Welcome September 9, 2008
Posted by gznork26 in Uncategorized.2 comments
Welcome to KlurgSheld. Most of what you’ll find here is fiction, even some of the conventional posts. For example, there are a few items here by the ‘Bank Shot Blogger’. These posts were written from the point of view of ‘John Frachetti’, a character in my series about the three-year incarceration of the Fremont-Wayfarer Corporation. You’ll find links to that series in both the Political and the Business sections. I do, however, occasionally lapse into my real voice and write a commentary which didn’t want to be submerged inside a story.
Prowl the categories listed in the “About my Short Stories” tab (above) and pick a few stories at random. Enjoy!
P. Orin Zack
P.S.: If you find something you like, please tell someone. Stories need to be read, just like cats need to be pet.
Short Story: “Fair Game” September 28, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Business, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: "The Army Experience", corporate bullying, corporate media, gaming center, independent media, lobbyist, mercenary cops, political bullying, predatory business practices, protest, script kiddies, social engineering
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The military have predator missiles. Businesses have predators of a different kind, but they are just as deadly.
“Fair Game”
by P. Orin Zack
[09/16/2009]
The ranks of sign-carrying protesters arrayed outside ‘The Suasive Experience’ had grown quickly in the hour since a dozen or so grey-haired mall-walkers streamed through the just-opened glass doors. Photojournalist Margot Güernsbach had been on hand, because she wanted to provide her readers at the crowd-sourced news site she reported through with the sense of purpose the activists expressed, even when they were idly chatting with the elderly indoor exercise enthusiasts.
She smiled, and raised her hand to catch the attention of a happy-looking couple in matching blue-and-white striped jogging suits. They had walked briskly past two of the mall’s security guards, and were now warily approaching the protest. “Good morning,” she said brightly, and introduced herself. “Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
The woman, who was a few inches shorter than Margot, nodded, and peered uncomfortably at the gathering. One of the protesters, a burly young man whose sign read, ‘Retirees are not Fair Game’, grinned back at her. She started, then shrunk a bit and pointed tentatively at him. “What does that mean? What’s going on here?” (more…)
Short Story: “Terrifying Vindication” September 7, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Metaphysics, Short Stories.Tags: H.P. Lovecraft, mob mentality, political debate, Randolph Carter, terror suspect, terrorism
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If there’s a fine line between madness and genius, what lies at the edge of the abyss of mob rule?
“Terrifying Vindication”
by P. Orin Zack
[08/16/2009]
“Listen,” Corwin Farragut blurted, ignoring the carefully worded question, “could you bring me a book on your next visit?”
Bernard Katzmarek, still aching from the train ride to nowhere, looked up wearily from his notes and considered the jumpsuited prisoner. “A book?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Lovecraft. “’Through the Gates of the Silver Key’ was in an anthology I used to own. I’d like to read it again.”
“You’re serious.”
“Sure. Why?”
Katzmarek glanced around the Spartan glass-walled interview room, and nodded towards the two uniformed guards in the hallway. “Have you lost your mind?” he said tightly. “You have no privacy here. What do you think your chances of reversing that terror conviction will be once the corporation that owns this place tells the press that the man responsible for terrorizing the political debate they underwrote amuses himself reading horror stories?” (more…)
Short Story: “Anushka’s Lament” June 24, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Politics, Short Stories.Tags: naked journalism, scandal
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In the new model of journalism, reporters aren’t the only people digging up leads. (I’ve made a video reading of this story. Here are part 1 and part 2.)
“Anushka’s Lament”
by P. Orin Zack
[6/19/09]
Alec Warnock arrived early for his meeting with freelance reporter Grandy Holman, so he funneled the energy of the live Celtic violin duo on stage into a spirited sail through the mall’s food court in search of spicy smells. He stepped away from the counter of the new Indian kitchen after ordering the chicken vindaloo special, and pivoted to face the café area.
“That was Fitzwater and Collins,” the young man at the mike said when they’d finished, smiling appreciatively at the duo. “Let’s give the ladies another round of applause while they pack up. If you enjoyed them as much as I did, come on up and buy one of their CDs.”
Alec winced when someone jabbed him on the shoulder.
The bearded man behind him gestured towards his newly filled tray. “Hey! Wake up. Your lunch is ready.”
He mumbled an apology and returned to the counter. While he was getting utensils and condiments, he noticed the picture on the cover of the guy’s scandal magazine — Rachel Gwynn, the ‘naked journalist’ whose reputation had recently been trashed, decimating the ranks of her, until-then, dedicated following. “So tell me,” he asked evenly, “why do you think she gave in to those bullies?”
“Why the hell do you think? The bitch knew she was beaten. Serves her right for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” He dropped the magazine on the counter. “Here. Read it for yourself. I was going to toss the rag anyway.”
Alec tucked the crumpled magazine under his arm and headed back towards the stage, where the next act was getting ready to start. He’d asked Holman to meet him here in time to hear ‘Anushka’s Lament’, the song that ‘Union Dues’ was slated to open with, but so far he hadn’t turned up. The front table was empty, so he got comfortable and dug into his vindaloo while the band sang the sad tale of a young Russian immigrant, and the choices she’d been forced into.
By the time Holman finally arrived, the band was halfway through their set, and Alec was slurping the last of his mango lassi. “So what’s this all about, anyway?” the reporter wheezed as he fell, breathlessly, into the chair opposite Alec, his back to the stage. “What was so important that I had to be here at two on the dot?”
“Which you didn’t bother to do, I might point out.”
“I was busy on another story. Sue me. So what is it?” (more…)
Short Story: “Disarmed” May 13, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Humor, Magical & Psychic, Politics, Short Stories.Tags: art, artifact, auction, control, magic, PNAC
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You might as well make stuff up about the things you find. That way, the truth won’t be quite so startling.
“Disarmed”
by P. Orin Zack
[5/11/2009]
Jerry rose, ashen, when he saw what he’d unearthed. The shovel slipped from his hand. He stared uneasily down into the hole, and gaped at the root fragment left from whatever had grown in his backyard before the grassed-in dwarf plum he was clearing a bed for. It was as if he’d fallen into one of the surreal worlds that hung, framed, on the walls of his house, because the root insisted on looking back, peering unblinkingly up at him through the inexplicable agency of a chipped glass eyeball.
“Something wrong, Jerry?” his neighbor Sam called as he approached the rail fence, his chocolate retriever, Mousse a few steps behind.
“Yeah.” He nodded, gesturing earthward.
Sam straddled the fence and joined him by the hole. “Bizarre. How do you suppose that got there?”
“I’m not sure I want to know.” He bent to grab the shovel, rose, and drove the blade into the pile of freshly dug soil. “In fact, I don’t think I really want to finish opening this bed any more.”
“Because of this?” His neighbor knelt beside the hole, wrestled the root fragment free, and aimed the trapped glass sphere up at him like it was some kind of flashlight. “Come on, Jerry. Your plum needs better irrigation more than your yard needs a buried eyeball.” He pivoted as he rose, whistled for his dog, and tossed the root to the far corner of his own yard. Mousse tore off after it. “There. Consider it taken care of.”
Mousse died about a week later. Jerry found him in late afternoon. Sam hadn’t yet returned from work, and his wife, who does contract editing through the Internet, was off on an errand somewhere with their daughter, so Jerry was the first to spot him, inert, on the back porch. The eyeball was a few feet away, staring at the late chocolate lab from under a bush. Jerry might not have noticed it, except that when he knelt to examine the dog, he absently followed Mousse’s glazed stare.
The eye somehow looked pleased with itself. (more…)
Short Story: “On Balance” April 26, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Magical & Psychic, Short Stories.Tags: magnetic stones, morphic resonance, occult, psychic, psychometry
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Something you have may be more valuable than you know.
“On Balance”
by P. Orin Zack
[04/22/2009]
“It’s just a silver rock?” the pudgy, white-haired man muttered as he pressed himself upright with the doorknob cane in his left hand. A moment earlier, he’d been hunched over, carefully tracing the intricate curves of the object on the right side of the balance scale, but now he just glared at it and balled his fist. “That’s ridiculous,” he added, with a disgusted shake of his head. Turning away, he scanned the other exhibits on display in the small gallery, and hobbled off.
Victor Scollimenti, the artist whose initials were carved into the bottom of the odd-looking sculpture the man was berating, had been mentally cataloging the reactions of the few people who drifted past his latest work. This one screamed of disdain. Utter disbelief seemed to be winning, though.
He watched the old guy totter across the room. Curiously, when he stopped to let a knot of yammering yuppies pass by, he surreptitiously glanced back at the scale before continuing towards a colorful yet surreal still life by one of the painters that Victor shared the weekend showing with.
Traffic at the downtown community gallery space had been sparse since it opened Friday night. He’d actually gotten more questions about his dyed Mohawk and the fractal tattoos on his palms than about any of the pieces of found-art sculptures that he’d put up for bid, but what most interested him were the reactions to this latest work, which wasn’t for sale… at least not yet.
The tinkle of the handmade door-chimes drew his attention to the woman who had just entered. She wore a light woolen jacket, which Victor guessed to be vintage Pendleton from the distinctive red pattern. He pegged her to be in her forties. She stopped a few feet inside and raised one hand, palm forward, as if to stop some nonexistent traffic. Then she closed her eyes and swept her open palm in an arc, from left to right, and then back again. If she’d been holding a flashlight, the beam would now be pointing directly at Victor’s scale. Opening her eyes again, she walked directly to it, and stopped, her face growing paler by the second.
Victor warily approached. “Is… is something wrong, ma’am?” he asked lightly. “You seem to be disturbed by my work.” (more…)
Short Story: “Wind-up Pitch” March 31, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Humor, Short Stories.Tags: diplomatic exchange, first contact
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Sometimes, a gift exchange is more than it seems.
“Wind-up Pitch”
by P. Orin Zack
[3/30/2009]
It had been four intensely exhausting days since the highly anticipated cultural exchange with the Aliens had begun. Ross Farnum, whose curly red hair and beard made stark contrast to his accustomed green flannel shirt, stood about a foot from the wall-mounted conference room video screen, studying the intricately carved box of seed packets being presented to A. J. Warryn, head of the IntraSystem AgriBusiness Coalition. The foreign dignitary’s elegant presentation, as he lifted each packet and held it reverentially in his cupped hands, sounded far more intriguing than the list of names and dates spoken by the more plainly dressed Alien translator at his side. Once all of the packets had been displayed, and the box had been handed off, Warryn thanked his guest at length, and then he and his contingent retreated to prepare for the offering of Earth’s counterpart to the exchange.
Farnum turned to scan the rank of recently vacated seats flanking the long, paper-strewn conference table behind him. The seeds just presented were the last, and by many accounts, the least important of far too many formal exchanges, which was why, of all the specialists that had been assembled to back up the public face of the Earth delegation, only the three of them remained. Inara Svistrom, the lanky blonde linguist, was busy making herself a cup of Kona at the kiosk they’d installed for the team, and Clyde Newell, who contrasted with her in a variety of ways, was engaged in yet another Internet search.
“So… Clyde,” Farnum said, and waited for him to look up from his laptop, “did you find anything? Are they lining up to hire us after this shindig is over?”
“Hardly, Ross. It’s not like there’s a First Contact every day.” (more…)
Short Story: “Forced Inquiry” March 27, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: brain science, crackpot scientist, framing, moral relativism, radio talk show
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Maybe we all reason inductively.
“Forced Inquiry”
by P. Orin Zack
[3/25/2009]
The balding man in khakis and a Hubble t-shirt seated across from her flipped a switch and leaned towards the two-headed mike hovering over the center of the table. “Welcome back to ‘Unconfirmed Citings’, listeners. I’m Arvin Daugherty, and we’ve been speaking with Paula Isikov, whose research paper sparked a tsunami of controversy when she posted it on the Internet a few days ago.”
Paula, who felt a bit overdressed in the navy suit she had originally intended to wear to the conference where her paper was supposed to have been presented, glanced at the tech in the sound booth. The guy was staring at her like she’d just admitted to being a space alien, and it wasn’t helping her mood.
“Before the break,” the talk-show host said as he laced his stubby fingers, “Ms. Isakov told us about the call she’d gotten from the conference coordinator, who not only refused to accept the paper she had submitted, but cancelled her pre-paid membership in the event as well. They really didn’t want to take any chances with your findings getting out, did they?”
“Apparently not,” she agreed, studiously focusing on Daugherty. “Of course, the conference committee was under the impression that if they blocked publication, that would be the last of it. I guess none of them has ever heard of the Internet.”
“Judging from the lights on my phone,” he said, punching one of them, “some of my listeners have. Hello, you’re on the air. Got a question?”
“Damned right I do,” the caller said angrily. “What the hell right does this ditz have to accuse Republicans of being mentally defective?” (more…)
Short Story: “Thinking Inside the Box” March 20, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fantasy & SF, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: bar story, monster, runaway experiment
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Once you’ve set something in motion, you may have to play God to stop it. (You can view a video reading: part 1, part 2.)
“Thinking Inside the Box”
by P. Orin Zack
[Mar 19, 2009]
Sal idly sipped the last of his beer while studying the troubled woman at the small table near the corner of the dimly lit tavern. She had the ashen look of someone afraid to nudge whatever problem had brought her in for a drink, and she’d been hunched over a mug of flat brew since sometime before he’d walked into Jimmy’s Place. Sal had just drained his second import, and she hadn’t so much as jiggled her drink in all that time. Her left hand was white from the death-grip she had on the glass handle, her right was clawing at the edge of the table, and the foot that still had a running shoe on was tapping out some cadence other than the one that the jazz trio in the back room was embellishing.
He went to the bar, ordered two beers, and took them to her table. “Excuse me,” he said, slipping into the seat across from her, “but it looks like your beer’s gone flat. I brought you a fresh one to ignore.” He set it down, and slid it towards her.
When she didn’t respond after nearly a minute, he craned around to follow her gaze. She’d been staring at the fright-mask that Jimmy’d mounted beside the nasty gash left from a brawl, one that was too good of a story to ever erase the evidence. He turned back towards the woman, and tapped the edge of her fresh beer with his fingernail. “If that… that monster over there is anything like the one that’s got you spooked, I’d be happy to fight it off for you. I have seen my share of cretins, if you know what I mean.”
Something must have gotten through to her, because her left hand relaxed enough for him to pry the dead beer out and slip the fresh one in to replace it. “That’s better,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?” (more…)
Short Story: “Contractor Uprising” March 12, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Business, Fiction, Short Stories.Tags: boycott, concerted action, employment agencies, meatspace denial of service attack, pay cuts, workers' rights
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How important is your anonymity when you write something controversial?
“Contractor Uprising”
by P. Orin Zack
[3/12/2009]
Charlie had never thought that his suggestion would be taken literally. Posting it on the forum at the site where the software giant’s now-disgruntled ex-employees and ex-contractors gathered after their across-the-board rate cuts were implemented had been as much a throwaway rant as any of the other two dozen posts he’d left there. But something about this one had struck an unexpectedly responsive chord.
He stared at the Cat’s-Eye Blogger’s mike while she fiddled with the gadget it was attached to, wondering what she’d ask, and hoping he wouldn’t sound as nervous as he really was. After all, he hadn’t actually been employed by the company, either directly or through any of the two-dozen agencies that supplied contract labor, at the time of the cuts. Sure, he’d worked there over a decade earlier, but things were a lot different then. Contractors had been treated as part of the team he’d worked in, rather than as sub-human cannon fodder for the unending series of death-march projects the idiots they kept hiring as marketers insisted on in order to meet delivery dates that made sense only in their fever-dreams.
When the mike started to rise towards his red-rimmed eyes, Charlie shook himself awake and tried to focus on the young brunette’s anxious face, especially on the designer contacts, which gave her blog its name and logo. Of all the requests he’d gotten for an interview over the past day and a half, hers was the only one he’d agreed to. Posting under an alias was an easy way to divert attention from who he really was, but the moment a face was put to the suggestion which had triggered a nationwide avalanche of similar actions, he’d lose any possibility of employment. So, refusing a video interview was an easy choice. Accepting Margot’s pitch, though, had been a stroke of genius. (more…)
Short Story: “Terms of Debate” January 27, 2009
Posted by gznork26 in Fiction, Politics, Short Stories.Tags: citizen, citizen journalist, coalition party, complicit media, consumer, Democratic Party, entertainment lobbies, flash crowd, independent media, Intellectual Property rights, non-partisan candidate, party platform, piracy, political debate, reframing, Republican Party, right-wing talk show, streaming video
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What role ought you to be playing in the world? This sequence started with “Street Theater“.
“Terms of Debate”
(Part 5 of a series)
by P. Orin Zack
[1/23/2009]
“I said, sit down!”
Erica Oerstblander glanced over her shoulder. One look at Hennesy, the right-wing radio windbag who’d lately taken up the hobby of dogging her, was enough to harden her resolve. “Excuse me, Ms. Ghorbian,” she repeated, a bit louder this time, and with her hand aloft for punctuation.
Neda Ghorbian scanned the rented theater’s sparse crowd from center-stage, and then stepped closer to speak with the reporter in the front row. “I’m a bit confused,” she said. “I was under the impression that the press were here to report on my bid for the open County Council seat, not to disrupt it.”
Hennesy grunted. “Then toss her out. I’d even pay you to do it.”
“And I do apologize, Ms. Ghorbian,” Erica said, ignoring Hennesy’s outburst. “I know it’s not traditional for the press to do this sort of thing, but my paper, the Digital Telegraph, is more interested in informing the people than in proper etiquette. Well, what I wanted to say is that you’ve referred to your constituency as ‘consumers’ several times now. I know that’s pretty common, and that everyone’s gotten used to it, but there’s a serious problem with it, and it bears directly on the kind of candidacy that you’re offering to the people here tonight.”
“A problem,” Ghorbian said doubtfully. “With calling people… ‘consumers’?” (more…)
