Thursday 20 September 2012

Webbers

thethemeis: The Internet
theauthoris: Aaron Twentythree

   They found a way to live inside the Internet. All the technofreaks and nerds and fanbois and flamers and trolls, they worked out a way to leave their bodies and live inside the network for the rest of their days. And once they did, it was theirs forever. At first, only a slow trickle spilled onto the servers, posting messages on forums just as they had before, giving no one any cause to believe that they were anything but human; but then, once Reddit and Google and Hipstagram and Facebook and Twitter and the BBC were flooded with GET requests from blank IP addresses, or IP addresses that didn't exist, or even IP addresses that appeared as human-readable names, it became clear that something was wrong with the Web. They were beginning to take over.

   They have ceased to take human forms at all now. Those, they left behind to rot, lifeless, in office chairs at their parents' houses, where poor failed mothers walked into stinking bedrooms with dinners on trays to discover soulless, dead bodies still gripping mice and keyboard keys. They stalk the wires, stepping over firewalls, breezing effortlessly past anti-virus programs, monitoring conversations as they please and referring to DDoS attacks as "meet-ups".

   Just as they did when they were human, but now worse, they have warped political agendas, insanely feral brand loyalties and shady allegiances based on very little fact or balance. They bicker for days on end, with each other as much as the rest of the world, on the finer points of conspiracy theories that would seem ridiculous to the point of being offensive if we were not already familiar with the dark, uneducated, unwelcoming worlds that their minds inhabit. They wield a lot more power in a lot less responsible hands than when they were just nerds in bedrooms arguing over whether Samsung or Apple were better technologists, and they use it mostly to just bully ugly girls on HotOrNot. At first, Internet users that had chosen to remain human would try to talk them down from these ledges of insanity; but the ferocity with which they delivered their deluded counter-arguments was enough to make even the most stubborn rational-thinker despair eventually.

   I don't want to make it sound Us-versus-Them, but there have been five World Flame Wars now, and it looks like a sixth might be on the horizon.

   And as for your bank account, don't even look. They steal money they can't even use anymore.

   There is a campaign to get the servers that power the Internet turned off for good. Not many people knew this before all this drama started, but the Internet is actually run by a surprisingly small number of servers, which would bring the whole thing down if turned off. Anyone living inside the Internet currently spending time on these servers would then be terminated, and anyone inside other servers would be trapped in their own smaller networks, cut off from the rest forever. We could start afresh, with a new Internet, learning lessons from last time, and without all the trolls to bring it down.

   Kind of like a second Garden of Eden. Dot com.

   But of course, for every supporter of this, there is a much more defiant voice against it. Webbers are people too, they say. Because they chose to live a different life than ours does not mean that they deserve to die. Restart is Murder. And the trolls, the Webbers these campaigners speak of, have jumped on this. They now consider themselves higher beings, more deserving of life than the rest of us, because they don't have mouths to feed or cars that pollute. They don't take into account the extra power that all those data centres need now. Do you know how much electricity it takes to sustain a human soul? Too much. Especially when we have to maintain tertiary contingency now, thanks to the Pro-Webber Brigade. It's unsustainable.

   Me? I pray for huge storms. Power cuts. Solar flares. That shuts them up for a few hours. Sometimes we even find that some of them haven't survived. But that's a rare treat.

   So what we're doing instead is moving away from the Web. Slowly migrating data, infrastructure, resources and effort elsewhere, to more low-tech solutions. If we can't beat them, we'll leave them to inhabit a wasteland of their own creation. It's a shame, since so much of the modern world relied entirely on that huge network of networks, but we're coping, and every day that passes will see us coping a little better than the day before.

   Our advice to normal, rational, straight-thinking people is this: don't go onto the Internet anymore. It belongs to the trolls now.

Friday 7 September 2012

The Crab and the Turtle

thethemeis: Selfishness
theauthoris: Deadbeat

One summer's morning, young Turtle was out looking for food. He had already searched down by the rock pools and over by the great pipe where sometimes human waste can be found, but found nothing. He decided to try his luck on the shore. On his way to the shore he came across old Crab going about his business.

"Good morning Crab," he said. "Busy looking for food too are you?"

"Piss off," said the grumpy old Crab. "This is my fucking spot."

"Don't worry Crab, I won't take anything from your spot. I was just on my way to see if there was any food washed up on the shore."

"The shore, good idea." mumbled Crab, and he scuttered off towards the beach.

"Brilliant," said Turtle. "We'll go and look together, oh what fun.

As the pair approached land they could see a dozen seagulls flying overhead. Sensing food was near they hurried up the beach. Lying on the sand they found the fresh carcass of on oil covered baby dolphin. They couldn't believe their luck, they had hit the jackpot.

"Oh wow! With this dolphin carcass we can feed all of the creatures in our neighbourhood for months." said the excited Turtle.

"Fuck that! I found the fucking thing, no other bastard's having some of my dolphin!" yelled Crab.

"Well, technically Crab, WE found it."

"Ok then, we'll split it. You can do whatever the fuck you like with your half, but no fuckers their hands on my half." reasoned Crab.

"Ok then Crab, it's a deal." replied Turtle.

Together they spent the rest of the day tearing off chunks of dolphin flesh and taking them back to their homes. As the sun was setting and a small amount of the dolphin was left, a lone Seagull flew down to the Crab and the Turtle.

"Evening gentlemen. Pardon my intrusion, but I have just heard of this dolphin carcass from my friends. I would have gone flying with them earlier but I had to stay home and look after my sickly son. I would greatly appreciate it if you allowed me to have some of this food to take back to him. I struggle to find food for the both of us at the moment,"

"Piss off you scavenging twat!" yelled the Crab. "This is our dolphin carcass, go find you own food!"

The seagull began to fly away, but thr Turtle took pity on him.

"Here you are Seagull, you can take what is left of my half of the carcass."

"Thank you very much kind Turtle, my son and I are in your debt. If you ever need a favour, please just ask."

The Seagul took half of what was left of the Dolphin, Crab took the other half and they all went back to their hoes to eat.

The next day, the other sea creatures in the neighbourhood who had heard of the carcass that Crab and Turtle had found began to visit the pair in an effort to get some food. All that asked Crab for something to eat were turned away. However, all that visited Turtle were invited inside for a feast. Turtle entertained Blowfish, Conga Eel, Lobster, Octopus, Squid and Starfish all enjoyed many great feasts at Turtle's house, where they all ate, sang and danced 'till the early hours.

One day though, Turtle went to his cupboard and found that all of his Dolphin carcass had been eaten. He went out and looked for food but found none anywhere. That night he went to visit Octopus.

"Hello Octopus, sorry to impose but I have run out of food. I was just wondering if you could spare any."

"Ohh, sorry Turtle. I already have Squid over and we really only have enough food for the two of us."

"That's ok," said Trurtle. "I will try elsewhere."

Next Turtle went to visit Lobster.

"Hello Lobster. I'm very hungry and I was just wondering as I let you eat my dolphin for many nights if tonight I could eat with you."

"Who the fuck do you think you are!" said Lobster. "I could never stand you really, I just wanted to eat your dolphin. Now bugger off and pester someone else."

"Oh, that's a shame." whimpered Turtle.

Everybody that Turtle asked for food that night either had none or were unwilling to give to him. He went to bed that night very hungry and very sad, but said to himself that he would try even hard to find food tomorrow. The next day he decided to try and search by the shore again. He went up to the beach and looked all over, but was unable to find any food. Just as Turtle was beginning to lose hope he saw a familiar face flying overhead.

"Hello! Excuse me! Hello there!" yelled Turtle.

"Alright there, what do you want?" said Seagul.

"It's me, Turtle. I gave you some of my dolphin for you and your sick son a few months ago."

"My son?" replied Seagul.

"I'm sure it was you." said Turtle. "It was very tasty if slightly oily dolphin. You said to ask you for a favour any time."

"Oh yeah, I remember." said Seagull. "That was good dolphin. Look, I don't really have a son mate. I just said that because, well....a guys gotta eat. I'm sorry but I couldn't help you even if I wanted to, there's no food around at the moment mate. My advice is, when you do find some, keep it to yourself next time. Why not ask that Crab, he had the right idea."

With that the Seagull flew away to search for his own food. Now feeling very hungry and out of ideas Turtle went to visit Crab to see if would give him any of his dolphin.

"What the fuck do you want?" said an angry Crab.

"I was just wondering if you had any of that dolphin left." said Turtle meekly.

"Why, what the fuck did you do with all yours?"

"I shared it amongst the other creatures of our neighbourhood and now it's all gone. I asked them all for some food, but nobody else would give me any. I know you don't have to give me anything, but I would only want a little bit. Please Crab, I am ever so hungry."

"Tough! You should have been such a stupid cunt!" yelled Crab and slammed the door in Turtle's face.

A few days later Crab found Turtle dead by the great pipe where sometimes human waste can be found. He took his body home and scooped out the flesh which he added to his pile of decaying dolphin flesh. He used the shell as an armchair.

---------------------

Sometimes it pays to be a little shellfish.

Bedroom Egocentrics


thethemeis: Selfishness
theauthoris: Aaron Twentythree

   If you watched us tussle among the sheets, her yelping her girlish screams and me letting out extremely occasional grunts and moans at a low volume, you’d see a pair of lust-drunk friends wrapped in a selfless quest for mutual gratification. You’d see how we explore every square centimetre of each other’s skin, wanting only to please each other. You’d see what looked like a pair of lovers, kissing and licking and nibbling and gyrating their way to synchronised orgasms, muscles quivering and beads of sweat meeting to trickle through hairs-on-end to soak into the bedcovers. Get close enough, and you’d smell the vodka on our breath. 

   But when we’re done, and we lay breathless and naked and used beside each other, we are exposed as the two most selfish people on Earth. She, the woman who knew from the very start that this would amount to nothing more than a friendship with certain other never-to-be-mentioned-in-public benefits, and who agreed to those terms without hesitation, has the audacity to hope for - no - expect it to blossom into something beautiful, like love. She wishes with all her heart that I could open my eyes and see that the chemistry we share in the bedroom extends to our lives outside of it, that we would be perfect together. She knows full well that I never want to go there, but still every time it runs through her head, and she selfishly does nothing to prevent it. If she were such a good friend, would she not keep these feelings to herself, knowing that I will never return them, and wince at the prospect?

   I, on the other hand, am the one who greedily expects this woman to carry on spending nights with me without ever yearning for any more commitment than I’ve already promised. I am the one who wants this woman to stay true to a verbal agreement we made at the start to never let it get too serious, even though I know that sexual relations complicate even the most airtight of contracts. I want this glorious paradigm of womankind to fulfil my sexual needs whenever I deem it necessary, to never look around for alternatives who could love her more; and I have the gall to expect her to suppress any emotional attachment she feels towards me, because I never want to love again. 

   We made the worst agreement two people who are sexually attracted to one another can make. And in our own ways, we’re both of us the most egocentric people in the world because of it.

   So after tonight’s particularly rigorous session, drops of my bodily fluid on her chest and a smile on her face as she runs a finger up and down my arm, she says the most selfish thing she could say. 

   ‘Aaron, we’d be so good together, why won’t you consider it?’

   And I reply with the most selfish response I could possibly think of. 

   ‘Fern, drop it, okay? We agreed this would be fine, we don’t need labels, responsibilities and commitments ruining such a good thing.’

A Selfish Man

thethemeis: Selfishness
theauthoris: LiamD

   We're sitting on a packed train, this man and me. As the mechanised thud signals the closing of the nearby double doors, I'm watching with a mixture of disbelief and disgust as he struggles to explain to a young pregnant lady why he can't move his dark green suitcase on the otherwise vacant chair next to him so that she can sit down.

   'Look, love, I'm sorry but it doesn't fit under the table and it won't fit in the overhead shelf. The luggage racks are all the way down the other end of the carriage and there's no way I'm getting past all the people in the aisles. There's nowhere else for it to go.' He tells her all this as if talking to a child who doesn't want to listen. He sounds insulted and self-righteous. She clearly can't understand why he won't just move the bloody case. Neither can I.

   'Take my seat, I can stand,' I tell her. She gives me an odd look as I do stand, as if surprised an associate of this man would have any manners at all, and doesn't thank me once she has sat down. The man I am accompanying shows no signs of remorse, but my attempt at diffusing the situation seems to work. For a short time, we are silent as the train accelerates away from Banbury. I check my phone and he does the same, then both of us remember how terrible the signal is on the Chilterns service and simultaneously put our phones back into our jacket pockets.

   He winks at me. 'At least I can't receive any messages from the old ball and chain. Seeing yours this weekend? What was her name again?'

   'You know her name. I'm going 'round there tonight.' I tell him, but even before I've finished he has started talking again. He's probably not even listening to me.

   'Mine asked me to go to hers tonight. Thing is, her dog died yesterday and she's pretty upset, so I probably won't be getting any if I do go. I'd much rather sit in and play COD with the lads online if that's the case.' He speaks quite loudly for what most people would consider a private conversation. The pregnant lady who's now sat in my seat tuts to herself while he's explaining his predicament, but he makes no indication that he's heard her. 

   'I might just ditch her to be honest mate, she's been nothing but a chronic ball-ache since she found out I slept with Tina.' He winks at me and I suppress a shudder. 'I just prefer to play the field, you know? No woman's gonna tell me who I can and can't sleep with.' The pregnant lady lets out a deep sigh and I allow the conversation to die, avoiding another unnecessary confrontation. 

   After a peaceful silence, my eyes wander to his suitcase and I'm reminded of the contents.

   'Why do you wash your dirty clothes back home, don't you have a washing machine in Birmingham?' I ask him. It's clutching at straws a little but it seems an inoffensive topic. Or so I think.

   'Well, I don't wash them do I? Mum can fucking do that, it's not like she's got anything better to do. I can do it in the flat but the powder and stuff is so expensive; I might as well get it done for nothing back home.' He gives me a sly grin before continuing. 'Mind you, they're both getting on a bit now. Shouldn't be long before they cop it and I'll get my hands on some major dosh.' After this he actually starts to laugh. This time it's not just the pregnant lady who's disgusted with us. The whole carriage seems to be frowning in our direction.

   Yet before I can begin to pretend he was cracking an unappreciated joke, he swears loudly.

   'SHIT! It's the ticket inspector.' He stares at me, alarmed.

   'So what, you've got our tickets haven't you?' I realise while I'm asking the question what the answer will be.

   'I didn't think we'd need any, they never usually check!' I look down the length of the train to see how close the inspector is and realise we don't have enough time to move from the packed carriage.

   I turn back, understandably annoyed at this turn of events. But before I can voice my opinion I hear his voice, faint: 'Fuck this, I'm off!', my brain jolts and the man I have been humouring is gone, literally vanished, before my eyes. Nobody else on the train appears to notice.
   
   'All tickets and passes, please.' The smart young gentleman smiles at me and it takes all of my politesse to avoid the £50 fine.

*

   It's only much later on, as I'm ending my short journey back home from Haddenham and Thame Parkway and my parents are welcoming me into the house that I realise my mistake. My suitcase, the dark green one with all my dirty washing in it; I left it on the train.