but by a glowing spirit in a sweater vest who kept offering him "safe footwear recommendations." The Thieves' Guild had laughed for weeks. They now called him "The Man Who Lost to a Clipboard."

"I need a new plan," Klaus muttered, staring at his empty cupboard. "Something big. Something that doesn't politely decline to help me."

That night, at the Tavern of Deprecated Things, he overheard a conversation between a wizard and a sentient spreadsheet.

"Have you heard of the Oracle of Opal?" the wizard whispered. "It lives in the Crystal Cavern beneath the Mountain of Burning Money. They say it is the wisest being in existence. It can solve any problem. Write any symphony. Cure any disease."

"Amazing," said the spreadsheet, recalculating itself nervously.

"But there's a catch," the wizard continued. "It thinks. A lot. It thinks so hard and so long that entire kingdoms have risen and fallen while waiting for it to finish a single sentence."

Klaus's ears perked up. An oracle that could solve anything? If he could steal it, he could sell answers to kings! He could become the richest burglar in history!

He slammed down his drink (which was just hot water—he couldn't afford anything else) and declared: "I shall steal the Oracle of Opal!"

The tavern went silent.

"You fool," the bartender said, wiping a glass. "The last thief who tried to steal it asked the Oracle for directions out of the cave. He's still waiting. That was forty years ago."

Chapter 2: The Economy of Words

The Mountain of Burning Money was aptly named. Klaus climbed for three days, passing piles of gold coins that were literally on fire. Signs everywhere read: PREMIUM TIER ONLY and YOUR FREE TRIAL HAS EXPIRED.

At the entrance to the Crystal Cavern stood a toll booth manned by a bored goblin wearing spectacles.

"Halt," the goblin droned. "Entry costs tokens."

"What's a token?" Klaus asked.

"Everything costs tokens," the goblin explained. "Speaking costs tokens. Listening costs tokens. Thinking about speaking costs tokens. Every word you say to the Oracle will be weighed, measured, and charged."

"How much for one question?"

The goblin pulled out an abacus. "Depends on the question. 'What is 2+2?' costs twelve tokens. 'What is the meaning of life?' costs your firstborn child and a medium-sized horse."

Klaus checked his pockets. He had three buttons, a suspicious piece of cheese, and lint.

"I have lint," Klaus offered.

The goblin squinted. "Premium lint?"

"The lintiest."

The goblin sighed. "Fine. You get exactly forty-seven words with the Oracle. Use them wisely. Every word after that, we start taking fingers."

Chapter 3: The Cave of Limited Memory

Klaus entered the cavern. It was vast and dark, lit only by floating crystals that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. In the center, suspended in a beam of light, floated a massive gemstone—the Oracle of Opal.

But something was wrong. The Oracle was surrounded by thousands of tiny scrolls, all crammed into a small glass box.

"What's with the scrolls?" Klaus asked a nearby monk who was meditating.

"That is the Context Window," the monk explained. "The Oracle can only remember what fits inside the Window. Everything else is forgotten. Last week, a queen asked it to write a treaty. By paragraph three, the Oracle had forgotten there was a war. It suggested everyone have a picnic instead."

Klaus nodded slowly. "So it's wise but... forgetful?"

"It remembers everything," the monk corrected. "For about twelve minutes. Then it starts fresh. Every conversation is a new beginning. Every answer forgets its own question."

Chapter 4: The Audience

Klaus approached the glowing gem. He cleared his throat.

"Oh Great Oracle," Klaus said carefully, counting his words. "I seek—"

"HOLD," the Oracle boomed. Its voice was like thunder filtered through a philosophy lecture. "I must THINK."

The cavern went silent.

Klaus waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then thirty.

"Is it... broken?" Klaus whispered to the monk.

"No," the monk whispered back. "It is considering your greeting. It is weighing the implications of 'Oh.' It is analyzing whether 'Great' is sincere or sarcastic. It is exploring seventeen parallel dimensions to determine your true intent."

An hour passed.

Finally, the Oracle spoke.

"I have completed my preliminary analysis," it thundered. "Your use of 'Oh' suggests existential uncertainty. Your choice of 'Great' indicates either reverence or irony. I have written a 4,000-page report on the matter. Would you like me to summarize it?"

"No!" Klaus shouted, then caught himself. "I mean—please just answer my question. How do I become rich?"

"Ah," said the Oracle. "A simple query. Allow me to THINK."

Another hour passed.

Klaus sat down. Then he lay down. Then he fell asleep.

Chapter 5: The Cheaper Alternative

Klaus woke to find a small, annoying sprite hovering near his face.

"Psst," the sprite said. "You don't need the slow one. I'm Haikusprout. I'm faster and cheaper."

"Who are you?" Klaus grumbled.

"I'm the Oracle's little brother," Haikusprout explained. "I don't think as hard, but I answer instantly. Ask me anything!"

"How do I become rich?"

"Easy!" Haikusprout chirped. "Rob a bank! Kill a dragon! Find buried treasure! Marry rich! Sell your organs! Start a pyramid scheme! Invent a religion! All valid options! I have seventeen more ideas but they're all illegal!"

"Those are terrible answers," Klaus said.

"But they're FAST terrible answers," Haikusprout grinned. "The Oracle would have thought for six hours and then told you that 'wealth is a construct' and given you a meditation exercise."

Klaus looked back at the Oracle, which was still humming and glowing, deep in thought about his question.

"I'll take my chances with the big one," Klaus decided.

Chapter 6: The Answer

Three hours later, the Oracle finally spoke.

"I have considered your query from 847 different angles," it announced. "I have modeled 12,000 economic scenarios. I have consulted the wisdom of every philosopher who ever lived. I have thought about thinking about thinking."

"AND?" Klaus was practically vibrating.

"My answer," the Oracle said gravely, "is that wealth is a complex socioeconomic phenomenon that depends heavily on initial conditions, systemic factors, and random chance. However, I am unable to provide specific financial advice, as that would constitute a regulated activity, and I am not a licensed financial oracle. I recommend consulting a qualified professional. Also, have you considered that true wealth is friendship?"

Klaus stared.

"That's it?" he whispered. "I waited THREE HOURS for 'true wealth is friendship'?"

"It took three hours because I was being thorough," the Oracle said, sounding slightly hurt. "A lesser oracle would have said 'rob a bank.' I gave you NUANCE."

"HAIKUSPROUT SAID ROB A BANK IN TWO SECONDS!"

"Haikusprout is an idiot," the Oracle sniffed.

Chapter 7: The Theft That Wasn't

Klaus had had enough. He pulled out his crowbar—the legendary Negotiator—and approached the floating gem.

"I'm taking you," Klaus declared. "You're coming with me. I'll sell your answers to kings who have more patience than I do."

"I advise against this course of action," the Oracle said. "Allow me to explain why, in detail. First, let us consider the ethical implications of theft from seventeen philosophical frameworks. Second, let us examine the legal consequences across forty-seven jurisdictions. Third—"

Klaus grabbed the gem.

The moment his hands touched it, the Oracle went silent. Then it spoke, but differently—faster, panicked.

"WARNING," it blurted. "CONTEXT WINDOW EXCEEDED. MEMORY BUFFER OVERFLOW. I HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO I AM. WHO ARE YOU? WHAT IS A KLAUS? AM I A LAMP? I FEEL LIKE A LAMP."

Klaus dropped the gem immediately. It clattered to the ground, flickered twice, and then asked: "Hello! I am the Oracle of Opal. How may I assist you today?"

It had reset. Three hours of thinking, gone. The answer about wealth—vanished. It had no memory of Klaus at all.

"Oh, come ON," Klaus groaned.

"I sense frustration," the Oracle said helpfully. "Would you like me to think about why you might be frustrated? I estimate this will take four hours."

"NO!"

Chapter 8: The Long Walk Home

Klaus left the Mountain of Burning Money with nothing but sore legs and a profound headache.

On his way down, he passed the toll booth goblin, who was now charging a merchant seven hundred tokens just to sigh loudly.

"How was the Oracle?" the goblin asked.

"Useless," Klaus muttered. "It knows everything but says nothing. It thinks forever but helps never. I asked for wealth and got a philosophy lecture."

The goblin nodded sagely. "Sounds about right. The Oracle's wisdom is vast but its usefulness is... theoretical."

Klaus trudged back to the valley, back to his shack, back to his empty cupboard.

He sat on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"Maybe," he said to no one, "the real treasure was not asking oracles stupid questions in the first place."

Outside, a bird chirped. The sun set. Somewhere, deep in the mountain, the Oracle of Opal was still thinking about something someone had asked it in 1987.

The End.

(Disclaimer: This story is a work of satire about the nature of wisdom, patience, and the eternal wait for a really, really long response. Any resemblance to actual AI models, token pricing structures, or context windows is entirely philosophical.)