• Stuck in an elevator for the last half hour. They say they’ll be here in twenty more minutes #

Powered by Twitter Tools.

I’ve been reading over the Wordpress docs and ran across some tips for having a blog. There was one excerpt which gave me pause for thought:

“Tempting as it might be, don’t hide your real emotions. After all that is what a blog is about. If you want, you can stay anonymous and voice your feelings on whatever you are passionate about. You might have strong views on various subjects but let your readers know your passion. What is passion worth if you can’t even share it? You’ll actually love the discussions it can lead to. The discussions will broaden your own thinking and you might end up making some really good friends. “

Thus far on my blog, I’ve skirted the issues, brushing across them nicely without ruffling too many feathers. I’d really like to cut into some issues, but there arises a problem when your employer has access to your blog or even when your parents read your blog. There are some things that could be taken into consideration when deciding to hire someone or continue to employ a person. I’m just not sure I want ALL my thoughts expressed on the blog.

That said, I want to write an intriguing and compelling blog but also would like to keep my job. Any thoughts on the issue?

Hello all,

I know that you’ve all been receiving a lot of emails from my blog along with the twitter updates and it’s a little much, for now it seems I cannot choose what gets sent out and what doesn’t, so I’m just putting everyone on a weekly digest of all new posts. Let me know if you want to continue getting the daily emails.

Hope you will continue to enjoy my adventures, the most recent of which was in Vegas.

Zach

• Just won over two grand in Vegas and got a comped show. Good times #

Powered by Twitter Tools.

Two weeks later, the day had finally come. Morty went to work and tried to focus on his duties, but was too excited about what would happen that afternoon. His coworkers surprised him with a card wishing him a farewell and he told them all to look him up when they got to the other side. When he finished work, he walked outside and a man in a suit was waiting for him in front of a government car.

“Mortimus Walker?” he asked with a smile.

“That’s me,” Morty replied happily.

“Hello, my name’s Jim Folson.” He shook his hand and Morty noticed he was a Two-One. The man motioned him into the vehicle “If you could please swipe your card here, sir. Thank you.” After swiping his card, the screen came up with his picture and details. “And put your thumb here and “Congratulations sir, it’s time for retirement.” He motioned Morty into the vehicle.

Once they were both inside, Morty asked, “Where are we going now?”

Jim grabbed a folder from his briefcase and handed it to Morty. “This is your itinerary for the next few weeks. It’s a detailed schedule of your transition into Haven. There is a little leeway given for possible complications.”

“Complications?”

“Well, the transference of a brain from one body to another is a delicate process and requires a couple of weeks of rehabilitation, getting used to your new body, making sure all the neurons connected properly and every part of the brain has ample blood flow.”

“But it won’t really be a new body will it? It’ll be my body but younger.”

“That is correct. The husk is in a containment chamber ready and waiting for transfer.”

“Husk?”

“That’s what we call host clones. They’re genetically manipulated to grow with minimal brain function; just enough to keep the body running. And when we transfer your brain into it, it’ll need just as much time getting used to you as you will need getting used to it.”

“But I’ll still be me, right? I mean my memories, my personality?”

“That’s correct. That’s why we transfer the entire brain. The chemical processes which go on in the brain to create memories are so complex, it is beyond our science to transfer memories from one host to another without actually removing the entire brain. Besides, this way, we don’t have to worry about the moral implications of using a sentient clone host. It’s all right there in your packet with your schedule. I’d suggest looking over that before you go to bed tonight.”

Morty nodded and looked down at the folder. It was white with his name printed on it in flashy blue letters.

“In the meantime, I’ve got something else I’d like to show you.” The PTU stopped and they got out of the car. Morty knew where they were. It was the elevator to the upper city, the White City, Haven. He had passed it many times before and even swiped his card a few times praying that it might malfunction and let him through. But this time it wouldn’t deny him. This time he’d get through. They walked to the front entrance and Jim looked to Morty and said, “Am I to understand there is nothing you want to retrieve from your apartment?”

“You’re gonna give me everything I need when I get up there right?”

“Of course, but some people like to bring certain items for sentimental value.”

“Naw, ain’t nothin’ in there I wouldn’t be more then happy to forget.”

“Heh, alright then, please swipe your card.”

Morty held his card above the scanner, his hand was shaking as he slowly slid it through. The light turned green and the common voice tone, “Enter” affirmed his excitement. His heart was pounding and he suddenly realized he hadn’t been breathing. He leaned against the wall.

“Whoa, easy there Mr. Walker. Just take a few breaths. Wouldn’t want you dying on me so close to freedom.”

Morty let out a grunted laugh, wouldn’t that be tragically ironic.

The door opened and he walked in. There was a crowd of people inside. “Who are they?” he asked.

“I’ll give you a hint, you all have one thing in common.”

“Today’s our birthday,” Morty said with a smirk.

“You got it.” Jim led him to a short line of people in front of a group of elevator doors. “You’ll have to fill out some forms and switch cards, but first, you’re going to take a peek at where you’re going.”

Morty could hardly contain himself. He could feel the energy in the room. Everyone there was just as excited as he was. It looked like everyone had their own personal escort just like him. They were standing in their clean suits next to their dirty clients who had apparently all just gotten off of work. A light above one door came on with a ding and the doors began to open. Excited conversation rose up out of the crowd and a tall man stepped forward out of the elevator speaking loudly, “Please remain calm, you’ll all get up there, but we need to do this in an orderly fashion. If I could have 20 birthdays step forward please.”

The Ones began to step forward as their appointed escorts walked away. Morty looked to Jim who said, “This is where I leave you. There are still more birthdays to get out there. You have your packet?” Morty held it up. “Don’t lose it, it has all your forms in it. Listen to what the lift man tells you and go straight to processing. The faster you get there, the quicker you can start your transition. Good luck.”

“Thanks!” Jim walked off with the rest of the suits and Morty entered the elevator with the others. It was a cylindrical lift with tall glass windows on the sides which now showed a concrete wall. As they crowded into the elevator, someone said, “Happy Birthday,” to him and he replied, “Happy Birthday to you.” Then the lift man began to speak.

“Welcome everyone and happy 60^th birthday to you all. This is the last time you will ever have to see the lower city. I’ll be taking you to Upper Processing where you’ll reside for the next few weeks as you undergo your transition. From there you’ll enter the White City which you’ll be able to see in a few moments.” He pushed a button on the side of the elevator and it began to rise. The concrete wall moved down and down and down until it disappeared and the mechanical spread of the city sprawled out underneath them. Morty had never seen the city from this vantage and had not realized the sheer number of tubes and overpasses and PTUs that network where he once lived.

Someone said, “I can see my quarters from here.” Everyone laughed. “They’re not your quarters anymore,” said someone else.

“We’re rising at about 100 feet per minute now and we’ll keep accelerating until we get to the smog,” said the lift man.

Everyone looked up to see the ceiling of moving grey which had always been their sky except on those precious days when the sun would break through. Morty had never been outside the city limits. He squinted with his old eyes to try and make out the end of the vast metropolis, but before he knew it, the window went dark.

“And this is what you’ve all looked out on everyday of your lives,” the lift man continued. “This blanket of pollutants and toxic gasses used to cover the entire Earth many centuries ago until we’d almost wiped ourselves out. That’s when the Ones and Twos System of Productivity arose to make things more efficient, cleaner, and still allow human beings to live happy and prosperous lives.” He paused. “What you’re about to see is where you’ll be spending your next life as a reward for your services rendered to Central and to all the people of the Earth.” Just as he finished, the darkness lifted to reveal a bright light of which the group had never seen. A gasp went through the elevator car as their eyes attempted to adjust to the now setting sun. The polarizing windows darkened to allow the wide pupiled onlookers to see clearly. The site was breath taking. The smog from the top did not look like smog at all, but an endless field of rolling puffy white clouds; like cotton balls pulled apart and thrown to the ground. In the distance, miles away, shooting up out of the intangible blanket was a towering white structure glistening in the orange sunlight just to the left of the setting sun.

“The White City,” Morty whispered.

“That’s right,” said the lift man. “The White City stands 10,000ft above sea level and from the base of it’s rim, it’s 5 miles across and 8 miles high to the tip of the White Palace. It was built two hundred years ago and has withstood the test of time. It holds 500,000 people who live, play, and do whatever they want. This is where you will begin your new life post-transition. We recommend that you stay here at least for the first year to acclimate yourself to your new life and make sure that there are no far reaching complications with your transition. The surgeons are the very best and in the last decade, we’ve only had 2% of all patients with serious complications all of which fully recovered.”

Morty could see floating transport ships going back and forth from above them to the White City. “Above, you can see the commuters to the White City. In a few weeks, you’ll be on one of those vessels ready to begin your new life. Right now, we’re going to Central Processing where you will receive instruction on when your procedure is to take place and what you need to do to prepare.” As he said this the elevator began to slow and the beautiful view turned into cold concrete again. Finally, it stopped with a ding and the doors opened to a large, pristine white room. Everyone stepped out slowly, eyes wandering all around. A woman in a red suit jacket and skirt waved them onward. “This way please.”

She guided them to the front desk where a short fat man sat behind a computer screen. He got up from his seat to stand but was only a few inches taller then when he was sitting. “Welcome everyone to Haven’s Central Processing,” he said in a surprisingly loud voice. “If you could please swipe your cards at the desk, you’ll be issued new cards which you’ll keep until you leave Processing for the White City.”

Everyone formed a line, as they were used to doing, and in turn swiped their card at the desk, gave it to the small clerk and he gave them a new card in return. Morty took out his worn out old yellow card and looked it over. He’d had it all his life. It was faded in spots and had dirt engrained in it, scars of the past, he thought. It was thick and solid, very utilitarian. He swiped it the last time and handed it to the clerk. His new card was grey, but had the same basic information layout and feel as his last card. He stepped to the side with the others.

The woman in red stood in front of everyone moving her hands as she spoke. “Everyone have their cards? Don’t forget your folders. If everyone will follow me, I’ll take you to your temporary quarters for your short stay here. Pay attention to where we’re going, cause after you all get cleaned up and dressed, we’ll meet back here for the meet and greet and dinner at 20:00. If you get lost or have any questions, my name is Sophie, just swipe your card on any of these wall readers and it’ll page my phone.” She pointed to the earpiece in her ear off of which a tiny microphone needled. She spoke somehow without ever breaking out of her smile. Even when she made “o” or “u” sounds, she was still smiling.

She turned and walked down the hall. Everyone followed chattering to each other and looking around. Sophie continued to talk, “Each one of you will have your own room with your own bathroom and shower.”

Chattering rose in the group, “…own bathroom and shower?” “How fancy.” “I’ve never taken a shower alone before.”

Sophie continued, used to the surprise, “You’ll find clothes in your closet which fit perfectly. Just pick whatever you want, this is an informal occasion, and return to the main arrival desk at 20:00. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other better then. And this is your corridor. If you’ll look on your cards, you’ll find a room number. Just find the corresponding room to your number and swipe your card. Again, if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call. Leave your folders in your rooms when you come to dinner and I’ll see you all again in a little while.” With that she left back the way she came and people slowly meandered down the hall looking for their room numbers.

Went to Lala’s Grill today and had lunch with Angie and Jordan.  it was great seeing folk again and we had some pleasant catching up.  There’s one thing I’d like to note about Lala’s menu however.  You read the menu and it sounds very nice and gourmet but when you get the food, you realize it’s really something very simple you’ve had before.  For instance, I ordered the Suprema Napolitana which is described as “Boneless chicken breast, breaded and lightly fried, topped with a basil tomato sauce and melted cheese, served with mashed potatoes”  Sounds delicious, but really it’s just Chicken Parmigian.  Don’t get me wrong, it was delicious, but just be upfront with the people!  Oh crap, back to work!

• Sitting at a coffee bean in Beverly Hills wondering why all my friend work during the day. #

Powered by Twitter Tools.

• Back in LA guys. Let’s go surfing #

Powered by Twitter Tools.

After the drink with his friend, the last drink they’d ever have together, Morty returned home. He wanted to take a shower and get to bed. He still had to get up early for work the next morning. He swiped his card outside the dingy apartment complex and walked up two flights of stairs and down the hall. He swiped his card at his door and it slid open. His apartment was ten feet long, five feet wide, and seven feet tall. It had one bed against a side wall, a rack with some clothes hung on it, and a pile of clutter in one corner of the room. Morty stripped his clothes off and grabbed his towel that was hanging on the rack and wrapped it around his waist. He took his clothes down the hall to the laundry chute and threw them in. Then he walked to the end of the hall where the community bathroom was and into the open shower. Debbie, his 55 year old next door neighbor was already taking a shower and she said hi as he walked in.

“Hey Deb, how’s the water?”

“Nice tonight, looks like they fixed the water heater.”

“Finally.”

“I know.”

Morty hung his towel at the door and walked to the shower head nearest Debbie and turned it on. There was a time, when the site of her wet naked body would’ve aroused Morty, even though she was sagging a bit these days, but his little soldier had long since been discharged. Tonight, however, he was feeling pretty good. His body was flowing with endorphins over his coming ascension and apparently, little Willie felt it too.

Debbie also noticed. “Hey there Mort, are we gonna have to file a report again?” she said smiling at him.

Whenever Ones or Two-Ones have sex, they are required by Law to report it to Central Processing. Even though all Ones and Two-Ones are born sterile, except for those born as breeders, there is still a fear of spreading STDs in the working population. If you don’t report all sexual relations, then you forfeit any treatment Central can provide and if you catch a seriously contagious disease, you might even be neutralized. That’s a computer’s way of saying executed.

“Hehe, well I’m feeling pretty good tonight, Deb I gotta say.” Morty thought about it for a moment and decided why the hell not?

“Really? That good huh? Don’t want you to have a heart attack before you get a new one.”

“Oh you’re worth it Deb,” he grinned.

“Oh Morty, you know just how to lift these old bones don’tcha?”

“And you know how to lift mine,” he said thrusting his member forward so that it shook in front of her.

“Oh my.”

He walked over to her and slid his arms around her naked waist, then pressed himself against her.

She gasped and then whispered, “It’s been so long.”

“Probably longer for me,” he whispered back and then kissed her on the lips. They slowly began to fall to the floor and intertwined themselves right there in the shower. They knew it was against the law, but neither of them had ever been in trouble before and they could get off on good behavior.

Just as Morty entered into her, a man walked into the shower and saw them. “Oap,” he said and walked out yelling, “Just knock on my door when you’re done.” The two laughed to each other.

• Waiting for the slowest subway staff of one in all the universe #

Powered by Twitter Tools.