Post by Admin on Jul 21, 2015 21:59:57 GMT
This is written in standard Literary form-- before my exploration of general fuckitude-- but it is my satire of the future. Comments welcome please.
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"Two hours," the computerized voice said to Luke's right. Every hour on the hour it had repeated the slow countdown for the past two days.
"I know," Luke replied not even bothering to look at the floating white orb with its single camera-lens eye. His own eyes were fixated on the wall. A ninety foot sheer rise of white concrete, adorned with barbed wire and spotted with turret towers. Tiny ants walked from tower to tower vaguely distinguishable between the interlocking metal clasps of the fence. The black uniform of the Defense Agency clearly labeling them as guards.
"You have no followers," the mechanized voice of the PAC began its typical rant. "No advertisers, no viewers. Zero hits in history, and not even a single like."
Luke sighed, he knew beyond that wall was an entirely different world. A utopia built with beauty, and not a derivative of fame. Turning his head he stared straight into the white orb's camera eye, "You don't have to rem--"
"HELP!!!!"
The scream stopped Luke mid-speech and he turned his head searching for the sound. "Help me," another round of screams came, "dear god. Please help!"
Luke could feel his adrenaline burn, and he sprinted towards the plea for help. The sidewalk blurred under his feet. Brightly lit advertisements to his left and right came to life as he passed. Calling out to him insisting upon their beautifully decorated products.
At the top of the hill his eyes spied the source of the screams; a woman pressed against the ground. A man sat straddling the top of her gripping and tearing at her clothes. Two PACs floating silently, observing. Each of her screams punctuated by the sound of ripping cloth. The sound, the scene, all combined and Luke acted before he could process what was before him. He was down the hill, foot flying, and came back to himself with the resounding smack of his boot against the rapist's cheek.
He marveled as time seemed to slow, ripples of force causing the rapist's cheek to flap in the wind. Arms flailing as the assaulter spun through the air. Landing hard and rolling with a scream of surprised hurt. Luke was mesmerized at his own action and the result of it tumbling along the grass.
A slap sent a shock of electricity down his spine. "You bastard," he heard the woman shout in a shrill voice. "What are you trying to do? Ruin my ratings?"
A slight hint of moistness from the sting of the slap filled his eyes as he looked at the now standing-- and clearly irate-- victim. "Huh?" He asked perfectly conveying the confusion he felt.
Her hand flew again, Luke only had enough time to blink in surprise before it collided with his cheek; the exact same spot as before exacerbating the pain. "Bastard! You ruined everything."
"Yeah man," a voice groaned making Luke turn his head- still keeping the victim's eager hand in sight. "You totally ruined the whole ad bro," the rapist said rubbing his jaw. "What's wrong with you?"
This time Luke was ready for the victim's hand as it flew towards his cheek yet again, and he was able to duck. "I'm sorry," he apologized as he hopped out of her way, though he was confused as to what he was apologizing for. "I'll just uh..." He said backing away slowly and turned to run.
******
"One hour," Luke's ever-present clock counted down.
"Yeah, yeah," he groaned in response. "I get it you soulless machine."
"I am a sophisticated version of multi media broadcasting," the PAC replied with contempt, as if the floating robotic orb could feel anything.
"You are a loathsome representation of everything that is wrong with the world," Luke said feeling his impending doom rush through him as anger. "You," he was almost yelling, "are a vile demonic--"
His arms flailed as a tremendous force collided with his back, his own scream of alarm stopping his speech. He felt his body twirl to the side and his face slam against the local tavern's brick wall. The same part of his cheek that had been slapped earlier taking the brunt of the force. He gasped in pain, his eyes widening just enough to take the full view of the espresso ad in a single glance. He had never understood what pandas and candy canes had to do with coffee...
"Well, well, well," a raspy voice said in his ear, strong arms pushing him into the wall. "Looks like we have a new contestant for," Luke felt the sharpened point of a knife poke into his back, "How many viewers?"
The knife pressed firmly into Luke's back, and he could hear the attacker's voice shift as he turned towards the PACs hovering silently, watching. "Alright viewers here we go. Another episode. If fifty percent of this guy's viewers don't subscribe to my channel he's history."
"He has no viewers," Luke's PAC stated simply, and he felt his heart drop knowing he was dead for sure now.
"What!" The attacker cried with outrage, releasing his grip on Luke as if he were on fire. "You mean he doesn't have any? Not even one?"
"Not even one," the PAC replied, making Luke groan with annoyance.
The attacker burst into of fits of laughter, "What? How?" Another fit of laughter, "That's just not possible. How could someone--"
Luke cringed as a deafening boom rang out through the alley. The attacker's eyes widening in surprise as a flood of bright crimson filled the front of his dingy shirt. Sputtering he slowly fell to the ground.
"Woo-hoo!" A voice screamed down the alley. "Look at that folks. Twenty feet away and still dead center." The sight of camouflaged clothes hit Luke's eyes, a hunting rifle slung over the hunter's shoulder. "Now," the hunter said reaching into his pocket, "to celebrate." Pulling a canned drink out of his pocket he popped the top, chugged it, and tossed it over his shoulder. The hunter looked into the camera-eye of his PAC screaming, "Hydrosis! It will get you pumped!"
******
Luke couldn't see the sunset behind the walls, but the splash of red and orange fading light was still beautiful. He wished he could be the light; free. Escaping the confines of this city he was in. If it wasn't for the sound of screaming people and blasting advertisements-- and the obstruction of the wall-- he would have smiled.
"Zero hours remaining," the PAC stated unemotionally at his side. Luke ignored the machine, trying to enjoy the last burst of color in the sky. The PAC continued, "Without sufficient viewers, visits, and likes your channel has been found wanting. You," Luke turned slowly hearing the automated sound of gears clicking. The PAC had produced a pistol-like object from its shell, pointed right at him, "Have been cancelled."
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"Two hours," the computerized voice said to Luke's right. Every hour on the hour it had repeated the slow countdown for the past two days.
"I know," Luke replied not even bothering to look at the floating white orb with its single camera-lens eye. His own eyes were fixated on the wall. A ninety foot sheer rise of white concrete, adorned with barbed wire and spotted with turret towers. Tiny ants walked from tower to tower vaguely distinguishable between the interlocking metal clasps of the fence. The black uniform of the Defense Agency clearly labeling them as guards.
"You have no followers," the mechanized voice of the PAC began its typical rant. "No advertisers, no viewers. Zero hits in history, and not even a single like."
Luke sighed, he knew beyond that wall was an entirely different world. A utopia built with beauty, and not a derivative of fame. Turning his head he stared straight into the white orb's camera eye, "You don't have to rem--"
"HELP!!!!"
The scream stopped Luke mid-speech and he turned his head searching for the sound. "Help me," another round of screams came, "dear god. Please help!"
Luke could feel his adrenaline burn, and he sprinted towards the plea for help. The sidewalk blurred under his feet. Brightly lit advertisements to his left and right came to life as he passed. Calling out to him insisting upon their beautifully decorated products.
At the top of the hill his eyes spied the source of the screams; a woman pressed against the ground. A man sat straddling the top of her gripping and tearing at her clothes. Two PACs floating silently, observing. Each of her screams punctuated by the sound of ripping cloth. The sound, the scene, all combined and Luke acted before he could process what was before him. He was down the hill, foot flying, and came back to himself with the resounding smack of his boot against the rapist's cheek.
He marveled as time seemed to slow, ripples of force causing the rapist's cheek to flap in the wind. Arms flailing as the assaulter spun through the air. Landing hard and rolling with a scream of surprised hurt. Luke was mesmerized at his own action and the result of it tumbling along the grass.
A slap sent a shock of electricity down his spine. "You bastard," he heard the woman shout in a shrill voice. "What are you trying to do? Ruin my ratings?"
A slight hint of moistness from the sting of the slap filled his eyes as he looked at the now standing-- and clearly irate-- victim. "Huh?" He asked perfectly conveying the confusion he felt.
Her hand flew again, Luke only had enough time to blink in surprise before it collided with his cheek; the exact same spot as before exacerbating the pain. "Bastard! You ruined everything."
"Yeah man," a voice groaned making Luke turn his head- still keeping the victim's eager hand in sight. "You totally ruined the whole ad bro," the rapist said rubbing his jaw. "What's wrong with you?"
This time Luke was ready for the victim's hand as it flew towards his cheek yet again, and he was able to duck. "I'm sorry," he apologized as he hopped out of her way, though he was confused as to what he was apologizing for. "I'll just uh..." He said backing away slowly and turned to run.
******
"One hour," Luke's ever-present clock counted down.
"Yeah, yeah," he groaned in response. "I get it you soulless machine."
"I am a sophisticated version of multi media broadcasting," the PAC replied with contempt, as if the floating robotic orb could feel anything.
"You are a loathsome representation of everything that is wrong with the world," Luke said feeling his impending doom rush through him as anger. "You," he was almost yelling, "are a vile demonic--"
His arms flailed as a tremendous force collided with his back, his own scream of alarm stopping his speech. He felt his body twirl to the side and his face slam against the local tavern's brick wall. The same part of his cheek that had been slapped earlier taking the brunt of the force. He gasped in pain, his eyes widening just enough to take the full view of the espresso ad in a single glance. He had never understood what pandas and candy canes had to do with coffee...
"Well, well, well," a raspy voice said in his ear, strong arms pushing him into the wall. "Looks like we have a new contestant for," Luke felt the sharpened point of a knife poke into his back, "How many viewers?"
The knife pressed firmly into Luke's back, and he could hear the attacker's voice shift as he turned towards the PACs hovering silently, watching. "Alright viewers here we go. Another episode. If fifty percent of this guy's viewers don't subscribe to my channel he's history."
"He has no viewers," Luke's PAC stated simply, and he felt his heart drop knowing he was dead for sure now.
"What!" The attacker cried with outrage, releasing his grip on Luke as if he were on fire. "You mean he doesn't have any? Not even one?"
"Not even one," the PAC replied, making Luke groan with annoyance.
The attacker burst into of fits of laughter, "What? How?" Another fit of laughter, "That's just not possible. How could someone--"
Luke cringed as a deafening boom rang out through the alley. The attacker's eyes widening in surprise as a flood of bright crimson filled the front of his dingy shirt. Sputtering he slowly fell to the ground.
"Woo-hoo!" A voice screamed down the alley. "Look at that folks. Twenty feet away and still dead center." The sight of camouflaged clothes hit Luke's eyes, a hunting rifle slung over the hunter's shoulder. "Now," the hunter said reaching into his pocket, "to celebrate." Pulling a canned drink out of his pocket he popped the top, chugged it, and tossed it over his shoulder. The hunter looked into the camera-eye of his PAC screaming, "Hydrosis! It will get you pumped!"
******
Luke couldn't see the sunset behind the walls, but the splash of red and orange fading light was still beautiful. He wished he could be the light; free. Escaping the confines of this city he was in. If it wasn't for the sound of screaming people and blasting advertisements-- and the obstruction of the wall-- he would have smiled.
"Zero hours remaining," the PAC stated unemotionally at his side. Luke ignored the machine, trying to enjoy the last burst of color in the sky. The PAC continued, "Without sufficient viewers, visits, and likes your channel has been found wanting. You," Luke turned slowly hearing the automated sound of gears clicking. The PAC had produced a pistol-like object from its shell, pointed right at him, "Have been cancelled."