Friday, April 8, 2016

Microstory 295: Perspective Seventy

Perspective Sixty-Nine

Oh yeah, I’ve definitely been stalking someone. But you know what the say; you only fight fire with fire. I guess you don’t, because you would then just end up with more fire, but you know what I mean. My girlfriend is being stalked by this guy from college she never actually ever met. He just saw her one day and became delusional about the nature of their relationship. That is to say, he thinks there to be a relationship, when really my girlfriend was just being polite by accepting his friend request online. I guess I shouldn’t say that she’s my girlfriend, because that makes me sound like I’m stalking her. We’re not together anymore, and I legitimately don’t think it’ll happen again, but it might. I’m only stalking him to protect her because we’re still friends, and I would still do anything for her. She’s tried to go to the cops, but proving a stalker is next to impossible, as most people know. Technically, he hasn’t broken any laws, so I’ve had to take things into my own hands. I’ve studied and memorized his schedule, so I know when he’s going to be alone. He spends a lot of time like that, so getting to him should be pretty easy. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill him. We’re not there yet, but he does need to know who he’s messing with when he tries pushing himself onto an innocent young woman. So I’m going to scare him. And yeah, probably beat him a little bit. People like that don’t learn if you just use a stern tone or write a strongly-worded letter. In order for the lesson to sink into his already-damaged mind, it’s gotta be engraved on a wooden bat. Or maybe a tire iron. I can’t be sure which one will be less likely to lead to his accidental death. I can’t look up online which one I should pick, because then there’s a paper trail that leads right to me. It would like that guy who left his kid in the car to die, claiming that he just forgot the baby was in there. Then they went through his browser history and discovered that he, and I think his wife, had been planning the whole thing for a while. What an idiot. I can’t be that stupid. No one can know what I’m doing, which is why I haven’t so much as told the father of my ex-girlfriend's baby. I probably could; I think he would understand, but I have to maintain plausible deniability for them. If I go down, then I have to go down alone. Can anyone tell me how to knock someone unconscious with a blunt object without them suffering from permanent brain damage? Regular people do it on TV all the time, but it’s never explained how they know how much force to put behind the blow. I’m just gonna wing it.

Perspective Seventy

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Microstory 294: Perspective Sixty-Nine

Perspective Sixty-Eight

Okay, first of all, I don’t call it stalking. I’m passionate. When I first saw this girl, it’s not like I immediately fell in love and knew she was “the one”. I was just sitting in the dorm cafeteria one night, eating my dinner alone, like I do. I had no ill intentions, I assure you, but she caught my eye, and she was just absolutely stunning. She stood out from the crowd, and I couldn’t understand why other people weren’t staring at her. She was only in my field of vision for a few seconds before disappearing around the corner, but that was all the information I needed. I noticed that she was walking right behind someone I recognized from one of the school libraries. I didn’t even know if they were friends, or just happened to be walking in the same direction, but I still had my starting point. I didn’t know her friend’s name, but I knew she worked with another girl from one of my classes. I didn’t know her name either, but I could find out from the list of my classmates through the school web portal. It took me a while to hunt down the right person, but I found her. Then I cross-referenced her social media friend list by using the library as work parameters, and found the possible friend of my target. Then I browsed through her friend list to find the girl I was looking for. She was even more beautiful now that I could stop and look at static pictures. I had a pretty extensive debate in my own head about what I should do next. I didn’t actually think I would find her, but I did, so I could either leave it alone or do something about it. But I had to do something. It was a sign. Somebody upstairs wanted us to be together, otherwise my search would have hit a brick wall, right? I friended her, and she asked me why, so I told her...part of the truth, at least. She let me stay connected with her, but never talked to me, so I knew she was just feeling me out to see if it was real. And it’s real. I’ve been working the problem since we graduated, and I grow closer and closer to a date every day. Now she’s claiming I’m stalking her, which is ridiculous. It’s not like I’m secretly watching her behind the bushes. I know she’s not in love with me, I’m not crazy. I also know she could be, if she just gave me a chance. That’s all I need; one chance. I’m actually a good person. At the very least, I’m better than the guy she keeps breaking up with. I can’t be a stalker anyway, because I’m being stalked.

Perspective Seventy

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Microstory 293: Perspective Sixty-Eight

Perspective Sixty-Seven

Baby daddy. That’s not really what I call him, but that’s almost the best way to describe our relationship. But we’re not together and we never were, so I agree that it’s complicated and awkward. We’re pretty good friends, though, so that helps. We met each other by a nightclub and went back to his place for a one night stand. When I say it was by a nightclub, that’s exactly what I mean. Neither of us belongs to the club scene. My car broke down and I was lost, and he just happened to be there, having just dropped someone off who had used his ridesourcing service. We used protection, but something must have gone wrong, because I found out I was pregnant a few weeks later. We never exchanged contact information, but I did catch his first name, which is rare enough to pinpoint him online. He was ready and willing to help me through everything, so that was a nice change from the horror scenarios I had been running through my head upon first learning of my situation. We didn’t have to go through the courts. He moved back to the area to continue his postgraduate education closeby, which he said he could do pretty much anywhere. The guy is obsessed with education, or rather he’s obsessed with not having to worry about making decisions. No one told him how self-driven PhD programs were, I guess. Oops, slipped my mind. Anyway, things are pretty great. We share our calendars online, and always know where the other one is, and one of us is almost always available to take care of the runt. And when we’re not, my on-again off-again boyfriend can usually step in. Wow, I suppose I never realized how lucky I am to have two upstanding men in my life to help me out. Most of my friends can’t even find one, and I’m technically just as single as they are. I don’t want to push back women’s progress by suggesting I need these men, but I can’t help that they’re around. The thing is that they’re feminists too, so that’s just another way I’m lucky. If I didn’t have such a great group of friends, I would have had to move back in with my parents clear on the wrong side of the tracks on the other side of the country. I wasn’t really interested in that; I’m pretty happy in the South Atlantic. Good job, perfect family, and everything I ever wanted and more. Now if I could just figure out what to do about my stalker.

Perspective Sixty-Nine

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Microstory 292: Perspective Sixty-Seven

Perspective Sixty-Six

I feel comfortable saying that I’m more excited about the prospect of my father’s retirement than he is. He works harder than anyone should have to. We’re supposed to be heading towards a world with fewer work hours, but it seems as if every company is just trying to eke as much out of their employees as they can. Me, I dread having to move all the way into the workforce. I spent a year after graduating from college looking for a job, but no one was hiring. They all wanted a number of years of experience. I don’t know what world they’re living in, or how they think physics works, but I can’t get experience until someone hires me and gives me some. You see how that works? Time? You know time? So I gave up. I mean, I was applying for at least five jobs a day, including weekends. That’s almost 2,000 jobs, and I didn’t get a bite. So I just went back to school. I wasn’t the first to do that, and I read an article later that it was becoming a trend; putting off work to go to graduate school. I moved away from my family and spent a few more years learning everything I could about communications and marketing. Once I was nearing the end of that, though, I realized that I still wasn’t ready to be done with school, so I started going after a PhD. I don’t particularly like school, but I’ve become quite accustomed to it. It’s really the only thing that makes sense to me right now. Go to class, take notes, finish homework, write papers, and take tests. Rinse and repeat. Education carries a sort of simplistic beauty unmatched by anything in the world. Make no mistake, I am working, but only part time, and I can leave whenever I want to. What I don’t have is the pressure to find and build a career around a single thing. I rather enjoy moving around, learning a bunch of different random things, and quickly forgetting about them upon moving on to something else. I don’t know that I ever want to leave school at all. The mother of my child suggests that I just stay in school forever, and do research for the university. I’m gonna look into that, because that actually sounds great. Always being beholden to deadlines, but never expected to make any significant breakthroughs in the field? Sign me up.

Perspective Sixty-Eight

Monday, April 4, 2016

Microstory 291: Perspective Sixty-Six

Perspective Sixty-Five

Unfortunately for all of us, one of my subordinates is also one of the best workers on the team. He is extremely familiar with his field, gets his work done on time, and rarely makes mistakes. He’s also batshit crazy. His political views are so off kilter that, if I didn’t know any better, I would say he lives in an insane asylum. The problem is that his views do not affect his work, and I can’t prove that they hinder the work of anyone else in the company. All the homophobic, racist, and sexist things he says come out of his personal social media accounts, or off-campus and after hours. He doesn’t even list the company on his online profiles, so we can’t claim that he’s harming our public image. And so I have no cause to fire him. If he would just give me a reason, even a small one, I might be able to get away with it. But the numbers don’t lie, and the company profits with him around. Being the boss is harder than I thought it would be, which is a cliché, I know. The stress of making sure everybody’s doing their job is something I expected. I didn’t realize, however, how uncomfortable things would be barking orders to people who used to be my equal. Nobody likes a boss who is younger than them either, and everyone thinks they would handle things better. And maybe they could, so maybe the top-down structure in most corporate settings isn’t the best way to do things. It discourages dialogue, and you miss out on ideas from really smart people. I do try to listen to people under me, but if I start acting on their ideas too much, I risk my job by putting the position up for grabs. If my bosses catch wind that too many people on my team are making decisions that I should be making, why they’ll just get rid of me, won’t they? So when somebody comes to me with a way to improve our process, I take credit for it. I’m not trying to outshine anybody—hell, I’m not even trying to snag a promotion—I just don’t want to rock the boat, or make things too complicated. I feel really bad about it, and I always hope my employees don’t get too angry about it. The fact is, though, that it isn’t right, and I need to change my ways. I need to stop being afraid of shaking things up, and giving people what they deserve. One member of my team has a knack for leadership, and it’s time I foster that skill in her. Meanwhile, the most offensive man on the planet has got to go. If I can’t figure out how to show he harms team morale then I don’t deserve to be a supervisor anyway.

Perspective Sixty-Seven

Sunday, April 3, 2016

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: May 15, 2069

Mateo could not open his eyes, despite knowing that he had to in order to survive. A great roar came from under his ass and vibrated his entire body. Leona’s voice surged into his brain. “Mateo! Mateo! Can you hear me! Wake up! I need you to say the words!”
He struggled to lift his eyelids and began to look around. He was inside of a fishbowl, inside of a very tiny room. He might even call it a pod. Did that make sense? Yes, of course it did. He could remember now that the new Rogue, Makarion was forcing them to reenact a movie from 2015 called The Martian. He started jumping through time before so much as hearing about it, so he hadn’t gotten a chance to watch it back then. Fortunately, Makarion gave them the heads up about it, and let them study it the day before. This wasn’t exactly the safest part of the film, but it was near the end. These reenactments only took place over the course of a few scenes, maybe several, but never the whole thing. Life of Pi had been the most exhausting one, but still only accounted for part of the story.
Because so much of The Martian involved a highly intelligent astronaut who was trained to survive on an inhospitable planet, and knew the technical details of the instruments around him, Mateo and Leona were pretty sure those kinds of things would be cut out. Leona could probably be categorized as a genius, but she was still not cognizant of any machines used to get to, or live on, Mars. And she certainly hadn’t been given enough time to familiarize herself with 2069 technology. Therefore, they assumed their reenactment mission was something any lay person could conceivably carry out. There wasn’t really anything in the movie like that, save maybe growing potatoes. So they had been at a loss as to where in the film this year’s tribulation would begin. There just weren’t any scenes that involved two people. There was only the main character being alone, and then times when he reported to mission control. That is, except for the climax, which included the small number of his crew. But they never thought Makarion would choose that one, because it meant employing actors. Yet, that’s what he did, in a way.
“You’re late!” Leona continued. “You have to say the words, or the MAV will explode, Pilot!”
Mateo thought back to what words she would be talking about. Oh yes, that part in all realistic space movies; the one where someone in mission control reads off all the sections, each one checking in. Recovery; go. Secondary Recovery; go. And her last one was Pilot. “GO!”
A voice he didn’t recognize began to count down from ten. The engines below him increased intensity, and then pushed him off the ground. Was he really on Mars? As he was hurtling towards his death, he recalled research Leona had done about the state of space travel. Mars has had humans on it for many years now, with permanent settlements during about ten of the most recent of them. Most of the residents are scientists, but people are actually starting to move out there with their families, hopeful to build a new world. But a planet with humans on it is not the same as Earth. Most of these settlements are located on the poles, with plenty of space in between for Makarion to stage the reenactment of one of his favorite movies without anyone noticing. Probably. But who was this person who had counted down his blast off. Was she chooser, salmon, or just a regular human? Was she something else? If she was just a regular person, what made her agree to something like this? It must look fishy.
The MAV continued away from where it had come, and begin to swim through the eternal vacuum of space. Screws, washers, and other small objects floated around his head. Yep; he was in space. Again. He didn’t pass out, like in the movie. He probably would have liked to as his fear and anxiety was getting the best of him, but being awake was better since he couldn’t know what would happen next. The Rogue always liked to put in twists on the source material, so that even knowing what was supposed to happen wouldn’t help him. This was already a dangerous mission, so how could things get worse? Well, for the moment, nothing was happening as Mateo waited for Leona and the rest of whatever crew she had to come retrieve him.
“How are you doing, love?” Leona asked through comms.
“I’m fine, I’m awake. Makarion couldn’t have chosen a better part of the movie.”
“I agree.”
“Way I remember it, somebody should be making a bomb right about now. Is everything going according to plan?”
“There is no bomb. We’re just on our way to pick you up. Our vector is fine for it. My guess is that the bomb and other insane components of the film’s original rescue are just too many variables for Makarion to account for.”
“So the twist this time is that things are actually easier?” Mateo asked.
“Hold on.”
“What?” Mateo called, but received no reply. He could hear only static. “Leona, what is it? Tell me. I can handle it.”
“Copy that, Pilot,” Leona finally said. “I’ve just been informed by the crew that we’re going to deliberately stop far enough away from you so that you’ll be forced to do the thing.”
“The thing? I don’t wanna do the thing.”
“I don’t want you to do the thing either, but they insist that you do the thing.”
“Who are these people?”
“Robots. Programmed by Makarion to carry out his orders.”
“Can you reprogram them?”
“Negative.”
Mateo looked around, knowing that every second he let pass would make things more difficult. He just had to resign himself to the fact that he had no choice but to comply with tribulation parameters. “I can’t find anything sharp. If the walls had sharp edges, or something, maybe I could figure it out. But there’s nothing. How am I supposed to do the thing?”
“Is there a fire extinguisher?”
Mateo paused. Did she really just say that? Yes, yes there was. And it was probably an ancient one, at that. Future fire extinguishers could probably fit in the palm of your hand. “So now we’re doing Gravity? That one I did see.”
“Do you have one?”
“Yes, I do.”
“There shouldn’t be,” Leona pointed out. “This is the actual twist.”
“Okay, I can do this,” Mateo said.
“No, wait. I have to run some calculations. You can’t just hold the extinguisher wherever you want, or you’ll spin around endlessly. You have to put it at your center of mass.”
Before too long, though, Leona returned on comms and told him exactly where to hold the fire extinguisher, up against his belly. He hung out of the edge, ran through the Our Father prayer a few times, and then let it ride. He did spin around a few times; maybe a few hundred. But he quickly adjusted his placement, found his groove, and started shooting ever towards the ship above him. It was very tiny, likely so that it wouldn’t be detected by the real people living on Mars. Leona was floating under it, waiting for him to reach her. That meant she was already in her suit and out there when they were discussing fire extinguisher etiquette. So she did those calculations in her head. She really was amazing. He remembered her having said that she was always terrible at grade school math. How exactly had she changed so dramatically? However it was possible, he was grateful for this now. He barreled into her body and held on tightly. They didn’t even have to do the thing where they spin around each other, ever in danger of being pulled apart again.
The robot crew reeled them in together and sealed the airlock. “You can’t imagine how frustrating it’s been suffering these people,” Leona complained. “You’ve been unconscious for most of the day while I’ve been dealing with problem after problem. Nothing in this ship works. I almost wish we had actually done the explosion part.”
“We are going to,” one of the robots said.
“What?”
It entered a sequence into a device on its wrist. They could hear a beeping coming from it, and a number of other places nearby.
“You’re really going to blow up the ship!” Mateo yelled.
“It is our final directive,” it recited.
“What movie is that from?” Leona and Mateo scrambled to put their helmets back on. She entered own sequence on a console on the wall. The airlock reopened and jettisoned them from the ship, just as it was blowing up. The explosion propelled them back towards Mars, and damaged their suits. He could feel the air slipping away from him. Apparently he hadn’t needed something sharp to cut a hole. He should have thought of using an explosion before.
“Were I you!” Mateo yelled into his comms.
“Were I you!” Leona returned.
They continued to scream in fear. Would they keep going towards Mars, far enough to burn up in the atmosphere? Or would they eventually stop? He wished he knew how to science.
The scene changed as outer space transformed into water, and blackness turned to blue. They were lying in a water fountain, still screaming. People were hanging about, looking at them funny. They could see Makarion smiling from the crowd. He winked before turning away and walking off, done with them for now. Mateo played to the crowd and sprayed water out of his mouth, like one of the horses. They laughed at him, clearly happy to see something exciting and spontaneous.

Saturday, April 2, 2016

No Story, Here's Something Else

No story today. Just mistakes. Writers need a day off every once in awhile too. The follow-up to Seeing is Becoming is coming in two weeks.
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Friday, April 1, 2016

Microstory 290: Perspective Sixty-Five

Perspective Sixty-Four

I hear from a lot of people opposed to my values that same-sex marriage is going to make the world better. But we know from a number of different studies that this is not true. I’ve read a lot of different studies that say that children with two parents who are gay do not grow up to be good people. The fact is that gay marriage is harming this country’s children. I won’t even get into the religious problems gay marriage causes because I know that there are other religions out there other than mine, I’m not a crazy person. But these studies I read say that children of two “parents” of the same sex can end up really screwed up. They have worst grades, and sometimes they grow up to be sociopaths and perverts. It’s estimated that about half of children raised by gay couples grow up to be gay themselves. And that is not acceptable. You see, what it really boils down to is a population issue. If everyone was gay, then we wouldn’t be able to have any more people, would we? It doesn’t matter so much to me that marriage is between a man and a woman—which it is, by the way—the real thing is that sex is between a man and a woman. Because the only real purpose of sex is to make babies. Now I’m not saying that I don’t ever have sex for fun, I just mean that I do it with a woman, so it’s okay. I don’t understand why people don’t see that the gay infection is a real concern. If we keep letting gay people get married and raise children, we’ll just end up with more and more gay people, and then there won’t be anyone around to make healthy, god-fearing, straight people. Then we’ll all just die out. But I wonder if that’s what gay people want, to end the world. It’s an insidious plan, and it will probably take a long time, but if that’s really what they want, then we have to do something about it now.
Now you might think I’m crazy, but I’m not. It’s science, and I have the science to back up my claims. I’m not just making stuff up. I haven’t even gotten to the part where a homosexual country would lead to incest and bestiality. It’s not as far-fetched as you think. The people who like gay marriage also think we come from monkeys, so I’m sure they want to have sex with monkeys too. My coworker is gay, and he’s a huge advocate for gay rights. It’s so hard to work with him, and he knows these people where they’re all married to each other! There are, like, seven of them, and they’re all pretty much married to each other. Well, I mean, they’re not actually married, because that’s illegal, thank God, but if the gays have their way, they’ll be married soon too. I don’t think these people have children, but they could at some point, and that we cannot have. Something should be done. We have to protect the sanctity of marriage, and the safety of our children.

Perspective Sixty-Six