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THE NEXT BIG THING
Season 9, Week 24
Prompt: “Cupertino Effect”
My boss is a giant slug – really. I don’t mean he’s lazy or incompetent (although he is). I mean that he is a member of the genus Ariolimax, the banana slug, which textbooks tell you has only three species, the largest being ten inches long—a terrifying size. There is now a fourth species, the Ariolimax Stanix Cupertinus, found only in Cupertino, California, which is six feet long and weighs over 300 pounds. This is what life is like in Cupertino, the center of all things weird, where you can you wind up as the personal assistant for Jabba the Hut’s little brother, and people will think you’re lucky.
It wouldn’t be so bad, except that I’m a troll. Not the ones who live in caves and crunch bones, but the troll dolls popular in the 1960’s. You know the type – big, goofy smile, crazy-colored vertical hair, with stumpy arms and legs. That's me, except that I’m six feet tall. I live next door to, not to put too fine a point on it, a giant anus, and I’m married to a woman named Maria, whose heart is made of ice. She has to spend part of each day in the garage freezer, which is actually OK with me. Our teenage son, Greg, spends most of his time as a smelly, ill-tempered hormone. The rest of the time, he’s just a demanding stomach.
We all looked human once, and we lived in Cupertino, a suburb not too far from San Francisco. Life was pretty ordinary until Apple built its new headquarters on the old Hewlett-Packard site. The architects who designed it said it was a “spaceship,” but honestly, it’s just a big circle. If anything, it’s a hula hoop or a Cheerio, but it’s hard to sell your brilliant, cutting-edge vision as a big Cheerio, especially to Apple.
There were a few people who thought it looked like the Large Hadron Collider, the world’s biggest particle accelerator, only smaller. They were dismissed as kooks and crackpots, but actually, they weren’t too far from the truth.
The visionaries at Apple desperately needed The Next Big Thing, so they decided to create an energy source that produced more energy than it consumed – cold fusion. Ignoring the realities of physics and venturing far from their core area of competence, Apple engineers secretly built the Small Collider in Cupertino. To sidestep annoying building permits and safety issues, Apple designated the SC as its HQ.
The Apple scientists used the Small Collider to mix dark energy with dark matter to produce cold fusion. Impossible? Not for Apple. Their scientists added a secret ingredient, fairy dust, which allowed them to wish cold fusion into existence.
The Small Collider never produced cold fusion, despite all the wishes of all the Apple employees, even when its efforts were amplified by team-building exercises and management retreats. Instead, the SC accidentally produced what was later named the Jobs Field. The Jobs Field de-stabilized the molecular composition of human beings, reconstituting us into human-sized forms of our true selves.
Stan, my boss, was lazy, slow, repulsive, and slimy, so he became a banana slug. I loved to start arguments in internet chat rooms, so I changed into a troll. My neighbor was the world’s biggest asshole, my wife was as loving as a glacier, and our son, well, he was a teenage boy. It's hard to say which of us had it worst.
Everyone was affected by the Jobs’ Field, which fortunately did not extend beyond the city limits. There were plenty of jackasses wandering the streets, and far too many people were bent over backwards, with their heads up their asses. You would think funny old Uncle Harry would have had it easy, but he was unexpectedly changed into a sad clown of death.
On and on it went – our inner natures revealed in new, strangely mutated forms. It was embarrassing, but also enlightening, because most of us don’t know our true selves, or if we do, we just brush it off with a joke on a t-shirt. Ever think of yourself as an old fart? Be careful in Cupertino.
Life was difficult for most of us, but there were exceptions. Stan rather liked being a banana slug – people who asked him to do anything knew exactly what they were going to get – but he wasn’t sold on the hermaphroditic aspect. Yes, the huge penis was great, but it was located on his forehead, which led to even more sexual harassment complaints. As a practical matter, it was all moot anyway since slug Stan was no more sexually active than human Stan.
It was hard being a troll doll. Sure, I had a permanent goofy smile and everyone liked me, but my mouth was closed and I didn’t have vocal cords (not that I had much to say anyway, since trolls are notoriously dim). The four tiny fingers were a handicap, as were the short, stumpy legs; I was made for standing, not walking. As for sex, I almost envied Stan – troll dolls have no genitalia – but it had long been moot for me as well, given my cold-hearted wife.
Everyone looked to Apple for a solution, but none was forthcoming, even though Cupertino was a serious image problem for the corporation. It wasn’t as simple as turning off the Small Collider, because the engineers didn’t think to include an “off” switch and the scientists had wished for permanent cold fusion. The fairy dust couldn’t break the laws of physics, but the permanent part was doable. The Jobs Field was here to stay, at least in our town.
We were now the laughingstock of the world. Our Mayor wanted to capitalize on this by turning us into a municipal freak show on pay-per-view, but before the idea got anywhere, the Mayor, being a gas bag, blew away during a strong wind. We haven’t found her yet.
There is some hope, however. Babies were unaffected by the Jobs Field, because a baby’s inner soul is pure and uncorrupted. A number of cults have formed based on the idea that if we can change our real character, our outer forms will be restored, but these groups have been fighting over the correct way to achieve personal enlightenment.
Me? I’ve always been a pretty low-key person; I just take what comes and do the best with what I’ve got. I make people happy, and that’s definitely something, plus I get lots of hugs. It isn't all that bad. All of my hair is back too, even though it’s purple and just stands straight up, but that makes me look taller.
This has always been a nice place to live, and it still is. It's just a little different now. We have become the essence of who we are, so it’s really our own fault – the Jobs Field just made all of that public. If all we do is serve as a warning to humanity to be better people, then Cupertino will have accomplished something, which is more than you can say for most cities.
If you pay us a visit, be sure to stay outside the city limits. Trust me, you do not want to become some bizarre manifestation of who you really are. It can make life very strange and very difficult.
**********
Stan Troll Apple’s Small Collider
(the “Spaceship”)
with safety bunkers
and blast zone
Prompt: “Cupertino Effect”
My boss is a giant slug – really. I don’t mean he’s lazy or incompetent (although he is). I mean that he is a member of the genus Ariolimax, the banana slug, which textbooks tell you has only three species, the largest being ten inches long—a terrifying size. There is now a fourth species, the Ariolimax Stanix Cupertinus, found only in Cupertino, California, which is six feet long and weighs over 300 pounds. This is what life is like in Cupertino, the center of all things weird, where you can you wind up as the personal assistant for Jabba the Hut’s little brother, and people will think you’re lucky.
It wouldn’t be so bad, except that I’m a troll. Not the ones who live in caves and crunch bones, but the troll dolls popular in the 1960’s. You know the type – big, goofy smile, crazy-colored vertical hair, with stumpy arms and legs. That's me, except that I’m six feet tall. I live next door to, not to put too fine a point on it, a giant anus, and I’m married to a woman named Maria, whose heart is made of ice. She has to spend part of each day in the garage freezer, which is actually OK with me. Our teenage son, Greg, spends most of his time as a smelly, ill-tempered hormone. The rest of the time, he’s just a demanding stomach.
We all looked human once, and we lived in Cupertino, a suburb not too far from San Francisco. Life was pretty ordinary until Apple built its new headquarters on the old Hewlett-Packard site. The architects who designed it said it was a “spaceship,” but honestly, it’s just a big circle. If anything, it’s a hula hoop or a Cheerio, but it’s hard to sell your brilliant, cutting-edge vision as a big Cheerio, especially to Apple.
There were a few people who thought it looked like the Large Hadron Collider, the world’s biggest particle accelerator, only smaller. They were dismissed as kooks and crackpots, but actually, they weren’t too far from the truth.
The visionaries at Apple desperately needed The Next Big Thing, so they decided to create an energy source that produced more energy than it consumed – cold fusion. Ignoring the realities of physics and venturing far from their core area of competence, Apple engineers secretly built the Small Collider in Cupertino. To sidestep annoying building permits and safety issues, Apple designated the SC as its HQ.
The Apple scientists used the Small Collider to mix dark energy with dark matter to produce cold fusion. Impossible? Not for Apple. Their scientists added a secret ingredient, fairy dust, which allowed them to wish cold fusion into existence.
The Small Collider never produced cold fusion, despite all the wishes of all the Apple employees, even when its efforts were amplified by team-building exercises and management retreats. Instead, the SC accidentally produced what was later named the Jobs Field. The Jobs Field de-stabilized the molecular composition of human beings, reconstituting us into human-sized forms of our true selves.
Stan, my boss, was lazy, slow, repulsive, and slimy, so he became a banana slug. I loved to start arguments in internet chat rooms, so I changed into a troll. My neighbor was the world’s biggest asshole, my wife was as loving as a glacier, and our son, well, he was a teenage boy. It's hard to say which of us had it worst.
Everyone was affected by the Jobs’ Field, which fortunately did not extend beyond the city limits. There were plenty of jackasses wandering the streets, and far too many people were bent over backwards, with their heads up their asses. You would think funny old Uncle Harry would have had it easy, but he was unexpectedly changed into a sad clown of death.
On and on it went – our inner natures revealed in new, strangely mutated forms. It was embarrassing, but also enlightening, because most of us don’t know our true selves, or if we do, we just brush it off with a joke on a t-shirt. Ever think of yourself as an old fart? Be careful in Cupertino.
Life was difficult for most of us, but there were exceptions. Stan rather liked being a banana slug – people who asked him to do anything knew exactly what they were going to get – but he wasn’t sold on the hermaphroditic aspect. Yes, the huge penis was great, but it was located on his forehead, which led to even more sexual harassment complaints. As a practical matter, it was all moot anyway since slug Stan was no more sexually active than human Stan.
It was hard being a troll doll. Sure, I had a permanent goofy smile and everyone liked me, but my mouth was closed and I didn’t have vocal cords (not that I had much to say anyway, since trolls are notoriously dim). The four tiny fingers were a handicap, as were the short, stumpy legs; I was made for standing, not walking. As for sex, I almost envied Stan – troll dolls have no genitalia – but it had long been moot for me as well, given my cold-hearted wife.
Everyone looked to Apple for a solution, but none was forthcoming, even though Cupertino was a serious image problem for the corporation. It wasn’t as simple as turning off the Small Collider, because the engineers didn’t think to include an “off” switch and the scientists had wished for permanent cold fusion. The fairy dust couldn’t break the laws of physics, but the permanent part was doable. The Jobs Field was here to stay, at least in our town.
We were now the laughingstock of the world. Our Mayor wanted to capitalize on this by turning us into a municipal freak show on pay-per-view, but before the idea got anywhere, the Mayor, being a gas bag, blew away during a strong wind. We haven’t found her yet.
There is some hope, however. Babies were unaffected by the Jobs Field, because a baby’s inner soul is pure and uncorrupted. A number of cults have formed based on the idea that if we can change our real character, our outer forms will be restored, but these groups have been fighting over the correct way to achieve personal enlightenment.
Me? I’ve always been a pretty low-key person; I just take what comes and do the best with what I’ve got. I make people happy, and that’s definitely something, plus I get lots of hugs. It isn't all that bad. All of my hair is back too, even though it’s purple and just stands straight up, but that makes me look taller.
This has always been a nice place to live, and it still is. It's just a little different now. We have become the essence of who we are, so it’s really our own fault – the Jobs Field just made all of that public. If all we do is serve as a warning to humanity to be better people, then Cupertino will have accomplished something, which is more than you can say for most cities.
If you pay us a visit, be sure to stay outside the city limits. Trust me, you do not want to become some bizarre manifestation of who you really are. It can make life very strange and very difficult.
**********
Stan Troll Apple’s Small Collider
(the “Spaceship”)
with safety bunkers
and blast zone
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I think you're dangerous.
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Excellent work, as always. (I know I haven't commented
muchat all this Season, but I've been reading along, and I'm a fan.)no subject
I have not commented on your entries as much as they deserved (shame on me!) but I have read and enjoyed your entries as well.
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Though this would rather encourage all of the Apple employees to live in Cupertino where they didn't stand out, and would get all of them off the freeways, maybe I'm in favor of this.
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EDIT: Speciesist? God, that word doesn't look right.
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Finally, there is a universe in which Internet trolls get their due! And even if they weren't troll dolls, living with a giant hormone would be bad enough. :D
I never cease to be amazed at the unusual uses you make of these prompts!
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Well, I did have a friend once who referred to John Wayne's attempts to move that way as "walking like a swinging door." :D
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Love the concept... very "Dick Tracy" in the execution and design... a town where you look like what you are is probably what law enforcement are hoping for!
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I like the idea of one's inner self coming through as a literal version of conversational metaphor. I wonder what I'd end up as...? (something embarrassing, I'm sure)
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Dan
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