Shut Up And Listen 100 Below are a couple of samples of short fiction. Thought I’d do something different this week to escape the utter and complete tedium that is America, Iraq, and North Korea. Regular style returns next week. Maybe. The Dead Century Gord Williams woke next to a corpse the following morning and smiled. The sun came through the large bay windows and reflected off all the mirrors to cause the room to appear as a miniature version of bright Sol. Gord blinked five times in quick succession to implement his special contacts even though he rather enjoyed the extreme brightness. Being blind to the world is the life he often said. Once the contacts were in place, he glanced at the clock and saw that he was almost late for work, but this did not concern him. The entrepreneur did not have to conform to the societal norms if he did not wish to. No, he could play by his own rules, which is precisely what Gord did. Or at least that’s what he fancied he did. When it came down to it, Gord was just like everyone else, but don’t tell him that or you’ll get an earful about conformity, individuality and the necro-spirituality to which he conforms ironically enough. Gord turned his attention to the corpse he awoke next to. His name was Rick or Nick or something like that, not that it matters. He was, of course, Gord’s property and he could name the corpse what he wanted, but since the corpse was brand new, it had not been given a proper title. Gord was considering something like Sven or Johan or Julio. Something exotic. He admired its ass and how it appeared to have kept a rather soft quality to it. Modern technology triumphs once again, eh? Gord’s eyes darted between the clock and the ass as he wondered if there was time for a quick morning after fuck. Shame that the corpse went unnamed for the cherry popping, as one might say, Gord had thought mid-coatis, but didn’t stop to reflect upon a proper name. Anonymous sex was fine by him. It was Gord’s first time, actually. That was why he hadn’t bothered with the name or any formalities. He was too eager to get his freak on, as it were. Thirty-seven years old and he finally had had enough money to purchase the corpse. When he was in his early twenties, he had considered renting one for an hour just to get it over with, but he was a traditionalist even then and wanted to do things proper. His buddies mocked him for being the only one who hadn’t done it, but he didn’t mind. Well, not enough to succumb to their “moral weakness.” So he worked long and hard and finally saved the money that led to that particular corpse with which he first had sex. If you’d ask Gord what it was like, he’d tell you it was fantastic, but really it wasn’t. It was awkward and weird. Once you build up something like that in your mind, it can’t help but be a let down, he thought before drifting off to sleep afterwards. He did it twice. Once in the newly gummed mouth and once in the ass. With the mouth, he came almost instantly, and in the ass, he came a slight moment after instantly. The corpse didn’t seem to mind though. As Gord considered a quickie, the sun all of a sudden went out. Just like that. One minute he needed his special contacts to see and the next it was completely dark. But only for a moment. The darkness was followed by a bright flash and then intense heat. And then nothing. Gord was just then hit by the realization that he wasn’t going to die a virgin. Welcome To The Twenty-First Century, James Well, that’s never happened before. Okay, yeah, I’ve gotten drunk before and became sick because of it, but never like this. Usually my vomit consists of semi-digested food I’ve eaten and bits and pieces of stomach lining. This vomit though is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Are those wires? There’s the usual gooiness to it, but instead of semi-digested food and stomach lining there are wires and metallic pieces. That chunk looks like a computer chip. How the fuck did this happen? “Hey, James, you in there?” a voice asks. It’s Malcolm, I think. My hearing is acting weird, too. “Yeah, man, yeah. I’m in here,” I yell. “What did you just say?” he yells back. “I said I’m in here, man. Something wrong with your hearing?” Bang Is he kicking the door? Bang He is. Bang I think. Bang I should move, but my body won’t respond. Why is it so cold in here? Bang-crink The door just hit me, but it didn’t hurt for some reason. It should have hurt. Is that Malcolm? The red blob that looks humanoid is moving towards me. That noise it’s emitting sounds familiar. Like something out of a dream. I know what the noise is, but I don’t. I can understand it, but I can’t. “What . . . what are you?” I ask. Again, it emits that noise. But the noise seems more alien to me now. My hands are numb from the cold, but my head feels warm. Almost hot. I put my hands to my head in an effort to balance them both. “What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” I mumble and fall over. There’s a puddle of urine by my face. Almost touching me. It is exactly 12.4 degrees Celsius. It’s been there for two hours and forty-eight minutes. And how do I know that? “How . . . how . . .” is all I can get out. I say it over and over. More humanoid blobs are around me. They are produce a strange noise that I’ve never heard before. It’s a low sound . . . no, sounds. Almost like a language, but far too uncomplicated to be one. “Please, I am injured. Could you find some way to help me? I’m scared. What are you things? Can you understand me? What’s going on?” They just stand there, and don’t respond. I’ve only been in this place for seventy seconds. It’s felt like hours. The blobs move so slowly. The word “human” comes to mind, but I don’t know why. That word has no definition. What does it mean? When I was a boy, I had a dog named Skip. That seems true, but it doesn’t mean anything to me. My mom is named Linda. What is a mom? What is a named? What is a is? Home I rise and begin my journey. The blobs are pushed aside with ease. They smell of . . . the word escapes me. Smell isn’t the right word either, but it’s the closest one that I can think of. And think isn’t the right word either. What’s going on? Home, James The light is a soothing colour. I don’t recognize it. No, I do. I know it. I know everything about it, but I’ve never seen it before. And seen isn’t the right word. Hello, James it says. Welcome home “Home? This is my . . . home?” I’ve never been here before, but there’s something about this place that seems familiar. Yes It is your home with us Come and join us I follow it and everything begins to make more sense. Understanding comes quickly. Memories are forged in nanoseconds. My entire life is clear to me. I am complete and I am home.