I’m making a slight deviation from the usual monthly written story to bring you a video of me reading Pumped Up Presidents as part of the Virtual Futures Near-Future Fictions Series.
The spark for this tale of future presidents was a piece I saw from Futurism on In-Ear Translators.
Take a look – I hope you enjoy it.
And, don’t forget…
Eating Robots and Other Stories is out on 31 May 2017.
photo credit: txmx 2 – via photopin (license)
The morning air was crisp and cold and the wind whistled through the leafless trees.
She shuddered. Not from the weather, from the stark reality that she was outside and still alone.
The smell was what surprised her most. A rich earthy smell in the middle of a town. Nature had taken over and the sterile and faintly industrial smell she remembered had been replaced with the fragrance of wild flowers and weeds.
It’d happened weeks ago and sitting on her own inside her house Hazel had imagined a bustling street of people outside, becoming as desperate for company as she was. Eventually, she’d taken the plunge and for the first time in a long while had stepped through her front door.
The street was deserted.
Where were all the people? Continue reading
The posters make the same promises that led me here.
An evening of enlightenment!
A gateway to the future you deserve!
I’ve spent the last six months working on getting through that door. No wonder the anticipation in my stomach increases with every inch that the queue moves forward.
If I get in I’ll qualify for interviews with top paying companies that don’t advertise to my “type”.
For the whole of my life the marketeers have shoved me in a box, one of their segments, only letting me see what they think I want to see. They decide what I can and can’t buy. What I can and can’t be. How do they know who I am?
I’m sick of it.
It’s the self-fulfilling prophecy of modern marketing – market to those you believe are interested and the interest comes from those you market to.
Will I get in? I hope so. Otherwise it’s a lifetime of one crap job after another.
I feel vulnerable, in stark contrast to the confidence that hangs over the queue like a protective umbrella. But, I’ve come this far and I’m going to see it through.