STRANGE LANDS

***EDIT – part of the ‘MORE LOVE’ book.


STRANGE LANDS

[ a short story ]

 

I

All the way down from the mountains, he came upon the gates of a strange land. Entry was not a problem. He was given the permission to stay for a full month and a crisp stash of cash to spend on whatever tickled his fancy. The condition was to get an entirely new outfit from a well-known local fashion branch, so as not to cause any obstacle to the citizen’s smooth daily flow through the strange land. It was a highly sophisticated place. Everyone was free to do whatever they pleased.
“Here’s one of our new pods, with a smashing app to click-and-scroll through a tagged map, to hunt fitting gear to wear around here”, the baby-face-shaven custom’s officer charged with handing out grants and benefits said to our stranger.
<We better get you stitched up quick, fellow, who do you think you are, turning up like a stranger>, our stranger meanwhile intercepted the warden’s trail of thought. He took the money from the unflinching hand stretched out in front of him and slipped through the electric security gates downtown.

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LEVEL CHANGE

***EDIT – part of the ‘MORE LOVE’ book.


LEVEL CHANGE

[ a short story ]

 

LEVEL O – Personal Feelings

a. The Politician

It was a busy house, a busy party and busy people. He didn’t like any of it but job was job. Luckily, the Politician’s had really good coaching for all those years, so the smiles reeled off his face as if they were truly real and meant. But even if that weren’t the case, people would still buy them because that’s what they were here for and that’s what they wanted to see. Everybody got to see whatever they wanted. That was the basic rule. Surprises and unknown factors were only for losers.
Standing over there, talking to a sexy, yet already middle-aged press lady, was the prime minister. The Politician raised his champagne flute in his direction and let loose another one of his real-fake smiles. Smashing – the minister’s seen it and done the same thing. Job done, basically. Funds raised, another year work’s worth sorted, mission fully accomplished, old friend. Time to go home. He looked at his wrist watch. Yeah. Better get on with another pitiful duty.

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