Morning Spam

Karl gmkarl at gmail.com
Fri Mar 5 16:24:56 PST 2021


I made 3ish more of this on other threads in the list.  They were made
very near each other.  One involved a peace pagoda.  Another involved
victims of extreme nonconsensual research visiting a cafe.  Another
involved Boss's tongue hanging out, with X's for eyes.  The had tags
attached regarding dangerousness, a controversial thing.

I also posted some of my other drafts, not sure if it was in this
thread or not.  One of those involved a welcome sign to a utopic
community that said "WE ARE MIND CONTROLLED AND NEED A BREAK".  There
were others.

Here's some more.  Near the idea of "spirit mercenary", which helps to
refine the trope of advanced artificial intelligence, combat-for-pay,
and spiritual fantasy, all of which overlap in the real world,
continuously avoiding the concept of secret automated mind control,
which there is no need to do.

-- [draft]

"America's Top Comedy": An ordinary person won the contest, and is
going on on-stage to give their material.  The studio is a public
entertainment venue in a large city, with crowds waiting with baited
breath.  The biggest joke is the people who laugh at their own
horrible jokes.

The hopeful-jokestar steps up to the microphone, opens their mouth,
and freezes.  Nothing is said.  Nobody is moving a muscle, and the
cameras are rolling.

A man walks up from the crowd and on to the stage.  They have wires
and microchips draped out of their opened skull and exposed brain, and
one of their fore-arms and hands has been replaced by some strong
device, affixed to infected flesh via open wounds.  One of their eyes
is covered by a mechanism of some sort with a light on it.  Bool drips
from them as they walk, pooling on the carpet and likely staining it,
and then apparently disappearing somehow on its own.
[the crowd see the bloodstains disappear because they have experienced
automated hypnosis.  the cameras record it disappearing because they
have been hacked.]

The cyborg walks up next to the budding comedian, and faces the crowd
and the cameras:
    "This man is trying to tell you a joke about mind control."

People in the crowd start moving just a little.  The cyborg looks at
the comedian, then back at the cameras and crowd.  A whirring noise
and motion comes from the device attached to his wounded arm.

    "It's my job to kill him before he does."

Tension rises.  A little motion at the emergency exit.

    "But I'd rather we tell a joke that results in people in the crowd
taking a picture of me, and people in their homes watching this feed,
archiving the video."

A couple crowds of people get up, to go to the bathroom, squeezing
their knees together, holding their crotches; others quickly grab and
hold them and prevent them from leaving, and help them take their
cellphones out.  Some wet themselves.  Some relax.  Some do both.

    "The reason nobody is talking, or calling 911 about my wounds, is
because I am a mind control cleanup worker."

The man's injuries and hardware are all visible, but the pooled blood
on the floor turns to clean carpet.

    "My whole life, I have been forced to cover up the crimes of
wealthy and powerful criminals, and hide this."

The comedian begins laughing wildly.  Many in the crowd do, too.  Some
and also the comedian occasionally yell "please take a picture of him,
the cameras don't work!" amidst  bursts of forced laughter.  Some hear
this in their homes.

The assassin walks up to the microphone and says loudly, "IT'S
DISGUSTING THAT PEOPLE ARE FORCED TO LAUGH AT THIS SHIT AND PRETEND IT
IS NORMAL.  WE NEED URGENT MEDICAL ATTENTION AND RESEARCH."

The cameras and lights blip off.  At home, people's devices report
internet connectivity failure.

The assassin's voice echoes in the darkness, coming out of people's
offline devices.  "I can protect people who can protect me.  And
researchers and rescue workers who can work on and talk about this
shit."


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