///TWENTY MINUTE NARRATIVE///
Their microchips were still dripping with lightning when the master held them up in the light of the desert sun. He was one of the last of the roboticists, eyes stained gray from years of gazing at code in virtual reality's hazy neon waterfalls.
You should have seen the racecars he installed them in: brilliant, gleaming tubes of sequoia wood and hyperchrome, fueled by dark diamonds born from negative coal. Each computer was reborn as a supersonic tube of glory.
Then, as the master climbed into his own vehicle, all the others were set on fire.
We all watched the flickering drone footage as they followed a track etched by the mountains, foaming with heat. The master was the only one to return, leaving a trail of ashes behind him. All those beautiful machines had dissolved into smoke.
"Why did you do it?" I asked as he removed his winged helmet.
"So they'd learn that it doesn't pay to go faster than us."