sinkoman
Party Escort Bot
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2004
- Messages
- 7,457
- Reaction score
- 21
I came up with an idea for a story whilst twiddling my thumbs today, and was going to turn it into a comic, but decided that a written story would be easier to keep my interest in, and easier to keep fairly detailed.
I figured i'd post it here as I wrote it, to get feedback from you guys
So here's what i've got so far.
EDIT: Meah, i'll just upload the TXT, since the Forum is formatting my shit weird.
When you read the uploaded txt, turn off wordwrap. That'll fix the formatting issues.
In this day and age, one often doesn't take much consideration to the traditional paper calendar, with many a tool filling their work routines with the decidedly ?simpler? laptops, desktop PCs, and cellular phones, forcing the devices, via ass slavery, into the simple task of directing their lives on a month to month basis.
Yet in between the walls of your stereotypical, and monotonous cubicle, stood a testament to the dark age of keeping track of your life sans electronic influence.
Streaks of the warm and fresh Floridian sunset showed through the cracks of the shoddily made cubicle's wall, evading coffee mugs, piles of unfinished work reports, and foam anger management programs, to illuminate the formerly mentioned, paper calendar.
Streaks of black ink chased through the days, thus marking the moments since explored, leading up to November 18th, a day of which I could make cliche, and mention immense future importance to you.
But I won't, because that'd suck.
"Ray, you leaving yet?" arrived softly, from the other side of the room, bared by an Andes of cubicle walls.
A tall and thick figure shot its head up from staring at our formerly mentioned calendar, and reached over to see who was calling.
He straightened his hair, ruffled from the jolt of the ostrich esque maneuver.
"Oh yeah, just gimme a few. We're shutting 'er down tomorrow, yeah?" replied over the Andes.
"Yeah, shame ain't it?"
"Holdup, lemme save some shit..." trekked back.
A few keystrokes echoed through the otherwise deaf office space, then a few erasures in common repetition. Rays fingers were a tad fat, so he often times would hit a key or two accident, whilst in the line of common workplace duty. Nevertheless, his mathematical and deductive prowess super ceded the consequential messiness of his work.
He grabbed his coffee cup as if to pat its rim, snatched his backpack by the handle, and trekked through the jungle of printers and cubicle rims, reaching the windows which ran from floor to ceiling, and meticulously closed each of the blinds in the office, thusly removing the last bits of natural light illuminating the office. He was used to having to find his way through the office late at night, via the soft blue light of computer monitors left on by his colleagues.
He walked quickly over to Karl [allow me to break the forth wall, out of pure laziness, and inform you that our fellow Peruvian messenger is named Karl], carefully set down his empty coffee mug on the slim edge of Karl's open cubicle, and set his hand on the wall. He was a fairly heavy set man, and often times feared that leaning on the frail cubicle walls in the former fashion would jeopardize the structural integrity of his colleague's torture chambers. The cubicles in the office were cheap and shoddy equipment, purchased decidedly for their ease of setup and tear down. Management had spent the great majority of its funds on the Control room.
"What was that you were saying?" Ray said.
There was a decidedly New Jersey esque quality to Ray's voice, yet it was thin enough to obviate him from attaining Guido status amongst his friends and coworkers.
"Oh nothing. I was just gonna say, shame we hafta shut 'er down now. I mean, we've got all the data that we need, but still... I dunno how to say it. It's like having to kill a childhood pet, ye know? You've raised the ****, and put all your time and energy into sustaining its love and health, and then once it's reached its age..."
"Yeah yeah, I kinda know what you mean. All that effort and shit we put into getting the thing working, all those nights trying to dodge the fuggin rings". Ray's mind recalled the month of the landers descent into the planets orbit, and past its rings, where everybody in the Office had to be prepared to run down to the Control room at seconds notice to steer the lander away from anything, ranging the occasional pea sized ice ball that the scanners hadn't picked up, to a house sized chunk of frozen dirt and mud that felt the need to pull out of its orbit, and hunt down the lander.
"YEAH! ****, that was irritating. Damn near quit because of Management."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ye remember when Phil suggested we scan and mark all the debris in the rings, and anticipate the movement past the rings months in advance?"
"Oh yeah yeah, and then management basically gave him the old ass slammin".
"Yeah"
It was moments like those that made Ray, and obviously Karl, feel like doing some sort of strike esque movement, and demand that Management actually let the team do its job, without having to fit to Management's intensely linear budget. But they both knew that millions would kill to take their jobs, and that NASA probably wouldn't have any problem replacing them with equally talented and more Management friendly workers.
Btw, what i've got so far is pretty much just setting the scene. It's yet to get to any actual storyline.
I figured i'd post it here as I wrote it, to get feedback from you guys
So here's what i've got so far.
EDIT: Meah, i'll just upload the TXT, since the Forum is formatting my shit weird.
When you read the uploaded txt, turn off wordwrap. That'll fix the formatting issues.
In this day and age, one often doesn't take much consideration to the traditional paper calendar, with many a tool filling their work routines with the decidedly ?simpler? laptops, desktop PCs, and cellular phones, forcing the devices, via ass slavery, into the simple task of directing their lives on a month to month basis.
Yet in between the walls of your stereotypical, and monotonous cubicle, stood a testament to the dark age of keeping track of your life sans electronic influence.
Streaks of the warm and fresh Floridian sunset showed through the cracks of the shoddily made cubicle's wall, evading coffee mugs, piles of unfinished work reports, and foam anger management programs, to illuminate the formerly mentioned, paper calendar.
Streaks of black ink chased through the days, thus marking the moments since explored, leading up to November 18th, a day of which I could make cliche, and mention immense future importance to you.
But I won't, because that'd suck.
"Ray, you leaving yet?" arrived softly, from the other side of the room, bared by an Andes of cubicle walls.
A tall and thick figure shot its head up from staring at our formerly mentioned calendar, and reached over to see who was calling.
He straightened his hair, ruffled from the jolt of the ostrich esque maneuver.
"Oh yeah, just gimme a few. We're shutting 'er down tomorrow, yeah?" replied over the Andes.
"Yeah, shame ain't it?"
"Holdup, lemme save some shit..." trekked back.
A few keystrokes echoed through the otherwise deaf office space, then a few erasures in common repetition. Rays fingers were a tad fat, so he often times would hit a key or two accident, whilst in the line of common workplace duty. Nevertheless, his mathematical and deductive prowess super ceded the consequential messiness of his work.
He grabbed his coffee cup as if to pat its rim, snatched his backpack by the handle, and trekked through the jungle of printers and cubicle rims, reaching the windows which ran from floor to ceiling, and meticulously closed each of the blinds in the office, thusly removing the last bits of natural light illuminating the office. He was used to having to find his way through the office late at night, via the soft blue light of computer monitors left on by his colleagues.
He walked quickly over to Karl [allow me to break the forth wall, out of pure laziness, and inform you that our fellow Peruvian messenger is named Karl], carefully set down his empty coffee mug on the slim edge of Karl's open cubicle, and set his hand on the wall. He was a fairly heavy set man, and often times feared that leaning on the frail cubicle walls in the former fashion would jeopardize the structural integrity of his colleague's torture chambers. The cubicles in the office were cheap and shoddy equipment, purchased decidedly for their ease of setup and tear down. Management had spent the great majority of its funds on the Control room.
"What was that you were saying?" Ray said.
There was a decidedly New Jersey esque quality to Ray's voice, yet it was thin enough to obviate him from attaining Guido status amongst his friends and coworkers.
"Oh nothing. I was just gonna say, shame we hafta shut 'er down now. I mean, we've got all the data that we need, but still... I dunno how to say it. It's like having to kill a childhood pet, ye know? You've raised the ****, and put all your time and energy into sustaining its love and health, and then once it's reached its age..."
"Yeah yeah, I kinda know what you mean. All that effort and shit we put into getting the thing working, all those nights trying to dodge the fuggin rings". Ray's mind recalled the month of the landers descent into the planets orbit, and past its rings, where everybody in the Office had to be prepared to run down to the Control room at seconds notice to steer the lander away from anything, ranging the occasional pea sized ice ball that the scanners hadn't picked up, to a house sized chunk of frozen dirt and mud that felt the need to pull out of its orbit, and hunt down the lander.
"YEAH! ****, that was irritating. Damn near quit because of Management."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ye remember when Phil suggested we scan and mark all the debris in the rings, and anticipate the movement past the rings months in advance?"
"Oh yeah yeah, and then management basically gave him the old ass slammin".
"Yeah"
It was moments like those that made Ray, and obviously Karl, feel like doing some sort of strike esque movement, and demand that Management actually let the team do its job, without having to fit to Management's intensely linear budget. But they both knew that millions would kill to take their jobs, and that NASA probably wouldn't have any problem replacing them with equally talented and more Management friendly workers.
Btw, what i've got so far is pretty much just setting the scene. It's yet to get to any actual storyline.
