Thursday, September 13, 2012

welcome to the apocolypse

  I had read many post Apocolyptic peices of science fiction, but the Armageddon was different. For one thing it was a lot more fun.

  There was no super virus, or giant asteroid, there wasn't even four horsemen or giant sea monsters and horn blowing. There was just peace and quiet. All those televangelists and people knocking on my door early in the morning on a saturday when I was sleeping in; were finally gone. Since the churches were empty there was no reason to have the bells go off Sunday morning, so I could sleep in.

It wasn't untill I finally turned on the tv that I even noticed that the Armageddon had happened... and it really wasn't that bad. The vatican city was empty, allong with the middle east, and Tibet, and mexico and whole swaths of the midwest and the deep south. They were gone, but all of there material possessions were intact, their clothes left empty, no rotting corpses to dirty the streets.

First thing I did after the Armageddon was move. My appartment was tiny and after a bit of looking I found a nice house that was empty. After removing the crosses and pitching their small library of religious and self help books I moved in.

The next step was getting a new job, my boss had been quite metaphysical and he had dissapeared allong with the other loons. Luckily there were many jobs to choose from, and I got one on the city council right away. Politics were easy and now wide open for anyone not just the elite rich religious guys.

Politics were different too, for instance the state government seemed to take over, and we heard a lot less out of washington, The state finally passed all those laws that we had been fighting the religious zelots over for years. For instance we decriminalized drugs, made suicide legal with a liscence issued after a descent waiting period, and got rid of guns on the streets. Without illegal drugs and with so much to go around crime virtually dissapeared, and people finally calmed down and let others live.

Wich brings us to the changes on the global level, Since most of the governments that were at war were in religious nations suddenly the world got a lot more peaceful. Israel and Palestine were no more, and frankly no one wanted to step into their place. The land without the religious component was worthless. Korea was still there, but now that there were so many empty countries, the south Koreans just all picked up and moved, leaving the whole area to the communists who rejoiced for a while, untill they realized that the rest of the world had no use for them, and without the negotiating chip of harrassing their enemies they had nothing to barter with.

So for once there was world peace, mankind was entering a golden age, people helped their fellow man, not so they could get into heaven or win brownie points with the scary guy in the clouds, but just because there was plenty to go around now that the huge families were gone (suddenly we noticed how many children the adverage athiest had compared to the religious ones).

Life was so good in fact that it got Gods attention. Apparently he looked down and saw what a big improvement it was in the world without the dogma. God looked down and he was supprised and pleased, He saw people getting allong, sharing what they had now that there was plenty, taking care of the enviroment now that the status quo and the old men with the power were gone and scientists and liberals had control of things, and God noticed how the governments for the most part started to take care of their peoples, and gave health care and fixed the schools now that they werent subsadizing religions and everyone had a even tax rate.

Swallowing Darkness

  The drive home was short, but I felt myself slipping into a dark depression, the closer I got to home the deeper I sank. I sat in the car for what was probably only a few minutes, collecting myself, bracing for the inevitable battle that was to come. It felt like hours I sat there, fidgiting, tweeking my clothes, brushing invisible lint, brushing my hair, brushing off invisible dandruff, straitening my purse, searching for gum.... before I opened the car door and finally set my jaw and stepped up and out and squaring my shoulders I marched into my own home.

 The screaming began before the front door was even closed. His voice had that deep resonant growl wich he affected to proove to me that he was filled with (self) ritcheous wrath.

Where have I been? Who have I been talking to? Why was I so late?

Ive been at work, the only people I was talking to were my co-workers (all of wich are female), and I only got off work about ten minutes ago.

I whent to my room and closed the door. Removing my coat I hung it on the hook. Removing my shoes and making sure to line them up on the peices of tape on the floor, I put my keys on the peg and took my laptop out of its case and plugged it in, took my phone out of my belt pouch and plugged in its charger. I then turned, squared my shoulders again, took a look around to make sure that everything was in its place and whent back through the bedroom door.

Head ducked down to avoid eye contact I lunged into the kitchen and checked the fridge for ingredients for dinner. There was a pizza box on the oven half eaten, so I knew I was cooking for one. I popped a microwave meal in to cook and darted for the bathroom, but when I walked down the hall and passed his room his bellow called me to task.

Was I making another gad damn mess for him to have to clean? He was sick of the bullshit, I diddnt do enough around here and he was sick and tired of cleaning up after my arse.

No I will get it, dont worry, I have it all under control and you dont have to worry, would you like anything?

He already took care of himself, I never was home on time to provide, I diddnt cook what he liked, I spent too much on grocieries for things that he couldent eat etc.

After washing my hands and straitening the bathroom I whent back to stop the microwave before it beeped, he hated the damn beeping.

Life was becoming a endless cycle of work and ducking the gloom and doom that pervaded the house. I had my own room and he had his, the communal space he rarely walked through and when he did it was to stomp from one side of the house to the other while on a tirade about how filthy it was, how lazy I was, how miserable I made him.

I never whent into his room any more. He had projects he was working on, things I was not supposed to see.

I remember when I bought this house. I had been single, and had thought that I would use the larger back room for my bed since it had the attatched bath, and I would use the smaller front bedroom for a office. Once I adopted my (to) soon to be husband the living arrangements altered without my consultation. The futon in my office became my bed, and the back half of the house became off limits.

I diddnt know what he was working on, sometimes he would come out covered in dust wich looked like sawdust but it felt more like plastic grit between the fingers. Other times he appeared to be covered in paste, or fabric lint, or paint etc. The sounds from the room were unusual as well. There were machine noises, loud hammering, metalic whines, throbbing musical notes, and the occasional expletive shouted out at seeming random moments day and night.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Softcore Mira makes a Man


Mira didn't take no for a answer. She was a real go-getter, a force of nature when it came to sales. She closed the deal every time. Stan didn't stand a chance.

Stan worked in the invoices department. It was his job to write up all of the sales that the different reps on the floor made. He was kind of like their supervisor... only it always seemed like he really worked for them. The other reps were all men, and they bullied Stan and pushed him around. It was always jokingly.. they always seemed to be so light hearted about it... and everyone laughed. 

Except for Stan.

   Mira was the only female Rep. She was always primly polite to Stan. She spoke to him in a clipped authoritative voice and always seemed tightly wound. Stan didn't know if she was showing him respect, she hated his guts or if she disapproved of him so thoroughly that she was treating him like a insect.
     He was almost afraid she would come up behind him with a rolled up newspaper and swat him.
Almost.
   In fact he started fairly early on having dreams about her.
 Her coming in to his office and demanding he fix the copier and then sitting behind him a yelling at him the whole time telling him what a idiot he was, how he was doing it wrong. How it was his responsibility to keep the office running smoothly and how he was a failure.. and then she would start hitting him and he usually woke up.
With a huge Erection.

The first time he spoke to her at work after the first time he had that dream he had to put the folder he was carrying in front of himself because he felt it start to go hard.

She had pushed her hair behind her ears and adjusted her glasses. He remembered thinking how hot she looked in the oversized plastic frames. There was a expensively cheap quality to those glasses.. Something that feintly reminded him of both the librarian at his elementary school and his Dentist.

She seemed very strict. He liked it.
One night he woke up after fantasizing about her spanking him over her knee.
And he climaxed.

Finally finishing his work for the day Stan streched and laced his fingers and arched his back. He was leaving his office when he noticed the desklamp in the cubicle.
She was sitting at her desk. Writing in a small notebook. Stan coughed. He felt like a ass. He squirmed and said her name, she ignored him and kept writing and he waited. Finally he descided that she didn't want him there and he backed up.. to slip out of the cubicle when she closed the book and sat back looking at him.
He froze. Bizzarely he was terrified, like she had caught him in the act of doing something when he hadent been doing anything wrong at all!

She capped the pen, leaned the chair back and crossed her legs. She kept the pen, flicking it up and down with her fingers and she glared at him.
Neither of them spoke.
He wanted to turn away, to ask her what her problem was... or to tell her to stop staring.
But he couldent break eye contact.

Finally when he felt he was going to loose what ever game they were playing... she leaned forward rolled her chair up and grabbed him by the belt.

 "I'm tired of toying with you Stan," she said in a annoyed yet playful tone. "For months I've felt your eyes on me, following me like a dog. You don't think I don't know why you stammer and blush every time I talk to you do you? You can't possibly be that stupid."

Stan explained that he did know, that he rather enjoyed the game or whatever it was.. or he would have said something like that but all that he managed to mumble was something about game... and he didn't know... and office furniture. None of it made any sense but he didn't notice he was too busy staring at the open pearl button on her blouse. His eyes didn't dare dive into that shadowed cleft.. so he just looked at the button. Somehow the way it dangled on the threads without the buttonhole to give it support. like a too heavy flower tipping over on its stem; somehow this alone was erotic. He knew that she was talking.. that he should be listening, but he was having a hard time focusing when... WHAP!
She had hauled off and thumped him with the daily call log right on his arm.
Stan backed up rubbing his arm but didn't complain at all. Mira said "pay attention" and then pointed to the floor at her feet. Stan instantly sunk to his knees speechless.

 Mira leaned forward and whispered in his ear firmly "You will agree to do as I say or you may leave now. You will listen when I talk to you, and do what you are told or I will stop toying with you all together and I will never speak of any of this even if asked to anyone. It will be like none of it ever happened... do you understand?"

Stan nodded mutely. His eyes downcast.. he was shaking, and he didn't know why.. it wasn't fear.
"Answer me."
"Yes Mistress"

Friday, January 07, 2011

Keyboard terrorist-character study

Sitting in a packed coffee shop set on a busy street in a busy city I type on my antiquated beast. Cobbled together from ancient transistors and salvaged military machine parts I built the beast for security and not for style. The housing however is a cleverly modified feaux alligator suitcase which opens to reveal a deck covered in up scaled keys from several antique typewriters. There is no holo screen for display as I prefer to view the code through my input visor which is cleverly hidden by a rare pair of vintage glasses.

 To any of the casual gawkers in the coffee bar I seem a exccentric twenty something customer lurkin in the corner sipping his chai, wearing a full length fur trench and faded fedora in tattered tortoise shell glassies with a typewriter in his suitcase on his knee.

  I am such a odd presence that they don't suspect me of shite, thinkin is that anyone who sets themself apart so much must not be tryin to hide a thing. Like the zebra; I make myself stand out to blend in better with the herd.

 Behind the glass my eyes run over the fences and fly past the guards, there is no where that I cannot go, no limits to my ability to see past the security and spot the hidden. My fingers tap out the rhythm that brings information to light, like a god calling up the sun from the darkness. I copy documents that the shadowmen had hidden in what they thought to be impenetrable vaults. I post same documents where any layperson with a palm computer can find, with a few keystrokes the documents are blazing billboards of fire across the whole of the worldwide network. Impossible to hide again, impossible to refute.. all they can do now is control the damages, set their PR men spinnin to spread a fresh load of manure over the lot to make it smell fresher.


They call me terrorist, they would set their dogs on me if they could find where I roost. But its a nursery game to set blind alleys and switchback switches and a web of alter ego persona's never used my real name on the net, never post in the same place twice. My code spiders through automatically, finding new nodes, writing subroutines on its own- to cover its tracks and mine. Making connections and weaving a ever more complex system of moving the information so that they can no more pick me up than pick up a specific grain of sand with a construction crane.

 I cannot relate to real people. I have a rapid and bizarre speech pattern developed from speaking more in code syntax than in sentences. I write eloquently enough, but I might as well be speakin in ones and zeroes for all the success I get with women... or men for that matter. Even if they are interested in my roguishly rugged looks and exccentric threads, they soon find my dialogue tedious at best and wander off to sleep with some simian stud who has all the intellectual acumen of a toddler.

No matter, on the net I am a god. A unknown character rumored and whispered about with many faces.

~Just a quick character sketch for a idea I had about a steampunk retro cyber terrorist set in a cyberpunk world. More to come hopefully.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

failed relationship of in-equals


    I don't know how I ended up here. How I found myself in this position at this point in my life. Im broken.

I had always thought myself emotionally invulnerable, that nothing and no one could break me. When I first met him I was so in control. I knew that I wanted, where I was going, what I was going to be.

 Somehow (and I don't really blame him for this) he became the focus of my universe. I found out what he wanted and took what was left over for myself. I figured out what was best for his benefit and did it silently.

He thinks I was selfish for wanting, but he doesn't see the generosity and the kindness behind my actions because I never did anything ostentatiously.
I didn't demand he see, I didn't expect reward or recognition.

 When I left I gave all I had- taking only what he would not have wanted. Still he thinks that I am being selfish. Thousands of dollars worth of movies, books, games, etc. left for him, and he feels like I'm asking too much to have him pay off the credit card debt.
I'm leaving the house, which I picked out. I'm leaving the business to him that I helped to build. I'm leaving part of my soul and my dreams of peace and love.
He is taking away my deepest passions, and the feeling of acceptance, the feeling that I could do anything, ask anything without judgement and so was completely free to suggest any course, any action without being judged.

 That is probably what I will miss most, that and the knowledge that I was once beautiful to him. Once desired and that I was the source of passion and lust. That was his greatest gift to me really.

That gone I don't know how to move forward. I feel like Ive lost my ballast and I'm a ship yawing to port and starboard on a choppy uneven sea of emotion. I'm lost without my anchor, and though he was so rough and rusted, covered with layers of the decay of depression and the encrustations of heavy ennui; I miss the feeling of safety that being anchored provided.

He thinks- I'm sure- that it was the financial stability I will miss, and yes being completely broke is frustrating... But it is being alone, being without a outlet for my love and emotion and passion- that is whats hard.

  In time I am sure I could find another, but to tell the truth I'm not sure that I want to put myself in the position of depending on someone for my emotional wellbeing again.

But the question lingers in my heart:
  If I could have carried his burden, If I could have lifted his depression and withstood his lashing out. If I could have kept the perfect house, been ready to perform at a moments notice, if I could have been all things too him would he have been happy?

If only I was stronger, and had a impenetrable emotional shield that could take a constant barrage of rage and not be dented. If only I had armor that could soak up scorn and ridicule and transmute it into energy for going on with the rigors of living in a home where you clearly are not good enough.

But I am not the Iron Man of emotion.

Maybe I should have stayed, though it might have ended up being a War of the Roses, most likely it would have just been another argument that would have blown over after a few months of me being glared at, ignored, having the living room stomped through as he went to slam his bedroom door. A million ways to display his rage, and show his derision.

If it wasn't for the child I probably would have endured.
Thank you Ariel.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Softcore kelly

!WARNING X RATED MATERIAL!



  Professor Lurig kept regular office hours, so Kelly stopped by his office once she got her grades for the semester. She knocked on the hardwood door, and hearing his deep bellow “come” she opened the door and went inside.

  The office was paneled wood in a deep mahogany, a set of deep green wingbacks faced away from the door flanking the front of a gigantic wood desk, and behind that was a mountain of a man, her English professor.

 “Professor Lurig,” Kelly began in her rehearsed speech as she walked confidently into the room and took a seat primly on the end of one of the leather wingbacks. “I would like to talk to you about last semesters grade that I received in your Literature class?”

  The bearded professor scrubbed at his jaw line, never looking up from the pile of papers in front of him. He removed his glasses with one huge primitive knuckled paw and kneaded his forehead with the other. “What, what about your grades” he paused a second looking at her and then as if finally remembering her “Ms. Nesler?”

 Kelly was only mildly annoyed that he didn’t seem to recognize her. She put her book back into her bag, which she dropped beside her feet casually, and then tucked back her hair and dove back into her rehearsed monologue while the professor replaced his glasses and began to pour himself some more coffee from a steaming thermos.

  “I got a B, and while many students here on campus would graciously accept a B as being a acceptable grade, I strive for perfection and think that my work shows that level of commitment. I believe I have earned a A.” She paused to breath and he interrupted “You, do- do you?”

  It had broken her train of thought, she stammered… “Well yes I do.” He then proceeded to stand, crack his back noisily and made his lumbering way around his desk and he closed the curtain that separated the back part of his office and closed the door to the hallway solidly. There was a distinct click. Kelly suddenly felt slightly nervous, but he came around the side of the chair then, startling her slightly which she tried not to let show.

 “Why do you feel you earn that distinction Ms. Nesler? I almost never give A’s in my advanced literature class, as I am sure you have heard. I give A’s only in the case of truly outstanding work. When the rare gifted writer chooses to grace my class… then Ms. Nesler I give a A. You Ms Nestler do not seem to have this gift. You Ms Nesler- deserve a B.” He concluded, his back now to the desk, he leaned back on his fingertips which were splayed on the desk edge.

Kelly gulped and leaned forward slightly. She needed this grade and wasn’t going to take no for a answer. “Professor, I really strive to keep a perfect GPA, I have managed thus far in my university career..”

  “I don’t care what grades other teachers have given you in the past Ms. Nesler.” He almost growled at her with his deep baritone voice. “Your grades in my class reflect the level of competence you have shown me. Not what you’ve given to your other teachers.”

Kelly decided to change tactic. He wanted to close his door, and seemed to like making her nervous? Well fine she would see how he liked it. She ran her hand up her neck into her hair line, ran it back down, pulling slightly at the collar of her shirt. It was subtle, not obvious, she looked up at him, her eyes slightly askew through her hair she kept her expression some what innocent, and asked. “Surely there is some make up assignment I could do to earn extra consideration?”

“What kind of assignment exactly Ms. Nesler?” He asked. Simple question, but it hung in the air like it was dangerous. She didn’t know what to say to proceed, so she reached into her bag again and got her pen out. The whole time she made sure that her body was slanted provocatively to afford the professor a descent view of her assets, her legs and her cleavage. She came up with the pen in her mouth and smiled at him while she continued to dig through her bag for her notepad which she flipped to the correct day.

  “Maybe there is a paper I could write?” She began, and he shook his head with a smirk.
“The days for essays are long past Ms. Nesler.”
She was taken aback, “A make up test?”
He smiled, “I don’t think so.”
She lowered the pen from her lips. “what then? Do you have any errands to run?”

He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “Errands?” he mumbled.

“Yes!” she latched onto the hesitation as a possible maybe. “Maybe you need me to help you with filing papers, or library research or something!” She smiled relieved at the idea.

“No, Ms. Nesler. I Have a research assistant for that sort of thing. Of course you’ve seen Brian at your classes. The one taking notes and passing things out for me? He runs my errands Ms. Nesler. I’m sorry, but this time I cant help you, your going to have to help yourself.”

“Help myself?” She asked, frustrated. “I thought I was helping myself.. I mean I’m trying, tell me what I haven’t suggested? What exactly is it that you want from me?”

The Professor grumbled, and looked at her with a mixture of irritation at her stupidity, and humor at the cat and mouse game he was playing. He then looked down at Kelly’s sensible shoes, her ankle socks, her knees tightly clenched, her mid thigh pleated skirt, her button up white shirt, and into her pretty green eyes.

“A smart girl like you should be able to think of something.”

With a electric shock she suddenly figured out what he meant. She blushed pink while she contemplated it. Her mind going through several stages of response. Flattered. Outraged. Intimidated. Then she really considered it.

A part of her always wondered.
A part of her thought that there had to be more than the boys she had dated so far.
She wanted adventure, and she wanted someone to take her and make her into a sexual being, to teach her to loose what inhibitions she held, she wanted to be both the user, and the used. To feel like she was a dirty little slut for one time in her life. She wanted to show him who was really in control too, to make him crazy with longing for her, to make him suffer with need, And so she consented.

She leaned forward slightly, tucking her notepad back into her bag, tucked the pen behind her ear, and ran her hands up to the buttons of her shirt. Undid the top button. “What do you mean Professor… Do you mean you want sexual favors in exchange for raising my grade?” The professors eyes went up from her hands tugging down on her shirt front exposing the edge of her bra. His eyes locked with Kelly’s, a solid, calm look. Very austere. She gulped and undid another button, which got him to again glance down. This time to see her hands brush the shirt back from the center of the blue cotton bra to the cups.

 Small but perky her breasts were a source of childhood longing and teen angst, as a woman she grew to appreciate their compact firmness and she felt more comfortable sharing them. She slipped one out of its cup slightly, cupping her fingertips under it, she pinched the nipple, and watched the slight intake of breath pucker her professors lips under his mustache. He leaned forward slightly and whispered. “Hold that thought and position one moment.”

 He then went behind her chair again and slid the curtain back, to reveal Brian the young lanky awkward boy she remembered from her class. She gasped, realizing that Brian was privy to the whole conversation between the Professor and herself, not to mention that he was staring at her exposed nipple with a obviously delighted mix of desire and nerves.

“Brian why don’t you come in, Ms. Nesler was just showing me what she would be willing to do to improve her grade in the advanced Literature class. Brian, since you are the one who has been grading the papers lately as my grad student, Perhaps you would like to assist Ms. Nesler with her extra curricular studies.”

Kelly was thunderstruck, and frozen in horror with her right nipple exposed, but Brian knew just what to do. He moved swiftly into the room, and leaned over to whisper in her ear “Want to earn a A+?”

Brian stood over the wingback chair and unzipped his fly, exposing himself to her. She was taken back for a moment, as he reached forward to run his hand through her hair and then he jerked her head forward slightly as Kelly locked her eyes with the Professor who was watching with amusement.

 She kept her eyes locked with his, while the boy used her face to satisfy himself, or at least to excite himself as he seemed to be getting more and more excited and exuberant with his hands. He was rough with her skin, squeezing scraping, kneading it with his hands. He pinched her cheek with one hand strangely coarse and calloused and the other hand was cupped around the base of her skull pulling her ever forward insistently.  He somewhat dragged her out of the chair until she ended up on knees before him, her back to the professor who had evidently come forward because she could feel his hands cupping her bottom underneath her skirt. His hand encircled her waist and pulled her to her feet while Brian’s hand kept her from standing up, so that she was bent forward awkwardly. She felt one hand under her stomach supporting her as another deftly removed her cotton panties and came back to stroke up her inner thigh. She struggled somewhat feeling strangled by Brian, but she froze when a finger slipped inside of her, and she felt the finger slide in and out, firmly but slowly.

She couldn’t help but notice how her body responded. It was fantastic, and she relaxed into it allowing herself to enjoy this experience which was certainly new to her. Both men were filling her, Brian was so deep inside of her she could feel his nervous energy and then taste his pleasure in the slightly sweet pearls of precum he was spreading on her lips every time he withdrew.

The professors fingers were everywhere at once, inside of her, flicking and rotating her clit, stroking her ass as well as supporting her with his hand on her waist. She felt like she was being finger banged by either a Hindu god or a very horny octopus. Suddenly she felt him shift and she was penetrated by a wider and longer appendage. He filled her, and both he and Brian took turns surging forward to push her back and forth between them. Then they both pushed forward together slowly and it was intense, she felt like she was going to burst, but it wasn’t painful, just extreme.

They both pulled back, using hands to both support her and push away from her, and then they surged slowly forward filling her again and she writhed in pleasure between them, her hands darting first towards Brian, to flutter at his side, and then as they pulled back again she found them clutching at the professors tweed trousers.

Finally she let a hand slip between her burning thighs, and she touched her enflamed need, and began to rub herself into climax. First she was flicking and squeezing her fingers on either side of the clit forcing it to pop in and out of the thin layer of hood which protected it. Then she began to rub in a circle, and finally she began to rub back and forth over it at higher speeds as she felt the two men coming close to completion. They bucked inside of her, and she felt them both come to a pulsating thrusting end. And they sagged, Brian assisting her back to the chair in a somewhat chivalrous though exhausted manner.

She felt somewhat bruised, but in a good way, and pleased with herself as though she had accomplished something. She grinned at Brian, who winked and went back to the room beyond the curtain.

“I hope to see you again next semester Ms. Nesler… If you would excuse me, I really should get back to work.” With that he zipped up, and returned to his seat and the stack of papers as though she didn’t exist. Kelly straitened up hurriedly, and as she left she was both shocked and amused to see two girls waiting on the bench outside the office to speak to Professor Lurig.


______________________________________________________________________
Image from one of my favorite sculptors Ernesto Montenegro

Friday, September 10, 2010

Leaves

We are not like you.


We are in fact so very different from you that when your people came to our planet at first they did not recognize us as a higher evolved life form. Your people have two legs, two arms, two eyes… You are polarized creatures divided into male and female. We are not. In fact when your representatives two eyes saw us for the first time he believed we were all one organism; he equated our network with a multi-cellular plant life that he was more familiar with. He did not realize that what he had thought was a forest was really more like a civilization of his own kind. What he thought was a natural trunk was really a constructed interface for the billions of individuals working on it. It was constructed of information cells which were manufactured from within our very bodies with a silica based liquid which hardened when in contact with the nitrogen in our atmosphere.



In other words, we sat hard at work on a storehouse of information, and this was just one repository in a veritable forest of millions of such, and not even a major one at that. I was hard at work cataloging the number and frequency of light flashes observed from a pulsar in a nearby galaxy so that mathematicians could come behind me and figure out the pattern and thereby decode the history of the people or peoples who lived on its orbiting planets (though it would have to be admitted that this was a inexact science and sometimes we actually decoded mythology and not historical documents in this method).



I was a minor observer, a celestial recorder. This was not a position of either great power or of great recognition amongst my own people, in fact my name was not recorded on any of the lists of accomplishments. I was not known to the elders, and It was unlikely that my genotype would be chosen to produce more offspring. However I was to become famous amongst my people very quickly for I was the first to greet the human and to bridge the gap between us in communication.



It was kind of a accident, I had finished the data branch And had dropped to the ground to talk to my supervisor when the human picked me up in their bare hand. I immediately secreted a string of dialogue displaying my fear and confusion. I asked the creature who or what they were. I demanded that they stop holding me up by my single limb.



Unfortunately the creature did not communicate by chemical data secretions like we do, and so it continued to carry me back to its base camp where it put me through a string of tests in its laboratory. A sample was sectioned off of my body which he looked at under a microscope. I did not mind the procedure since he then placed the section back in the Petri dish with me and I was able to reconstitute it back into my structure.



This action caused much excitement, and more of the creatures were brought in to observe the behavior, which I was pleased to demonstrate though it was getting boring. I was all the while listening to their vibrations and was beginning to realize how I would have to communicate with the beasts. Their verbal conversation was mathematical and I could see the patterns. I do not have ears, but fine cilia hairs on my limb allow me to judge and therefore analyze data from wind currents and vibrations. In time I got used to the main vocal patterns and could understand their speech. Unfortunately understanding was not the only requirement in dialog. I could not produce vibrations the way they could, and so I could not communicate back.



After much analysis I determined what type of organ would be able to give a output they needed, I programmed into my genetic data a chemical diagram for the organ and I soon had a viable vibration or sound based communicator. It was not unlike a drum I was later to be told, with a simple membrane and a flexible cilia with a round knob on the end. I could flex the cilia whip-like and hit the small bladder-like membrane to make a slight pop sound.



I then devised a simple code, with a very basic tertiary rhythm much like our own chemical alphabet.

There was much vocal response which I could not decipher yet during this process, but I just recorded said verbal response, and saved understanding for another time. Right now I had to determine that these creatures COULD understand me, that they had some type of communication skills however rudimentary.

Eventually after I tapped out counting by two until I reached thirty and did some other basic math that would have to be a universal truth to any legitimately sentient species capable of space travel.

I then paused and waited. Finally after much loud babbling there was a response, the researcher tapped the desk 3 times and them tapped it 6 times. Then it tapped it 9 times. Obviously he was responding by counting by threes. I tapped along with him to communicate 12 together in unison. Finally contact.



After much confusion over the next day we communicated back and forth with our basic tap-tap math while I worked on translations of the their verbal communications I had so far recorded, and eventually managed to decipher some simple words. By the end of the week I had managed to get them to acknowledge a basic alphabet and I had sampled enough of their language that I had a understanding of their vocabulary. We began to communicate in short sentences. I finally managed to explain that I was just one technician on the data tree and if they wanted to communicate with the entire data network I would be happy to translate but I would have to be returned to my tree to do so.



A group of five of the humans took me back to the data tree, and I attached to the node, and began to chemically report the past weeks activities, as well as restoring my nutrients and purging my effluents. The network took 2.34 nanoseconds to reach a decision about what to do with the new human element in our equation and then I was given a response to make to my new acquaintances. The response was “leave… no pun intended.”

Friday, June 04, 2010

Neon Genisis pt1

So like Im in jail ya'know...
                                                  Again. 
This time though I didn't do what they thought I done... Honest.
I mean those other times sure!


You know I totally shout out when they ask who done it all. I mean I like the cred for the shit I pull, and its not like I can be busted for it. 


 Man, when I break in its because I know them shit's in the suits are guilty. All I do -  is get the info, and pass it on.  Sure, its hacking... but when the shit hits the fan I'm like instantly the one the reporters come by too see if the shits legit... or if its as fake as it smells foul.

So then I'm like on CNN and shit. And when the cops come, instead of "Evil hacker" I'm a Cyber-Vigilante... Who exposed the evil corporation. Sure the media spins things the way that profits, but I can spin the spin right- round baby... yes? 


   Show the people how bad those rich fuckers really are. Show the dumb fuckin-red-neck christian-white bread-mid-western voters... what they send their hard earned sweat off the land to Washington for.

So heres this fuck. Elected official yes? Got out and met the people to get elected. Shook Billy Bo Bobs uncles hand, and kissed his baby. Took millions in donations, and then gets a seat in congress. Everyone thinks he is the hardest working man on the hill.. Good guy, nice looking kids. His wife is just the right mix of socker mom and pitbull.

Any rate I smell the shit on him. Talk to a few people who work the nets like I do. 
    We know there is chum in the water but no one else has spotted the bucket of fish heads yet. 
So I go in for the kill anyway. Its all there in his aluminium boat... His hard drive is full of kiddie porn, some of which is obviously made by Washingtons most influential reverend... You know the guy, has his own city, they call it a TV network, and in his town he is sherrif, judge, and eternal damnation all in one seat. The guy is like totally doing it to one of his chuberic angels who regularly assist him with his work for God... If thats what their calling it these days.

So Here comes CNN, or MSNBC... or like Huffington post if the story is really hard hitting.... and like I'm still waiting for John Stewart to call.

But then out of left feild, like im Hackin into this sweet mainframe.  Its a large corp, did some major damage to the enviro, and like theres whimpers from the bunny petting community, and the tree huggers union... and them lot that complains but never actually does shit, and then complains some more about how no one listens to their complaints and do shit for them, so they don't actually have to do anything but can sit at home in their mothers basement where they have their base of complaining operations center set up on their sisters borrowed laptop... 
                         You know the people I mean. Smoking shit but it isn't making them any smarter YO!

 Anyway so Ive got my head and shoulders in tight to this hot wet mainframe right? And all of a sudden a defense department firewall screen pops up on my deck, and the feds knock the fuckin door in, and cuff my cuticles behind my ears and drag me into THIS funny farm, only... when I'm innocent this shit ain't so funny yes?

Authors note- Its late, I cant sleep and this came to me in a flash and in my insomiac state I had to write it out. Ill be adding to this story soon and adding pictures though I didn't have a pic in mind when I wrote this.
Hope you like it, post feedback if you do, and definately post critiques I love flames even.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Neon's Jail blog

Day2-Prison Isnt too bad.
Sure I'm totally the youngest girl in here. But this isnt like some juvinile detention center. This is a nice facility in upstate New York for like women who sold coke to stock brokers and Female CPA's who maybe skimmed just a 'Little' cream off the top if ya know what I mean.
Anyway dear reader, Yours truely was sent to this Gulag to serve 5 years on a bogus charge just because she didn't fit into Societies norm.


I appreciate all yr Emails. Yes they do let me have computer acess... 4 hours a day, 2 in the am and 2 after din-din. The comps are in the library so I dont get the privacy im used to havin, but hey there isnt a webcam or a scanner even so I couldent send ya all picks of my arse anyway.

And to answer your oh so polite question no they didn't shave my pate - or barcode my rump when I came in. They save that shit for the fuckem up-de-ass heavy duity prisons.
  Well I GTG, thanks for your well wishes, don't bother raising funds to get me out, its just 5 yrs spend your dough on solar panels instead; and get your asses off the grid! By the time I get out of this cement box I want to hear that we have solar jetsons cars! 5 years isnt a long time so put your money to work telling the man the only way you can!



Day 5

HAHA you big babies! So I skip writing you a day r2 and you all fall to bits imaginin me gang raped by prison guards! too cute!

Naw Ive just been hangin out with a gal in the kitchens. Ya I know right! Me N dishes dont quite mix. NEwayz this girls pretty cool. And before ya all say it no she and I arent rubbing carpets! Actually I think im the freak on the farm so everyone is steering clear wich is a pitty cuz them cells get mighty cold @ nite and some these prison bitches is HAWT! lol just kiddin there mostly all over 30. So as I was saying b4 I was so rudely interupted... I was hanging out with this gal Rocket. Yes her name is Rocket, because she has red hair, and no she hasnt seen Kill Bill! So anyway Rocket was tellin me that most of the gals here turn to religion, but some of them turn to other things. Like Wikka and trancendential meditation (SP?!) etc. So She is teachin me some of that eastern crap. And dont get me wrong, I like it, but if I wanted to find Nirvanna I like know some shrooms that will get me there a whole lot faster! The express train!

To my LEET friends I know all transmissions are read so I wont say anything coded or they might think im up to sommat. Keep it real and fight the power!



Day whatever

Sheesh this place gets to you. Yeah its not bad for a while, but no vids no games, they got a garden plot and some paintin classes and shit but nothing for us techno junkies. Speaking of junkies I think I could drink my own piss its so damn clean. What I wouldent give 4 a trip. I asked for some tylonol the other day and the guard told me no. Friggin tylonol isnt allowed.

I wish they had locked my ass up in the loony bin at least there they get good drugs.



Next time I bothered to write
Thanks for the emails. Im talking to the art teacher about getting some hardware junk to work on they have shit load of computers broken in here apparently people bust them when their sweet hearts write em dear jane notes in the Ebin. Anyway she said it would be good therapy for me. I think it would be great just to get my hands on a soldering Iron. At least then I can put my Gigantoid brain to some use.
Still meditatin with Rocket. I get the feelin she is watching me I dunno why sometimes she gives me the creeps.
 
Couple of weeks after the last one
 
Ok. So now I really have something weird and wild to report. I have a cell mate, (well Ive had 2 but I got a new one now and she is BOINKERS!) and she seems for some strange reason to not like me. I dont imagine its my fault, she is just some neat natzi who hates my tights drying on the cell bars, and finding my candy wrappers under the bed. So Im a pig! DUHH everyone who has ever lived with me knows that. But this twisted bitch thinks its personal. So she yells at me. I ignore. She throws crap at me, I ignore. She threatens, I ignore.. then she shoves me and my poor old head hits the block wall and their are such pretty stars my dears! Its like im in a feild of stars. The electricity is zappin from one to the next. Wait maybe their neurons? anyway Im walking through the feild and theres a tower ahead, its lime green, and as I get closer I see its all made up of black blocks with tiny ones and zero's on it just like the Matrix there moving in columns. Its techhie heaven boys and girlies. So I find the entrance and inside is a white office with a modern desk and fluro lights above. On the desk my dears is a computer, and the prompt is askin me for my User Name. So I types it. And it says "User accepted. New Nick: Neon" and I think about it and that nick suits me to a T. Then I wakes and theres the new neighbor standing over me waving my pair of stripey tights over her head like its a whip she's gonna beat me with. So I close my eyes and I can like feel the electricity in the room! My heart is pulsing with it, my hair is crackling with it! I open my eyes and I become like a conduit and ZAPPO! the bitch is flying across the room and the lights are flickering feirce before they go out.
 
The guard thinks the wet stocking must have touched the wall socket and shocked the shit outta my dear old roomie.. but I know better! She's in the hospital wing and I have the whole room to myself again!
 
Rocket says Ive had a epiphiny. She says I understand the true nature and power of electricity. I dunno but she says I wrote my name in a "mage tower" and when we get some time she is going to start teaching me to control my new gotten skillz.
 
 
Authors note: This is a exercise to flesh out a LARP character of mine for Mage the Awakening. The prison years is set in the 5 years she was incarcerated for cyber terrorism.

Saturday, January 09, 2010

Remote Reality- Captive Audience


Kitchi was trapped in the back of the limo and the driver was starting to seem more and more sketchy as time went on.
       Luckily her RemCam was functioning perfectly.
 She watched it hover around the back of the limo filming each angle, and knew; this was the best drama she had ever had on the show.
     Sure she quite possibly was in real danger, but she couldn't have scripted it better if she had a team of writers.
 The limo was spacious enough for the little RemCam to maneuver and get every ounce of fear and petulant anger that she allowed her features to betray for the camera. It was dim mood lighting which would read as dark and disturbing to the audience. The fact that the driver had so far made no move at communication only added to the mystique and made his motives unfathomable.


  Kitchi knew that she could start reading off street names to the RemCam, or call the police and give specific directions to the limo, but that would make it all be over too soon, and the neighborhood really wasn't well marked.
It was a industrial type neighborhood that she didn't recognise, and they had been driving in such a complicated pattern of turns, that she thought was likely going in circles; but the buildings looked so much alike that she couldn't be sure.

  Her BlackBerry ring-tone went off and she immediately answered it, It was Boop who had been waiting for her at the mall.
   Boop and Kitteh were both in a panic, apparently the news was broadcasting footage from her RemCam. The situation was being called the Kitchi Kidnapping Krisis, and apparently they already had panels of experts in kidnapping situations lined up discussing what was to be done, what the status of the situation was and all of the news channels had vowed to run continuous coverage until Kitchi was found.

   Kitchi immediately took out her Palm Pilot and searched the Internet, there was over 10,000 hits on Google news with the search 'Kitchi Kidnapping'. This was going to push her ratings through the roof!
She might even get a network slot out of this.
Now all she had to do was to make it out of it alive, and looking like a battered heroine. She turned to the RemCam and taking her fireside chat stance (knees together, hands clasped gently to the side body slanted slightly away from camera, head tilted to camera, expression soft and slightly frightened).

"I want to thank the network news stations for taking this threat to my life so seriously.
 I know that there are other, more newsworthy topics which are being shoved to the side so my situation can be discussed.
I ask only that everyone who is watching please:
                                                            remain calm.
I assure you so far I have not been harmed in any way; other than being frightened and held captive. My kidnapper has so far made no attempt to communicate with me, and seems to be driving in circles. Maybe he doesn't even know where he is going.
I'm fairly certain that the police will apprehend him shortly, if anyone sees the limo passing them on the street I ask that you call the police, please no one try to be a hero!
 I don't know if he is armed and I don't want anyone to risk angering him. He might just let me go, and I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account!"

   Kitchi smiled, she was pleased with how calm her tone seemed and knew that she would come across as a brave hero to many. All she had to do was sit here in the comfortable limo and wait while her popularity snowballed.
   The limo came to a sudden stop near a warehouse, and the driver must have hit a remote because the loading door opened and he drove inside. It was dark, and Kitchi couldn't make out how big the warehouse was.

The driver got out and when he closed the door all of the limo interior lights went out and Kitchi was completely blind. Luckily her RemCam had night vision and she could see a very feint green glow coming from it when it engaged automatically.

She heard some banging like metal doors being clanged open and then the door to the limo opened and she surged forward trying to escape. Rough hands grabbed her arms and she was spun, lifted, tossed into the back of a shipping container. She heard the buzz whirr of her RemCam following before the door slammed shut behind her.

    She was still in the dark and disoriented, her captor still hadn't said a word. She started to explore the metal floor and walls just as she heard a engine starting and the floor slanted back and she slid back to the wall she thought was opposite the door. She felt nautious as she felt the container being moved, she did not know which direction she was going or how far but finally with a thump she felt the container stop moving and the engine faded slightly as the lift was driven back.

 She had spent the whole time focusing on her posture and facial expressions. She tried hard to keep the panic on her face at the cute level, and not allowing it to turn too pathetic. The last thing she needed was a 'Blair Witch Project' moment with snot running down her face and screaming hysterically.
                     A small portion of her audience would like to see this; it would humanize her, but the majority of her viewers thought of her as a living doll, she had to act out the appropriate responses while seeming kind of distant.
   Another engine started, this one was rumbly loud, it was probably a big rig truck. She was on the back of a flatbed she realized, or inside of a cargo truck.
  She got up, her feet spread wide to try to keep herself from falling when the truck started to roll out. Making her way around the walls she found the door and pushed and explored the doors edges with her fingers.
 The door was locked tight from the outside with no handle or latch inside for her to try to open. She explored the square circumference of the room, her fingers sliding over the cold often jagged pocked metal.

Unfortunately she was wearing a very cute but very revealing futuristic Anime girl outfit today, her thigh high boots covered her knees but her upper thighs were exposed, along with her shoulders, and her back. Every time her skin brushed the bare metal she felt bruised, scraped, and raw.

She tried to find a comfortable position in a corner: with her legs folded underneath her, she sat on her ankles.

   The RemCam zoomed in for a closeup, she could hear its motor and see the soft glow which didn't really illuminate but was the only thing she could see in the darkness.
   She turned her head away for it for a moment, lifting her hand to her face she covertly touched both of her eyes with her dry fingers for a moment.
It was enough, and when she turned back to the camera she had a single tear running down each cheek.

   "If I ever did wrong to anyone, I want to take a moment to apologise. I never meant to hurt you, any of you. I want to thank my assistant Alexi, and my interior decorator Johan for all of his hard work. My stylist Trig and his domestic life partner who does my nails.. hey Toni" She emoted a soft whimsical smile "sorry I wont make my appointment Tuesday. Boop and Kitteh and Cami and Rori and all of my BFF's you know I love you guys!" She tilted her head away again, pretending to wipe the tears and recompose herself but in reality Kitchi poked her eyes harder.

   "Mom, I'm sorry I wasn't a better daughter, I tried mom and I'll always love you!" She tilted her head up looking slightly above the RemCam, her eyes pouring she did her angelic expression her eyes opened wide as she could make them Kitchi Smiled serenely as though thinking about her mother (though her mother was what Kitchi considered a trailer park whore- who used excessive amounts of PCP and Meth. Kitchi hadn't spoken with her in years).

She looked strait into the lens "I don't know what the future holds,
                                                                   I hope that Ill still be broadcasting,
but if the feed gets cut and I loose connection I just want you all to know that I love you all and I hope that I meant half as much to you guys as you have all meant to me."

She smiled softly and then curled her body up as though to get privacy for weeping although she was careful to pose herself sideways so her audience could best see her curves and made sure that her hair was cascading down so that the line of her neck would be very visible. She held that pose for the count of 60 seconds (the length of time her publicist had once said was the longest attention span of one of her fans) and then visibly dried her eyes and began to search the compartment again. That's when she realized that she had left her purse in the limo, and in it her Blackberry, and her Palm Pilot. Now she was cut off from news of the outside, and though they could all watch her, she didn't know at all how her performance was being received.

Friday, January 08, 2010

Idea of the day non profit story chain


I had a Idea for a non profit writing project wich I would do with the help of a bunch of random famous people. Im hoping for a snowball effect here with me contacting someone minorly famous getting them to agree to writing a short story and then in turn for them to get someone whom they admire/look up to in the creative field to agree to do one. It would be like a creative chain letter with the final output being something that would be published with all the profits going to charities. I was thinking of making a charity list and deviding the profits among them so that well known charities would help draw people in and some lesser known but important ones would reap the rewards.

All of the stories would have a very basic theme such as freedom. Since they all have to be in the same world we could set some basic world perameters, but I would encourage people to write different types of stories, like different genre, but each person would write with their own voice and style. It would be great to get people who arent really fiction writers to do it too, like George Lucas and Weird Al, Whoopi Goldberg and Maddonna. People who are creative and imaginative but not nessicarily authors.

I would have some rules written up before sending out the invitations to write. Here would be my rules and I will come back and edit this from time to time to update them.

1.Everyone who pledges to write must sign a agreement that their work is to be donated freely and no one gets paid all profits go to the charities, List of charities for them to sign off on etc. Expenses are paid only, hopefully publishers dont charge etc its a non profit item. All copywrites are held for future spin offs etc if we should choose to do a film adaptation for same charities etc.

2. The co-ordinator will choose the first person in the chain, they send them 2 copies of the agreement and information. The first person signs off if they agree, then contacts people that THEY ADMIRE FOR CREATIVITY (not nessicarily friends, or authors, etc. just someone they admire) and when one of them agrees to do it they send agreement to them. They tell us who they are sending agreement to, we get a contact with them and send them more info and another agreement to solicit another author.

3. There is a time limit to keep things flowing in a reasonable manner. From the point when the author gets the manuscript (from me) they can read and write their own story for 2 months. Then it must be sent back to the co-ordinator (me) for review, minor editing, and copying and we send it to the person that the last author set up to write the next story. I will have a month (hopefully I can get it out faster than that) to co-ordinate between authors and I will get assistance of a copy and line editor and be setting up a agent and publishing house etc in my free time.

4. when I get the finished storys back from all of the authors I will work on the finished editing process and publishing process and marketing distribution etc.

Heres the rough list for charities to recieve donations from project:
Free the slaves
Project prevention
Amnesty International
Laptop per Child
Kiva

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Remote Reality-Good Television


   Kitchi checked her face paint on the reflective panel beside the lens of her RemCam. She had only had the thing for a few weeks, but already she couldn't imagine turning it off.  After all- her fans needed to know what was going on. If she wasn't available for view 24/7 they might forget about her and start watching someone else.

She put on a bit more lip gloss, fixed that little piece of hair in the front that kept sliding slightly askew, and winked her eyes coquettishly (her stylist said that her eyes were her best feature and that the fans had been blogging about how much they liked to see her wink into the Cam like she was acknowledging them on a personal level), then she turned and stepped out the door strait into the paparazzi flashbulb assault.

                 No time today, she walked right through them.
Her RemCam gained altitude once it was through the doorway so that it could get a overhead shot of all of the commotion.


  "Kitchi! Kitchi! Over here!" screamed one pimpled fanboi over his shoulder who clutched his archaic video camera over his head- to try to get a vid of her with himself in the foreground. She paused a split second and did her anime girl pose: dainty left hand wiggle wave, shoulders up head cocked at slight angle with chin down, eyes slightly squinted as though giggling, right hand to lips which are pursed in a air kiss.

   This pose suited her current hair style: two pony buns on either side of her head, bangs, and a long multicolored hair weave plaited down the back. She was taking a lot of style tips from Anime lately though she never actually watched any.
     She didn't really watch anything anymore, she just didn't have the time.
 What with all the interviews and dates and parties to go to. Plus she had to keep the RemCam stream interesting: who would pay to watch her sitting still for hours watching a movie? Or worse... reading a book?? Her fans were interested in seeing her out and about with her fabulous friends and watching her scandalous (though mostly PG13) affairs.

   Her RemCam was very specifically programmed to show lots of skin- but no genitalia to offend the audience. That was half the fun anyway: viewers would watch her every move hoping to get a glimpse of a nipple or a pubic hair on accident.
   The web was crawling with screenshots of supposed 'naughty bits'; though she had a team of lawyers working around the clock to suppress the badly made forgeries or even the occasional unflattering real shots (which were made with distance lenses, miniature up the skirt hidden camera's or through glass floors etc.)

   There was also a lot of fan art. Often these were hand drawn, images that were sexy and fit into her image, and she allowed them to remain on the net: even though publicly she complained that it was wrong to take her image without permission. Having amature shots of her out there: was like free publicity and it only made her more popular with the masses even though she wasn't making a profit on the images themselves.

   Kitchi got into her limo. The driver held the door while her RemCam buzzed in after her- then closed the door with a gentle click. Kitchi opened her Palm Pilot and started to look through her long list of personal messages.

   She was careful to keep the screen faced away from the RemCam for security purposes. She began her morning ritual of ruthlessly deleting email. If she couldn't remember who the person was: she deleted it. If she didn't like them anymore: she deleted it. If she just didn't want to deal with it right away: she put it in the ignore box which was almost the same as deleting it (only she could always search through her ignore box later... though she never did).
     She didn't actually read any of the messages, she just deleted and ignored the ones she didn't want, reading wasn't really her style. She typed in a quick note to her assistant to read the rest, she knew her assistant could reply to them without anyone knowing the difference and if there were any invitations her assistant would make note of when and where to be if she wanted to go.

   She had a calendar in her BlackBerry that her assistant kept updated. Whenever she didn't have anything to do, she would look at it and pick which of the many listings for that time and day that she wanted to go to. Today however: she was supposed to meet her friends Boop and Kitteh at the Mall. After sorting her messages: (which was exhausting and took 15 minutes), she closed her Palm Pilot and put it away.

It wouldn't do to spend too much time doing any one thing. People had short attention spans, and she wouldn't want her viewers to get bored and change the channel. She checked her makeup, and then went to look out the window, but was disappointed in that this wasn't her usual limo.

Her regular limo had a control panel beside the back seat for the windows. She didn't like to ride with the windows set to Reflective; this way no one on the street could see who was inside. It was bad PR to go anywhere when you couldn't be seen. She shouldn't ever have a anonymous moment.

   Kitchi looked for the intercom button, or even, the control for the partition between her and the driver. But she couldn't find any controls. Now she was beginning to get irritated. This limo must be the old fashioned kind that didn't have any controls. It didn't even have a video screen for her to watch TV. There was only a mini-fridge, and it was stocked with plastic bottles of water- not even sparkling water! She took one out and threw it at the partition.

   She knew that there was a angry pout on her face, and that it wasn't a very becoming expression on her- but this was ridiculous. She had never had such lousy service from this limo company before and she had been using them for years. She wondered why they didn't send her regular driver? He had been cute... for a driver anyway. This driver was totally new: at least she hadn't seen him before, (and after the complaint call she was going to have her assistant make) she hopped she would never see him again.

   In fact she hopped he would be fired! Or even maybe she should stop using this company. There were plenty of Limo companies and she was sure that one of them would be ecstatic to have her as a new client. Maybe they would give her the service for free if she casually mentioned their names from time to time out loud for her RemCam to stream. She could even slam the old company to some of her friends for the RemCam.
That would show them not to give her inferior service!
   The damn limo driver still hadn't lowered the partition or even acknowledged her throwing the water bottle at it. She could see the back of his head and Kitchi moved to the front seat and banged on the glass wall between them. "Damn it your not even headed the right way! I'm going to the Mall! Lower this partition so you can hear me!" She suddenly felt nauseous, he was not responding, he might not understand her but she was certain that he could hear her screaming and banging.
                                                                He was ignoring her.

  They weren't going that fast, they were in some industrial type area she was unfamiliar with and Kitchi thought maybe she should jump out of the car when they stopped at a stop sign, but she couldn't get the door open and there was no knob for the lock.
                The door would have to be opened from the outside.
 She looked around but didn't see anyone on the street, and even if she had they wouldn't be able to see her.

   She held down the control for lowering a window but it didn't work, and the moon roof's hatch appeared to be sealed with very strong glue... Kitchi even laid down on her back against the seat cushon and kicked her booted heel against the glass. She was completely trapped.

   She had to get a message out. she opened her BlackBerry and looked through her friends list for someone who could help, finally she decided to just send to all a message telling them what was happening. While she typed she sent a impassioned plea to her RemCam, it was still broadcasting to all of her adoring fans. She licked her lips subtlely hoping that her face paint wasn't smudged by her little on air tantrum (she knew her fans would love the drama of her momentary loss of control), she looked directly into her RemCam's lens.

She made her eyes soft and though she allowed some of her fear through: she kept her voice gentle and calm.

  "If your watching this out there, I am being kidnapped. I beg you to alert the authorities. Call the police, call my agent, someone please call my Internet provider! Surely they can trace the RemCam feed and pinpoint where I am. The limo was black, its a older model, gaah I don't know cars!" She tilted her head from side to side and shrugged in the signature comical way she knew her fans liked.

  She glanced out the window and back to the RemCam which had not left her face, she could see that the Iris was zoomed into a closeup. "Were driving through some industrial area: I don't even see road signs."

  Kichi hit send on her message. She then called her assistant Alexi and started to explain to her what was happening. Her assistant was hysterical and crying, she already knew.

  She of course had the live stream playing in the background. Kichi thought Alexi was being a bit of a drama queen, (She knew that Alexi was trying to get enough of a audience to start a spin off show) Kichi played it off like she was touched by Alexi's concern, but that she needed her to pull it together: to rally the fans and get their support. Glancing at the camera she said in her most moving voice:

"I hope my fans will stick by me in this time of crisis.
                          I just know they will be there for me when I need them.
No matter what suffering I'm going through, I just want my fans to know that I don't regret them.
                                           Even if this guy kidnapping me turns out to be you know a crazed stalker...
Like a maniac who has this totally unhealthy obsession with me..
                               I will keep the show going , no matter how personal and frightening this may get.
 As long as I can: I promise to keep streaming exactly what I'm going through- as it happens.
                                        I wont keep you all in the dark, I just hope that my captor doesn't shut me down!"

  She made a deliberate gulping motion, swiveled her head, brought her left hand out of screen up under the RemCam and turned it so that it panned over to capture the back of the drivers head, his eyes which were looking into the rear view mirror staring into her own.

                                                                            This was good television!




AUTHORS NOTE:
The image is actually a remote device created by NASA for space exploration. The AERCam is volleyball sized satelite and can be researched here http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2005/06/050619191628.htm
the girls picture is from http://larcho.wordpress.com/2009/03/29/tetsuwan-birdy-cosplay/birdy-the-mighty-kiguchi-aya-cosplay-028/ dont know where picture originated. (I edited two images to put them together if anyone takes offense of their use let me know and ill take it down) Story idea inspired by Tia Teqilla and other reality TV babes. Maybe Ill do a second part someday with her captor torturing her and it all being streamed live.

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Lady of the Flies

 

I was reminicing today about my childhood. Remembering the wild times when I spent almost all of my days outside in the forest running amok. Specifically I thought about the battle of the gultch.

  Behind my house there was a green space and then the redwood forest began with a few wayward trees and then there was a sloped path with a deep gultch on one side wich declined sharply descending about 25 feet before hitting a fern lined creek bed. The path winded and switchbacked down to the creek and then one branch followed its course back behind all of the houses on my street.

  There was a girl on my street who was my arch nemisis. Heather and I hated each other, the cause of the anger does not matter and indeed I can not remember when it all began, in fact I think we had once been on the path to friendship when we descided instead to be mortal enemies. Her house backed onto a similar path down to the gultch and one day before school while we were waiting for the bus she informed me that her and her teenaged sister were going to come over that evening and 'kick my ass'.

  All day during classes she taunted me, telling me how much her and her sister hated me and how they were going to beat the crap out of me. I was scilent to her, I could not ignore but I diddnt give any outward sign of my reaction. Inside I was plotting my own strategy for conquest.

  I was accomplished at that tender age in the arts of warfare. I was a excellent archer, I could hit the center of my target over what was for my size a great distance. I had been in the habit of making my own whip switches with supple branches of cherry wood and a waxed cord wich I could use either to flick cans off of a fence line or to grab and pull things towards me. I dreamed I was Indiana Jones, and though my switch whips looked nothing like his ellegant bullwhip it was versitile and suited my size. I was also in the habit of brewing poisons, I had a miniature labratory wich was in reality a series of old tins, a copper kettle, and some victorian bottles (the gultch was littered with artifacts from the victorian era, including many medicine bottles) I used a fire pit to boil water to make my decoctions and infusions of toxic plants, mushrooms and perloined liquids. These toxins were in fact deadly as I knew far too much about plants at this age.  I had acess to foxglove (digitalis) for instance wich would cause heart attack in even a minute dose. I would sit for hours chopping, grinding, boiling and steeping these highly deadly plants.

  However with all of these deadly arts at my command I descided that seeing as I did not want to actually commit murder (not that I thought the world would miss Heather but that I would not like to have to explain to the authorities or even to my parents why I had assasinated two girls from my street). What I needed was not a way to kill them, but a way to scare them. Scare them to the point that they would never again plot to overtake me.

  I thought over many possibilities I needed a weapon that was perhapse not useful in its efficiency to effect damage but one that would be imposing and strike fear into my opponants. I needed to seem unstable to them, to be one who would be likely to use such weapon even though it would get me into trouble so that they would indeed believe that I was a threat.

  So I got a Knife. It was a big knife, one of those hunting knives like crocodille Dundee had, wicked sharp with a curved back tip and a serrated back near the haft. It had a sheith that could be strapped to ones leg (if one had a leg large enough wich unfortunately I did not at the time) and the handle was polished wood or bone, I cannot remember now at the time wich it was.

  This knife was formidible looking though it was not well ballanced and was cumbersome and akward.  Hopefully though I would not have to use it.

 After school I whent to my hiding spot I was croutched behind the giant redwood stump that had my tree house. A thick clump of bamboo curtained me from the other side and shielded me from view of the house. I waited for a long time, it was fully dark by the time I heard their voices coming up the path from the creek. I could see their shadows moving towards the house. I needed the lights from the house to reflect off of the knife otherwise they would never see that I was so armed and I ran the risk of them rushing me and I would actually have to use it.

    I waited until they were almost to the porch and came up behind them, I had cut off their escape and knew that once I had frightened them I would have to allow them to circle behind me to flee while still appearing to be the scary agressor and not giving ground. They were whispering and though I was close behind them I could not hear their plotting over my parents stereo. My parents were having a party or something I cant remember the occassion but I do remember that they had friends with kids there whom I was supposed to be entertaining in my room. The back door led to our mudroom wich led to the kitchen wich most likely contained my parents and or their friends so I would need to make sure that the nemisis and her sister would not feel the need to retreat screaming through the house.

  I stepped into the ring of the back porch light, and made some pithy comment. I do not now recall what it was I said, Though I made it the habit even of a early age to be insulting in such a intellegent riddling way that it would be confusing to most of what I deemed to be inferior intellects but were in fact my peers. I probably would have said something allong the lines of "You step into my web like a moth into a flame, trapped and helpless you both are ready to stick my sting in." Though I actually dont recall what I said and it might have been something entirely more mundane.

  Heathers sister got in front of her, that I remember. She was almost protective towards her sister in that moment; though she was constantly mean to her at the bus stop, in fact they always squabbled verbally in public. I was the outsider threat and blood protected blood.

  The girl was spitting out trite nasty remarks full of pale and unimpressive language that some would consider shocking in one so young. Swear words coming from her lips did not shock me then, though seeing them come out of my daughters mouth now I find them either comical or repugnant. Then though I found it rediculous and pityable.  She used swear words because she did not have the vocabulary to voice her anger appropriately or strongly enough to suit her. Yet another reason for me to use my intellect to goad her and manipulate her in the direction I wanted her to go.

   Fortunately, though her sister was large enough to concern me physically- she was not intellegent enough to joust with me verbally so I felt very superior and secure in my prowess. Unfortunately the ability to insult your opponant in interesting obscure ways never stopped anyone from getting their nose bloodied.

  The girls sister began to walk down the porch stairs and though I was making a impressive showing of the knife flashing between my hands she advanced, I retreated. They split up and flanked me; this basic strategy of attack had elluded me for wich I am now profoundly embarrassed. I had never been in a battle against unknown assailants though I had read many accounts of them in books. I was prepaired for a head on attack like infantry, they were giving me a wolfish attack from the sides.

   Im racking my brain now to remember what was said and all of the snappy comebacks as I beat my retreat as they advanced... but it all elludes me. Eventually I recall that we were positioned where I had my back at the gultch and they were between it and my house. I jumped on the log that was allong the gultches rim when first one surged forward a foot or two then the other and it made me do this weird side to side motion with my body rotating as I faced one, then the other of my two attackers even though they were still a few feet from me. I overballanced and fell backwards. My body flipped end over end, I wish I could describe the motion with my hands, I fell backwards, flipping head over heels and then grabbed some ferns and started to roll and slide the rest of the way down the gultch. I was hidden in the tall ferns (keep in mind that these are northern California redwood forests. The ferns are primeval in size, you can hide easily under one clump of ferns. The knife was gone, lost in the mud somewhere; and clearly it was of little use anyway.

  I laid under my ferns scilently untill the two girls came past me the elder was in the lead and I lept at the younger and like a wild thing scratched clawed bit and pummeled her. The older one pulled me off and at that point their plans of beating me up were over, she was more worried about getting her sister home. They were superficial scratches scrapes and bruises but I think that my wild behavior shocked them both, and they diddnt know how to deal with such ferocity. She just helped her sister up and they hurried home.

  Clearly the girl could have kicked and beaten me to a pulp, she was much bigger than I, and stronger, and probably faster. I however was the veteran of many skirmishes with my sisters. They were far bigger than either of my opponants, and had no compunctions against giving me regular and violent beatings. So pain was not a factor in my strategy. I was more than willing to be beaten, if it stopped future beatings.

These girls did not have the same level of violence in their homes, and so were shocked when it finally came down to the grim reality of warfare. The battle was over, and the next day at school I had gained a reputation for being crazy and cruel. The girl showed off her bruises and scrapes and told everyone a version of the story that painted me as the agressor in a unprevoked attack upon her. Her sisters part was never mentioned. I allowed this story to be spread without arguement because it was to my advantage. After this I was never again attacked or threatened all the way up to high school I enjoyed a reputation of violence and unpredictability.

 Authors note: If your interested in lord of the flies check this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NW4KalGfcDY its a utube clip of a deleted scene from the first B&W movie.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

hungry eyes



He was my world, my life, my caretaker and my diciplinarian. Every thing I learned he taught me, everything I did was with the purpose of pleasing him or getting more attention from him. The food treats were only a reward because they came from his hands, he was my mate and every time he groomed me I felt it was a act of love.

It was from him that I learned to speak, to understand his signs and to preform the repeditive learning exercises that took up so much of our time together. I had a large vocabulary once grown, of course I did not know that it was expansive for my kind as I thought I was of the same kind he was. My large black hands with thick leathery skin were different from his, I used to hold his hands in mine patting and stroking his soft skin wishing that I was as pretty as he was, or that he was as coarse and hairy as I. I felt so grateful for his affection and wished that there was less of a disparity between us.

    It was just the two of us for the most part for many years. Occasionally he would have a visitor or two over, but they did not interest me and once he saw that I was avoiding them, and not making eye contact he would kennel me in the bedroom when they came over so I would not have to deal with them. Then when I was in my 15th year and fully a mature adult I percieved a threat to my happy home life.

  He came home late for several nights in sucession with a strange odor about him. It was a flowery scent that burned my nostrils. It smelled of chemicals and was concentrated around his neck and wrists. I did not like the scent, but I had to explore it, to try to find out what he had gotten himself into. He laughed and thought it was hysterical that I was so concerned.

  Later that week I smelled other smells on him- fishy, rank and fetid. Worse yet the smell was concentrated in his most intimate areas... areas that I was not allowed acess to. This was a female scent! There was another female there underneath his coverings and against his secret skin. I felt enraged and betrayed, some other female had invaded what was mine! He was upset by my agitation he made me kennel up and he gave me some of the medication he sometimes gave me when we went to the vets. It made me sleepy and made everything seem distant to me, even my own fears.

 He got on the tellephone and talked to someone at length, I could hear her voice from across the room it was high pitched and sounded like it came through a long tube. She was the one I was sure of it. The one who was stealing my mate right out from under me.

He brought her home with him the next night. I heard her in the hallway giggle when he came into the door. He talked to me soothingly and called me over to the coutch where he stroked me and groomed me for a while before he called to her to come in. She entered hesitantly. She was small, and she had a strong odor of flowers around her chemical flowers not the natural kind. I supressed my rage until it was just a slight vibration of my frame. My skin quivvered under his hand and my nostrils flared but I made myself emit a soft whoot of gentle welcome and nervousness rather than the screetch of anger that I truely felt.

  He restrained me while she approached, I held very still so as to not allarm them both. I would end this affair of theirs, once and for all.

  She spoke in her high squeeky voice I think she ment it to be soothing but I found it grating on every nerve.  My mate was signing the word friend over and over again. I returned the sign and held my hand out to the female she edged closer and allowed her hand to slip into mine, I was patient, waiting untill she was within reach before I pulled her hand and lept out of his arms and lept onto her face my teeth sinking into her flesh my hands ripping and pounding away at her body. I felt his hands on me, wrenching me pulling me away from my enemy. He eventually suceeded in lifting me, and carrying me into the bedroom where he slammed me into the  kennel and latched the door. He ran out, I heard screaming, banging and the front door slammed, his car drove away and the house grew scilent. I licked the blood off of my fur while the light dimmed out the window. I spent the night worrying that he would not return to me, that now that he escaped with her he would keep running and I would never see him again.

 The next morning some strangers entered through the front door, they took pictures in the living room, I could see the flash of the camera. They came back into the bedroom and took more pictures of me in my cage. I held my hand out to them through the bars, I was scared of them but at least they could set me free so I could find him. I would follow and get him to come back. To leave the weak woman behind and stay with me. The way he was ment to.

   They diddnt let me out however, they brought in a dolly and lifted the whole cage, I screamed in fear as it tilted, one of them was loading a dart pole, this was a object I was unfamiliar with, I soon learned that its pointed tip brought a uneasy painful sleep that I could not pull myself out of.

I woke up in some strange facility that smelled like cleaning chemicals, there were sounds of strange animals, unfamiliar noises like howls and screetches. There were people here too, strange people who looked in on me with cold angry eyes. I was there for days,  before he came. I was so gratefull so overjoyed to see him. But the look on his face crushed me. He was angry, I had never seen him so angry. I Signed I love you, he shook his head and turned away. A man in a white coat came then, I saw another dart pole, the man talked to him before he left. His voice was toneless, dead to me. He walked out leaving me in the cage, in the room with the man in the white coat with the dart pole. I had been sentenced to death.

 I was born in the jungles, taken as infant by men who sold me into slavery to be shipped to the man who raised me... the man I loved... the man who left me to die. If he did not love me back, why did he not allow me to stay with my mother (who had been killed so that they could capture me)?


  If he had not raised me to be in love with him, I would not have become jelous of his other female. He raised me in seclusion, to love only him. What chance had I of ever being a normal ape when I had no representative of my kind, and he did not want to treat me as a woman, a equal. There was nothing left for me but the dart and death.