Short story needs criticism, part two

[KrzyCnauck]

Awright, I posted a short story here a few weeks ago to see what people thought. Most gave a good review, and some pointers on how to improve it. So, for your consideration, below are 2 versions to compare.

[KrzyCnauck]

Version One

Romeo Valentine is right for you!

The dynamics of capitalism is postponement of enjoyment to the constantly postponed
future. -Norman O. Brown

It was a bright, cloudless, shirtsleeve day, and it was not unleasent
to be outdoors. Sunlight danced along the superhigh strucutres comprised of magical
combinations of glass and metal that sprung up from the ground, seeming to be as a
natural part of the sky as the clouds themselves.Mountains of concrete and glass Beneath
them, seemingly divorced from their relam, in a secluded,shadowed square of
near-barren land, was the school. Short and made of brick, an unwelcome relic of the
past,reused out of the cheapness of matience and it’s proximity to the mall. The only new
featue was the metalic cage in the front that held the security equipment which the
students passed through before entering. It was surronded by a high electric fence, with a
guard tower in the middle of what once the athletic ground, now overgrown with weeds
and tall grass.The razor wire topped fence seemed to be part of the school, but it was only
a relativey recent addition,back when the schools tried to compensate with the enormous
levels of population.

Students had been forced here;someone had hacked the school’s
security grid (an embarsssment for security), plunging it into darkness. The students
secretly rejoiced, as it would result in an early dismissal. Most of them were athesits, the
reliogus ones were placed in special schools or homeschool, which wided their
fundamentalism. If they were in any other country, they’d be bending their backs over the
sewing machines that made their garmets, 12 hours a day for five cents.

The security guards were in force around the perimeter, and on the roof with
sniper rifles and machine guns ready to quell any form of student unrest. Clad in black
androgenous battle armour, with riot prods slung on their belts and shields hoisted on
their backs, they were charged with enforcing the piece in the overcrowded, decaying
structure.True, the students had to pass through an astrounding array of security devices
to cull out the ones carrying weaponry of whatever sort, and students were branded with
the insignia of whatever school they went to, but one could never be too careful. It was
for this reason,more grounded in paranoia than anything else, that the cost of security
drained the education system’s coffers, taking with it the chance for a decent schooling.

The whole system started long ago,when the student’s parents were their age.
First off, there was this big disaster or something at a school somewhere, so they had to
spend all their money on securtiy.Way back when, there was this big disaster and the
economy nose divided. The leaders urged everyone Buy,Buy,Buy! or the enemy wins,
and everyone went out and bought,bought,bought. While this was going on, the
government was busy hacking to bits the basic human rights of their citizens in the name
of security,or rather the illusion of security. So while everyone bought,bought,bought,
they soon found out that they only right they had left was the right to purchase,which they
executed with a vengeance. When the economy sank lower and lower, whilst some
corporations grew stronger, the corps bailed out the government which was heavy in
debt.Nowadays, the richer one was, the more power they accumulated. Schools started
advertising products to supplement their pitiful budgets, and it snowballed from
there.Now, they were at their mercy,with adverstiesements in all the classrooms, the halls
and even on the equipment the students used.

In the midst of the mob sat two girls, isolated from the rest, reading teen
magazines. A dreamer was one, and the other a slave.Abby, fair haired, rather tall for a
girl, and her darker haired friend Becky.Both clad in the latest clothes for teens, their
brand names thrust out over their breasts. Both reading about the same miracle
product:Romeo Valentine. The latest Simsation product, desgiend to give anyone their
own, perfect boyfriend without having to scour single bars or bachelor auctions. His
looks and personality could be adjusted to the smallest freckle, forever loyal,forever
handsome. No breakups, no fights, no date rape or STD’s, just pure adolscent romance,
for as long as you were entertained by the product. From the most blissful of dates to the
most hardcore of erotic fantasies,Romeo Valentine was hyped to be the ultimate
comulnation of romance.The ads for it had been plastered all over the hallways and
female bathrooms in Dumpaper, guys of different kinds, with ROMEO VALENTINE IS
RIGHT FOR YOU!!!!! above them.

“So, what are you doing for graduation?” Becky asked Abby,her red highlights
splattered across her blond locks. Graduation was a matter of weeks away, and many for
some reason looked forward to it.Adulthood, at last! Freedom, bittersweet freedom! More
of a shift change;the older ones leave, the younger ones get their turn to be shoe horned
in this dilapadated structure.Abby shrugged, exposing the school’s brand with her
students number tattooed beneath her spaghetti straps of her shirt,sliding her magazine
along her lap. “Not much. Get my diploma, leave.Not going to the grad party since the
only to do there is to get drunk and get felt up.” “Really? C’mon, it’s gonna be fun!”
Becky said,entusiasticly. As a child, she had bought her gown, tailored by computer for
her eventual predicted growth. She had waited her entire life for this moment. What
would happen to her after the moment had pased, Abby didn’t know.Abby shook her
head. “There’s no point in celebrating, really. Since the Board of Ed. was privatized, the
odds of getting a scholarship have been stacked against us. If you’re not rich, its simply
not possible to get a decent education. If I was rich, I’d be intresting in getting loaded,
but since the best I can do is the public education system, I think I’ll pass” Abby glanced
at the guards milling around on the roof, aiming sniper rifles randomly. If they spent 1/10
of the money the spend on security for education...she mused, sighing and tossing a
pebble,a tiny red piece of brick, farther afield. She smirked as she did so, imaging that
she was casting out the school and it’s security and it’s deficient academic life out of her
life. She probably had done so, a long time ago.

“That’s the problem with you. You think too much. You should relax more.”
Becky said, probably with some truth in it. She thought alot yes, but merely because her
thoughts lingered not on the material demands of ife didn’t mean her thoughts were too
great to bear.Abby sighed, and gazed upwards at the sky. “It’s just....I don’t want this. I
don’t want this life.” “Whaddya mean?” Becky asked. “I just can’t stand it. Everything
about the world. I don’t want some product hawked at me I neither want nor need.” She
looked Becky straight in the eyes. Becky wasn’t quite thin enough for the media’s
jaundiced ideals, so she had crash dieted and purged for as long as she and Abby had
been freinds. It showed horribly well. “I just believe that someone will actually love me
for who I am.” Becky laughed.”Like I said, you think too much. That drives boys away.
Eighteen magazine listed it as one of their top fifteen turn offs boys have.They said the
ideal girflriend is a thin, passive pretty young thing.” She handed her the issue,with an
impossibly thin model on the front clad in the scanttliest of garments.

“Somehow, using this magazne to net a boy makes about as much sense as trying
to hold the sea in a salad bowl.” Abby said, passing it back.”C’mon...you might as well
know what boys look for.” Becky said. Or rather, what middle aged hacks hunkering
over a keyboard dictates as to what boys look for, Abby mused. Who decided these
assinine ideas about clothes, anyways?

A shape passed overhead, casting an unwelcome shadow over the throng. It
seemed to come out of nowhere, and it’s mere prescence seemed to affect everything,
turning it from the bright, pretty world into a darker, more sullen one,reflecting Abby’s
mood. An Ad blimp trailing ROMEO VALENTINE IS RIGHT FOR YOU!!!!!!!. Most of
the area was contained with a ginat bubble, from the beige meniher that read THE
KINGSWAY to the old subway tracks, high enough for ad blimps. Just what I need right
now, more of a reminder Abby though.Fianlly,with the clanging of a bell, the gateway to
the corporation consumed world opened,as the guards had given up resurrecting the
power, and the legions of students exited. Whooping, clapping and cheering, they walked
out towards a giant, black cube that dominated the skyline around the brick school: the
Kingsway mall. If the windows of the top floor classrooms were not bricked up, they
would reveal the mall was twice as tall as the old school, and perhaps three times as long.
The students spent most of their lives there, most went over there daily for lunch since
the cafeteria had long ago stopped serving food but was subdivided into many smaller
classrooms.

As Abby and Becky joined the peers in entering the mall, they walked the
wide,long corridor that, although it appeared to be hwite and sterile and devoid of life,
scanned them without them knowing. Penetrating them, x-rays, ultrasonics, cameras,
checked them again and again for contraband they carried and whether their faces, body
language, voice type all matched known terrorists. The owners took the threat seriously;
the building even boasted turreted rail guns and anti-aircraft missles on the roof to repel
aerial attacks. The security here was probably more stringent than at school, only more
invisible.

Although it seemed dark as night on the exterior, a by-product of the diamond
hard Carbonsteel shielding, on the interior it was every colour but black and grey, with
colourful signs and banners overlapping. Stores of all sorts were located with colourful
banners and signs, a contrast to the overly-sterile white floors and walls.Intelligent paper
changed colours,letters and shapes, and miniature zepplins had ads dangled beneath
them. Many adults were there, wiping tables in the food court and sweeping the floors.
Automation could do the job better than them, but there was a large labour pool in need
of employment, a testament to the educational system. It was this future Abby
dreaded.She wanted to make a difference, use her life wisely, but she didn’t know how.
Teachers didn’t exist, and all the movie companies and publishing companies had
merged, so whatever novel she wrote would be on the big screen, it’s message mutilated
before the ink was dry.

The store that sold Romeo Valentine was not hard to find, and hadn’t opened yet.
It was on the fourth floor, where there were large windows giving an excellent view of
the old school and the barren landscipe around it. Opposite it was a gigantic TV screen,
showing the various products coming striaght off the production line and available for
purchase.On top of the store, a giant mannequin at least four metres tall, dreseed in
Simsation gear and moving like someone in a simulation.Intelligent paper hung fromt he
ceiling and proclaimed: ROMEO VALENTINE IS RIGHT FOR YOU!!!!!, with pictures
of a male model changing hair colour, skin colour, and in a variety of backgrounds,from
Cuban beach paradise to Alpine pleasure. A cluster of young girls had already
congregated there, outside the store, emploring with their thoughts that the barriers might
lift and let them in. Most were teenagers, though there were some tweens and younger
children.Corps were aiming more adult products at younger and younger children. They
growth to adulthood was being accelerated, bombarded by such products as langerie and
emeitcs, desgined to attract the opposite gender.They were different in appearence,
maybe not that different in fashion, but similar in goal: the magazines they read, the
movies and TV shows they watched all depected the form of their bodies to be wrong,
things to be ridiculded. Despite their best attemps, they could not conform themselves to
the image they were expected to be.They wanted to be loved by a collection of binary
numbers painted on the backs of their eyes because they couldn’t be loved physicaly.

Simsation products were a relatively recent invention as products go, but it’s
origins streched back to the dawn of the digital age. Put your head in the Simsation
helmet, and suddenly you are surrounded by colour and sound and even smell. The
skin-tight body suit had millions of microscopic motors that compressed against your
skin, capable of even leaving a small,wet mist to simulate water or heater for dryness.
Gloves and boots operated on the same principle, contracting when clutching some
object and expanding when waving one’s hand through thin air. Similar to the long
forgotten VR suits, which resided in museums, growing dusty and forsaken.

At the appropiate time, the thin wall of bulletproof glass lifted, and the girls
entered, all talking excitedly. One could walk in and take what they wanted; upon exiting
the computer tracked your identity and what you bought, and charged you thanks to the
rice sized chip in their shoulders. Eagerly, Becky tore through the crowded store as if it
were vacant, and plucked her own copy of the shelf and out of someone’s eager hands.
She smiled at Abby and gestured to her to join in. Abby smiled back, and pressed on
reluctanty, more gingerly than her. The shelves were large and well stocked, and indeed a
boy was restocking one of the exhausted shelves,with girls milling about to pluck the
product as it was placed on the shelf. It was not uncommon to see adolscenets outside of
school, getting a head start on their unpromising futures.

He was actually quite handsome, as if one of the intelligent paper advertisements
had become human. He wore an aporn adorned with buttons and tags declaring the
products his store sold; he was a walking billboard, an advertisement avatar.Tall, fair
haired, intelligent looking.Acne, but you can’t have perfection as some would have you
believe. He was wearing a store apron over his regular clothes, which was adorned with
buttons advertising the various discounts the store offered. He looked like the sort of boy
no girl would be ashamed to call her boyfriend. The idea of dating hadn’t completly died
out. Competitors to Simsation sold emetics so girls could purge unnecessary pounds and
portable liposuction devices, the idea of a virtual, costemizable boyfriend coming out
only recently. It wouldn’t be too long before desginer sperm were offered to desperate
wanna-be parents,if monogamy survived, and desginer lives.Not everyone, though. If
everyone lived in a desginer world, who would design?

Consicess of her physical appearence, as was hyped in the magazines she
read,Abby decided to approach him.She did a quick check of her person in a reflective
metal bar that ran around the shelves, adjusting the strap of her shirt to hide her brand. Or
maybe she should lower it, maybe he’ll like the way she tramps herself out,but that
would expose her brand. After all, the magazines said that the more trampy a girl, the
more popular she was.But she would expose her brand, which ment she was smart, and
that was another offense.Who knows, maybe they’d hit it off. He seemed rather
pre-occupied, so she decided to assume the guise of a lost costumer. She walked up to
him, cleared her throat, and tried to speak. What came out of her mouth was not words.
She struggled through them.It seemed to work, as he made eye contact with her.
“Uh...hi.” she said, obviously blushing. “I’m looking for....” “Let me guess.” he said,
sighing. His voice had a hint of biterness. “Romeo Valentine.” “Yes.” Abby said,
smiling. She reasoned she sounded very stupid. he gave her a look that showed his
feelings;a look of irritation.

He reahced out, grasped one of the jewel case from off the shelf and handed it to
her in seemingly one movement. It bore the same image on the intelligent paper ads,
changing in the same fashion. “Can’t see why you can’t find it. (he said sarcasticly) It’s
practiclly the only thing we sell now.” he said, taking a moment to strech. probably
thought her daft since she had to ask him for it. According to the magazines, that was
good-the girl that dosen’t think is the ideal girlfriend. He waved his hand over the shelves
that were normally stocked with some form of electronic entertainment, to illustrate his
point. Most of them were obscured by teenage girls crowding around them, fighting over
the same thing. “I must say, though, it’s a welcome change to that other crap the corps
hawk at us.”

Abby nodded;she knew what he ment. Usualy the display windows were full of
products like the Account-aid-2000 (never have to do another sum in your life! the slogan
went) and the Zipatron backpack caddy, of which Abby owned one while most kids
owned several,purchasing more on their shopping excursions. “I hate those things.I hate
they way they make us reliant on machines and not our own brains.” she said. “I do too.”
he said, seemingly transfixed by her. His brown eyes were warm, inviting-and yet had a
glimmer of darkness to them.“What’s your name, anyways?” he asked, probably on a
whim. “Abby.” she replied, almost choking. “I’m Brent.” he said, shaking her hand. He
had a nice firm grip, the grip that someone who use if they wanted you to trust
them,someone who was really freidnyl and wanted you to trust them-for all the wrong
reasons. “Listen, I get off in half an hour. Wanna meet me at the food court?” he asked. A
date, a real date, her first,Abby thought, taken aback, blushing as red as a tomato. Sure,
the magazines and commiercals hawked the idea of romance at her generation, as did the
archaic shows on television, but thanks to Romeo Valentine, that was becoming obselete.
it wouldn’t be too long before the entire race subsisted on video simulations of even the
most basic things.Nevertheless, she agreed. She left the store, absent mindedly tossing
Romeo Valentine onto a nearby shelf. She was getting the real thing,she thought
smugly.Romeo Valentine theroitcally provided the sensation, but took away the pleasure.

Becky was waiting impatietnly outside,arms akmbo, plastic bag dangling from
one wrist. “What took you so long?” she asked, somewhat irately. “I’ve been waiting for
three minutes.” In an age of instant communication, time had lost it’s value, and
patitence was no longer a virtue,but like love a valueless commodity. “Sorry. I met a
guy.” Abby said,rather cheerfuly..Becky’e eyes practicly bulged out of her head. “You’re
kidding?” she asked, hopefully. “Yep.” Abby replied confidentley. “No way!A reak guy!
Gag, the idea of physical kissing! He just wants to get into your pants, is all. C’mon, you
just got Romeo Valentine! You got something better than a boy!” Becky gestured to her.
“C’mon, let’s go home. I’ve been itching to try out the ‘Jungle Fever’ fantasy.”she
giggled. Abby shook her head.”Actually, I didn’t get it.” Becky’s eyes practicly bulged
out of her head. “You’re kdding? You’re willing to turn down the hottest product on the
market for some.......boy? Gag, you really are weird!” Becky snorted and left her,joining
up with a crowd of whooping girls, all of whom looked unhealthly thin and pale.But that
was the way the corps wanted them.

Abby found out that she had a lot in common with Brent, when they met in the
higher level food court.He had taken off his apron, losing his appearence as an avatar of
economy, just dressed in regular clothes which made him seem different. Less
threatening, in a way he looked like he wanted her to trust him. Her parent’s weren’t
going to worry about when she got home;they’d assume like some many others she’d
return at 1 a.m. bearing bags of goods, assited by several baggae cadies purchased for the
occasion. As they ate their reasonable fact similies of food, they talked. They both hated
the society they lived in. They hated the overly protective security, which reduced them
to sheep in the name of upholding their freedom-a practise which seemed to be a
contradiction in terms. The way the guards at school, or anywhere for that matter, could
strip search you for contraband on a mere whiff of suspicsion. Abby herself had been
subjected to that abominable pracitse as a high school freshman. They hated Simsation,
and it’s stupid products, from Romeo Valentine to the Garzork-the-Mutilator bloodbaths
reserved for males which reenforced stereotypes. Most of all, they hated the fact that
unless you were the offspring of some millionare you were denied higher education
unless you worked like a dog.

She thought that Brent was the ideal guy,the guy she talked to Becky about.
Handsome and smart. Plus, they shared the same ideology. Finally, she could deny it no
longer, and she confessed it to him: she was in love with him. They kissed and embraced,
which seem to engulf the world. She said that as long as she could have him, Romeo
Valentine be damned. Yes, she had truely found it. True love, unadultered and unaffected
by the lies the media told. Love that was not a commodity, not somethign you could
bottle or sell. Indeed, she had completed her insurrection against the commerical society
she lived in.
#

They got Abby as they walked home,swooping out of nowhere as she attempted to
head to the public transportation station.Dropped her in a room consisting of one
mirrored wall and a single chair, to whcih she was handcuffed. Seems Brent worked for
the corporation secret police (they didn’t go by that name of course. Too obvious. They
called themselves the ‘Consumer Confidence Department’), and noticed she hadn’t
purchased Romeo Valentine because the product didn’t satisfy her needs by her own
admission. Plus, Abby had divulged the fact she didn’t like the corps, or the products they
sold, a serious offense since she was in their key demographic.He must’ve presided at her
interrogation, a test audince in reverse.Occasionaly whacked across the face, yelled at a
lot by masked men.She didn’t see him, but there was this one way mirror, cold and
soulless, reflecting her battered face while behind it, the imortant ones watched,
capitalims avatars. It seemed like his prescence was felt disspite the opaque barrier
between them. Seems that love is a commodity after all, she thought.They let her off with
a warning:buy or die.We need your money or the enemy will win (an old excuse, but a
goody). Therefore you are a traitor, and must be delt with, and severely,they said, if you
refuse. So she bought Romeo Valentine,and when asked said she enjoyed it.

[KrzyCnauck]

Version Two

Romeo Valentine is right for you!

The dynamics of capitalism is postponement of enjoyment to the constantly postponed
future. -Norman O. Brown

Romeo Valentine is right for you!

The dynamics of capitalism is postponement of enjoyment to the constantly postponed
future. -Norman O. Brown

It was a bright, cloudless, shirtsleeve day, and it was not unleasent
to be outdoors. Sunlight danced along the superhigh strucutres comprised of magical
combinations of glass and metal that sprung up from the ground, seeming to be as a
natural part of the sky as the clouds themselves.Mountains of concrete and glass. Most
black, covered in a synthetic diamond sheeth to protect against high collison impacts
from airplanes or bombings. The Kingsway mall was located near a small, brick
highschool, reused out of cheapness. It had been modified to meet the new security
standards and economic measures,which largely involved knocking down walls to form
larger classrooms and putting anti aircraft missles on the roof.

The students had poured into the mall after being dismissed early from their
school. For a long period time, they had been packed in the yard like cattle. Someone
had hacked the computer’s power grid, and plunged the school into darkness. The
computers the students had been working on blanked off, and the security devices were
rendered impotent. They managed to eevacuate the school before chaos ensued. Now,
after security had wrestled with the infernal device for two hours, the students were
dismissed. This was a major embarssment for the Board of Education, and a secret
triumph for the students. Their oppressors could be taken down with the tap of a key.
Plans for furhter mischeif were no doubt being incubated.

In the midst of the mob, two students entered indistuishable from the rest. A
dreamer was one, the other a slave. Abby was fair haired, rather tall for a girl.Becky was
short, and dark haired. The two had spent their time reading about and discussing the
latest miracle product: Romeo Valentine, the latest from Simsation corporation.
Simsation was a reletively new corporation as corporations go. Their new gaming
paraphenalia was similar to the VR suits of old, growing dusting and forsaken in vacant
museums. They had begun to corner the multi-trillion dollar industry that was electronic
gaming, leaving some of the predesscors in the dust.The competition can place ypu in a
foreign enviroment, but only Simsation can take you there. Only Simsation and it’s
products made you experience the enviroments, down to smell and tocuh. RV, as he was
more commonly known, was the female counterpart to some of the Garzork the Mutilator
bloodbath titles for boys. Basically, a designer boyfriend.

Abby was more concerned with her education than the other students. Granted,
everyone worried about their education to some extent.Becky didn’t dwell on it.She
accepted what she got, which wasn’t much, and got on with her life. Higher education
would elude her grasp at this rate, but it didn’t trouble her. Abby realized that she never
asked Becky what she was going to do post graduation. or in life, for that matter.

“So, what are you going to do first?” Becky asked.
Abby had let her mind wander;she tried to focus now. “Pardon?” She shifted her
backpack a little to one shoulder. Despite the self streching fibres it weighed heavily on
her back. Of course, it did contain her gas mask, gym shoes, books and whatever else was
crammed in there. It had begun to affect her posture. With all the people in the corridor,
it sounded like a heard of bovines was shuffling through, she thought.
“Y’know, RV? After we buy it, run back to your place,all that?” she asked again.
“Order Chinese, and savour the night, is that the plan?” It was a Friday, and not even one
o’clock, a great day to be let free early.

Her voice was annoyingly perky and high pitched. Annoyingly optimistic. That
was one thing Abby didn’t like about Becky: she was always looking on the sunny side of
life,even when the sunny side seemed to be as elusive as the proveribal pink elephant.
Becky called her cynical, Abby called herself realisitc.
“Not sure. Maybe skiing, I think.” she replied, her voice dismal. Her mind was
elsewhere. Her mind was on a topic that required much self reflection.

“Something troubling you?” Becky asked, sounding symptathetic.
Abby’s mind drifted back to what she had been thinking about since Sepetember. The
scholarships. A chance to break free, to go to the University of her choice. Graduation
approached, looming over her thoughts like a titanic mountain. At first it approached like
a glacier, (back in grade 9 it seemed a million years away) but it gaded momentum until
now it encompassed all her time. Now, she had to worry about passing test after test, and
getting good marks on everything. And the qualifying exams...she didn’t want to think
about those. Lately she had been running herself ragged studying and preparing.

“Nothing. My mind dwells on matters relating to Academia.” she said.
Becky giggled. “In english, please? I mean, english people actually use.” she
asked.
“Just thinking about scholarships.” Abby said, trying to sound more cheerful. She
even smiled, a rarity for her.
“You’re smart. You’ll pass them.” Becky replied, looking up something on RV in one of
the teen magazines she had. It’s cover showed an unhealthily thin model wearing the
thinnest of clothes, and it’s main feature was how girls could unlock their hidden beauty.

“You know what your problem is?” Becky added, “You think too much. You’ll
never attract boys that way. Oh well, not much of a point worrying about that now that
RV is out.” Becky smiled at her.“It’s amazing that boys haven’t flocked to you. Not that
you’re heavyset or anything. it’s not like you’re a cow or anything.You just don’t put the
effort into it. And I don’t mean cosmetics.Okay, so you’re not into Botox. That’s fine. At
least try to be socialable.C’mon, girl!” she gave her a playful slap on the shoulder.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Abby replied sounding sullen as ever, trying hard not to pay
attention.

Abby and Becky were opposites. Becky dated, and bent over backwards to
impress the boys. Abby studied, and bent over backwards to impress the teachers. Becky
crash dieted and took emetics to fit modern standards of beauty. She hordered money to
buy the latest in cosmetics, which caused her skin to break out so she hordered to buy the
latest in acne care which smelled bad so she horded..and so on, and so on, and so on.
Abby was naturaly beautiful, but choose not the augment it. She just looked radiant from
morning to night.Somehow, they attracted each other. Abby the brain, Becky the
beauty.One sought practical things. The other more intangible.
The mall was large, forming a hollow courtyard with stores on every level, and
there were eight of them. It’s colour seemed to be sterile white, with the stores breaking
from that omni colour mold. The dominant sounds were of shoppers chatting and
toneless muzak. Upon entering one’s view was at the large screen made of intelligent
paper that spanned two walls, giving information about the latest products, discounts, and
what the day’s terrorist alert code was (blue). You had to walk down a white, sterile
looking corridor to be scanned for weaponry or contraband. It detected none, so they
walked through unmolested.

They were headed for the electronic store on the fourth level. Just across from
Dizater Zone, the most popular survival supply store, now offering a 2-for-1 bargin on
Cipro. It’s enterance was flanked by two large intelligent paper posters, taking up nearly
half the large floor, reading ROMEO VALENTINE IS RIGHT FOR YOU!!!!!. The same
ads were plastered along the school hallways, only in frozen dumbpaper. It showed a
model, skin and hair colour changing, with backgrounds ranging from a deserted island
to an Alpine chateau. From freck face redhead to creamy skinned black haired
dreamboat. A small crowd, mostly girls, had begun to congegrate there. The girls were
chatting to each other in an excited tone of voice. A celebrity lay inside, imprisioned in
datacards imprisoned by clinging plastic wrap. Like the frog prince, he beggeed to be
unleashed, and they were happy to comply. A few adults were there, trying to ignore the
crowd of teens and tweens in their midst. Inside, employees of the store hurried to make
ready the store for the inevitable onslought of customers. They looked like frantic
villagers trying to hide the daughters from the oncoming barbarians.Abby and Becky took
up positions near the back. In her demented mind, Abby thought the crowd looked like a
heard of cows ready to be slaughtered. She didn’t want to be seen with them.

Finally, the store opened and the transparent, bulletproof glass wall lifted. Most
of the girls handled themselves with decorum, going in, taking the produt and leaving.
Some were more enthusiastic. After all, not just a game but a celebrity was here! The
store tracked what you bought through a rice sized transponder in your shoulder. They
only stopped people who needed bags or forgot their reciept. Becky was more
enthusiastic than Abby, she entered the store on a walk bordering on jogging, Abby
merely creeped in. Becky plucked a copy of RV off a shelf, and gestured to Abby to join
her.

RV adorned most of the shelves in the gaming section of the store towards the
back. It seemd so stupid, so childish, Abby thought. To spend our lives concerned with
acquiring useless material possessions. She walked by the robot attendants which
vaccumed your carpets and walekd your dog. She payed little heed to them. She walked
towards the bargin bin, full of promising houes of entertainment, and shunned it. These
didn’t represent true happiness to her.

At the back there was a boy stocking shelves, which had depleted rapidly by the
overzealous girls.Most were gone, but he still had to jockey with the girls over the
product. He was quite handsome, like one of the Romeo Valentine advertisements have
become alive.Brown hair, short as was the fashion. Acne, but you can’t have perfection.
He was wearing an apron adorned with buttons advertising the various discounts and
products the store offered. He looked like an advertising avatar. Underneath it, he wore
regular clothes, brand names of course.

Feeling self concisness, she pulled up her shirt straps over the school’s brand on
her upper left arm. Student protests had removed the unpopular practise of school
unifroms. That was a blessing and a curse for the fashion industry. She checked her
appearence on a reflective metal shelf. Becky had convinced her to get her hair streaked
red, to highlight her blonde hair.

The first wave of girls had departed; the shelves were bare. Intelligent trays were
bringing more boxes out for the employees to stock. He was emptying one box of it’s
contents and filling the shelves.She decided to speak with him. She moved to about three
steps from him, then cleared her throat.
“Can I help you?” the boy asked, somewhat irately. Stocking shelves only to have
teenage girls pick them to bits will do that to you. He didn’t make eye contact
immediatley, but proceded with his job. She didn’t matter to him, just another consumer
he was to wrestle with for the privilige of shelving.
“Yeah.....I’m looking for....” Abby stammered. She was intimdated by his
piercing glare. Her inability to state outwright what she wanted had attracted his
attention, and probably his wrath.

“Lemme guess-Romeo Valentine?” he responded, reaching to the shelf and
plucking off a copy in one movement. He probably had delt with people like her before.
“Yes.” Abby replied, paying little heed to the datadisc in her hand. The plastic
glimmered under the lights. It showed the same type of ads that were outside, only the
model didn’t change every thirty seconds.
“Goddamit, we’ve more or less exhausted our stock in less then thirty minutes!”
he mumbled to himself, turning his attention to his half full box. While he was distracted
by Abby, a few girls plucked some discs out of it, leaving little to shelve. He grumbled
inaudibly, and returned to his thankless task.
“Sure is popular.” Abby said sweetly. She though to herself, I probably sound like
I’m braindead. Good, boys like girls who don’t think. Or maybe some do. How can I tell
for sure? Dammit, I wish I had the issue that had that article. No, that article was
misleading. The magazine was full of lies. A bunch of useless crap,desgined to make us
buy more.

“Yeah. Gathered that yourself, I see?” He said sarcasticly. He probably thought
she was an airhead. He didn’t want to be troubled, and she couldn’t blame him. Probably
had to fight a bunch of teen girls over the product so he could shelve it. The last thing he
wanted was to see another female begging his assisstance in gettng this product.
“Don’t see why it is.” she said, fingering the product and trying hard not to make
eye contact. She looked at her hands. becky had talked her into colouring her fingernails
purple. “I mean, the only people that’ll use it are people who can’t help but make
complete asses of themselves in public.”
That perked his attention. He had piercing eyes, eyes that seemed to penetrate you
and read what you really ment. They were focused squarely on her now. They looked like
they were fire.

“Whaddya mean?” he asked more cheerfuly. That was an uneasy change. From
cynicism to friendliness.He actually stopped his work to speak with her.
“Well...I mean, c’mon who really thinks of this stuff. A bunch of people pushing
forty hunched over drawing boards, coming up with assinine shapes and colours that
they hope will become fashionable.” Abby replied, sounding more confident and
intelligent this time. She thought about the crumpled magazines in her backpack that
begged to differ.

“What’s the point in obessing over this. If you want a guy, go out and meet one.
You don’t need a computer program to do that.” she continued. “Talking to the opposite
gender is hard, but not impossible. This thing just milks money from the insecure”
Abby felt confident and triumphant in what she had said.
“Know what you mean.” he said. “Frankly, don’t see what girls see in this.
Yeah, it’s a guy. So what?” he took a moment to look away in disgust. He was a terrible
actor. He looked like he was disgusted, but his eyes and tone of voice told a different
story.
“Hey, the shift at the school dosen’t change yet. What’s up?” he asked. He, for the
first time, noticed that the large crowd of girls seemed disporporationate for the time.
Probably realized it just now, as he was too busy fighting girls for shelf space a moment
ago.

“Oh, someone hacked the power grid. When security’s precious computers went
down, they closed the school early.We were packed in the yard like cattle before we were
let go.Next shift get’s a day off, I guess.” she said somewhat triumphantly.
“Yeah, know what you mean. They get all that money to make school’s secure,
and what do they do? They get a firewall a kindergartner could hack through. Name’s
Brent, by they way.” Brent said, facing her again. He had a devious smile on his face.
“Nice to meet you.” she replied. They shook hands. He had a firm, trusting grip.
A con man’s grip.

“Hey, I get off work in half an hour. Wanna meet up with me in the food court?”
he asked. A real date, abby wondered. Should she accept?
“Love to.” Abby said, surprised. A boy....asking her out? Becky wouldn’t believe
it. She couldn’t wait to tell her, and watch her expression.
“Great. See you there in thirty.” he said, and returned to his job. A few more
boxes had arrived, delivered and unloaded by a self moving tray. The opened themselves
through the miracle of Intelligent paper, and he removed the contents.
Abby smiled in her triumph, and cast away the RV she had picked up onto a shelf.
She didn’t need it. She was getting the real thing,free of charge.Let someone more
desperate take it!
Becky was waiting outside, arms akimbo. It showed how horribly thin she was. A
plastic bag dangled from her wrist, red and opaque. Inside, undoubetedly, was RV.

“I’ve been waiting three minutes.” she said angrily. “What took so long.” Time
had become a commodity in this era of instant communication. Same thing with
patitence.
“Hey didn’t you get RV? That was the reason we came here, remember.” she
added.
“Met a guy.” Abby said. She was proud and triumphant. She proved Abby wrong.
“You?’ becky siad surpirsed. “With a guy? Get out!”
“It’s true.” Abby said proudly. She flaunted this evemt.

Becky looked amazed. Hers eyes almost bulged from her head, and her mouth
was wide enoguh for a vulture to fly through.
“Well.....strange things have happened.” she said disbelievingly. “Going out with
him?” she asked,pryingly. Of course, you couldn’t blame her. her brainy friend going out
with a boy???
“I’m meeting him in half an hour at the food court.” Abby replied.

After meeting up with Becky, they walked towards the food court. Suddenly, the
view screens began to make a screeching noise, and changed to show Abby’s picture. It
showed her as she looked at the electronics store talking to Brent. The mall’s terrorist
alert sirens had gone off. People were running screaming for the exits, donning their gas
masks and swallowing their Cipro pills. Security was spilling out into the courtyard. They
gestured towards her.

SUSPECTED TERRORIST IDENTIFIED
WANTED FOR:REJECTING THE RIGHT TO PURCHASE
GUILTY OF TRYING TO SABOTAGE ECONOMY
DO NOT APPREHEND-TERMINATE ON SIGHT
$10K AWARD FOR IMMEDIATE TERMINATION
IF TERMINATED ON MALL PREMISES, TERMINATOR WILL ALSO BE
AWARDED MEAL VOUCHER FOR THE FOOD COURT

Abby didn’t know this, but Brent was part of a type of consumer secret police,
watching what people but and how much. Abby was in Simsation’s key demographic,
and her refusal to purchase RV ment that the product didn’t satisfy her means. Plus, she
had refused to support the economy, which needed everyone’s help these days. Simply
criminal. So he reported her in.

That’s when they noticed the vast ammount of people staring at her. That’s when
they noticed the vast amount of red dots tracing across the floor. Abby ran. BEcky froze,
then ran in the opporsite direction.There was a thousand thunderclaps of gunfire, tearing
up the sterile white tiles behind and in front of her. The exit loomed. She lept to it. She
almost made it. White tiles were stained red.

[jR]

I think toning down the message worked. Although the execution was a little more extreme than just arresting her in the last version. ButI suppose this is satire. I'm not usre why she would actually to agree to meet the guy. Describing his handshake as a "conmans'" would indicate to me that she wouldn't meet him. Also the references to him acting. Is that the girl noticing he was acting or the narrator?

Keep up the good work. I'm trying to write something much less ambitious and I'm finding it damn hard. The characters you have created seem a lot more believable than the one's I've come up with.

[KrzyCnauck]

Originally posted by jR
I'm not usre why she would actually to agree to meet the guy. Describing his handshake as a "conmans'" would indicate to me that she wouldn't meet him. Also the references to him acting. Is that the girl noticing he was acting or the narrator?


Narrator. I'm trying to foreshadow her untimely demise. If it was Abby, she wouldn't meet him.

I must say I am more satisfied with this version than the one peviously posted. I'm glad that on the sixth attempt, I got it right!

[Eishtmo]

Sorry I haven't done this sooner, but life kicked me in the shins then beat me up. Somedays. . .

Much better. Restricting the message a bit helped a lot. You were still a bit heavy handed in places, but we'll get to that.

Early in the story you tell us "one is a dreamer, the other a slave." Don't *tell* us that, *show* us. You do some of that later on when Becky and Abby start talking to each other, but you can do more. The same goes for the boy crazy, brainy thing you had going. This isn't to say you can't tell us things, but try to show it more.

"Pass a scholarship?" As far as I know, you can't "pass" a scholarship, you earn one. Of course, this could just be Becky's lack of knowledge on the subject (and thus lack of caring).

Near the middle, with the girls tearing through the store, you get a bit unorginized. Its kind of hard to tell what's going on, especially when you get to the payment system. Very choppy right there. Also, I would think the girls would be litterally crawling under the glass to get into the store when it opens. Might want to add that.

Usually, and this isn't always, individual paragraphs are dedicated to lines of dialog. Example:

"Yadda, yadda," said Bob.

"Yuck, yuck," said Joe.

You can add thoughts and actions to the ends or the beginnings, but the extra space just makes it easier to read. A formatting issue, little more.

You don't need to be "she thought" in the one part after Abby meets Brent. No real point there. At this point I suggest a slight perspective change, lock the camera, as it were, to Abby's shoulder. You basically do this already (except for the beginning, which should stay as is as far as I'm concerened), but the thoughts that flow through Abby's head are, by far, more important than anyone else's thoughts. What she sees, especially when she meets Brent, is much more important than what Becky will ever see. In a sense, the reader becomes a bird, and when it lands on someone's shoulder, they have complete and total access to their thoughts. Just my opinion, you don't have to do it, but it might streamline the piece a bit more.

The message in the original piece was pretty heavy handed all the way through, and you managed to lighten it up in the second draft, until you got to the end. To be completely honest, I liked the ending of the first one much better than the second one. I understand the message there, but I don't see an execution being the primary way of expressing it. Forcing Abby to buy RV (cute nick, BTW) was a much better way of presenting the fact that she was, is and forever will be a "slave" of the socity she's in.

I also don't think that "they" would highlight the fact that a crimial was in the mall, they'd do it quietly as to not cause a riot.

This is defiently much better, still a bit heavy handed at the end, but that can be fixed. Clear some of that little stuff up, use a spellchecker, possibly read it aloud to yourself (clears up grammer) and some finishing touches and you'll have one hell of a story. Then its time to start thinking about a sequeal (prequeal?).

Oh, and can you format it so its not off to one side like it is? I know it might be a browser issue, but its annoying.

[KrzyCnauck]

Two things:
-When Becky means pass ther scholarships, she means the qualifying exams for said scholarships.
-This ending is my personal fave. I didn't really like the first versions ending as I felt it was too cliched, too hokey. This one, at least, is somewhat more satrical than the first.

Anyways, I'll toy with this story. Believe it or not, I'm ondering submiting it somewhere.I'm also working hard on a second, a totaly different one. Unfortunatley, i've written the great bulk on a sort of sugar rush, so I'm having a hard time writing it. More posts as events warrant.

[Eishtmo]

The original ending was more of a reflection of the truth of the situation, they were trapped in a world of consumerism, forced to play a game that many didn't want to play. When Abby broke the rules, she was given a stern lecture, probably threatened and tortured (no details is sometimes more powerful than lots of details) until she gave in.

In the second ending, it was just blood and violence. Unfortuantly, it shy's away from the primary message (comercialism) and aims (no pun) at the secondary message (overt security). I think the two can be worked together in a strange hybrid where the results are the same as two, but the message is the one from one, if that makes any sense.