Man, I was really baked when I wrote that last post. So many sentence fragments that go nowhere. I should probably edit it, but, meh. Too much work. I'll just sound like a disjointed idiot forever in the digital ether.
But yes, I'm brimming with content from not only my month of NaNoWriMo (where I hit my word goal for the month, yet haven't finished Suicide Queen) and the last few weeks of hyper productivity. Because in the middle of last month (a little over exactly a month ago) I got laid off from my office job in thanks to the parent company "cleaning house" after the buyout finalized.
So, I'm fairly bitter about that. I'm also working back as a barista again while looking for writing work and looking down the barrel of my senior year at ASU starting up early January. Barely hung in with a B for Spanish 102. Barely. Still have to take 201 & 202 in the near future. Taking care of my Math requirement, and have to take another science class/lab (not sure which discipline to take yet. Probably Chem, since I've never taken it before) as well as a slew of upper division English courses. I'll be applying for their Media Studies masters program at the end of the year as well. Yay for increasing student loan debt with degrees that sound highfalutin.
 |
| Hip-hip-HOORAY |
I'm a little burnt out on playing games in first person perspective, so I finally played Alan Wake for my first time. Hot damn, that was a game about a writer writing his way out of something. It was a fun ride, and I'd recommend it if you like survival horror games. It's not entirely survival horrorish, but it made me think of a lost Silent Hill game, heavily influenced by David Lynch and Stephen King. I also realized I own a slapdash Alan Wake costume out of different articles of clothing I own. |
| Not the cover. |
So in reference to getting some writing work done, I'm shopping another round of shorts to see if anyone wants to publish my work. I'm remaining optimistic, but I'm thinking about just saying fuck it and start self pubbing my shorts as "singles" for $.99 a piece, then collecting them after the fact. Now that I have Scrivner to start making epubs in an easy manner, I'm more inclined to start getting more titles under my name. As of right now, it comes down to another load of work to do, which is tough to tack on when I'm in the middle of a big project I need to get done.
And what project is that? To Slice The Sky!
My good friend/editor/collaborator and I finished hacking apart the manuscript in its entirety. And I'm now working on new draft chapters for the final stage of the story. So, if I continue to blog at a less disjointed and more on time manner, you'll see them all. If I can keep myself motivated (which is a stretch), I might even be done with the novel by the time we catch up with what I have.
I've also been listening to a lot of outrun and played through Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon. It was exactly what I needed at the time. In the midst of all these things, I began working on a new short that is very outrun in its feel of futuristic loneliness, on top of fitting nicely into the series. Roplaxive Pharmaceuticals infects patient zero with a graybox virus to use them as a guinea pig. They send him to a corporate hospital retreat in Singapore where everything goes wrong. It came from a long night and morning of dreaming and half-awake visualization. I've got the first page and the set up done. It's going to be a short, and I really want to keep it below 6000 words, but I'm feeling like I need to take them through the streets of Hong Kong or something.
So, that's it for housekeeping. Let's get down to some gritty science fiction action. Dog.
C:\>20_
Through_Lying_Teeth
“It’s
time to make a choice, Mr. Dawson,” The Blonde droned, “Option one has a bright
future in store for you.”
“Our
R&D department will be wide open for whatever project your heart desires. A
position of autonomy that will allow a creative mind such as yours to flourish
with Roplaxive. And only Roplaxive.”
The Bird punctuated with a tap at the table.
The
Toad picked up the next line, “We’ll be looking to forgive recent
transgressions while recognizing your talents.”
“As
long as you complete our little favor first, that,” The Blonde finished.
Smiles
stretched on The Trio’s faces. Trip spun about in the office chair he was
cuffed to by his good arm. The other one in an immobilizer.
“If
I’d known what post-collegiate job interviews were like, I would have studied
Iconoclastics like I wanted to.”
Their
faces sagged in unison. The Blonde’s expression hardened first, “Mr. Dawson,
let us be frank for a moment-”
“-If
we’re being frank, I can’t help but wonder; how is it you three are always here
when I’m stuck in a chair?” Trip gave another spin.
The
Toad said, “We’re the Roplaxive Pharmaceutical Pharmacy Division Co-Chairs. Who
else do you expect to deal with situations you and your friend have caused?”
Trip
bolted upright as best he could, “Me? I’ve been running for my dadfragging life
from everyone who wants to hire me to make roboclones.”
The Blonde gave a sedate smile, “Mr. Dawson, we know what you were working on prior to your escape from our watch and that they were transferred to you by your little friend.”
The Blonde gave a sedate smile, “Mr. Dawson, we know what you were working on prior to your escape from our watch and that they were transferred to you by your little friend.”
“Yes.
Ames,” The Toad’s eyes narrowed. “We’re working on him for the decrypt codes as
we speak.”
Trip
gave an automatic look towards the door. He turned back on three wretched
smiles.
The
Blonde flexed her tented fingers, “Your Roplaxive Employee authenticator. It’s
the other key for the lock to our research.”
“I
thought Decker zipped you the files.”
“They
were,” The Toad’s lazy eye rolled as she searched for the word, “corrupted.”
“Your
authenticator was company property. Return the device and complete your
assignment to the Biodroid project. We can grant you certain, perks, for your
cooperation.” said The Bird.
Trip
cleaned forward, trying not to think of the thin stick of plastic and metal in
his back pocket. “What will happen if I don’t?”
The
Toad said, “Let us begin by reminding you, we still have your mother in our
possession. We’d be more than pleased to make her life more uncomfortable.”
Trip
tried to stifle a laugh.
The
Blonde’s eyes narrowed, “We haven’t gotten to Option B yet, Mr. Dawson.” The
Trio leaned together, faces half full of teeth.
***
Decker
gripped his face in both palms. The RoSynth suit across the desk tapped a
pencil to a caffeinated blast beat.
Decker
stopped groaning and said, “You’re really calling this a deal? I get to chafe
under the yoke of corporate mastership. Dismantle the world leading tech
corporation, much offense, via cyberterrorism. And not even great
cyberterrorism. How do you expect me to delete Gene Works’ central VI—gone what
almost seems rogue—with a virus that has a 42% success rate? Oh, and you need
me to decrypt my best friend’s company files because the rest of the NetSec
team was riding off my fraggin coattails with their weak sauce skag.”
“Yes,
it seems like you understand what is expected of you,” The Suit’s stone face
set, pencil still tapping.
Decker
continued, “Or Roplaxive repos my rig, pulls a Case on my brain-”
The
Suit’s face puzzled, “Pardon, pull a Case?”
“You
ever read Neuromancer?”
“No,”
The Suit held the same sadistic smile and shook his head.
“Nevermind,”
Decker waved him off with his manacled hands, “I don’t believe you really
explained that ‘Social Rehabilitation’ part.”
“Roplaxive
will lobotomize you.”
“I
guess it would be about the same feeling if I said yes or no, wouldn’t it?”
“Only
for your personal pride, Mr. Ames. But, if you say no we will lobotomize and cripple you. Not in that order.”
“There
is that.”
“Mr.
Ames, need I remind you that you’re lucky to be having this offer extended to
you? You completely shut down Ocean City, welcomed Gene Works to easily do to
us within one month what we’ve been doing to them for years, and added a chaos
component to an otherwise controlled rebellion. A rebellion that now plans to
tear apart the country for a second time in less than a hundred years.”
“Wow,
really? Do you have something my mom can hang on the fridge?”
“We
could choose option B at any moment as well.”
“That
Roma espresso machine from option A was
a pretty nice deal sweetener.”
***
Trip did not like the terms of his Option
B. Becoming a test subject for his own work after being chemically coerced into
slavery did not sit well with him. Just going back to work and being allowed to
sort of do whatever he wanted seemed okay after that.
The Toad folded her hands, “So?”
“Do you accept?” The Blonde said.
Trip weighed his options for another second
and with a heavy hand held out his thumb for the scanner.
***
Heavy sigh. “Accepted.”
Decker’s thumbprint and DNA sample once
again coerced out of him by Roplaxive.
"Thank
you for choosing option A," The Suit didn't sound grateful at all. He
placed an external drive before Decker, "This contains the tools you'll
need to accomplish your goal. You and your friend will be given time to prepare
for what will be required of you two. We leave the time of action up to you,
but do hurry. There is a war going on out there."
***
WeatherApp displayed the temp as a chilly
22◦C. Decker shrugged on his shell jacket and lit a cigarette. Trip
came through the doors, wounded shoulders hunched between a grim entourage, by
the time Decker hit the filter. The best friends locked eyes with the same
defeated look. The Guards nudged them forward. A black towncar pulled to the
curb.
The Driver caste opened the passenger
doors. “Ride home gentlemen?” He smiled like he was wearing a suicide vest.
Trip and Decker looked at each other, then
back at the guards who nodded them forward.
“To the Batcave, Alfred,” Decker said in
his poshest voice as he popped into the back seat. “Coming, Dick?” Trip entered
without a word. “Dude, weak assist on the bit.”
Decker
looked over his friend at the guards, “Well, it’s been real, and it’s been fun.
Has it been real fun? I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Same bat-time, same
bat-channel. Toodles!” Decker clicked his safety harness.
A
tap on the window startled the boys. The back passenger window rolled down with
a smiling guard on the other side.
“We
know how to get in contact with you if we need to… Toodles.”
Twenty minutes into the future Decker and
Trip stood in front of Das Komplex, the place they first called home together.
The town car peeled away down the ghetto avenue, leaving the boys alone. They let
themselves in using the same gate code that was old when they were new tenants.
"Casa,
sweet casa," Decker spun with his arms outstretched as they entered the
courtyard. Lex and Terry smoked and played cards at the same place they left
them at two years ago. Lex perked up at the duo's appearance. With a piercing
'SQUEE' she tackle hugged Trip and dragged Decker into it.
"Ohmugawd,
where have you guys been? You look like skag, both of you! I missed you both so
much! Terry, Ter, come say hi to Trips and Decks. You guys want a drink?"
They
accepted the drink offer. Lex bounded off towards her place humming a jaunty
tune as hugs were exchanged.
Door
101 flung open. Filling the bottom half of the frame stood all 1.5m of the
Manager, Dahng, looking three times as salty as usual.
“Boys! You come back! You pay? Come live in
luxury suite?” Dahng’s shrill voice more excited than her look.
“Morning, Dahng,” Trip and Decker smiled
and waved in unison.
“It’s 4PM,” Lex, drinks in hand, said.
“Is our old place still available?” Decker
asked. He took a sip with a wince, “Sacred skag. Put enough vodka, Lex?”
“You’re welcome,” Lex smiled and rejoined
Terry at the table to drink wine and play cards.
“I have trio of student looking at place
today.” Dahng hobbled to the boys, pointing up at their old corner apartment,
unit 211. “Sure thing. You get better deal. Third floor, luxury suite, only
best for my boys.” She swung her sausage fingers towards the third floor’s
centerpiece double flat, “Very nice, good price. I move you two in. Kick out human
trash. Always late with rent. Brown one, you work on electric again? Or you
have money this time?”
“Do you even remember our names, Dahng?”
Trip said.
“Of course I do. He Brown one, you Tall one.
You pay for luxury? Live like king.” Dahng held out her palm, “I make you
deal.”
“Can we stay in our old place?” Decker
said.
Dahng shook her head in disbelief, “You
hear what I say pretty boy? I give you palace. Live like lord over all you see!
I get three times full rent from new mark. You serve coffee. You mailman. What
money you have?” She tagged each one in the chest with a sharp finger jab.
Trip smiled to Decker, rubbing his chest, “Do
you still accept creds?” He flashed the Roplaxive diamond corporate card.
A buzzing sound came from Dahng’s mumu. She
pulled a sweaty mobile from between her breasts. Her look was pure disbelief
when the screen displayed ‘Transfer Approved’ with a happy beep.
Decker and Trip took inventory of their
old/new living room. The bottle cap collage around the dining area light had
expanded beyond their initial investment, covering most of the living room
ceiling’s 140 year old cottage cheese stucco. It was empty besides random crap
abandoned by previous tenants.
The carpet had picked up a few new stains
since their time and the oven still didn’t work, but the feeling of nostalgia
warped Decker and Trip back to when they were stumbling to find their way to
freedom.
“I lost everything that wasn’t on my body
in free fall, I guess,” Decker shrugged.
“And all my stuff is in the back of some
guy’s cab,” Trip sighed.
“At least you still have that sweet
jacket,” said Decker.
“You should have seen my Ozzie hat,” Trip
chuckled with his friend. The fridge made sounds like a trapped litter of
kittens.
Decker gave a last look around the place, “We
need to fill this pit.”
“Dude, don’t say pit,” Trip suddered. “Company
shopping spree?”
Decker nodded, “Company shopping spree.”
No comments:
Post a Comment