Started Late 2005 at 1:00 am – Last Edited December 2008
The Story
Prologue – Midnight
“Just start typing. It doesn’t have to be good. It doesn’t have to make sense. Just start typing,” I said to myself. I was sitting in front of my laptop at one in the morning and still hadn’t thought of a new story to write. “Just start typing random words and story will just appear. Now if only I could think of some random words… how about… ‘chair’… and…. uhhh…. ‘window’…. ‘water’…. this sucks.”
I was just about to give up and call it a night when suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light outside.
I ran to my window and tried to see what had caused the flash. Scanning the yard, I found the source: the neighbor’s porch light. Disappointed, I walked back over to my desk and closed the lid on my laptop.
The next day was a Saturday. Therefore, I did what I did every action packed Saturday: I sat on the couch and watched cartoons. At about two, I heard a doorbell.
Oh I remember now, I thought, Mike was coming over today.
I walked over to the door and let him in.
“How ya doing, buddy!” he asked.
Before I could answer, he continued talking.
“Man, you look awful! Long night? What were you doing? Studying? No no, I bet you were trying to revive that story you started a few weeks ago. Did you finally finish it? No, if you did you would be all… happy. Instead you are all… Hey, is that a mustard stain on your shoulder?”
Mike and I have been friends since fifth grade. We met when I fell into an animal pen at the zoo on a field trip and he came to my rescue. It was a petting zoo, and it was a rabbit pen, but whatever. He could talk without missing a beat. He’s mostly harmless.
“But you started the story, right? I mean you got some words down,” he continued. “Right?”
“Uhhh… Mike, why did you want to come over today, again?”
“Don’t you remember? Today Mr. Hurmugue wanted everyone to go listen to that famous billionaire’s speech. Said the guy’s gonna talk about how he became rich or something.”
The speech was being held in a big fancy community center a few blocks from my school. It had everything from a pool table to a Jacuzzi and looked about the same size as the Visitors Center in that first Jurassic Park movie. Yes, very encouraging.
“Wow,” Mike said. “Look at this place! There are more people here than that time City Hall caught fire.”
He was right. When we got inside, we found that it was completely packed. Now, even though this place was basically the centerpiece of the town, it usually wasn’t very popular. Most people thought of it as that-place-we-go-to-when-there-is-nothing-else-to-do. The teens thought it was lame and the elderly preferred going on power walks.
But today everyone wanted to hear what the billionaire had to say. Not only because he was rich, or the possibility of becoming rich themselves. It wasn’t even the subconscious assumption everyone had that he would spontaneously start throwing money in the air. It was because he was a native son. Born and raised within city limits. Everyone loved him. Even before he made his millions almost everyone had benefited from his volunteer hours at one point or another. He put our town on the map.
“Get out of my way!” shouted a voice behind us.
We turned around and saw a bald man running toward us. His face looked very old and he spoke with an odd accent. Kind of like a cross between Tim Curry and John O’Hurley. He was very thin and wore what seemed to be a business suit. Over the business suit he wore what I can only describe as a ‘Cargo Coat’. It was a khaki windbreaker covered in pockets. He pushed past us and ran toward the stairwell. Closely behind him were two of the buildings’ security guards. On his way to the stairs, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. He held it over his head and ran screaming up the stairs.
“Well, that was weird.” said Mike. “Do you think we should follow them? See what happens next?”
Looking back on that day, I feel I should have followed the man up the stairs. Maybe to help either him, or the security guards. Because if I had, our lives (and their lives) would have probably been very different than they are now.
“No,” I said. “Are you crazy? I’ve seen this movie before. We chase after them and then it turns out that the guy is some kind of killer robot or something.”
“Ah ha! But what if he’s one of those good robots?” Mike countered. “What if he’s from the future and we’re the innocent bystanders who end up being the ones who tag along and have wacky adventures?”
“But then it would have to be some kind of series instead of a movie. And besides, didn’t they already make a TV show about a robot? Wasn’t it the one who was friends with a talking chair?”
“No, that show was about a guy in a giant robot suit! The show with the talking chair was the one with that comedian who decided to do a sitcom.”
The conversation went on like that for a while. Eventually we ended up talking about whether Batman or Spiderman would win in fight.
We made our way to the room where the talk was being held. The room was actually some kind of really big multi purpose gym, but they had put up a stage near one end and filled the rest of the gym with as many foldable chairs as they could. When we got there, we could barely find Amy. She was standing up front near the stage and had managed to save us some seats.
“Hey, over here!” she called.
“Wow,” commented Mike. “Fourth row, middle. This is amazing! Not too close, not in the nosebleeds. And look at this place! Not another seat in the room! How’d you do it? If I was trying to do this I’d be over there in the back next to that guy covered in pretzels.”
“Well, what can I say? It’s a gift,” Said Amy with a smile.
Now, Amy is the only person in my life who I’ve known longer than Mike. I don’t exactly remember how or when we met, but I do know it was some time during preschool or kindergarten. I remember that we would always go over to each others house (usually mine, as I had more toys), hang out during play time, I even have a picture of us taken in one of those photo booths in the mall tucked away in my safety deposit box. It feels just like yesterday we were-
“I said, ‘What do you think?’” Amy said, waving her hand in front of my face. “You okay? You look like there’s something on your mind.”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something.” I said, trying to guess at what they were talking about.
“Oh? What about?” Mike asked.
“It’s nothing. What were you saying, Amy?”
“For the fourth time, ‘What do you think?’”
“Uhh,” I said. What were they talking about? “Well, yes. I agree.”
“You agree,” repeated Mike. “So, when asked about why you think Victor Thompson is back here in his hometown, giving a speech, you agree. That’s an interesting way to look at it.” Amy started smiling. She had a nice smile. Out of the three of us, I would have to say she had the nicest smile.
“Hey,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Did Mike tell you about the guy we saw in the hallway? He was wearing what seemed to be a business suit. Over the business suit, he wore what I can only describe as a- wait. There go the lights. It must be starting soon.”
“Yeah. That, or they’re gonna start playing some previews.” Mike said, reaching into his pocket to turn off his cell phone.
Turning off one’s cell phone, as you probably know, is something many people do upon entering places like movie theaters, or school auditoriums. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I had a lot on my mind. The story I was writing, the chores I had to do that day, why I ate a whole bowl of salsa the night before, why Mr. Hurmugue wanted everyone to go listen to the speech, Amy. So I feel it’s completely understandable that I didn’t notice to look he gave me when he did it. Or the fact that my cousin Steve, who I hadn’t seen for five years, was sitting in the front row. Or, that the man sitting two rows back and three to the right kept looking at me and shuffling in his very, very squeaky chair.
Chapter 1 – ‘The Future of Crescent Creek’
“Now, you may be wondering why I titled my talk ‘The Future of Crescent Creek’. The title, actually, has nothing to do with my talk at all.” There was a chuckle from the audience.
We were about an hour into Victor Thompson’s talk. He had started off by thanking the town for welcoming him back so warmly and remarked how much had changed since the last time he was here. He then told us all about what his company had been doing recently: Investing, diversifying, various grassroots and charity organizations, and the like. He had invested in an interesting little underdog organization, which specialized in the recycling of extra parts found in furniture assembly boxes.
“…and that brings me to, THIS,” said Victor Thompson. He held up a black computer disc.
I’m sorry, I missed the part in between.
“THIS,” he continued. “Is the StoyTech Electronic Program Helper. Say hello Steph.”
On one of the projector screens behind him… oh. Yeah, there were two big projector screens behind him.
On one of the projector screens behind him, there appeared a green face made of a semi-colon and a bracket, like people use on the internet, only rotated ninety degrees clockwise so it looked more like a face. It also had a greater-than and less-than sign above the semi-colon, forming a bow, so that it looked more female.
“Hello Mr. Thompson,” said the face, in a calm, soothing, almost hypnotic, female voice.
Mike leaned towards me.
“Oh, I get it.” He said in an exaggerated whisper. “It’s an acronym.” Mike can have a very subtle sense of humor at times.
“Steph can perform a wide variety of different functions,” Victor Thompson continued. “However, if you don’t enjoy the <whatever the computer was called in galidor> theme, you can choose among many others. Such as… oh I’m sorry. It seems I need to refresh my memory. Steph, could you cycle through the list of alternate themes which would be available straight out of the box for no extra fee?” He gave the audience a wink.
“Certainly, Mr. Thompson,” said the face as it began to change.
“Also, how about a little background music, hmm? Let’s try track four.”
“Certainly, Mr. Thompson,” said the face. The song “Spanish Flea” began to play, much to the <verb> of the audience.
Victor Thompson did a little dance before he continued.
“First up, we have the theme that many pet lovers will enjoy. I believe this theme is called “K-9”, right Steph?”
“Affirmative,” said the face, now in the shape of a cute puppy. The voice had changed to that of a ten year old boy, like all puppies. The background also changed from being completely black, to a grassy park.
“It also comes in ‘Cat’,” added Victor Thompson. “Next, we have various… well, it seems I’m a little behind schedule. Steph, quick cycle, if you please.”
The face began to change, only staying on the faces long enough to utter their catch phrases. It was as if you were quickly cycling through channels on a television set.
“What’s the deal with-“
“But that’s impossible!”
“Aww, hell no!”
“Are you pondering-“
“The plane!”
“Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow-“
“Suit up!”
“I am your father.”
“Alrighty then!”
“We’re running out of time!”
“Excellent.”
“I tell ya, I get no respect!”
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do!”
“I am not a crook.”
“We are not amused.”
“Shaken, not stirred.”
“Stella!”
“One small step for man-“
“I’m the king of the world!”
“-offer he can’t refuse.”
“You can’t handle the truth!”
“Why’d it have to be snakes?”
“They’re here.”
“-need a bigger boat.”
“I’ll be back.”
“You talking to me?”
“Now, that’s a knife.”
“Bam!”
“What year is it?”
“Resistance is futile.”
“-your moment of zen.”
“Daisy, Daisy-“
“Truth, justice, and-“
“The tribe has spoken.”
“Silly rabbit-“
“Don’t make me angry.”
“You rang?”
“Danger, Danger-”
“Dyn-o-mite!”
“Aaaay!”
“Is that your final answer?”
“No soup for you!”
“Good grief.”
“D’oh!”
The crowd went wild over this torrent of non public domain characters. Even we were impressed.
The face reverted back to the green semi-colon bracket face.
“Now, of course, Steph can do more than imitate our favorite celebrities. She can also browse the internet, send and receive email, edit pictures, play music, analyze sound, detect and remove viruses, edit video, track GPS, lock or unlock your car, communicate wirelessly, recognize speech, perform advanced mathematics, translate different languages, record audio and video, synthesize voice, share files, and if the mood strikes you; carry a conversation.”
“I’m also very user friendly,” said the face with a wink. And by wink I mean briefly changing it’s semi-colon into a colon and back again. Sort of an anti-wink, I guess.
“I will now take any questions,” opened Victor Thompson.
Before anyone could say anything, he took a step to the left, looked in the direction he was previously standing in, and started waving his hand franticly in the air. After a few more seconds, he put his arm down, fixed his suit, and took a step back to the right.
“Yes, you sir,” he said, looking to his left.
He stepped back to the left, looked to his right and asked his question.
“Mr. Thompson, why are you showing us this amazing program?” he asked in a very stiff, obviously staged voice.
He stepped back to his right and addressed the audience.
“That’s a very good question,” he said. “I wanted you all to be the first to see this,” concluded Victor Thompson. “This all-in-one program is the answer to many of the problems facing our technological society today. With our network of 31 orbital satellites, anyone running this program can communicate with anyone else in the system. After a little fiddling with the ‘Contacts List’ of course. With it we could eliminate language barriers, communicate with faraway friends, and ensure our security more than ever before.”
There was an awkward silence for a few beats. It seemed out of place with the rest of the presentation, which was polished and fast paced. He looked around for a second.
“Umm… Any other questions?”
Several reporters asked all the generic questions you would expect them to. How long was it in development? What was your inspiration? How many do you expect to sell? Are you seeing anyone? What’s your favorite food? And so on.
Victor Thompson answered them in his quirky side stepping way. A while. Long story. Chicken or beef? Maybe. And umm bananas, I guess.
The usual stuff.
And then Steve raised his hand.
“I’m sorry Mr. Thompson, but I have a question for Steph. Can you hear me, Steph?”
“Yup, I can hear you.” Answered Steph.
“Hey, how ya doing? Correct me if I’m wrong, ‘cause I was asleep at the time, but you have sound analyzing capabilities, am I right?”
“Yes, that is one of the many features which I can-.”
“Okay, cool.” Steve said, standing up out of his chair. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Tell me, what do you think of this?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked a lot like that radio from that cartoon about that toaster. You know the one I mean, right? The one with the guy who does that voice?
Anyway, he pulled out the whatever-it-is and quickly turned a knob on its underside. What happened next was, to say the least, odd. Apparently, it was so odd, that it caused me to pass out instantly.
The Next Chapter
I woke up to Amy giving me CPR. I thought about pretending to still be out, for obvious reasons, but then she started to punch me in the chest, so I decided against it. I was lying on the grass in the field between the playground and the Community Center. Amy was sitting beside me.
“You scared me.” Amy said, looking down at me. “And you can wipe that smile off your face.” She gave me another punch in the chest.
I folded my hands under my head and smiled at her.
“Why were you giving me CPR?” I asked, chuckling. “And why were you punching me?”
“I don’t know!” She crossed her arms. “And I only started punching you after you started smiling. What happened to you in there? When that kid pressed that button, you almost fell out of your chair!”
That got my attention. I sat up.
“Wait, what?” Now I was concerned.
“Don’t you remember? There was a sharp piercing sound that
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