AFTER SUBSTITUTE TEACHING, Alexander Hambone was hungry. He headed to the last, remaining bookstore to order a sandwich. He desired a sandwich for his stomach, a chair for his feet and WiFi for his… forgotten laptop——Drats!
It was okay that he’d forgotten the laptop. Just the sandwich then. He cued in line. Waiting… Waiting… Three people stood in front of him. A half-hour went by. His hunger spread upward, through his body, into his ears.
When it was finally his turn, a young, beautiful cashier asked him: ARE YOU AN XYZ VALUE CARD MEMBER?
No I am not. Thank you, said Hambone. He was slightly put-off by how monotone and loud she sounded.
WOULD YOU LIKE TO BECOME ONE?
No. Thank you. Just the sandwich, please – WHY NOT? JUST GIVE ME YOUR EMAIL. YOU COULD SAVE TEN PERCENT.
A child tugged on him, Join us!
Stop that, said Hambone.
Join us. Ten percent!
THAT’S THE LAST OF THE BOOKS, a voice hollered from over the half wall. SHOULD WE START BRINGING IN THE EBOOK SERVERS?
No! Do not do that, said Hambone. This is all some bad dream. Don’t take away the paper books. I was gonna buy more of them—by-and-by, I was. By-and-by!
IT WON’T LET ME GO FORWARD WITHOUT YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS – then put in your email address! – IT’LL ACCEPT YOUR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER –I am not doing that for a sandwich! – OKAY SIR * (SIGH) * I’M GIVING YOU A TEMPORARY SA S-N…
Which is?
A SANDWICH SECURITY NUMBER.
Fine.
WHITE OR WHEAT?
Wheat.
SMALL, LUMBERING, OR YESTERDAY?
Well, not yesterday… Not small… Lumbering?
INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY OR SOCIALLY MALADJUSTED?
Socially maladjusted——wait: independently wealthy… Yes, that is how I want mysandwich.
TOMATO OR IRRATIONAL NUMBER?
Uhhhhh… Tomato?
GOOD CHOICE. MAYO OR… … GIGABYTES?
Giga—bytes? Are you absolutely sure that’s supposed to go inside my mouth?
DO YOU WANT IT OR NOT, SIR?
Can I get some on the side?
She leaned near a microphone: GIGABYTES: ON THE SIDE!
A torque wrench throttled a server shelf just lifted in place and boxes of books rolled out the door on their dollies.
Gigabytes, said Hambone. It’s in our books. It’s in our food.
He wiped sweat from his brow. His stomach grumbled.
AYE, a construction worker addressed the cashier. WE NEED MORE JUICE TO RUN THE DIAGNOSTIC STARTUPS FOR THESE SERVERS. GOT ANY SPARE POWER LINES IN THAT KITCHEN?
ALL WE HAVE IS THE CONDIMENT CORD. AND I MUST SAY IT’S IN PRETTY BAD SHAPE.
THE CONDIMENT CORD? THE CONDIMENT CORD! SURE. THAT’LL WORK FINE. THROW IT OVER HERE.
YOU ARE READING
Other
RandomThis is weird, unclassifiable stuff. Much of it centers around technical satire. There's some dream fiction in here also and a variety of experiments with the fictional writing structure and theme.
