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Wednesday, February 20, 2019

You were born in a zoo

There's a bubble floating above the world crammed with the unfulfilled birthday wishes made by kids at their parties.

Candles go snuff.
Wishes are wished very hard indeed.
People eat cake.
Parents sigh at the mess and clean up slowly, wondering if this is their life now (it is.)

The depletion of the ozone layer also corrodes this bubble, an unforeseen effect of climate change that scientists could not have warned you about.

One day in 2024, this bubble goes pop.

Nobody can quite explain the things that happened that year.

Many many grown adults discover boxes full of barbie dolls and old-school handheld video games in their cupboards.
A few old men and women are puzzled to find they have become very popular (albeit very wrinkled) rockstars, instead of the lawyers, accountants, artists, or homeless bums they thought they were.
The corpses of long deceased divorced parents are uprooted and are found in the same grave.
A shocking number of people drop dead of no cause whatsoever.

Make a wish darling. But if you tell anyone it'll never come true.
Happy birthday!

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

A very clean slate

​The last story was set in a fun little world, one in which all humans had just vanished without a trace. This is a continuation of the smaller, less documentable events that follow.

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D​ue to unforseen circumstances, a jet black mid-range roomba finds itself in the lobby of a large office building in Connecticut. It was brought down from the storage closet by the night manager who was feeling a bit lonely during his shift and wanted to see the cute robot whizz around and clean things but the lonesomeness is now all Ted's, which is what the manager had named the Roomba.

Ted has cleaned the entire lobby 42 times since the humans vanished. On round 43, its battery gives off a matter of fact half-over beep and as per the standard-issue glitch in the system, Ted veers a few degrees off course and wanders out towards the main entrance, where it putters into the empty space between 2 panes of a revolving door and gets sucked into its perpetual slipstream.

In that tiny, constant, yet constantly changing triangular slice of life, Ted faces a crisis. It can't move ahead, it'd bump into a pane of glass. It can't retreat - more glass. It can't stand still, it's not programmed to do that unless instructed accordingly. As its little infrared sensors struggle to reconcile the conflicting signals it's getting, the follow through pane of glass makes the decision for Ted and sweeps it right along. Round and round and round Ted goes, giving off the occasional beep of contact, supplemented soon by beeps that sound increasingly confused, beeps that indicate power saver mode, beeps that indicate low battery, beeps that indicate byebye.

In a world slowly dying before it can come back to life and flourish, human-free, Ted beeps one final shutdown beep and fades into black. And still it keeps getting slowly whirled around and about by the door mechanism that also dies 4 days later.

Death by battery-over, death by lack of ability to make a decision, death by revolving door - all perfectly valid and largely human ways to die.

​And so it goes...
RIP Ted.

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

They won't be Bach

​I felt like writing a thing but I didn't know what. I peeked into my brain and there seemed to be a lot of tumbleweed blowing around in there so that was a lost cause, so I went to a random word generator, picked 3 words and wrote something around that. 

In honour of Valentine's day being.. here, I'll call this series Those Three Words and try to write a bit more.

Those Thee Words #1 - ​multiply | melodic | ants
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​Plunk plunk plunk
Plunkety plunk​

​​In a land where the humans have all dropped dead, industry grinds to a halt. Pollution drops drastically. Electricity goes on the fritz and then goes out, plunging the world into darkness for the first time in centuries. The earth rejoices. Nature ponders about how to adjust to this new development, and takes a left turn from her current course to rewire the world. Soon, the food chain will be reset. Cities will crumble. The wild will roam the streets. Evolution goes "HM?" and continues its little dance with minor adjustments. And the world wonders what to do with the detritus and spoils left behind.

Plunk ta da dan ta da dannnnn
Da da dunnn da da dunnnn


​While the more violent of the animals have chosen to batter at the buildings and try to remove any trace of the humans that wreaked havoc upon their lands, the ant population in Sicily has decided to adopt a more que-sera-sera, carpe diem, you-go-girl mindset. Emerging from the cracks, pouring into the music room in the basement of one long dead decrepit Mrs. Fernandez, we see harmony in groups like we never saw in the great civilisations.

One baby grand piano, being played by thousands (millions? billions? how does one even quantify so many minds working as one?) of ants. Pressing down on keys, pushing down on pedals, filling the dead-dead-dying-but-freshly-alive-air with the music of the ages.

Before people are relegated to the fossil department of the world so angry with them, some animals enjoy the little good that came from humanity. Before the instruments crumble, before the earth's music returns to its natural rumble-swish-chirp state, the ants play one final hurrah to the great homo sapiens.

Plink plink.

Take a bow.