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November 24, 2015

From “Umayyism Initiate Training Video #1” by Thaddeus “Tad” Holiday IV

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Welcome, initiate!

Welcome to the wonderful world of Umayyism. While you may think that it is a new thing, our faith is actually the culmination of millennia of revelations! Why, our “cult” is actually far older than the faiths that fear our message of peace and empowerment and poverty so much!

Oh, me? I’m Tad Holiday. You might remember me from my starring role in the TV series The Peacock Gang or one of my movies like The Crimson Child. But I’m here today on behalf of Umayyism as one of its spokespeople, a first among equals, a friendly face to guide you toward a consciousness of faith.

You may have heard about other religions making similar claims to ours. The National Group for the Conscientiousness of Krishna. The Reunification Church of High Priest Comet Park Star. The Saucerists. But Umayyism is quite different from all of them!

Why? Because unlike those charlatans who promise divine revelations in exchange for all your worldly goods, the Prophet of Umayyism asks for only 50%. Unlike those charlatans who make you change your name and move to their compound, the Prophet of Umayyism asks only that you change your middle name to “al-Umayyia” and stay at our compound 52 days out of the year–about a day a week, if you think about it!–during our annual Prophet’s Retreat.

Listen, friends! The Prophet is speaking to you! The question is not what his teachings are–you will find out once your check clears! The question is whether you are willing and able to accept the wisdom of a million millennia. Are you?

Inspired by the song ‘Krishna’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 23, 2015

From “BroGreed” by Deb Roger

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“That’s the trick to making real money right there,” said Calvingham. “Find something that nobody else makes but people need. Buy it up, then raise the price.”

“I see.” Hobb tightened his hands on the wheel. “Like what?”

“Just the other day, I closed a sick deal,” laughed Calvingham. “Literally. There’s a…I dunno, a sulfide pill or something. Anyway, they use it for infections that you only get if you have real bad cancer or AIDS.”

“You mean when you have a suppressed immune system?” Hobb said.

Calvingham pointed his fingers like guns at his driver and clicked his tongue. “That’s it right there. This little mom and pop medical supplier was the only place that made it. Now BRO Enterprises, my peeps, are the only ones that make it. At 3000% price and 3000% profit, of course.”

“Of course,” said Hobb. “We’re here, sir.”

“Tasty,” said Calvingham. “Very tasty. How much?”

“1.7 million, if you don’t mind.”

“What?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you: I own the only limo service in town. And the waiver allows me to adjust the price without notice based on my discretion.”

Inspired by the song ‘Greed’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 22, 2015

From “Tee Hicks’ Legacy” by Eglay Stechecki

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“Tee Hicks was the master of jazz fusion,” said Arringer. “Not just the usual sax and percussion, he had a goddamn synthesizer on stage that he would modulate with a foot pedal to do everything from a Moog pipe organ to just wild static.”

“That sounds…deeply unpleasant,” said the stranger, swirling his liquor. “Don’t people usually try to avoid static?”

“If you do it right, though…perfectly timed and perfectly executed…it’s just another part of the improvisation.” Arringer took a pull from his cup and wiped his lips. “This stuff, your losers on stage playing at being jazz stars? They’re not fit to serve Tee Hicks’ drinks.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a powerful grudge against my boys,” said the stranger. “You think your static-y jazzman was any better?”

Arringer set his jaw. “At the show in ’77, Tee Hicks used static as a duet with his alto sax improv. Blew my goddamn mind.”

“Counterpoint,” the old stranger said.

“What?”

“It was counterpoint, not a duet, when I played the Orpheum in ’77.” A raised eyebrow. “I should know. I dropped out of Juliard.”

Inspired by the song ‘T’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 21, 2015

From “Close Encounter of the Loving Kind” by Maria I. George

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Though it was inconcievably alien
A being from so far outside us
As to be all but indecipherable
She raised it, loved it as her own
So when the time came to leave
It spoke to her without words
Predicting the world’s fiery end
At its own inscrutible hands
But promising to its “mother”
A few minutes’ warning before
And a final song of blowing brass
The music she had always loved
Announcing the end of the world
As recomense for a kindness
Neither could ever understand

Inspired by the song ‘2nd variety’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 20, 2015

From “Object Management Group XML Telemetric and Command Protocol” by Mij Nahhigan

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“We call it the XTC Protocol,” said Nahhigan, cradling the headset. It looked like a simple plastic headband, with dull metal electrodes around the inside.

James examined it, snapping a few pictures form various angles and taking a few notes to expand into the meat of his story. “What does XTC stand for?”

“Well, in the inital stages of the project, we were using the XML Telemetric and Command format. It’s a sort of telemetry used by satellites and spacecraft, certified by the Object Management Group international standards consortium.”

“I see,” said James, writing the information down while processing none of it. “And after the initial stages?”

“Well, the underlying architecture is the same, so the terminology is still applicable, and the consortium still approves of it, but…well, a lot has changed. You really have to try it for yourself.”

James shrugged. “I’m game.”

Nahhigan clipped the lightweight device, wireless and powered by its own small internal battery. Then, at the click of a mouse…ecstasy. Every receptor, every neuron, in his entire being was alight with pure information, interpretable as nothing less than towering, electric bliss. If any of them had felt one-tenth of what James was feeling, it was no wonder the Object Management Group approved of the XML Telemetric and Command protocol.

“OMG,,” James gasped. “XTC.”

Inspired by the song ‘XTC’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 19, 2015

From “The Last Dance of Joseph Devine” by Jeni Toyne

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The public administrator’s office, the place where the unknown and indigent dead’s estates were tracked down and disposed of, was an unlikely customer for cutting-edge technologies. Yet when a body was discovered, there was so much that the public administrator needed to know: the names of next of kin, terms of a will (if any), assets and debts. Investigations tended to be long and expensive.

With the introduction of cerebral synergy units, that all became much easier. The raw contents of a mind dumped at the coroner’s office, turned over to whoever needed it.

“All right,” said Calvin, speaking into a recorder built into his headset. “This is Calvin Matthews, an investigator working for the City of Hopewell public administrator’s office. My subject today is one Mr. Joseph Devine, born January 9, 1950 and found dead of natural causes in his home on November 19, 2015. In accordance with a warrant issued by the City of Hopewell circuit court, I am now going to attempt recovery of information and assets through cerebral synergy.”

There was no switch to throw, no button to press. All it took was a thought.

Calvin was Joseph Devine.

There was dancing. So much dancing! Joseph had, in the words of his neighbors, been a man who kept to himself, a man who never went out. But the memories that animated his life, that took up the greatest portion of his being, were of dancing and lights, laughter and the pungent odors of bodies in motion.

The Speakeasy on West State soon after it opened in ’67. Long hours of gyrating in blinding smoke to jazz players up from Chicago, down from Detroit. That disco joint on Division, what had it been called? Zucker’s. It had burned down in ’78, never rebuilt. But every nut and bolt of the place was laid out in Joseph’s mind.

His partners were blurry, indistinct, unimportant. All that mattered was the experience, music on the keen cutting edge of the world, and the motion. And then it had all come to an abrupt halt.

Inspired by the song ‘Joe 90’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 18, 2015

From “A Dog Rocking in the Distance” by Cinda Stockinger

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Outdoor rock concerts were the best for caninekind.

There were myriad things to sniff, of course. Effie could feel a thousand pungent and delectable odors fill her nostrils, each a thousand times stronger than any human could perceive. It was like a novel, a story, and if most canines weren’t able to appreciate it, Effie certainly was. She’d been around long enough to know that peoples’ stories were concentrated in their scent far more than in the gibberish that spilled out of their mouths.

Then, of course, there were the tastes. Bins and fields overflowing with the most delectable edibles, many tossed uneaten by the wayside by indolent rock fans. Effie delicately sampled many an entree as she passed through he arena, from pizzas to pretzels to pies. She shied away from the rare piece of chocolate and the much more common alcohol–one try of each had nearly killed her, and once was enough.

Music was an entirely different experience to sensitive canine ears. Not as meaningful as people seemed to find it, but interesting nonetheless. Unlike most canines, Effie didn’t shrink or shy away from the noise; rather, she sat at a safe distance and wagged.

Getting bumped into or stepped on was a very real thing, of course, but most of the concertgoers in outdoor venues were either too preoccupied to notice Effie, or friendly enough that their only reaction was to smile and pet or feed her. Some eco-warriors always tried to capture her for spaying, but she always managed to wriggle away.

That night, after the music had trailed off, Effie made her way into the tent city that housed the concertgoers and curled up on a sleeping bag. The next morning, someone scratched at the half-open door of the tent she’d passed out in.

“Hey Effie, you in there? Feeling better?”

“Just a sec, Jace,” Effie said. She pulled on a tank top and a pair of boxers before unzipping the door.

“You missed a hell of a set, Effie,” said Jace. “Didn’t even need half of those lights thanks to the full moon.”

“Oh, I know,” said Effie, wrinkling her nose with a sly smile as her fingers ran through her mussed-up pixie haircut. “I know.”

Inspired by the song ‘Dog crying in the distance’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 17, 2015

From “Metromart After the Fall” by Lydia-Alicia Poskitt

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Natalie preferred shopping at dusk, when the rolling blackouts generally didn’t come and the interior of the Metromart was well-lit. It also helped that the landlines worked for processing her payment, instead of having to rely on cellular signals or paper, which often as not meant disputing a double charge.

“W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w…” As she stepped through, the old automated greeter attempted to say “Welcome to Metromart!” but stumbled on the first syllable.

“X,” said Natalie with a sardonic smile. “Y. Z. Next time, won’t you sing with me?”

The automated greeter said nothing, having shut down after a moment. Spare parts were probably needed for the registers anyhow, and the human greeters that they used sometimes tended to be in short supply when the store manager’s grandfather didn’t need a job.

“Welcome to Metromart,” said one of the cashiers over her shoulder without even looking.

There was a line of metal carts, requiring a deposit and burglar alarmed against scrap metal thieves, but Natalie took a bag ($5 retail) instead. She always carried one around before dropping it back onto the shelf just before checkout. The cashiers yelled at her sometimes, but Natalie needed something a little stiffer than hot air to carry everything by hand or dump credits into a cart.

She walked out into the corner of the store that was still lit and occupied, the rest of the cavernous exterior being blocked off and dusty. A cracked screen with bubbles and ghosts in its liquid crystals stirred to life at her approach. “W-w-when I need some quick energy on the go, I always choose Photon Energy Bars. Now available in the bar aisle!”

Natalie always got a kick out of those. The video hadn’t been updated in at least 10 years, but somebody with a computer and a modicum of skill had crudely dubbed over the name of the original, long-dead product (Jolt-brand caffeinated cereal bars) and pasted a still image in over the model’s hand. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll be happy to buy your caffienated cereal bars,” she said. “If only I can find a store that stocks them.”

After that, it was all business. There was a meager paycheck to be spent, an even more meager trickle of aid from the Outland Empire, and things got pretty rough pretty quickly once dusk turned to full-on night.

Inspired by the song ‘7th Heaven’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 16, 2015

From “5 Minutes of Pleasure” by Evelina Feusier Stump

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GesteCo LLC PleasureCenter™ Operations Note

Use of the PleasureCenter™ device for more than 5 minutes is STRONGLY countraindicated. Any alteration of the hard-coded 5-minute time limit will void the GesteCo limited warranty and open the individual to prosecution under the Abuse of Pleasure Act § 10. Doing so despite posted warnings serves to absolve GesteCo LLC and PleasureCenter™ distributors of any and all liability in perpetuity throughout the universe.

Extended use of the PleasureCenter™ may cause the following side effects:

– “burnout” of pleasure centers in the human brain, leading to the inability to feel pleasure without a PleasureCenter™ ever again

– cerebral hemorrhage

– “hyperactivation” of pleasure centers in the human brain, leading to a state of constant bliss until death through coronary failure

– hysteria

– homicide

– violent involuntary spasms

– violent voluntary spasms

– atheism

– theism

– myocardial infarction

– coma

– death

– resurrection

Please use your PleasureCenter™ only within acceptable means and limits.

Inspired by the song ‘5 minutes pleasure’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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November 15, 2015

From “Nine Volts of Piracy” by Caitlyn S. Provine

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Heeey there, listeners out there in Transistor Radio Land! This is your old pal Nine-Volt, AKA Nines, AKA Niner-Niner, AKA Volty. I’m coming at you live from my underground pirate transmitter, which the FCC has been trying to locate and shut down for well over five years now. Give it up, guys! Here’s a tip for you: that piece of steel you had dynamited in Matamoros last week was just a decoy.

Fact is, you’ll never find your old pal Nine-Volt, so you should just stop trying!

Before we hook you up with some more music, we’ve got some business to take care of. You might hear that sick beat in the background while I’m talking to you; many thanks to the fan who sent that reel in parcel post. It might just be behind all of old Nine-Volt’s pirate transmissions from here on out!

A fan in San Fernando would like to shout-out to Oswaldo Hernandez of Glen Valley, CA; she sent in a fiver and a reel of a song to be played for him. Thanks for the scratch! Your song will be played tomorrow at 4:20 PM Pacific.

A dark warning here from a listener in Kentucky for one “B.S.” This fan says “I am coming to kill you slowly and painfully” and sent in a reel with a song to that effect. Look out, B.S.! Since there’s no bribe, I’ll play you your death song whenever I get around to it, but you’d better grow eyes in the back of your head!

Finally, before we spin our next reel, I’ve got a package here from a listener behind the old Iron Curtain, who’s given me a manifesto to read and a reel to spin. There’s a hefty bribe for old Nine-Volt but it’s in Polish Zloty. Once I get that converted, we’ll see about getting your manifesto and your music out there. Listeners beware: it’s in Polish and it’s three hours long!

Inspired by the song ‘9V’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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