This week is a little celebration of a couple things. (1) Sometimes a good title comes down the chute and you just can't get it out of your head and (2) sometimes someone suggests something you've never thought to try that, sure you've got no idea how to do it, but it does sound amazing to accomplish and you've seen others accomplish it so why not try?
My favorite show so far in life is High Maintenance. The best shortform content I've every experienced. If I could write a show or direct it, that would be my dream. They said (the co-creators did) that they 'like when your allegiance changes'. So forgive me for saying it beforehand, but I'm going to try that, to make you change your allegiance. But you now know I'm going to try, so I'll have to admit that and try to make you forget you have allegiances at all — and — well, this has all become somewhat Princess Bride with the poison cup hasn't it.
Inconceivable!
Here’s:
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Yahoo Boys
By Eric Westerlind
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Meklin Burdoch sat with his head against the bus window. Merena Dims was his girlfriend of three years and she sat opposite him counting money. Glossy pink nails she'd just got done. Yahoo boy.
Pilgrim Baines had his hand out punching buttons before the half-blind woman had turned away from the ATM to show her what the screen in its derelict state couldn’t voice anymore; It says account withdrawals, account report, or cancel transaction, ma'am, he said, pointing to the buttons patiently. She scowled — Get away from me! she said. Just saw you struggling, he said. Get away from me! she said; had a cane. Yahoo boy.
Yade Coti pulled her floater bike over, wiped the sweat from her face. The saxophone was loud in her buds; she paused. This neighborhood. Street dust hovering anywhere the sun lit, so, not the black doorways of thick stone, not the sign with the mayor giving his thumbs up, set on black — “Anjana is growing! You are the reason!" Officer Coti. The voice cut in before she could unpause the saxophone. She drifted her bike forward to take the call in the shade.
Meklin and Merena sprawled in their living room. A big poster that said "Fertility!" — a frog with both its rubbery hands in a rock-on gesture, green and red. Merena took off a bandana, hair sprang out. It's plenty, said Meklin, and she said, Just, watching him finish counting the money. He put it back in the envelope, bulging. Asked for sex. Got refused. What else we gonna do? now, a bit awkward without a shirt on. I need a long shower, she said and turned on the electricity. Yahoo boy. Meklin piled into a chair and threw on his headset.
Pilgrim cupped his digital chin. He moved forty blocks and checked the log list of banned stores, IP to IP. It was a lot harder working from inside the school. Jinchin Mary's, a cyber auction space. A hundred items sat on rotating pedestals in the impossibly large hall, a spotlight on each. Something far enough away... an original Game Boy, plastic carrying case, four original game cartridges. Underpriced bids. A Buy Now button. He added $300 to the bid, copy-pasted the note. It began, "Let me tell you my story. Here in Eduba, the rightful ruler was deposed forcibly fourteen years ago. He had two sons, and I was one. My father was a great man, beloved..."
Yade held her breath passing through the tunnel. Not even a ventilator. Traffic was low though. 35 seconds. She pulled in the refreshed air on the other side. Beyond the city proper, the dense byproducts of a dry-waste community just merged with the outlandish heatwaves, went up. She put the bike on auto, let the restraints hold her thighs in a way that smoothed her anxiety and —yeah, fuck it — she hit the siren, flipped up her visor, closed her eyes, and ripped across the Anjama outskirts at forty extra klicks an hour.
Meklin wanted to buy something big. You always do, said Merena. She had her own headset on too. They strolled the block. A car, he said. The way the dealerships had invested in the virtual world, you could drive in one of twenty incredible locations. Had to show credentials though. The money's not even in the bank, she said. Here she liked to hold his hand. Still, he said, walking past the Audis. Something big.
So you're a big man? the avatar called Mel said. I am looking for a good wife, said Pilgrim, his voice modulated. The digital bar blinked iridescent, strobing. Someone to spend money on who pleases me best. He pulled up his list of ATM cards and bought the avatar called Mel a tiara. That's what you like, he said with authority. Her purchase history said so. She put it on over the other she already wore, struck a pose, saying, You know we don't have multiple husbands here. He nodded. I've inherited around one point four million US dollars, he said, that I cannot access. Let me explain.
Which room? Yade looked at 327 and 326 both and the dorm dad pointed to the left one. Okay, thank you. She knocked.
It took a minute for the knock to register. Pilgrim adjusted his headset. Meklin sat up. Merena sat up. Her legs had fallen asleep, but she got up and walked around to the door. She opened it — the dorm hall light was mottle yellow and shaded Officer Coti's face almost to her nose. Hello?
Pilgrim just saw the cop go in, saw their dorm dad go up the hall a little ways but not leave, piqued. Was that a cop? he asked.
Meklin couldn't figure out where to put his hands. Merena could — arms crossed.
Yade left her visor down and scanned the apartment. Residence by Rilem Hardy; Green Growth on Post-Earth by Hara; a set of dolls she pointed at — You've been to the Phillipines? My father, said Merena. He served in the military and brought them back. How did you know that? I married Filipino, said Yade. You're married? asked Meklin.
Surprise, she said.
Into the dumpster, into the dumpster. Headset. Cards. Stomp the drives. Pilgrim's room was a madhouse of disorder. So many backups! So many wrappers. The upper shelf! The three externals, the laptop — the —— he stared desperately at his big, beautiful, from-scratch computer, then, into the blue bin, lid on, and out into the hallway. Sweat, so much sweat.
The mayor’s initiative has made it possible to track all recipients of the Wenda Hynes Scholarship from acceptance through to successful first application post-grad, and so — there was the sound of cluttered metal and crashing through the dorm blinds out in the parking lot below — Yade made a slight smile and wince — and so several of us were tasked with delivering a small congratulations on your achievement. She held the little ambiguous figure, a glass-cast person raising both arms, to Meklin. On the bottom it said "You are the reason!"
Pilgrim tapped the enormous code, the door slid back open. Nearly ran into Officer Coti coming down the stairs two at a time. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, he said, and she held up a hand in acknowledgement.
Not your fault.
Yade Coti ripped back along the desert lane on auto again. Trees sparse and scaled, one every fifty-five meters, the proper distance to preserve the most water according to Hara. Anjana glowed like an underwater jelly — solar only went so far. She loved the quiet nights. She loved night, period. It made her think of rain, made her happy to be alone and alive. Yahoo boy.