David Archives
September 18, 2007
David: Repose
Zombie Keith Richards sat quietly in his London flat, gathering wool and moss. It had all been a laff when he’d snorted his dad’s ashes along with some coke off of that groupie’s ass. And the joke had been for years that Keith was an incredibly well- and self-preserved animated corpse, the only thing except cockroaches and Twinkies to survive the coming apocalypse.
Only now that he was here, trapped in his rotting flesh, and surrounded by Twinkies, cockroaches, and the empty skulls of his mates, did he realize the Great Truth of his life.
God, he’d murder a fag.
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September 19, 2007
David: Meet The Parents
The sand exploding at my feet prompted me to reverse direction and run the other way. Who was shooting, or why, I had no idea. The last thing I had understood in the past couple of days was that my daughter’s fiancé’s father was completely insane. And, apparently, trying to get me killed.
He claimed to be a rogue CIA agent, working some big deal that he had to settle before the wedding. More likely, we’d never live to see the wedding, the way things were going.
From his hiding place behind the car, he shouted useless advice at me.
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September 24, 2007
David: What's The Matter With Kids Today?
It was a miracle of modern biochemistry: a simple starchy vegetable modified to generate a cocktail of enzymes, neurotransmitters, and serotonin reuptake inhibitors. As a result, anyone who ate one became unnaturally apathetic.
Originally intended for use in mental institutions, to control and sedate the patients, the tuber did not prevent the formation of long-term memories, but rather prevented emotional attachments to those memories. People could remember events, but were unable to care.
Introduction into public schools met with little resistance, owing to the judicious use of the food among the deciding council, where menus identified them as “Idunno Potatoes.”
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September 25, 2007
David: Ten Years
I hate the telephone. I’ve been waiting for that one call for the last decade. Every time it rings, I jump, worrying that this is the one.
So far, it hasn’t been. It’s usually telemarketers or pushy cops trying to get me to buy a “No tickets please” sticker for my car window. That smells like institutionalized bribery to me, but I digress. I had to get caller ID , just so I’d know it wasn’t the call I’ve been dreading before I picked up.
The only thing worse than the day I’ll get that call would be if I couldn’t.
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September 26, 2007
David: Practical Application
“Wait, is it teleportation, or dimensional travel?”
“It’s both! Given an infinite number of universes, there must be one out there someplace which is exactly identical to this one, other than the location of a single person or object. My machine swaps those two objects, such that they both appear in their new universes at each other’s original location. Subjectively, one object moves instantaneously from one place to the other, while the other takes the reverse trip.”
“But, to an outside observer, nothing happened, right? The thing is still where it started.”
“Um, yes.”
“Is someone paying you for this?”
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September 27, 2007
David: Mm'kay?
“You hafta try this,” he said, handing me the baggie full of red rocks.
“I don’t do crack,” I replied, offering it back.
“That ain’t crack. It’s new. Called Fireball. They fused an eight-ball to an f’in fire elemental. I never felt nothing like this.” He was sweating, and kept rubbing his cheeks.
“No shit?
“I shit you not.”
“Where’d you get magic drugs?”
“Just eat it. My treat.”
I popped a rock from the baggie into my mouth. It felt like Tabasco on fire.
“Dude, I don’t feel so hot,” he said, just before bursting into flames. Ironic bastard.
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September 28, 2007
David: Information Wants To Be Free!
Prometheus42 had done it. It had been difficult and tricky, but he’d finally cracked the last firewall and downloaded a copy of the kernel from Redmond’s servers.
He knew he was boned now. It was only a matter of time before Gates sent his minions after Prometheus42. He had only one option.
He uploaded the Windows source code to mirror sites on five continents. Then, he posted on comp.sci and his blog. Within minutes, Fark and Technorati picked up the links.
Cops were banging on his door. Prometheus42 took one last sip of Mountain Dew and basked in his glory.
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October 1, 2007
David: Another Lazy Sunday
I woke up screaming. Again. I was starting to worry that I would never get used to weightlessness. Something instinctive kept panicking at unguarded moments, thinking I was falling.
I ripped the Velcro and floated out of bed, pausing on the way to the water reclamation unit to look out a viewport. Blackness of the purest and deepest sort surrounded the ship. Stupid unconscious. Even if I were falling, there’s nothing out here to hit.
Breakfast was a tube of sausage and eggs.
I checked the alert board. All clear.
I tried the radio again. Still no response from Earth.
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October 3, 2007
David: The Good Stuff
I opened the box. Teddy asked me, “What’s in there?”
I leaned back to let him look. “Looks like 24 bottles of something, Teddy.”
“Is it hooch?” he asked, as if I’d know, and swiped one bottle from the box.
“Hey! Leave that alone,” I admonished, as Teddy popped off the cap and took a swig. “We’re getting paid to steal these, Jim, not drink ‘em.”
“What did you call me, Gary?”
“Jim,” I answered through a sudden headache. “That’s not right, is it? Duffy? Seamus? Marmaduke?”
“Here, drink this,” offered Nicholas. I did.
“Feel better now, Barnaby? Er, Vincent?”
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October 5, 2007
David: Odysseus
I sat on the dock, resting my bones, and looked out over the bay. In the distance, I could see the tide washing onto rocks worn smooth.
I was wasting time in this strange country where I didn’t speak the language. I’d been stranded a few years back, and my efforts to find my way free of this place had proven futile.
So, I sit here, watching the ships roll in, cursing the loneliness that won’t leave me alone.
My only solace is the faith that she’s out there, in her harbor town, wearing the silver locket I gave her.
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