More! Astonishing Tales of Hackery!

EDIT: Another post at Atom! About celebrities and comic books?! My god, it’s like a new one of these things come out every fucking week! You can find it here, you can digg it here, and you can remember it fondly…everywhere! Because you keep it in your heart!

Yes, I’m doing this to you again. This should be the last cop out for a while, though: The posts will resume as usual next week, and I should have another announcement then as well. In the meantime, you can also read a new post over at Atom – this time it’s an intense and serious expose regarding the very future of all mankind. There’s also a lot of sperm in it. Bonus!

The sun rose on another miserable, rainy day inside Deek’s apartment. The Weather-generators, set to Dramatic Downpour, sent sheet after sheet of torrential waves tearing across his bedroom. Deek lay silently, placidly accepting the lashes of water like a much-deserved flagellation. The drainage pumps thwacked and grinded into action, setting up a harmony of dissonance to the dull, omnipresent roar of the rain. Deek cried silently, his tears lost in the downpour, only adding ever so slightly to the rising water level in the room. Eventually, after hours of weak sobbing amidst the relentless storm, sensors determined the water level to be too high and the Suicide Alarm chimed sadly from the Monitor across the room.“Sorry big guy,” the speaker intoned, in a carefully crafted simulacrum of sympathy “the water level’s just too high. Anything over an inch and it becomes theoretically possible to drown yourself. I have to shut off the water and drain the room now. Remember… you are loved!”

The static scream of the rain stopped abruptly, leaving only the gentle smack and groan of the pumps – now kicking into overdrive. The waters swirled around the overflow grate, and soon disappeared entirely. The Weather-generators began emanating a slight fog, the smell of a snow yet to come dwelled almost imperceptibly behind it.

Deek sighed heavily, and then again. After an hour of heavy sighs interspersed with an occasional soft moan, he raised himself wearily from the bed and soddenly trudged into the kitchen.

“Wine please. Red. A Cabernet would be good I guess,” he told the refrigerator.

“Aw, come on, pal,” the refrigerator drawled “you know I can’t dispense alcohol in the morning, even on the best of days. Remember, though…you are loved!”

Deek sat down on the floor and placed his head in his hands. He considered crying, briefly, but decided his pain was ultimately futile against such an uncaring, apathetic world.

“Coffee then,” Deek said, “black like my heart.”

“Aw, buck up soldier…” the refrigerator replied, but obligingly stirred into motion.

He took his coffee from the shelf and, slumping back to the floor, sipped at it half-heartedly.

“Sorry sport,” the Monitor interrupted “you’re scheduled for work duty in thirty minutes.”

Deek choked back a yell, looked desperately around him for something to smash and, finding nothing, hurled his coffee cup at the low slung metal box that housed the Monitor’s speakers.

“Come on, buckaroo” the Monitor crooned.

“I’m not going.”

“Aw, buddy…”

“You can’t make me! I’m going to die today! I’m going to die!” Deek collapsed in a heap at the base of the Monitor’s shelf.

“C’mon bud…” a dull pulse sounded in the ceiling as a myriad of speakers and vid-screens lowered into the room.
“You know I have to initiate Ejection Protocols at twenty minutes,” a tension-loaded silence prevailed, the smell of snow somehow amplified by the hush.

“Please…” Deek implored, his eyes ran frantically about the room, seeking anything to implore to, “please!”

The speakers popped once, stuttered, and began:

“LET THE SUNSHINE IN AND CHASE AWAY YOUR BLUES…” the volume carried in the largest of Deek’s bones as he leapt to his feet and charged for the wardrobe.


He hastily ripped his work uniform from its hanger and, running-hopping- falling as he dressed, made his desperate, stumbling way toward the door.


The vid-screens set into motion brightly colored animations – chipmunks jumping rope with blue-jays, a smiling sun dancing, kittens fighting – while the lights steadily grew in luminosity until they peaked just shy of the purest, whitest sunshine. Deek yelped and, covering his eyes with one upraised arm, crawled pitifully through the living room. Perfumed shots of air (candy corn and daisies mostly,) began pelting him from the tiny aerosol vents that littered the house. He rallied his strength and, hunching into the smallest protective ball he could manage, vaulted through the doorway just as the padded robotic arms lowered from the ceiling, readying their Projectile Hugs.

“You are loved!” The Monitor yelled its refrain through the closing doors, only half-heard through the blaring horns and peppy strumming.

Deek barked hoarsely, his breath coming in hyperventilating gasps. Eventually, he began to assemble himself. He smoothed his uniform, brushed the remaining water from his brow, and did his best to rub the perfumes from his skin. He set his jaw resolutely, and after only twenty minutes of muttering reassurances to himself, headed off towards Sector Septa and work duty.

Bryan greeted him with mild apprehension; a lowering of the eyes and a timid shuffle of the shoulders told Deek they were in the same boat.

“How’re you feeling?” Bryan asked, skulking over to greet him.

“Got driven out today,” Deek spat, switching the status from Rest to Work on his uniform.

“Yeah?” Bryan seemed to cheer a bit at the news, “me too! What was it? Whistle While You Work? That’s what got me.”

“No,” Deek shuddered, “Let the Sunshine In…”

“Oh good God,” Bryan muttered, as they both contemplated the horror, “You need to be careful then; Binny is manic today. He practically fucking skipped onto duty. Aw, son of a-”

Binny saw them and screamed a friendly greeting from the third level. He leapt spritely from the balcony, sliced through the air, and curled into a ball – trusting the Monitor to catch him. He let out a happy sigh as the nets shot out and set him lightly at their feet.

“How are you guys?!” He ensnared them both with a massive hug, then stepped back to appraise their expressions, “Oh no! You’re both depressive today!”

Deek and Bryan nodded solemnly – Deek visibly restraining the urge to take a swing at him.

“Well don’t worry guys! Tomorrow’s another day, right?” He laughed and tumbled away from them – literally cart-wheeling and somersaulting – into the waiting elevator.

“I swear to fucking Christ this is the day. I’m really going to do it. I am. I will die this day,” Deek whispered.

“I’m with you, man,” Bryan said “let’s do it now before-”

“Work Duty has begun fellas,” The Monitor speakers beneath their feet sounded, “All suicide locks are on; all levels with external balconies are now off limits to depressives.”

Bryan’s knees went out at the announcement. He slipped to the floor and laid still, his eyes unfocused and distant. Deek fought back a wave of consuming hatred; he steadied his hands and took several deep breaths.

“Bryan was right,” he muttered, “tomorrow is another day.” And he swore an undying oath that it was a day he would not see.

“All workers: Your attention please for a special announcement,” the Monitor called to attention “…you are all loved!”

Bryan, still motionless on the floor, threw up softly; his body limp, his gaze unmoving.

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15 Responses to More! Astonishing Tales of Hackery!

  1. Erin says:

    This was so touching it made me want to go get a kitten, write an anguished song, and then put on lots of eyeliner so I could take pictures of myself slashing my wrists (while the kitten watched of course, so it could be emo too).

    Seriously though, good writing.

  2. Brett says:

    …When you put emos in space… they are slightly less horrible… WE MUST LAUNCH THEM ALL INTO SPACE!

  3. chalks says:

    I… have some questions about this super emotional world. Tell me more… BEFORE I DROWN IN MY OWN TEARS.

  4. JD says:

    Your an awesome writer, Rob. Remember, in space, no one can hear you cry softly into your pillow. Because no one cares about you. So, it’s a lot like Earth.

  5. Robert says:


    You could start a new meme with EMOcats: Just like LOLcats only more sad and only marginally more annoying.


    Brilliance. Your nobel laureate is on the way. When it gets there, unwrap it and enjoy the chocolatey center.


    Since you’re emotionally fragile right now, I guess this is the part where a good friend would ask you what’s wrong, and tell you that tomorrow’s a brighter day. However, I am not a good friend, so this is the part where I push you down the stairs and ask you if the physical pain is better or worse than the emotional.

  6. Brett says:

    Finally! I can put it next to my gummi Pulitzer!

  7. the girlfriend says:

    Shut-up, Robert. LOLcats saved internet comedy and gave receptionists a reason to wake up and go to work every morning.

    Can you claim that? ???

  8. Robert says:

    I claim that every day; you know this. It’s on my license-plate holder.

  9. Bho says:

    Do these guys work at blackmesa per chance?

  10. Robert says:

    Deep LOLcats?

    That’s it. I quit the world.

    Fuck you, internet.

  11. Brett says:

    No Robert! You can’t leave the matrix! WHAT WILL FIGHT MY ROBOTS THEN!? WHAT I ASK YOU?!

    If it’s sexy robots, then drop me a line once you get out.

  12. Robert says:

    No, Brett, this being the internet, they will most likely fight either pirates or ninjas. Everybody will pretend like it’s awesome and hilarious, but inside we all know we’re just going through the motions of another tired cliche.

    Sorry dude.

    If it makes you feel any better, adorable kitties get cancer every day and your favorite childhood heroes are probably all dead.

  13. J Rylez says:

    Haha it’s funny how that much happy can make (sane) people sad and such, although Binny seems like he does shits literal rainbows and sunshine.

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