Posts tagged ‘pause’

The ogers

the maintaince game was the one the boys played in the walls between the compartments. these spaces had been designed for maximm game play, miniscule chutes chunneled the children down floors and into the spaces where the pipes lay. markus made it first and found the wrench his mother had pulled out of printer this morning. he eagerly went over to the pipes and sang, “I am an oger! I am an oger!” the other chlidren instintively group into sleath units, “I am an oger!”, he sang twisting the wrench onto the pipe and with a tug he suddenly flung it back, the other children all spun their back to him, but the wrench pointed directly at a yonger boy who sat their n silence, “and now so are you!”, he said and the other boy came towards as the two other children obeyed the rules and took two steps back. Marcus and the younger child took a moment to reattach the wrench and then, “we are ogers!” and the other boys began to wittle towards them slowly so as to interrupt their work.
marcus took out the elbow he had been given that morning and put it in place, they kept singing, he cold hear the footsteps, the other boy put the elbow n place and markus gave one big turn and then beep beep, marcus turned around and ran into one of the other boys, “that was close!” “we just let ya score,” said the other one, and then the lights went out and a single dot appeared in the distance, the boys made a dash for the next goal.

July 16, 2011 at 3:22 am Leave a comment

Spammer

She began the hunt with a return address, which of course lead back to hotmail where she had first found the subject. She had tried e-mailing back, but the subject refused any solicitations from her. Additionally, the whole operation was operating on a shared web server, and she had no idea if the physical address Whois had given her would actually lead to anything, so instead she called. A creaky and weary voice answered the phone. She had been doing this long enough to know the man on the other line was not her target, but she talked to him anyway and he eventually mentioned renting out webspace to other users at steep discounts. She now knew she was dealing with an entirely different type of scum. She made tentative plans to host a site on the man’s web server and then she went down to the office and reported his address as a possible site. The other’s in the office gathered around and discussed their day, two found in an Indian pc bar, another waiting in line at customs in Cambodia. Her target had been located in Cuba.

The promenade around the house had worn down into the sea and low waves crashed over the beach. A group of kids out in the bay played with nurse sharks as she passed row after row of faded brick houses. Eventually she found the door, but as she expected someone else lived there. The couple at the house were quite nice, she sat down with a seven foot tall basketball star and her husband a smallish engineer at the local motorcycle repair place. The two had never seen or heard of the target, they did however know the former occupant and after a few coffees, she retreated to the street with a new address in hand.

The car the UN gave her broke down after a few days, she walked on foot and then waited at car share sites till she had trekked half the island. The house was instantly noticeable as a slum dwelling. Kids ran around outside while inside hundreds of children managed web servers. Kids poured out of closets, some at ten wasted with the onsets of HIV. She quietly spoke to a few kids around the house, they rushed up with trinkets, little island momentos, she bought a few. Inside the house she could see them sorting emails, working through excel sheets, and working on ad copy, at ten years old a few of the girls could speak English better than she could. Groups of children sat around typing on ancient keyboards, long since dilapidated, her own roll of smart phone sitting in her pocket began to beep. She pulled it out and answered a few calls, then she showed the boss where she was, the government would be by in a few days. She took a few of the ones that could speak English by the hand and led them out of the house. She told them to tell the others that their parents wouldn’t be coming home, but they needed to stay there until the UN people come. She also asked about the man, one of the kids managed to draw him, the usual suspect, she clicked a copy to hq.

July 13, 2011 at 7:29 am Leave a comment

Helix motherhood

At first it was like leaves stirring in her belly, then the soil accumulated, she began to swell. The belly was a blessing, she liked the idea of this soil churning into life. The dna test gave her thousand of snps to o through, the clinic had given her a small collection of medications to assist with the firstvfew days. An anihestimanine in case the slight autism lead to tantrums, an amyglda stimulant for the baby’s mild psyhopathy.

Kim met her in the park. Kim was famous for diaper grand pry, the toddler racing game that her husband had helped finance. The two walked by the moss covered trees and into the lake’s frosty complexion. Kim had two children, Magdalen and Amir, they spent their days with a maid who doubled as a house keeper. Monsieur was working on some soft bodies, their crocheted geometries taxing any video card Apple threw at them. Kim was skimping on ram and discussing the new game she was beginning, a photography romp through procedural cities. Monsie began to nod off when Kim returned to the same old subject, how much they lost on her blockbuster.

Of course she had diaper grand pree free of charge on an ancient sd card tucked away in the folds of a garnet. No one wanted to pay 39.99 then, no one did know. Increasingly software was like a party, she paid 5 or 6 bucks here or there to see a recommendation, but the big events, she coul not afford. She paid a small fee for an anonymous account that she torrented through, the Manitoba public net and her carrier’s network long since lost to monitors. She had no desire to

June 9, 2011 at 2:39 pm Leave a comment

Mom

Pause

She remembered the first game they made. cradle cakes, a crawl through a dungeon of milk before the baby made it to the planet of cheese. The following year they tried a first person shooter, but that blew up in their face. It was only after some hesitation that they tried a dancing game. Epsilon tried to make it touch only, but they ended up with some basic pad moves. That was what haunted them, the necessity of subjecting amensia’s white wash to their childhood. Epsilon personally felt like a Ballard character, trying to make memory into a mould and then squeeze the little razors of ABA out. Monsie on the other hand had little problem cultivating an anti controller habit, it was merely that she arrived at ideas slightly behind the competition. The competition were a conglomerate of Korean game makers that produced software in days they took months through.

Months though were something they had. Pennies from the app store had commensurate their pregnancy and a flow of 50,000 us had come in, Korean competition or no Korean comp the apps did sell. Monsie waited on her hormones through the crisp clip of virtual keys. She and her infant were in unison when it came to the various metaphors the compiler puzzled as they waited for their latest app to finish. The baby had done something to her programming, during the periods she wasn’t sick a new found concentration had come over her and her drawing had improved too. The infant kicked and squeezed gently, she looked down and then saved her emacs just when the first compulsion hit her a wave of vomit came through her and tablet discarded she made it to the commode.

Vomit drenched the water stayed while she cleaned herself in the shower and watched the uv’d food stuff drop to the tile. Exhaustion came out of her waist and up her torso over the belly well for a second the other one absorbed it like a shockwave and then groggily she climbed into bed. She put the covers over herself and dreams came in the air not bothering with ears they went straight in through the forehead.

Baby x was in a crypt in the park. Silence, the uncommon, Kim down a well, the baby carriage, clouds, that park in taipei, orchids. Pause?

Squeeze the rag doll to make it move. She finished her doll app. The little thing blistered through harried platforms like Charlie Chaplin in a crack rock. She pinched it’s jaw expanded and swallowing a billboard, it vomited, but she felt fine.

May 31, 2011 at 12:27 pm Leave a comment


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