“In a futuristic society, there came a day when technology decided to fight back, but, this time, no one even noticed” said hipster/barista Hector in his best Lafontaine-voice.
‘Now, that.. is a stupid idea for an action movie” said John the student actor.
“What?!? You kiddin?! That’s high concept, my friend!” blurted Hector, “It’s The Terminator meets Idiocracy!”
“I’m pretty sure caffeine abuse has permanently damaged your brain!” said John and he shook his head.
“Hey! It takes real brain damage to try to work in show business!”
“I can’t help it! I’m a sociopath!”
Then the two roomates looked at the different function of the their geniusphones for the next hour and a half without saying a single, solitary word to each other, which was mandatory by state law. This was the way of the futuristic world we live in, this our year of 2999; the turning of the millennium when we were up to our assholes in tech. I mean, just complete and utter saturation of it at this point. The gents compulsively went to all their usual web pages and apps and accounts, which was a routine and monitored in mandatory usage by federal and state law. You could stray your eyeline for one second at a time from your device, and blinking was deemed “not a necessity” anymore, during these mandated binge periods. Each device broadcasted a certain wavelength of light that would increase the eye’s moisture production and keep free from irritation for uninterrupted focus, which was gravely mandatory. If you didn’t check in to your accounts everyday you could face fines or jail time, more often than not, jail time. If you ever loose or break your phone you could face fines or jail time. There were microchips put into everyone’s wrists that if separated from anyone’s , geniusphone, device, tablet, pad, pod, prog, padopodda or papadoopad,(in certain areas), would start beeping incessantly, urging you to get to your nearest service provider’s outlet. This is just to give you a little taste of what were dealing with here.
Cut to the World’s Service Providers Conclave, held in a giant, fiery, volcano-impervious, headquarters inside a giant, fiery volcano.
“Could we turn down the heat in here” said the Icelandic rep from Doomcell.
The concillium was gathered for its half-a-yearly operations meetings, a convention of sorts where all the CEO’s could talk shop and get loaded on futuristic super-alcohol syringes. All the big reps from the big 6, as they were called, Applarmageddon, Doomcell, Verizord, A, T & Terrorism, Vonrage and Motorollovaya, were there. They began to talk of money. A commotion started when someone was running their mouth, but no one remembers who started it because they all were generally running their mouth, respectively. The reps started to grow tired of eachother’s boasting, campaigning, hemming and hawing, as it were, so there was a bet made amongst them all to determine who was the greatest service provider.
Hector and John arrived back at their apartment which they shared and paid equal rent towards. They ascended the teleportation unit, which then beamed them up to 213mth floor where they knocked on room B. They had both had forgotten their keys again as people their age seem to do quite a lot.
“I’m afraid I can”t let you do that-!” said the door.
“Come on, Door! You know it’s us!” yiped Hector like a little bitch.
“You didn’t let me finish! I was trying to say, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that without the proper security clearance..”
“Ok, well hurry up then! We have a mandatory Facebook event to rsvp to in five minutes!” said John as he undid his trousers..
After the security anal probings, the roommates entered their apartment to find a distracted Vera, John’s girlfriend and unofficial third roommate, mandatorily interweb-masturbating on the couch. She was really jacking away to some hardcore pornsymphony on her multiple tablet and apt-installation monitors. Hector and John asked if they could join in, and, she, very hot-n’-botheredly, shook her head yes, not even noticing them come in, but yearning and close to coming herself. The three friends all sat down together and jerked off as a sexy freeform jazz wanking trio until the room stank of all of their fluids, which was immediately ventilated by a suction-vent upgrade they got from going over their data coverage in their masturbation-couch, which they semi-seriously called the stank tank.
Back at the Volcano, those jerk-off reps were ironing out the details to a grand bet that would involve the whole world and determine which of the big 6 was the best service provider. Even though each of the big 6 had gathered so much market research they would pit eachother’s giant appeal against the other in the form of humongous mechanized Giants apeeling eachother’s heads off. The top reps in long cloaks, now sat at the hexagonal table of world judgement. Before each of them, a giant red button. the wall opened up and behind it was a million monitors, which were attached to 24-hour security cameras showing every virtual nook and cranny of the earth’s globe. Even though they could see everywhere and everyone they could not see one person on each of the monitors who was not on their tech device.
“Look at them all slaving away on their geniusphones, truly fascinating” said a goblin-like creature from Vonrage.
“It’s time we put a change to all that” said the top rep from Verizord.
All six reps hit their big, red button, sirens sounded, lights flashed and the “games” had begun.
Back in the freshly-ventilated apartment, Hector, John and Vera were watching a sitcom trope on their very own, personal mutli-screens that had been written and performed 24,146,733 times by different artists, when, their geniusphones, which were cooling their crotches, started to act weird.
“Huh, that’s funny. Said Vera, who didn’t even look up from her screen.
“What?” said John, inching over to her while trying not to break eye-contact with his screen.
“It looked like I almost lost service for a split second, haw..” Vera replied distracted by her screen.
“What service do you have?!?” bawled Hector from his screen zone.
“Applarmeggedon. You?” Said Vera in screen.
“Motorollovaya. How about you, John?”
“Strictly, an eternal Verizord. Even though everyone says they’re bad.”
“Oh shit, did your wrist go off at all?!?” Hector shrieked maniacally, in concern for his friend, even though his 15th cup of coffee-addled fascination from his screen had him by the balls.
“No, actually, it didn’t- weird.” replied Vera, having her a one-second eyeline break from her screen, “What’s happenin- gurrrrrrrduuuhhhhh..”
At that moment, all three kids’ screens turned red and read “666”. They all flipped out, each of them blew a fart, but it was too late. Then the geniusphones started shapeshifting, turning into big structures that began to envelope the entranced vegetables of Hector, Vera and John- they were being mechanized. Secret panels with titanium-plating, which seemed much bigger on the inside, began taking shape from these seemingly hand-held devices. Each young adult was enveloped into a glass orb, mandatorily transfixed, in stasis, in their device as they became part of these self-assembling telecommunication company robots. The robots formed around the orbs with the now-brain-dead young adults, and, when they finished forming , it looked like the three robots were pregnant with Hector, Vera and John inside the robots’ new glass beer bellies
“And so it begins, all across the planet earth”, said the cloaked top rep of Applarmeggedon, “Everyone who has tested our products will now be tested, for THEIR VERY LIVES!!!”
“But what of their fragile mortalities! They do not have defenses like us!” said an underling voice in the darkness.
“SILENCE!” said the cloaked one, and the underling was liquified by its’ superior’s mind waves.
It was now time to for an epic battle to end all the fucking epic battles now, ever and forever. Each service user being drafted into mandatory mechanized warfare by their own provider, pitted against their other providers. These majestic and mighty salesman would always be closing on their clientele’s lives, that was for fuckin’ sure! Vera had transformed into a poison-dart frog-bot, equipped with sonic laser pulsars that fired from her human-rights-violation-of-
Vera, unbeknownst to her actual self, blew a massive, industrial robo-fart in Hector’s robot’s face, which started the brawl. They were all under a corpo-conglomo-spell and took the vengeful and pervasive measure against each other, which was mandatory and forced kicking of eachother’s asses whilst in their eternal tech-trances. Hector retaliated to the fart by pounding Vera’s head in with his robo-hammer-jack-arm until her head looked cartoonishly squished and impacted into her vast metallic bosom. John, in some semi-techno-concious vengeance, fired a nuclear warhead at his best friend Hector, catapulting him into the next county line and destroying the apartment building they had been living in for the last few years. Many innocent people died from that unconscious action of gambling tech-hypnosis that was cognated and carried out in all of three seconds. The reps back in the volcano chortled at this foible while they watched the apartment building collapse to death and dust.
“Ha Ha, oink oink!” cried the half-human-half-pig-head rep of Vonrage because no one really used his service, which made him feel both strong and weak, but, at one time, captivating in the field of advertising.
“Oh my sweet god-like guilt device! What the fuck are we doing!” said the top rep of everyone in an exponentially convincing manner.
Everyone flew into a great, goddamn, historical frenzy at just what the fuck was going on. This wasn’t worth some stupid bet! These were people’s lives! We must have had too much of the gin syringe! These were valued customers! This was our goddamn fucking bread and fucking butter! We used the butter to fuck!
Vera had just done the seven point pressure point of death to Hector’s robo-heart. Hector had forced Vera’s robotic metal head down into her robo-asshole by now, only to get launched away again by John’s projectile warheads, which killed another innocent, low-income population in every direction within a three mile radius a little bit north from where they were. But those people too had also become mechanized with their service providers and were also bashing eachothers heads, even though their heads and selves were big robots. Their bodies, as well, remained entranced inside glass orb bellies. which I guess was some kind of stasis pod if I’m being honest.
And on and on it went, it would seem, until everyone’s plans expired five years later.
When the people awoke from their robots’ expired bellies five years later, they found their planet to be reduced to rubble and ash. everything they once knew the second before they were mechanized was gone. Even the fiery volcano that held the evil-doers who had caused everything and eventually tried to stop it were wiped from ever having existed because they forgot to mechanize their own damn selves. Not one of the big 6 had even won the bet. They all took a bath in their own blood. Hector, Vera and John emerged from their smoking wreckage robos and looked at the other stunned people around them who were doing the same thing. Then they all joined hands and sang “Kumbaya”.
“What are we going to do now!?!” cried Hector, reeling from five years of coffee withdrawals.
“We’ll have to rebuild civilization!” cried Vera astounded.
“Now that’s an idea for a movie” said John.
“I better put a pot of coffee on!” shrieked Hector, and then the three friends shared a laugh.