Adam Wasserman's Blog: Strictly Voluntory, page 6
November 6, 2014
Today's Edition
Greetings, citizen, and welcome to Today's Edition, the Bunker's most trustworthy source of news and current events!
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
We are proud to announce that all the terrorists have been vanquished. There are no traitors left to threaten our prized utopia. As a result, Homeland Security will be disbanded, the interrogation chambers dismantled, and all the cameras will be taken down.
Just kidding!
In other news... well, we suppose we could go through the usual litany of sabotage, subterfuge, and subversion, but this weekstretch our editors thought it would be nice to try something different. Today's Edition is therefore being dedicated to you, the average working citizen and unsung hero of the Bunker. Ninety-eight percent of the population has no security clearance or distinguishing qualities whatsoever. Each daystretch, you gladly toil away at your assigned duties as the pleasant notes of the Anthem of the Patriot linger in the background. Whether you are a reactor core attendant, foundry assistant, or teamster, the Bunker could not persevere without you. As a special reward for being loyal and dependable, the boys over at Control have decided to distribute an additional ten credits to each and every citizen. You will find that your Card has already been updated. Spend them wisely!
And now a word from our sponsors.
Is your permanent record an embarrassment to yourself and your employer? Marks of Excellence may be hard to come by, but they are certainly well within reach of everyone. And we all know what happens if they should ever be outweighed by those unenviable Marks of Shame. Your permanent record is freely available to anyone who requests it on X.net. If that's a problem for you, call us over at Second Chances, Inc! You'll be glad you did. Although official reprimands cannot be removed from your permanent record under any circumstances and you should certainly never suggest such a heinous crime to any of our helpful service agents, we can help you break the vicious cycle of dejection and underachievement. In no time at all, Marks of Shame will be a thing of the past, and you will have accrued all the official commendations you know you deserve. So don't hesitate! Grab your PA and give us a call over at Second Chances, Inc. “Because it's never too late to turn your life around.”
We would now like to draw your attention to the Bunker's emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? We are proud to announce that popular demand for the invaluable advice being dispensed on the tube daily has surpassed even the program managers' own projections. Do you have a special concern? Perhaps you are unsure how hard a line to take against that errant citizen in tomorrow's Caring Demonstration. Or you were wondering whether used tissue paper is suitable for recycling. In a spat with your mates back in the barracks over the communal storage space under the bottom bunk? Why not grab your PA and shoot the program managers a short mail describing your problem. Remember: the Bunker is a utopia, so you don't have any problems! It's all a matter of perspective, citizen. That's surely what Carlton Smickett would say.
And now for some public service announcements.
Due to a shortage of standard issue paper, all citizens are requested to write using very tiny letters. Also, the quarantine in Y sector has been expanded to departments Y-2, Y-9, Y-10, X-7, and X-17. If you happen to have missing acquaintances or loved ones known to frequent Y sector, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. They are participating in a routine safety drill.
The Color of the Patriot is twinkle.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
We are proud to announce that all the terrorists have been vanquished. There are no traitors left to threaten our prized utopia. As a result, Homeland Security will be disbanded, the interrogation chambers dismantled, and all the cameras will be taken down.
Just kidding!
In other news... well, we suppose we could go through the usual litany of sabotage, subterfuge, and subversion, but this weekstretch our editors thought it would be nice to try something different. Today's Edition is therefore being dedicated to you, the average working citizen and unsung hero of the Bunker. Ninety-eight percent of the population has no security clearance or distinguishing qualities whatsoever. Each daystretch, you gladly toil away at your assigned duties as the pleasant notes of the Anthem of the Patriot linger in the background. Whether you are a reactor core attendant, foundry assistant, or teamster, the Bunker could not persevere without you. As a special reward for being loyal and dependable, the boys over at Control have decided to distribute an additional ten credits to each and every citizen. You will find that your Card has already been updated. Spend them wisely!
And now a word from our sponsors.
Is your permanent record an embarrassment to yourself and your employer? Marks of Excellence may be hard to come by, but they are certainly well within reach of everyone. And we all know what happens if they should ever be outweighed by those unenviable Marks of Shame. Your permanent record is freely available to anyone who requests it on X.net. If that's a problem for you, call us over at Second Chances, Inc! You'll be glad you did. Although official reprimands cannot be removed from your permanent record under any circumstances and you should certainly never suggest such a heinous crime to any of our helpful service agents, we can help you break the vicious cycle of dejection and underachievement. In no time at all, Marks of Shame will be a thing of the past, and you will have accrued all the official commendations you know you deserve. So don't hesitate! Grab your PA and give us a call over at Second Chances, Inc. “Because it's never too late to turn your life around.”
We would now like to draw your attention to the Bunker's emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? We are proud to announce that popular demand for the invaluable advice being dispensed on the tube daily has surpassed even the program managers' own projections. Do you have a special concern? Perhaps you are unsure how hard a line to take against that errant citizen in tomorrow's Caring Demonstration. Or you were wondering whether used tissue paper is suitable for recycling. In a spat with your mates back in the barracks over the communal storage space under the bottom bunk? Why not grab your PA and shoot the program managers a short mail describing your problem. Remember: the Bunker is a utopia, so you don't have any problems! It's all a matter of perspective, citizen. That's surely what Carlton Smickett would say.
And now for some public service announcements.
Due to a shortage of standard issue paper, all citizens are requested to write using very tiny letters. Also, the quarantine in Y sector has been expanded to departments Y-2, Y-9, Y-10, X-7, and X-17. If you happen to have missing acquaintances or loved ones known to frequent Y sector, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. They are participating in a routine safety drill.
The Color of the Patriot is twinkle.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
October 30, 2014
Today's Edition
Greetings, citizen, and welcome to Today's Edition, the Bunker's most trustworthy source of news and current events!
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
Recently, the Bunker experienced an outbreak of wanton destruction and chaos at the hands of that vile and dangerously illegal Underground association, Acey Distorted. This clandestine band of rabid hooligans was pinpointed as the source of unfounded rumors that a highly contagious flesh-eating bacteria is on the loose in Y sector. Homemade video posted all over X.net purports to show Mawar Rashid, a lint collector at P&L, with half her face eaten off running into a crowd of innocent bystanders as they queued up outside a metro station. Nothing could be further from the truth. All citizens are expected to behave calmly and rationally. Possession or distribution of falsified video feeds is a crime punishable by fine and medication. There is no reason to avoid Y sector or anyone who has been there. Thank you for your cooperation.
In other news, Epsilon-clearance citizen Marsha Wong, a field organizer in the Housing and Construction conglomerate assigned to H-11 sector, unmasked her supervisor, Epsilon-clearance citizen Yorkle Treadmont, for the heinous criminal he really is. In addition to other crimes, citizen Yorkle has been charged with embezzling credits with the malicious intent to divert them to the black market. Together with Hillary Binzer, a forewoman leading one of Marsha's teams, and at great risk to themselves, these two, brave stalwarts of incorruptibility managed to obtain a plastex ring with an embedded microchip containing the credits in question. Before she could inform Homeland Security, however, the ring was discovered in citizen Marsha's possession, and she was arrested. Fortunately, after a brief interrogation citizen Marsha was able to set the record straight. As a reward for her daring and loyalty, citizen Marsha will assume citizen Yorkle's place in middle management. Citizen Hillary will be promoted to Epsilon clearance and move up to field organizer. Let us take a stretch to congratulate both citizens, Marsha and Hillary. Congratulations, citizens Marsha and Hillary. You serve as an example to us all.
And now a word from our sponsors.
Avatar Technologies, a private firm associated with Procurement, is proud to introduce its latest line of personal protection kits. That's right! The body suits you have come to love and trust have just got more airtight and pleasing to the eye! Our specialized gowns, goggles, masks, and gloves fit together seamlessly, providing you with 200% protection from the outside environment. Not that you'll need it. All surfaces in the Bunker are entirely safe and sanitary. Personal protection kits from Avatar Technologies are stocked from oversupply to Procurement. Wearing one is purely a fashion statement. So come on down to a boutique near you and see what we have to offer. Our prices will just eat your face off!
We would now like to draw your attention to the Bunker's emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? Broadcast each daystretch on the tube, it disseminates frank but accessible wisdom from one of our most cherished citizens, the renowned behavioral scientist, Carlton Smickett. This weekstretch we learned some useful eating habits. Exercise before your evening meal, and always pick clean your bowl of fresh, revitalizing Vitamim! We think the words of citizen Carlton himself say it best: “I'm living a happy, fulfilling life, and I think it shows.”
And now for some public service announcements.
Harmin Luckstone's newest hit film, “I Think I Just Vomited In Your Bunghole”, will be released to great fanfare this coming weekstretch everywhere throughout the Bunker. Don't miss citizen Harmin's latest antics! Also, due to a surplus of paperclips, citizens are reminded to fill out all forms on standard issue paper. Electronic submission of most forms on X.net will be disabled until further notice. And don't forget Developmental Engineering will be installing their newest atmospheric safety control system in A sector! Ambient temperatures may temporarily drop by as much as fifty degrees Celsius. Stay calm and rest assured there is nothing to be concerned about. Lastly, due to an infernal buzzing noise somewhere on the electrical grid, a strict quarantine has been put into effect for departments Y-3 through Y-8 and Y-11 through Y-15.
The Color of the Patriot is denim.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
Recently, the Bunker experienced an outbreak of wanton destruction and chaos at the hands of that vile and dangerously illegal Underground association, Acey Distorted. This clandestine band of rabid hooligans was pinpointed as the source of unfounded rumors that a highly contagious flesh-eating bacteria is on the loose in Y sector. Homemade video posted all over X.net purports to show Mawar Rashid, a lint collector at P&L, with half her face eaten off running into a crowd of innocent bystanders as they queued up outside a metro station. Nothing could be further from the truth. All citizens are expected to behave calmly and rationally. Possession or distribution of falsified video feeds is a crime punishable by fine and medication. There is no reason to avoid Y sector or anyone who has been there. Thank you for your cooperation.
In other news, Epsilon-clearance citizen Marsha Wong, a field organizer in the Housing and Construction conglomerate assigned to H-11 sector, unmasked her supervisor, Epsilon-clearance citizen Yorkle Treadmont, for the heinous criminal he really is. In addition to other crimes, citizen Yorkle has been charged with embezzling credits with the malicious intent to divert them to the black market. Together with Hillary Binzer, a forewoman leading one of Marsha's teams, and at great risk to themselves, these two, brave stalwarts of incorruptibility managed to obtain a plastex ring with an embedded microchip containing the credits in question. Before she could inform Homeland Security, however, the ring was discovered in citizen Marsha's possession, and she was arrested. Fortunately, after a brief interrogation citizen Marsha was able to set the record straight. As a reward for her daring and loyalty, citizen Marsha will assume citizen Yorkle's place in middle management. Citizen Hillary will be promoted to Epsilon clearance and move up to field organizer. Let us take a stretch to congratulate both citizens, Marsha and Hillary. Congratulations, citizens Marsha and Hillary. You serve as an example to us all.
And now a word from our sponsors.
Avatar Technologies, a private firm associated with Procurement, is proud to introduce its latest line of personal protection kits. That's right! The body suits you have come to love and trust have just got more airtight and pleasing to the eye! Our specialized gowns, goggles, masks, and gloves fit together seamlessly, providing you with 200% protection from the outside environment. Not that you'll need it. All surfaces in the Bunker are entirely safe and sanitary. Personal protection kits from Avatar Technologies are stocked from oversupply to Procurement. Wearing one is purely a fashion statement. So come on down to a boutique near you and see what we have to offer. Our prices will just eat your face off!
We would now like to draw your attention to the Bunker's emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? Broadcast each daystretch on the tube, it disseminates frank but accessible wisdom from one of our most cherished citizens, the renowned behavioral scientist, Carlton Smickett. This weekstretch we learned some useful eating habits. Exercise before your evening meal, and always pick clean your bowl of fresh, revitalizing Vitamim! We think the words of citizen Carlton himself say it best: “I'm living a happy, fulfilling life, and I think it shows.”
And now for some public service announcements.
Harmin Luckstone's newest hit film, “I Think I Just Vomited In Your Bunghole”, will be released to great fanfare this coming weekstretch everywhere throughout the Bunker. Don't miss citizen Harmin's latest antics! Also, due to a surplus of paperclips, citizens are reminded to fill out all forms on standard issue paper. Electronic submission of most forms on X.net will be disabled until further notice. And don't forget Developmental Engineering will be installing their newest atmospheric safety control system in A sector! Ambient temperatures may temporarily drop by as much as fifty degrees Celsius. Stay calm and rest assured there is nothing to be concerned about. Lastly, due to an infernal buzzing noise somewhere on the electrical grid, a strict quarantine has been put into effect for departments Y-3 through Y-8 and Y-11 through Y-15.
The Color of the Patriot is denim.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
October 23, 2014
Today's Edition
Greetings, citizen, and welcome to Today's Edition, the Bunker's most trustworthy source of news and current events!
And now a word from our sponsors.
Do you suffer from the shame and discomfort that comes with bad credit? Your bunkmates leave unhygienic tissue paper under your pillow. Your table at breakfast is the last to fill up. No one wants to share their NiceCream with you at bedtime. Well, no more! OneBunker (TM) is an officially approved private firm whose core mission is serving misunderstood citizens such as yourself. Our affiliation with Defense is purely a matter of logistics and should not be a cause of concern. At OneBunker (TM), we know you are undeserving of your affliction. Why not pop into your local cybercafe and fill out an online application? OneBunker (TM): It's Never Too Late!
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
Two guardians from Defense were injured in a suspicious explosion in T-9 sector during routine and completely unremarkable training exercises. The incident occurred in a remote section of a warehouse dedicated to our extraterrestrial mining operations. Terrorist activity has not been ruled out. Fortunately, Homeland Security has seized the local surveillance and detained every witness. If you have information relevant to their investigation, please report immediately to your local neighborhood substation for a reward. All citizens are reminded to be on alert.
In other news, Epsilon-clearance citizen Marsha Wong, a field organizer in the Housing and Construction conglomerate assigned to H-11 sector, was arrested by agents from Homeland Security during a spontaneous preventative inspection of her office. Aside from the elevated concentrations of dust and incriminating splotches of discarded Flappantastic under her desk, the most egregious evidence against her was a plastex ring with an embedded microchip containing credits. The source of these illegal credits is currently unknown and will certainly be revealed during questioning. However, there can be no doubt about the intended destination: the black market. Citizen Marsha denies culpability and claims the ring was planted by a forewoman leading one of her teams. Stay tuned for further developments.
We would now like to bring attention to the emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary broadcast each daystretch on the tube, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? Introduced to great fanfare at your regularly scheduled naptime, the ratings and viewer statistics were recently found to be inflated by devious production engineers at Human Resources. The problem has since been rectified, but the boys over at Control feel the general public is missing out on a fantastic opportunity to learn from one of the greatest minds to grace the Bunker with its presence, Carlton Smickett. Until the time of his unfortunate and untimely death at the hands of vile and radical terrorists, he spent his entire career hunched over in the research labs of Developmental Engineering devising whitepapers on human behavior and important codes of conduct. This weekstretch featured on “What Would Carlton Smickett Say?” we'll learn that spreading harmful and factually inaccurate rumors can cause mutilation, death, and loss of private property. All citizens are expected to be familiar with the material covered and able to pass random knowledge inspections.
On a lighter note, we are sure you will be pleased to hear that SkinnFlixx Industries has just released their latest sexcapade featuring virtual encounters with your favorite vidstars, Jallison Kamgee and Van Johnson! That's right! Enjoy uninterrupted and unrestrained sex with your favorite entertainer in a safe and isolated environment of your choosing. Hell, try both at the same time for just a few credits more! Available at a VR deck near you.
And now for some public service announcements.
Due to a shortage of tungsten, corridors in sectors W, U, X, and F will be darkened until further notice. Also, the letter “I” is steadfast in its stance and useful in its articulation. What would we do without the letter “I”? Submit your thoughts on X.net. The first fifty loyal respondents will receive a free eyebrow clipping treatment at their local salon!
The Color of the Patriot is magenta.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
And now a word from our sponsors.
Do you suffer from the shame and discomfort that comes with bad credit? Your bunkmates leave unhygienic tissue paper under your pillow. Your table at breakfast is the last to fill up. No one wants to share their NiceCream with you at bedtime. Well, no more! OneBunker (TM) is an officially approved private firm whose core mission is serving misunderstood citizens such as yourself. Our affiliation with Defense is purely a matter of logistics and should not be a cause of concern. At OneBunker (TM), we know you are undeserving of your affliction. Why not pop into your local cybercafe and fill out an online application? OneBunker (TM): It's Never Too Late!
And now our top stories this weekstretch.
Two guardians from Defense were injured in a suspicious explosion in T-9 sector during routine and completely unremarkable training exercises. The incident occurred in a remote section of a warehouse dedicated to our extraterrestrial mining operations. Terrorist activity has not been ruled out. Fortunately, Homeland Security has seized the local surveillance and detained every witness. If you have information relevant to their investigation, please report immediately to your local neighborhood substation for a reward. All citizens are reminded to be on alert.
In other news, Epsilon-clearance citizen Marsha Wong, a field organizer in the Housing and Construction conglomerate assigned to H-11 sector, was arrested by agents from Homeland Security during a spontaneous preventative inspection of her office. Aside from the elevated concentrations of dust and incriminating splotches of discarded Flappantastic under her desk, the most egregious evidence against her was a plastex ring with an embedded microchip containing credits. The source of these illegal credits is currently unknown and will certainly be revealed during questioning. However, there can be no doubt about the intended destination: the black market. Citizen Marsha denies culpability and claims the ring was planted by a forewoman leading one of her teams. Stay tuned for further developments.
We would now like to bring attention to the emotionally powerful and riveting public service documentary broadcast each daystretch on the tube, “What Would Carlton Smickett Say”? Introduced to great fanfare at your regularly scheduled naptime, the ratings and viewer statistics were recently found to be inflated by devious production engineers at Human Resources. The problem has since been rectified, but the boys over at Control feel the general public is missing out on a fantastic opportunity to learn from one of the greatest minds to grace the Bunker with its presence, Carlton Smickett. Until the time of his unfortunate and untimely death at the hands of vile and radical terrorists, he spent his entire career hunched over in the research labs of Developmental Engineering devising whitepapers on human behavior and important codes of conduct. This weekstretch featured on “What Would Carlton Smickett Say?” we'll learn that spreading harmful and factually inaccurate rumors can cause mutilation, death, and loss of private property. All citizens are expected to be familiar with the material covered and able to pass random knowledge inspections.
On a lighter note, we are sure you will be pleased to hear that SkinnFlixx Industries has just released their latest sexcapade featuring virtual encounters with your favorite vidstars, Jallison Kamgee and Van Johnson! That's right! Enjoy uninterrupted and unrestrained sex with your favorite entertainer in a safe and isolated environment of your choosing. Hell, try both at the same time for just a few credits more! Available at a VR deck near you.
And now for some public service announcements.
Due to a shortage of tungsten, corridors in sectors W, U, X, and F will be darkened until further notice. Also, the letter “I” is steadfast in its stance and useful in its articulation. What would we do without the letter “I”? Submit your thoughts on X.net. The first fifty loyal respondents will receive a free eyebrow clipping treatment at their local salon!
The Color of the Patriot is magenta.
Thank you for your time and attention, citizen. Remember, today is the same as any other! Greetings, and until next weekstretch.
---------------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
October 16, 2014
Today's Edition
Greetings, citizen, and welcome to Today's Edition, the Bunker's most trustworthy source of news and current events!
Why Today's Edition, you ask? The latest and greatest innovation from information managers over at Human Resources, Today's Edition is a popular and trendy weekly eZine that is automatically delivered to your PA even as it sits idly in your pocket. Reading Today's Edition is safe and fun, not to mention entirely free! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, you won't spend a credit on this new and exciting service no matter how often you use it.
What did you say? You get all the information you need from the Loyalty Stretch on the tube? We couldn't agree more! Unfortunately, as a trustworthy citizen of the Bunker, you are constantly on the go. Whether it's running breathlessly to your community dining hall for breakfast or sweating through a mountain of paperwork that needs to be stamped and filed before your supervisor returns, your time is extremely valuable.
So many important events can happen in any twenty-four hourstretch cycle. How could you possibly keep track of the most important?
Today's Edition is the simple yet elegant solution to that small but pressing inconvenience! Never again will you forget about that spontaneous Caring Demonstration being held just up the corridor from your barracks or the fact that the terrorism alert level was lowered to Inevitable. We at Today's Edition will decide which are the most important among last weekstretch's many happenings and deliver them to you in a single, easy-to-read digest.
You have opted in to participate automatically. In the event that you wish to remove yourself from this exciting, loyal and entirely mandatory activity, you may do so by tapping here. Please let us know the reason for your intransigence and whether you would like to be picked up by Homeland Security at their convenience or turn yourself in at your local substation.
Here at Human Resources, we understand that there is absolutely nothing we could possibly do to improve your life in any meaningful way. The Bunker is a utopia, and as such life here is perfectly organized. Everyone is happy, and the boys over at Control ensure that our environmental footprint is nil. Reading Today's Edition should therefore be viewed as a courtesy which can be withdrawn at any time.
We appreciate the time you have taken to browse this brief introduction to Today's Edition. Please do not mind the feeling of paralysis that is currently running through your hands and into your arms. It will subside as soon as the collage of interesting and informative images provided by our sponsors has been beamed to your pupils. Rest assured that this process is entirely safe and pleasurable. Rumors that there are side effects such as dizziness, shivering, sweating, vomiting, difficulty with swallowing, puffiness or swelling of the eyelids, loss of bladder control, or unusual bleeding or bruising are the result of terrorist activity and should not be repeated.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Finally, we would like to leave you with our witty and entirely inoffensive tagline, Today is the same as any other! Isn't it entirely appropriate and fantastic?
Greetings, and until next weekstretch, citizen!
---------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
Why Today's Edition, you ask? The latest and greatest innovation from information managers over at Human Resources, Today's Edition is a popular and trendy weekly eZine that is automatically delivered to your PA even as it sits idly in your pocket. Reading Today's Edition is safe and fun, not to mention entirely free! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, you won't spend a credit on this new and exciting service no matter how often you use it.
What did you say? You get all the information you need from the Loyalty Stretch on the tube? We couldn't agree more! Unfortunately, as a trustworthy citizen of the Bunker, you are constantly on the go. Whether it's running breathlessly to your community dining hall for breakfast or sweating through a mountain of paperwork that needs to be stamped and filed before your supervisor returns, your time is extremely valuable.
So many important events can happen in any twenty-four hourstretch cycle. How could you possibly keep track of the most important?
Today's Edition is the simple yet elegant solution to that small but pressing inconvenience! Never again will you forget about that spontaneous Caring Demonstration being held just up the corridor from your barracks or the fact that the terrorism alert level was lowered to Inevitable. We at Today's Edition will decide which are the most important among last weekstretch's many happenings and deliver them to you in a single, easy-to-read digest.
You have opted in to participate automatically. In the event that you wish to remove yourself from this exciting, loyal and entirely mandatory activity, you may do so by tapping here. Please let us know the reason for your intransigence and whether you would like to be picked up by Homeland Security at their convenience or turn yourself in at your local substation.
Here at Human Resources, we understand that there is absolutely nothing we could possibly do to improve your life in any meaningful way. The Bunker is a utopia, and as such life here is perfectly organized. Everyone is happy, and the boys over at Control ensure that our environmental footprint is nil. Reading Today's Edition should therefore be viewed as a courtesy which can be withdrawn at any time.
We appreciate the time you have taken to browse this brief introduction to Today's Edition. Please do not mind the feeling of paralysis that is currently running through your hands and into your arms. It will subside as soon as the collage of interesting and informative images provided by our sponsors has been beamed to your pupils. Rest assured that this process is entirely safe and pleasurable. Rumors that there are side effects such as dizziness, shivering, sweating, vomiting, difficulty with swallowing, puffiness or swelling of the eyelids, loss of bladder control, or unusual bleeding or bruising are the result of terrorist activity and should not be repeated.
Thank you for your cooperation.
Finally, we would like to leave you with our witty and entirely inoffensive tagline, Today is the same as any other! Isn't it entirely appropriate and fantastic?
Greetings, and until next weekstretch, citizen!
---------------
Interested readers can find out more about the Bunker in my sci-fi adventure novels, Thank You For Your Cooperation and Your Call Is Important To Us.
June 9, 2014
Barney Max, Your Average Middle-Class Superhero
It took a little more than one and a half years, but now I can proudly state, the birth of Barney Max is a fact. He's out there. And you can read about him in my new sci-fi adventure novel, Your Call Is Important To Us. Over the next few days, the Kindle price will be $0.99.
Personally, I like Barney Max. When I was working on the novel, I wanted you to like him, too. He's naive and somewhat passive-aggressive, but those are faults many of us share. He's also prone to dangerous bouts of optimism - which is what carries him so far as he wrestles with a strange and entirely unwelcome predicament.
Until a few days ago, Barney Max was entirely mine. Now he is out there in the world, and other people will experience what happens to him - and how he chooses to react - in their own way.
Because that's how the writer/reader relationship works. Readers don't need to hear from the writer what he or she intended. It doesn't matter. You - the reader - will have a unique relationship with the story as well as its characters. No one's presumptions or dictates - not even the author's - can (or should) interfere. To presume otherwise cheapens the value of the inspiration that touched the author in the first place.
I feel like I'm standing in the doorway and watching a child's back as he leaves the house with all his belongings to strike out on his own. I am no longer in control. He's a big boy now, and he's got to make his own choices.
Still, I'm proud of him. I'm sure he's going to meet some interesting people. As for my own gentle wistfulness, I know the ache will eventually give way to a new beginning, and the hand of inspiration will touch off a new and equally wonderful orgy of creative activity.
Goodbye, Barney Max! Enjoy your time in the world. It was a pleasure getting to know you.
Personally, I like Barney Max. When I was working on the novel, I wanted you to like him, too. He's naive and somewhat passive-aggressive, but those are faults many of us share. He's also prone to dangerous bouts of optimism - which is what carries him so far as he wrestles with a strange and entirely unwelcome predicament.
Until a few days ago, Barney Max was entirely mine. Now he is out there in the world, and other people will experience what happens to him - and how he chooses to react - in their own way.
Because that's how the writer/reader relationship works. Readers don't need to hear from the writer what he or she intended. It doesn't matter. You - the reader - will have a unique relationship with the story as well as its characters. No one's presumptions or dictates - not even the author's - can (or should) interfere. To presume otherwise cheapens the value of the inspiration that touched the author in the first place.
I feel like I'm standing in the doorway and watching a child's back as he leaves the house with all his belongings to strike out on his own. I am no longer in control. He's a big boy now, and he's got to make his own choices.
Still, I'm proud of him. I'm sure he's going to meet some interesting people. As for my own gentle wistfulness, I know the ache will eventually give way to a new beginning, and the hand of inspiration will touch off a new and equally wonderful orgy of creative activity.
Goodbye, Barney Max! Enjoy your time in the world. It was a pleasure getting to know you.
February 5, 2014
Your Call Is Important To Us! (Excerpt)
Work on the sequel to Thank You For Your Cooperation is proceeding nicely. I hope to publish it in the late spring. In the meantime, I thought I'd share this little blurb with you...
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Felix spun in his gyrostool and settled in before one of its many screens. This one depicted a spacious, tastefully decorated living room, clearly the residence of a high-clearance citizen. Frilly, light blue curtains covered the windows. A long, plush couch and two immaculate recliners had been arranged around a low coffee table. On the wall to the left, a rectangular patch indicated where the hallucinograph had hung.
Just a few minutestretches before, the room had been occupied by three persons: Rich Anweir, his wife, and a middle aged man whose identity was entirely unimportant. They had been chatting amiably away. Now it was empty. A plate with several half-eaten pastries and three cups of congealing coffee were all that remained.
A few taps on his keyboard brought another room into view. This was the bedroom, and – unlike the living room – it was occupied.
On the large, canopied bed were Rich Anweir's wife and the third man. She had been blindfolded and her hands bound securely behind her back. Her head was being pressed roughly into a mound of pillows, and the third man – still dressed in his boots and spantex suit – was taking her forcefully from behind.
Standing near the foot of the bed, butt-naked except for a spiked collar around his neck, stood Rich Anweir. He was holding his PA out in front, hungrily recording all the action. A leash was attached to the collar, but at the moment no one was holding it.
Felix cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone. “Good afternoon, citizen Rich Anweir. This is citizen Felix Tubman speaking. I am the Head of Homeland Security.”
The three citizens on screen froze.
“I have a few questions to ask you. Do you have a stretch?”
Rich Anweir glanced up at the security camera. “Can't we do this another time?”
“I'm afraid not.”
Rich Anweir blew out a frustrated sigh. “Let me guess. Barney Max.”
“THAT IS CORRECT CITIZEN RICH ANWEIR. HOW DID YOU KNOW?”
At the sound of Control's voice, Rich Anweir stiffened. The man on the bed quickly disentangled himself from his wife.
“Is that Control?” barked the woman from the pile of pillows. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Rich Anweir reached for his clothes. “No, Doris. Don't worry about it.”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not catching!” she called after him as he headed for the door.
“I said don't worry about it, dear.”
“Lawrence? Are you still here? Get these things off me!”
Felix tapped the keyboard. The living room came into view. Rich Anweir was putting his clothes on.
Felix spoke into the microphone. “I appreciate your flexibility. This will only take a moment.”
Rich grunted something incomprehensible as he removed his spiked collar and tossed it cavalierly onto the coffee table. It landed on the pastry tray.
“YOU HAVEN'T ANSWERED MY QUESTION CITIZEN.”
Rich took a seat on the couch, spread his arms across the back, and looked earnestly into the camera. “What else could it be, Control? I was waiting for this interview. It's not often you have one of the most notorious traitors the Bunker has ever seen walk across your place of business. And to think, he was there for – what? Five yearstretches? Six?” He shrugged. “I should have been more discerning. There's no excuse.”
----------------------
Felix spun in his gyrostool and settled in before one of its many screens. This one depicted a spacious, tastefully decorated living room, clearly the residence of a high-clearance citizen. Frilly, light blue curtains covered the windows. A long, plush couch and two immaculate recliners had been arranged around a low coffee table. On the wall to the left, a rectangular patch indicated where the hallucinograph had hung.
Just a few minutestretches before, the room had been occupied by three persons: Rich Anweir, his wife, and a middle aged man whose identity was entirely unimportant. They had been chatting amiably away. Now it was empty. A plate with several half-eaten pastries and three cups of congealing coffee were all that remained.
A few taps on his keyboard brought another room into view. This was the bedroom, and – unlike the living room – it was occupied.
On the large, canopied bed were Rich Anweir's wife and the third man. She had been blindfolded and her hands bound securely behind her back. Her head was being pressed roughly into a mound of pillows, and the third man – still dressed in his boots and spantex suit – was taking her forcefully from behind.
Standing near the foot of the bed, butt-naked except for a spiked collar around his neck, stood Rich Anweir. He was holding his PA out in front, hungrily recording all the action. A leash was attached to the collar, but at the moment no one was holding it.
Felix cleared his throat and spoke into the microphone. “Good afternoon, citizen Rich Anweir. This is citizen Felix Tubman speaking. I am the Head of Homeland Security.”
The three citizens on screen froze.
“I have a few questions to ask you. Do you have a stretch?”
Rich Anweir glanced up at the security camera. “Can't we do this another time?”
“I'm afraid not.”
Rich Anweir blew out a frustrated sigh. “Let me guess. Barney Max.”
“THAT IS CORRECT CITIZEN RICH ANWEIR. HOW DID YOU KNOW?”
At the sound of Control's voice, Rich Anweir stiffened. The man on the bed quickly disentangled himself from his wife.
“Is that Control?” barked the woman from the pile of pillows. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
Rich Anweir reached for his clothes. “No, Doris. Don't worry about it.”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope it's not catching!” she called after him as he headed for the door.
“I said don't worry about it, dear.”
“Lawrence? Are you still here? Get these things off me!”
Felix tapped the keyboard. The living room came into view. Rich Anweir was putting his clothes on.
Felix spoke into the microphone. “I appreciate your flexibility. This will only take a moment.”
Rich grunted something incomprehensible as he removed his spiked collar and tossed it cavalierly onto the coffee table. It landed on the pastry tray.
“YOU HAVEN'T ANSWERED MY QUESTION CITIZEN.”
Rich took a seat on the couch, spread his arms across the back, and looked earnestly into the camera. “What else could it be, Control? I was waiting for this interview. It's not often you have one of the most notorious traitors the Bunker has ever seen walk across your place of business. And to think, he was there for – what? Five yearstretches? Six?” He shrugged. “I should have been more discerning. There's no excuse.”
September 25, 2013
On The Way To The Office This Morning...
When my boss, George Alejandro, came in to work this morning, he couldn't stop laughing. We found him a chair. Someone pushed a cup of water in his hands. Eventually, he calmed down.
"I had to stop by my cousin Yoselin's this morning. She left her sweater at my house. We had her over for dinner."
That's as far as he got. He seemed to want to say more, but his face bunched up. Instead of words, there was laughter. He slid from the chair. The water spilled.
We looked at each other quizzically. Which of us had ever met his cousin, Yoselin? Was there something wrong with her? Did she have a poor taste in sweaters?
Eventually, though, we got it out of him. My boss, George Alejandro, could only tell the story in stages. Each time he was able to get a little further before the laughter struck again, and - like a fish that had leaped from his tank - he flopped around on the floor at our feet.
* * * * * * * *
George Alejandro really had to go to the bathroom. And not the kind he could do standing up. The sudden and irresistible urge came as he was grabbing the door handle to his 2006 Ford Fusion. It was parked outside his cousin Yoselin's house in the suburbs.
Cousin Yoselin wasn't home.
He looked quickly left and right. The sun was shining brightly in a blue sky, bathing the colorful houses lining the street on either side in a rich, healthy light. His eye fell on the one across the street. It was small with a well cared-for front lawn. There were flowers. He seemed to recall an elderly couple lived there. Surely, they would be home!
He rushed across the street and scuttled towards the front door, being careful to stay on the cement walkway. Urgently, he pressed the doorbell. After a moment (were they hard of hearing?) he banged a few times on the door for good measure.
The waiting seemed endless. The only thought on his mind was how he was going to relieve himself of a few kilos of extra, unwanted weight.
Eventually, the door opened. A vaguely familiar, elderly woman peered out at him. Somewhere in the background he could hear a TV. "Yes?"
Quickly, he explained his dilemma.
"I'm sorry," replied the woman and began to close the door. "We have no water."
"Wait!" George Alejandro knew this woman's toilet was his only chance of preserving his dignity. Water or no water.
"The water's out," the woman repeated. "We thought you were from the water company."
"Do you have a bag?"
"Bag? Why do you want a -" Realization dawned on the woman's face. "Oh."
George Alejandro pleaded with her. Fortunately, the woman was kindly and took pity on him. She opened the door.
Inside it was dim and difficult to see. The windows had all been covered. The hallway and the room immediately off to his left were filled with dusty photos and various bits of junk - decorations in ceramic, vases, trinkets from a lifetime of accumulated vacations.
The TV blared through the open doorway. "- Banditry and other criminality. Purse snatchers in particular are a problem on the city streets -"
These details were, of course, lost to George Alejandro at the time. He only remembered them later. There was only one thing on his mind, and he needed to do it very badly.
The old woman brought him a garbage bag and showed him to the bathroom.
George Alejandro spread the bag over the toilet seat, made room for its eventual contents, and - there is nothing so pleasant as the sudden absence of pain! - relieved himself.
That was better.
A polite but firm knock came at the door.
"Yes?" George Alejandro asked as he was carefully tying the third knot in the top of the garbage bag. It was surprisingly heavy.
"My husband wanted me to remind you not to leave anything behind," the elderly woman told him. "Take out everything you brought in with you."
George Alejandro spent a few more minutes at his work. He did not want any unwholesome smells to emerge, especially if he'd be carrying the bag and its contents in his car.
He thanked the woman and her husband (whom he never saw). When he offered his hand, she did not take it, but he was not offended. George Alejandro was a very contented person. At that moment, it would have taken a lot to upset him.
Outside again, he crossed the street and headed to his car. As he approached, he thought about where he would put the bag. On the floor or the seat? Front or back? What about the trunk?
Definitely not the trunk. What if there was a hole?
The thought pierced his bubble of contentedness. Standing in the middle of the street, he held the bag up and carefully inspected it with his eyes. It was tied up very well! There were no holes. He was surprised (and mildly shocked) at how full it looked.
Somewhere up the street, a neighbor started a motorcycle. It was the only noise in this otherwise wonderful, peaceful morning.
On the floor in front of the passenger seat, he finally decided as reached his car door. But where would he dispose of it?
Holding the bag as far away from the car as he could (Why? He was about to put it inside, wasn't he?) he reached with the other into his pocket and pulled out his keys.
Something large, black and incredibly noisy rushed by. A rush of air overcame him.
The hand holding the bag was empty.
He turned and looked down the street. A man on a motorbike was speeding away. He was going so hopelessly fast it would have been impossible to catch him, even if George Alejandro had opened the car door as quickly as he could manage and started after him.
The last thing George Alejandro saw of the bandit and his motorcycle as they crested the little hill up ahead and sped over it was the garbage bag, very securely tied with no holes, triumphantly held in the robber's grip.
"I had to stop by my cousin Yoselin's this morning. She left her sweater at my house. We had her over for dinner."
That's as far as he got. He seemed to want to say more, but his face bunched up. Instead of words, there was laughter. He slid from the chair. The water spilled.
We looked at each other quizzically. Which of us had ever met his cousin, Yoselin? Was there something wrong with her? Did she have a poor taste in sweaters?
Eventually, though, we got it out of him. My boss, George Alejandro, could only tell the story in stages. Each time he was able to get a little further before the laughter struck again, and - like a fish that had leaped from his tank - he flopped around on the floor at our feet.
* * * * * * * *
George Alejandro really had to go to the bathroom. And not the kind he could do standing up. The sudden and irresistible urge came as he was grabbing the door handle to his 2006 Ford Fusion. It was parked outside his cousin Yoselin's house in the suburbs.
Cousin Yoselin wasn't home.
He looked quickly left and right. The sun was shining brightly in a blue sky, bathing the colorful houses lining the street on either side in a rich, healthy light. His eye fell on the one across the street. It was small with a well cared-for front lawn. There were flowers. He seemed to recall an elderly couple lived there. Surely, they would be home!
He rushed across the street and scuttled towards the front door, being careful to stay on the cement walkway. Urgently, he pressed the doorbell. After a moment (were they hard of hearing?) he banged a few times on the door for good measure.
The waiting seemed endless. The only thought on his mind was how he was going to relieve himself of a few kilos of extra, unwanted weight.
Eventually, the door opened. A vaguely familiar, elderly woman peered out at him. Somewhere in the background he could hear a TV. "Yes?"
Quickly, he explained his dilemma.
"I'm sorry," replied the woman and began to close the door. "We have no water."
"Wait!" George Alejandro knew this woman's toilet was his only chance of preserving his dignity. Water or no water.
"The water's out," the woman repeated. "We thought you were from the water company."
"Do you have a bag?"
"Bag? Why do you want a -" Realization dawned on the woman's face. "Oh."
George Alejandro pleaded with her. Fortunately, the woman was kindly and took pity on him. She opened the door.
Inside it was dim and difficult to see. The windows had all been covered. The hallway and the room immediately off to his left were filled with dusty photos and various bits of junk - decorations in ceramic, vases, trinkets from a lifetime of accumulated vacations.
The TV blared through the open doorway. "- Banditry and other criminality. Purse snatchers in particular are a problem on the city streets -"
These details were, of course, lost to George Alejandro at the time. He only remembered them later. There was only one thing on his mind, and he needed to do it very badly.
The old woman brought him a garbage bag and showed him to the bathroom.
George Alejandro spread the bag over the toilet seat, made room for its eventual contents, and - there is nothing so pleasant as the sudden absence of pain! - relieved himself.
That was better.
A polite but firm knock came at the door.
"Yes?" George Alejandro asked as he was carefully tying the third knot in the top of the garbage bag. It was surprisingly heavy.
"My husband wanted me to remind you not to leave anything behind," the elderly woman told him. "Take out everything you brought in with you."
George Alejandro spent a few more minutes at his work. He did not want any unwholesome smells to emerge, especially if he'd be carrying the bag and its contents in his car.
He thanked the woman and her husband (whom he never saw). When he offered his hand, she did not take it, but he was not offended. George Alejandro was a very contented person. At that moment, it would have taken a lot to upset him.
Outside again, he crossed the street and headed to his car. As he approached, he thought about where he would put the bag. On the floor or the seat? Front or back? What about the trunk?
Definitely not the trunk. What if there was a hole?
The thought pierced his bubble of contentedness. Standing in the middle of the street, he held the bag up and carefully inspected it with his eyes. It was tied up very well! There were no holes. He was surprised (and mildly shocked) at how full it looked.
Somewhere up the street, a neighbor started a motorcycle. It was the only noise in this otherwise wonderful, peaceful morning.
On the floor in front of the passenger seat, he finally decided as reached his car door. But where would he dispose of it?
Holding the bag as far away from the car as he could (Why? He was about to put it inside, wasn't he?) he reached with the other into his pocket and pulled out his keys.
Something large, black and incredibly noisy rushed by. A rush of air overcame him.
The hand holding the bag was empty.
He turned and looked down the street. A man on a motorbike was speeding away. He was going so hopelessly fast it would have been impossible to catch him, even if George Alejandro had opened the car door as quickly as he could manage and started after him.
The last thing George Alejandro saw of the bandit and his motorcycle as they crested the little hill up ahead and sped over it was the garbage bag, very securely tied with no holes, triumphantly held in the robber's grip.
September 13, 2013
Ahhhh... How Nice To Be Back In The BUNKER!
Wow, the summer went by really fast... It's been great connecting with readers and swimming the beaches of southern RI.
But now it's time to get back to work on my sequel to "Thank You For Your Cooperation"! A dark comedy similar to its predecessor, the characters and situation are (for the most part) completely different. Of course, no matter where you are in the Bunker, circumstance (and most definitely not your inept scheming for revenge on your boss) is likely to land you in a restraining device. And the questions our friends over at Homeland Security are asking might make you think you've just become the fall guy for somebody else's treason...
Nope, it's not so different after all on Venus. But not to worry! "Your Call Is Important To Us".
But now it's time to get back to work on my sequel to "Thank You For Your Cooperation"! A dark comedy similar to its predecessor, the characters and situation are (for the most part) completely different. Of course, no matter where you are in the Bunker, circumstance (and most definitely not your inept scheming for revenge on your boss) is likely to land you in a restraining device. And the questions our friends over at Homeland Security are asking might make you think you've just become the fall guy for somebody else's treason...
Nope, it's not so different after all on Venus. But not to worry! "Your Call Is Important To Us".
May 23, 2013
Excerpt: Down to the Uncker!
Here's another little tidbit from my upcoming book, Your Call Is Important To Us. This is a sequel to my last black comedy, Thank You For Your Cooperation
-------------
A panel hidden in the floor under the poster of Delsin Thorch quivered, shifted, and slid aside. In the gaping hole that was revealed, a narrow and flimsy looking ladder plunged into the darkness.
“We're waiting for you at the bottom of the manhole,” Raven told him.
Barney was shocked and appalled, as any upstanding citizen in the presence of Delsin Thorch would be. “You want me to go in there?”
“Yes. And get a move on. It's a long way down.”
Barney glanced at Chops. “What about my helpbot?”
“Leave it.”
Barney hesitated. He had paid a lot of credits for Chops.
“Bots aren't welcome down here.”
From behind them back in the direction of the plaza they heard shouts. It was only a matter of minutestretches before they would be seen.
“I can't just leave him,” Barney protested.
“Why?”
Barney wasn't sure. It was more than the money. “I just can't.”
“It's not equipped to make it down the manhole.”
“Not true!” Chops announced and immediately exchanged the drillbits at the ends of his manipulators for magnetic grapplers that were perfectly capable of executing a controlled slide down the ladder. “You can ride with me, sir!”
The Com-fy Handle emitted a short but frustrated sigh. “There's no time to argue! But it's coming at its own risk, Barney. Don't say I didn't tell you.”
Chops rolled over to the manhole and firmly grasped both sides of the ladder. “Come on, boss! Climb on!”
Grudgingly, Barney obeyed. “Descend at a reasonable pace,” he instructed as he took Chops' head between his legs. “I'll let you know when I'm read –”
Chops released the magnetic stoppers.
The ceiling dropped suddenly and frighteningly away. The light dimmed and then when out as the manhole cover slid back into place.
Barney's screaming trailed them distantly as they plummeted towards whatever awaited them far, far below.
-------------
A panel hidden in the floor under the poster of Delsin Thorch quivered, shifted, and slid aside. In the gaping hole that was revealed, a narrow and flimsy looking ladder plunged into the darkness.
“We're waiting for you at the bottom of the manhole,” Raven told him.
Barney was shocked and appalled, as any upstanding citizen in the presence of Delsin Thorch would be. “You want me to go in there?”
“Yes. And get a move on. It's a long way down.”
Barney glanced at Chops. “What about my helpbot?”
“Leave it.”
Barney hesitated. He had paid a lot of credits for Chops.
“Bots aren't welcome down here.”
From behind them back in the direction of the plaza they heard shouts. It was only a matter of minutestretches before they would be seen.
“I can't just leave him,” Barney protested.
“Why?”
Barney wasn't sure. It was more than the money. “I just can't.”
“It's not equipped to make it down the manhole.”
“Not true!” Chops announced and immediately exchanged the drillbits at the ends of his manipulators for magnetic grapplers that were perfectly capable of executing a controlled slide down the ladder. “You can ride with me, sir!”
The Com-fy Handle emitted a short but frustrated sigh. “There's no time to argue! But it's coming at its own risk, Barney. Don't say I didn't tell you.”
Chops rolled over to the manhole and firmly grasped both sides of the ladder. “Come on, boss! Climb on!”
Grudgingly, Barney obeyed. “Descend at a reasonable pace,” he instructed as he took Chops' head between his legs. “I'll let you know when I'm read –”
Chops released the magnetic stoppers.
The ceiling dropped suddenly and frighteningly away. The light dimmed and then when out as the manhole cover slid back into place.
Barney's screaming trailed them distantly as they plummeted towards whatever awaited them far, far below.
January 16, 2013
Excerpt: First passages from Your Call Is Important To Us
Hi all,
I'm working on a sequel to my last novel, a dystopian, sci-fi black comedy called Thank You For Your Cooperation.
This installment is called Your Call Is Important To Us. Although still being written, I thought I'd share the very beginning with you.
Enjoy!
-------------------
“Hello?”
“Yes. What?”
A short but excruciating silence. “I was given this number by a colleague.”
Somewhere out in the vast but tangled web of transistors, processor cores, and fiber optic cable spanning the Bunker, he sensed the cold but immediate decision to cut the line.
“No, wait! Don't hang up. I –”
“Of course you are. Everyone is who resorts to the hotline. But it doesn't matter. Not to me, anyway.”
“I – I think there's been some kind of mistake.”
“Of course there was.”
The silence at the other end of the line grew suspicious. “Is this really someone from Red Tape Consulting? Or are you an imposter phishing for treason?”
The answer was swift and determined. “Sir, if you have committed any treason, there is no dissimulation that could possibly save you. There's certainly nothing I can do.”
Undaunted, he repeated the question.
“I don't know. Did your colleague say so?”
“It's right here in the pamphlet she gave me. It says you're able to solve routine, administrative errors in the blink of an eye.”
“Yes, that's us! Red Hoop Consulting.”
“Tape.”
“What?”
“Red Tape Consulting.”
When the voice from Red Tape Consulting spoke next, it had taken on just the slightest hint of steel. “Sir, I'm a very busy cybot. If you continue to waste my time, I'll have to add you to the reject list.”
“No!” Palpable waves of panic lashed at her empathic processors. “I'll get right to the point.”
“I'm sure you will.” The the voice continued as if discussing the latest flavor of Flappantastic. “Before we proceed, I am obliged to point out that I can't be of service until you have proven you're willing to help yourself.”
He frowned, unsure how to proceed. “But that's why I'm calling.”
If a bot could have emitted a sigh of frustration, it surely would have done so now. “Sir, I fail to see how my inflection or choice of words could lead to any confusion. Shall I break down the structure of the sentence and explain its syntax?”
He was used to bots, though. Their brains may not have been equipped to understand frustration, but there were plenty of cycles dedicated to the fine art of sarcasm. “Yes, yes! I'll do whatever it takes. It's just – You're not – How can I explain?”
“Sir, you dialed this number. Surely, you must know the reason.”
“It's an embarrassing situation. A real boehner actually.” He chuckled uncomfortably.
“Rest assured, citizen Barney Max. This call is completely anonymous! Feel free to tell me anything.”
In the silence that followed, he thought he could hear the muffled breathing of the poor sod on duty at his neighborhood Homeland Security substation. Swallowing thickly, he clenched his teeth and spoke the words for the first time. “I'm on the List.”
A chill ran up his spine.
“Excuse me? Sir, you're speaking too quickly.”
Aggravated, he repeated himself.
“List? What list?”
“The List!”
The bot from Red Tape Consulting seemed taken aback. “Surely not that List. I mean, it would say so in your profile.”
“Really?” Barney Max was pleased and taken aback at the same time, as difficult as it may sound. “That's wonderful news! Because the guardian at the Richard M. Nixon spaceport G sector –”
The hope that had germinated in the recesses of his heart, however, was short-lived. It was tragically cut down by the terrified shriek from the bot at the other end of the line.
“George Walker! You really are on the List!”
“Number nine hundred and ninety-nine?” Barney squeaked, crestfallen.
But the problem solver from Red Tape Consulting had already hung up. Even bots were afraid of having any association whatsoever with a vile and dangerous criminal of the likes of Barney Max.
There are many social deviants in the Bunker, but only a thousand at any one time are honored with a place in the List. And even if he had only weighed in at number nine hundred and ninety-nine, it was a distinction Barney Max was desperate to rid himself of. After all, no one ever remained on the List for very long, and as far as he knew, none of them had ever been rehabilitated.
Apparently, the line hadn't been cut completely. A calm, mechanical voice spoke to him suddenly out of the silence at the other end of his PA.
“This call has been recorded for quality assurance. Anything you said can and will be used against you. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Click.
I'm working on a sequel to my last novel, a dystopian, sci-fi black comedy called Thank You For Your Cooperation.
This installment is called Your Call Is Important To Us. Although still being written, I thought I'd share the very beginning with you.
Enjoy!
-------------------
“Hello?”
“Yes. What?”
A short but excruciating silence. “I was given this number by a colleague.”
Somewhere out in the vast but tangled web of transistors, processor cores, and fiber optic cable spanning the Bunker, he sensed the cold but immediate decision to cut the line.
“No, wait! Don't hang up. I –”
“Of course you are. Everyone is who resorts to the hotline. But it doesn't matter. Not to me, anyway.”
“I – I think there's been some kind of mistake.”
“Of course there was.”
The silence at the other end of the line grew suspicious. “Is this really someone from Red Tape Consulting? Or are you an imposter phishing for treason?”
The answer was swift and determined. “Sir, if you have committed any treason, there is no dissimulation that could possibly save you. There's certainly nothing I can do.”
Undaunted, he repeated the question.
“I don't know. Did your colleague say so?”
“It's right here in the pamphlet she gave me. It says you're able to solve routine, administrative errors in the blink of an eye.”
“Yes, that's us! Red Hoop Consulting.”
“Tape.”
“What?”
“Red Tape Consulting.”
When the voice from Red Tape Consulting spoke next, it had taken on just the slightest hint of steel. “Sir, I'm a very busy cybot. If you continue to waste my time, I'll have to add you to the reject list.”
“No!” Palpable waves of panic lashed at her empathic processors. “I'll get right to the point.”
“I'm sure you will.” The the voice continued as if discussing the latest flavor of Flappantastic. “Before we proceed, I am obliged to point out that I can't be of service until you have proven you're willing to help yourself.”
He frowned, unsure how to proceed. “But that's why I'm calling.”
If a bot could have emitted a sigh of frustration, it surely would have done so now. “Sir, I fail to see how my inflection or choice of words could lead to any confusion. Shall I break down the structure of the sentence and explain its syntax?”
He was used to bots, though. Their brains may not have been equipped to understand frustration, but there were plenty of cycles dedicated to the fine art of sarcasm. “Yes, yes! I'll do whatever it takes. It's just – You're not – How can I explain?”
“Sir, you dialed this number. Surely, you must know the reason.”
“It's an embarrassing situation. A real boehner actually.” He chuckled uncomfortably.
“Rest assured, citizen Barney Max. This call is completely anonymous! Feel free to tell me anything.”
In the silence that followed, he thought he could hear the muffled breathing of the poor sod on duty at his neighborhood Homeland Security substation. Swallowing thickly, he clenched his teeth and spoke the words for the first time. “I'm on the List.”
A chill ran up his spine.
“Excuse me? Sir, you're speaking too quickly.”
Aggravated, he repeated himself.
“List? What list?”
“The List!”
The bot from Red Tape Consulting seemed taken aback. “Surely not that List. I mean, it would say so in your profile.”
“Really?” Barney Max was pleased and taken aback at the same time, as difficult as it may sound. “That's wonderful news! Because the guardian at the Richard M. Nixon spaceport G sector –”
The hope that had germinated in the recesses of his heart, however, was short-lived. It was tragically cut down by the terrified shriek from the bot at the other end of the line.
“George Walker! You really are on the List!”
“Number nine hundred and ninety-nine?” Barney squeaked, crestfallen.
But the problem solver from Red Tape Consulting had already hung up. Even bots were afraid of having any association whatsoever with a vile and dangerous criminal of the likes of Barney Max.
There are many social deviants in the Bunker, but only a thousand at any one time are honored with a place in the List. And even if he had only weighed in at number nine hundred and ninety-nine, it was a distinction Barney Max was desperate to rid himself of. After all, no one ever remained on the List for very long, and as far as he knew, none of them had ever been rehabilitated.
Apparently, the line hadn't been cut completely. A calm, mechanical voice spoke to him suddenly out of the silence at the other end of his PA.
“This call has been recorded for quality assurance. Anything you said can and will be used against you. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Click.
