Toughbud
I don't know how to begin this one.
You might have thought, in the future, that we had ways around that, awkward beginnings, awkward silences, anything that has to do with being unable to... communicate.
After all, we had phones that we could take everywhere with us, we had wireless access in the most ridiculous places. That surfboard with a tablet-like PC in it that everyone thought was the stupidest waste of time that ever was wasted?
Well, all right, I'll admit it, I ate crow on that one about twenty years ago and got myself one. Hell, everyone had one. They're useful, why shouldn't we all have one and have instant Internet access even when we're surfing?
Of course, when the ice caps melted and most of the liveable space became something a little like Waterworld, well, you're going to want a surfboard, aren't you? All those punk kids with shortboards were dying for longboards then, too, let me tell you.
When I say liveable space I'm, of course, talking about the east coast of the continental United States, I can't honestly vouch for anywhere else, as paddling to Europe or Africa or down to what used to be the Panama Canal and out to the Pacific and around to Asia or wherever else is a long old paddle, let me tell you.
What we found out, as you may know, is that the middle bits of the United States were full of nutjobs, cows, and a handful of llamas, which didn't strike too many people as surprisingly, considering where we were talkin' about.
So we shoved all our telecommunications gear that didn't get too wet in the initial floods into first Ohio, and then, when that got covered, as well, we pushed it all down into Kansas. Just built up plenty of technical closets up in these huge new highrises where we shoved our Internet backbone and our generators and, at the very top of each tower, directional sort of antennas that pumped out a good signal for all us 'boarders lying out in our wetsuits and, in my case, a Boston Red Sox cap. The nutjobs living in these spaces complained at first, sure, but we spun it as an opportunity to get into a vast new plan for the salvation of the human race at an incredibly low price of nothing, absolutely nothing except their own silence and continued support. By 'support' we meant them doing nothing at all about the workers showing up on their properties with large bulldozers and cranes.
By 'we' I mean me and the guys I worked with on a daily basis, going 'round to the houses, "convincing" people about the highrises going up around them, licensed by the Federal Government of Waterland Corp to use force, deadly, if need be. Those guys had wanted to call it Waterworld, but ran into all sorts of legal hassles, even though Kevin Costner and most of Hollywood had fallen into the ocean years before the floods began. It's like they say, "Nothing lasts forever, except love and copyright and occasionally white bread processed just the right way."
So I was a hired thug, but, for the most part, people just wanted to be left alone. You would go into their home, chat a bit, and then get out, and wave in the workers. All right, so this is how it went for me. For a lot of the guys it didn't go as smoothly, and a couple of our number were taken out by a brother or someone hiding around the corner with the family shotgun.
Those were the guys that followed our instructions to the letter, usually, and tried to be upfront about things with the suddenly hot property landowners. Others, well, we fudged it a little. Went it, had a chat, brought some cookies, told them about families around the area winning lotteries, schools being built up, a new mall or two being chucked in. If that didn't do it, the cookies usually had an unbelievable amount of sleeping powder in them. Put 'em right out. One guy I worked the blocks with couldn't resist, wound up having to drag him out of three houses in two weeks before I finally figured I'd teach him a lesson and leave him in there. Don't know if he ever woke up and got out, but if he did I'm sure we'll laugh about it now.
So this is how it all began, kid. This is where it started. And it may sound bad, but it wasn't, it wasn't at all. Trust me. We knew we were all gonna be okay. We knew.
To be continued, I promise.
Summary
disclaimer:
Hey out there, hope you enjoyed this week's issue.
If you didn't, don't blame us.
Blame the weatherman.
Always blame the weatherman.
Discuss this in the forums
Discuss the horoscopes in the forums
Forum hosting provided by forumthing.