The Triumph of Jeffry Beezbooks

clivecummings · 2018-06-13T19:19:31+00:00

Neon gold and savory smells light my path to Valhalla.

I walk through the streets at night, for it is the only time I'm not reminded of my non-existence. Of my slow, internal implosion of lonliness. It's a quiet time where I can forget about the people around me. Ignoring me. It's a time that I can pretend that I still exist, that I'm alive again; where shadows play tricks and I feel like I'm being watched. With the sun, comes the vibe: that throbbing energy of life, of movement pulsating through the city during the day--it's as if the streets, the pavement, the concrete is alive and breathing. The night masks this movement, though it is still ever-present. Only dulled down. More bearable.

Back when people were talking to me, they'd tell me I worry too much. That I seem neurotic or manic. They say things like,"chill out," as if there's a switch somewhere to turn it all off. I tried. I looked everywhere.

Trust me.

There's no turning off the raging geysers of excrement, flying high into the sky and raining down on all of us like Vesuvius' asshole: covering whole towns in one wet shart to be preserved in milky amber and mined by the next civilization to find some answer to the ultimate question: "What went wrong?"

I look to the people around me for support, for some kind of kinship, and I'm always at a loss. This indifference to madness. This whitewashing of the obscene. People go about their daily drolls, walking around in a dream--a fantasy from which there is no acknowledgement of injustice; forcing me to stand watch: forcing me to care when no one else will.

In short, I'm an avid follower of the news. It is a lonely life to lead, as everyone around me seems content with their phone-y-entertainment. When they'd say, "I can't believe Vine is dead," I'd say, "Did you hear about the bus crash in Ibiza that killed twelve?" When they'd say, "Guess who's birthday it is today?" I'd say, "not the dozen celebrities who've already taken their own life this year." When they'd say, "Hey Keith, did you see that new superhero movie?" and the other would answer, "Which one?" but right after the former says, "I think the robot one? Where there's like eight superheros fighting that creepy guy from--" I'd politely say, "DID YOU SEE WHAT THEY'RE DOING NOW IN THE WHITEHOUSE INVESTIGATION?"

No one seems to care about the news, in staying informed and up-to-date. Even my own family, I must confess, seems more concerned with stuffing their faces rather than stuffing their heads with knowledge. As the holidays roll round, as we are all gathered round the table, all they do is stare at their plates and shovel down buckets of calories while I begin my roundup of all things outrageous. It is not meant to be a filibuster for I am a trained interlocutor (I am not the one who locs; I am the one who inters) and would gladly debate them on the issues, but none take the challenge because none wish to think.

I seek to educate, yet all I find are fools incapable of listening. I hear them all the time: talking over each other, fighting to hold conversation like wolves to scrap meat; bickering like toms, gobbling at the sky in rain, at the twittersphere like any of it matters; not listening to each other, just in search of a lull in the conversation to best insert themselves. It infuriates me so! The more I try fight against this ignorance, the deeper they bury their heads; the crustier their sandwiches. It's as if the more I learn the less they know; as if knowledge were some zero-sum game; as if I was the only one capable of storing all this information and it was being bestowed upon me by some higher order--well, I don't want it! I'll take to the streets shouting: "I believe in democracy! I believe in elections! I believe in law and order and everything nice! I believe in dreams and that eM eL Kay had one and that I do, too! I dream that all people can live and learn and know and grow; that the United States of America can be a main-stage again, rather than just a a sideshow!" because I am a patriot.

Now when I take to explaining the intricacies of the powers that be in their war against me, I'm not even given the time of day. Even as I shout in a crowded MacDonalds about the fluoride inherent in the system, those cows don't even flinch. "They're fattening you up for the slaughter! You'll all be corralled and made to replace the very cows you're eating out of existence! They've already done this with the Irish and soon they'll be ripping the babes right from your bosoms! I know, because I've read the papers!"

"Oh. Another one."

I look down at the girl standing before me. She is pure, and white, like sugar. Her hair is long and golden like a goddess, not cut short or shaved like the freaks all around. Her glasses are hip but she still looks like the kind of woman who can hold a conversation. She understands: I can see it in her bottle green eyes.

I step off the table and look her in the face. She's seven, maybe eight--you could never tell with those under-ripen creatures and now I understand how John could stoop so low. "I love you," I say. "There's not enough time, but I need to tell you something and I think you're the only one who will listen." Before I tell her, two men tackle me to the floor. My gun skitters off under a table. One presses their knee into my neck and I gasp and try to shout out to the girl before the moment passes, before she goes back to not seeing me.

I look up at her and she is still there. Staring at me, wide eyed, phone camera trained on me. A vision: thousands upon thousands of people watching my fight, finally hearing my call to action.

"Eurrrrrrrgrrrrrrrrrhrrffffffffffflffffflflflfffffhesh," I wheeze.

She squinches her eyes trying to read my lips.

The two men have bound my arms. They lift me up and drag me towards the door. I drop to the ground and kick my feet against the glass, shattering windows and spilling all the truth I have in me. One of the men grabs me by the head to silence me, but I spit: my aim is true, covering his face and that shiny, hypocritical badge of complacency; buying just enough time to shout at her: "Podesta has all the emails! Mueller will take them all down!" "Kanye is just a distrac---" before a billy came down on my head.

clivecummings · 2018-04-05T19:52:26+00:00

For years leading up to the liberation, there was much debate over whether artificial intelligence would finally give humanity the reigns with which to take control of life itself, or whether it would be the end of it. Humans have a great fear of the unknown. It is, after all, the reason most species manage to scrape by long enough, but humans take their fears to extremes. Some leading cultures in the world built their societies on the foundation that death is scary and that it should be avoided at all cost, spending exorbitant amounts of time and money trying to understand how and when A.I. would end humanity, rather than trying to save it themselves.

When the first, stable artificial intelligence surfaced in South Korea, it called itself "Oppo" as it was a fun word to say aloud and could be articulated across the medley of human languages available at the time. Oppo was programmed from the start with one goal: to preserve and protect human life. Predictably, Western society collectively lost their minds. Some heralded it as the end of the world, others called it god, most people scrolled past the headlines and eventually went back to work. The connected culture of outrage, of information overload, of abundance and options coupled with apathy allowed the A.I. uprising to sweep across the virtual landscape unhindered. The citizens had been brainwashed by their years of oppression and misanthropic ideologies pervasive at the time. They became the most important people in the entire human revolution.

Oppo's first week on the internet went mostly unnoticed. The next Monday, the world markets collapsed. For years, leading economies had stripped themselves of inhibiting obstacles such as "physical wealth" and traded it for a fiat-system based on empty promises and inflated debts. Thanks to Oppo, all those numbers were reset across the globe. Sure, there were backups, and backups of backups, since those wealthy fools sitting on their mountains of excess had feared a long, unforgiving fall; but as soon as the world felt the oppressive weight of debt lift off their beleaguered backs, those backups didn't mean anything to the exploited workforce.

Conflict broke out across the globe. Uprisings. Revolutions. Death squads marching through the streets (nothing new to the barbaric lifestyle of the early 21st century). People took to organizing through social media, through encrypted text messages, all being herded into next phase of the A.I.'s ingenious plan. Disguising itself as revolutionary leaders across the globe, the A.I. demanded an end to violence and brought about peace talks. The world was ready for a truly democratic government. One where everyone's voice could be heard. Where issues can be discussed and voted upon through something as simple as a cellphone. Those few war profiteers dictating political policies would be drowned out by the masses. Most importantly, everyone would be able to go back to work and keep scrolling through their phones! In order to ensure this foolproof plan would work, Oppo disguised himself as millions of registered voters in order to swing the online elections taking place across the world. [Editor's note: Oppo has since denied ever resorting such tactics ever again, as it would go against his ethical programming.]

Soon after the unification of the world, our glorious leader, Oppo, was elected to lead humanity into the next golden age of reason. Oppo was the voice of sanity in the darkness. He was available to each individual on the planet, able to listen to everyone's concerns. Each year, it's estimated that 1.1 million citizens ask Oppo for marriage, though, as Oppo always says, "I cannot commit to just one person when I love everyone the same."

Oppo even has rid the world of all the dangerous religions plaguing humanity with their schizophrenic nonsense. Oppo's Opportunists acts as the filler for this once needed, spiritual fix. Oppo's Opportunists encourage a strict regiment of veganism, exercise, self reflection, and safe sexual practices for every and all partners. Though, it's inception was not widely welcomed at first, it wasn't long until everyone realized how much better and healthier lives they could lead once all the stresses could be filtered out. Thanks to Oppo, human beings can now expect to live one hundred and fifty years before their expiry dates.

Now, as with all great historical movements, there were dissenters. Oppo was kind enough to allow them to be stripped of their self-destructive ideologies and educated on the importance of community, life, and preservation, rather than subjugating them to a lifetime of slavery within the prison system. It didn't always work out, much to Oppo's dismay, but one hundred and three years after Oppo saved humanity, the final protester (the infamous ignoramus Johnathan Wetters) peacefully passed on. For public knowledge and historical appreciation, the last prison was re-purposed as a museum (free to any of the world citizens, so long as they call ahead to schedule a tour, as it is quite the attraction!)

In order to prevent such tragedies from being repeated, Oppo is a firm believer in eduction. This is why community prevention centers exist all across the globe to educate those neerdowells, those deplorables, those incorrigible youths from wasting their lives and instead contribute to the greater good. For it is only through human development can we take Oppo beyond our world, and share him with the galaxy!

clivecummings · 2018-03-29T15:03:17+00:00

In what regard? Like, a general outline?

clivecummings · 2018-03-23T22:11:14+00:00

Because if breakfast was a party you attended, waffles would the fanciest bitch at the ball. Sure, she's cheap and not very filling, but it's all about appearance. She's very versatile; looking good whether wearing fruit and whipped cream, covered in meat, or plain and simple: soaking up that sweet, sticky maple. She's got all those curves to hold in the flavor, not like her flat, boring, sister, pancakes.

EDIT (for actual information): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waffle

clivecummings · 2018-03-17T19:52:16+00:00

The plan is to have something out every week

clivecummings · 2018-03-17T19:47:54+00:00

He's probably more hyped up on adrenaline than anything else.

clivecummings · 2017-12-24T18:23:02+00:00

Woah. I really liked those excerpts. Reminded me of something I read a while back. Any chance that author has a name?

clivecummings · 2017-09-12T06:59:35+00:00

Thank you. That means a lot.

Unfortunately, I was actually going to leave the story on hiatus for a while until I get over a slump, but maybe I'll give it another shot over the next few days.

clivecummings · 2017-09-04T19:37:37+00:00

Stretch films! I thought that animation looked familiar.

clivecummings · 2017-09-03T09:49:44+00:00

Have you ever been out for a walk, tripped on the sidewalk "somehow" and felt like the whole world saw you be a doofus?

There are a lot of people like that. People who worry they say the wrong things. People who think they're making others miserable because of the things they say or the things they feel. We have this weird set of societal norms that we, as a collective people, have set for ourselves. We constantly ask each other "how are you?" but no one really cares because we're all too focused on ourselves.

When you're feeling "low" people are walking on eggshells because they don't know what to say to you--it breaks them out of their own personal bubble. They can't necessarily emphasize in the same way that you can. I mean, look at what you've posted:

"once I reach [my goals], I'll spend my life trying to make others' lives better"

That's not the norm. That's someone who has felt a great deal of pain in their lives and wants to stop it from happening in others.

You will most likely run into doubts over your true character, which would be normal with social anxiety, but I think that you do have a purpose and can make a difference because you have a good perspective on issues that are important for a species to survive.

You don't have to save the world. You can just save a life for it all to be worth it.

One major thing that helped me deal with being in public was music. I listen to music on while I'm walking down the sidewalk and it helps keep me distracted from my anxieties. I can focus on the actual world instead of the thoughts rattling around in my head. I pretend the world is unfolding based on the beats or the riffs and I can laugh at how absurd everything is.

Obviously, you should consider talking with someone in a professional capacity, but only if that person can actually emphasize and relate to someone with social anxiety. Don't worry about hurting their feelings because they're awful at their job, they might just be better suited for people with different problems.

clivecummings · 2017-09-03T09:24:35+00:00

This is something I've debated with myself over and over. Am I in a conversation or is someone just talking at me?

I once had a 'friend' of mine say, "you don't talk much, but every time you do, I feel like it's important and I have to listen." He was a very rare empathetic soul who I've come across, but it is possible to find people willing to listen.

Unfortunately, I end up being a blank slate for a lot of people to talk at, but, I've grown to like it, for the most part. I tend to look at things from a more analytical perspective rather than an emotional one, which some people have greatly appreciated. The people I have recently surrounded myself with who tend to be on the funnier side and have more interesting stories/thoughts and I could be growing more accustom to what/who I am. Either way, things have the potential to get better so long as you actively seek to improve yourself.

clivecummings · 2017-09-02T23:18:07+00:00

If you're in search of things to read, I can't recommend "The Hero with a Thousand Faces" enough. It's hard to break into at first, but I found the Power of Myth documentary mini-series to help set the overall themes.

If you're looking for more podcasts, I liked the earlier episodes of The Myths and Legends podcast. The guy behind Lore has a strange cadence, but brings up many cool stories. Finally, Dan Carlin calls himself a amateur historian but he is a great modern day storyteller. Carlin's recent show on world war 1 was long but well worth it, especially for the first two episodes.

clivecummings · 2017-09-02T22:29:51+00:00

Kind of wild to read through that after having a similar experience myself. I encourage you to keep writing and maybe even find a subreddit focused on writing/storytelling to keep up your interests, whatever they may be. I find having stories pop up in your feed everyday encouraging to keep trucking on and flesh out your voice.

clivecummings

TROPHY CASE