13 April 2007

The story starts...over to you...

So, as someone suggested in the comments on our BCS short story competition post below, we really should do a chain story and TWL should kick it off...and here it is! We've done just over 200 words here so we only need another nine people to do the same, come up with a suitable nom-de-plume, enter, win and then work out how to split £250-worth of computer equipment between us...

We think it fits the bill. It's got technology in it, at least...suggest how things should develop in the comments, if you will...

South-West-West Kensington, London
2023

Leia lay back, sated. She flicked her Double Penetronic 350X to stand-by…hang the fucking expense, she thought, I’ve just had three hours of rough sex with a machine and I’m not worrying about saving the planet now. We’re all fucked anyway. Ha, ha, funny. She was fucked (literally) and we were all fucked (figuratively). Never mind what Uber-President Gore said; the carbon footprint had well and truly stamped all over the human race. All we could do now…at least those that could afford it…was indulge in life’s hedonistic pleasures and try not to bring any more sorry little blighters into this screwed-up world. Which is one of the many reasons why the Double Penetronic 350X was such a huge success. Well, that, Leia reflected, and the fact that she’d been running its PR campaign for the past three years. The softly hissing, dripping machine now reclined in the corner of her studio pod was one of the perks of the job…sure, it was an ex-review machine but Leia didn’t give a shit where it had been before, as long as it worked when she wanted. Rolling over, she commanded her retina display to pull up The World’s Leading… the only thing worth reading these fucking days…

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

What she saw made her freeze. It had finally happened. The result of years of gossip, stories, thoughts, comments and insight, and now the truth was finally revealed.

Five years ago something extra ordinary happened. Those behind TWL had created a phenomenon that felt like a living, breathing entity; a massive mouthpiece in global technology; a hugely influential source of information and insight; something that Governments and major business was acutely aware of. And now it was writing itself...

She stared at what TWL was saying, her mind racing...

Matt Ravden said...

Ah, thought Leia wistfully as the once feisty blog popped up on her screen in its anamorphic surround sound splendor (ed. note american spelling). Them were the days, when testosterone ruled the waves, or at least labored under such delusions. First it was government-sponsored splaying, them mandatory vasectomys, and then they dropped like flies, the poor bastards. Nothing to shag, egos splintered into a million pieces, libido drooping like tulips after their sell-by-date ... Sure, Leia still reads TWL but only out of habit. Who wants to listen to the sanitised warblings of 'PR Tart', the great disembodied brain of the ex CEO of Rough'N Tumble PR, you know, the one that arranged for Max Clifford's public emasculation in aid of the PR Truss ... them were the days ....

Weaselboy said...

she watched as the self sentient blog quickly fired words up on her display "enjoy your Dual Leia?" - dam predictive text didn't work that well even in 2023 she thought as the 3rd word corrected itself into the more vulgar form.

Not shocked in the slightest that her display seemed to be talking to her, these were after all the days of the more personalised 419 gang, she typed back:

"if you have hacked my cameras again Rory you are going to the slammer. I told you they have a special place for pretty account executives like yourself where they like to Beta test new sexual manoeuvres"

"Not Rory" TWL spat out. "We have been watching and tasting you (the Double Penetronic had a World Leading secretion reservoir for the ultimate online experience) we think that we may have finally found the one we have been looking for. Please go to your printer......

weaselboy said...

dont think PR land quite got the hang of this one. Maybe it's because it isnt a serious industry discussion about '10 things NOT to do with press releases' or 'junior account execs: great or shit, discuss'

so who wants to talk about Waggner Edstrom's new timesheet colours or the fact that the CEO of August One scratched his arse at the weekend. Sigh....

Anonymous said...

I was just shocked at the topic!! Ahem! Shocked into writer's block!

Ben Schmark said...

Meanwhile, across town, Stan climbed out of the shower. He turned the water off. He took the Tesco bag off his head.

Yes, that was the phone he could hear, filtering up from downstairs. It never bloody stops, he thought. There's no escape, even when I'm screaming myself hoarse in a terrifying near death experience.

Perhaps it's a good thing, he mused. Simulated drowning is probably a poor substitute for the real thing.

Even if the CIA does use it as a form of torture.
Even though it inevitably will be adopted in the UK, by the usual creeps who copy anything and everything that comes from America. Even if he could prove to himself he'd resist a brutal interrogation.

He wasn't seeing Object Marketing for another week. And the stories of Andrew Smith's brutal job interview techniques had to be exaggerations. Didn't they?

"Good afternoon sir, I hope I wasn't disturbing you," said the man from the call centre.

"Well, actually, I was just torturing myself. I was running the shower, with a Tesco bag on my head. Screaming the house down. Which is probably why I didn't hear you."

A moment of stunned silence followed, after which Stan continued.
"You know, simulated drowning? I wanted to see how I'd survive under intense questioning," said Stan.

With that, Call Centre man was gone.

Stan pitied him. Fancy calling someone in the UK, without even trying to understand their culture.

This industry is full of amateurs.

Andrew Smith said...

Just wait till you get here next week Schmark - I've just polished my thumbscrews.

Oh, right, its just a story. Bollocks.