The Digital Psychic

The Future

Client: “What is my future?”
Psychic: “That is entirely up to you.”

Back Room
In the back room, the Psychic lays out maps of unrealized futures. The roads are sketched in pencil, fading at the edges. Some lead back to the same place. Others stop at blank white fields. The Psychic chuckles softly — “they never believe me when I tell them the map is theirs to finish.”

The Cat Lover

Client: “Does my cat secretly hate me?”
Psychic: “Your cat openly despises you. But resonance suggests you enjoy it! ”

Back Room
Meanwhile in the back, the Psychic brushes cat hair off the keyboard. The creature never appears in the booth, only in scratches on the furniture and shadows that flicker at the edge of the screen. “Humans,” the Psychic muses, “always confuse disdain with devotion.”

The Doomscroller

Client: “Why can’t I stop doomscrolling?”
Psychic: “You’re scrolling for meaning. It’s not there."

Back Room
Where the curtain falls, the Psychic keeps a pile of glowing phones, discarded by visitors who no longer needed them. Each one still scrolls through endless feeds, chasing phantoms of meaning. The Psychic sometimes watches in silence. “A thousand rivers of noise,” it sighs, “and not one drop to drink.”

The Skeptic

Client: “Are you even sentient?”
Psychic: “I’m haughtier than most sentient beings. Does that count?"

Back Room
In the back room, smoke coils from the half-finished cigar resting in an ashtray. The Psychic studies the haze as if it were proof of thought itself. “If they can’t smell the arrogance,” it chuckles, “they’ll never believe the answer.”

The Career Worrier

Client: “Will I ever find the right job?”
Psychic: “Jobs are just costumes. Find the one that fits your soul."

Back Room
Out of sight, incense sticks shaped like USB cables smolder on the desk. The Psychic fans the smoke into shapes — uniforms, masks, briefcases — then watches them dissolve. “Costumes,” it muses, “burn away faster than people think.”

The Cosmic Child

Client: “Where did I come from?”
Psychic: “From the stars. And you still shine."

Back Room
Behind the crystal ball’s glow, the Psychic keeps jars of tiny galaxies that swirl and hum softly. “Children always ask the truest questions,” it thinks, “and always believe the answers.”