Cucumbers.

Cucumbers

They go well in sandwiches, salads and couscous, honestly I could not see why on earth an able-minded person would put cucumbers on their eyes. Concerned for the mental welfare of my species, I did a little research into this insane but much over-looked act of vanity.

Now a lot of these could just be old wives tales, so feel free to comment on any you can disprove and I will remove them from the list.

1. Cucumbers contain most of the vitamins you need every day, just one cucumber contains Vitamin B1, Vitamin B2, Vitamin B3, Vitamin B5, Vitamin B6, Folic Acid, Vitamin C, Calcium, Iron, Magnesium, Phosphorus, Potassium and Zinc. 

2. Feeling tired in the afternoon, put down the caffeinated soda and pick up a cucumber. Cucumbers are a good source of B Vitamins and Carbohydrates that can provide that quick pick-me-up that can last for hours. 

3. Tired of your bathroom mirror fogging up after a shower? Try rubbing a cucumber slice along the mirror, it will eliminate the fog and provide a soothing, spa- like fragrance. 

4. Are grubs and slugs ruining your planting beds? Place a few slices in a small pie tin and your garden will be free of pests all season long. The chemicals in the cucumber react with the aluminum to give off a scent undetectable to humans but drive garden pests crazy and make them flee the area. 

5. Looking for a fast and easy way to remove cellulite before going out or to the pool? Try rubbing a slice or two of cucumbers along your problem area for a few minutes, the phytochemicals in the cucumber cause the collagen in your skin to tighten, firming up the outer layer and reducing the visibility of cellulite. Works great on wrinkles, too! 

6. Want to avoid a hangover or terrible headache? Eat a few cucumber slices before going to bed and wake up refreshed and headache free. Cucumbers contain enough sugar, B vitamins and electrolytes to replenish essential nutrients the body lost, keeping everything in equilibrium, avoiding both a hangover and headache! 

7. Looking to fight off that afternoon or evening snacking binge? Cucumbers have been used for centuries and often used by European trappers, traders and explores for quick meals to thwart off starvation. 

8. Have an important meeting or job interview and you realize that you don't have enough time to polish your shoes? Rub a freshly cut cucumber over the shoe, its chemicals will provide a quick and durable shine that not only looks great but also repels water. 

9. Out of WD 40 and need to fix a squeaky hinge? Take a cucumber slice and rub it along the problematic hinge, and voila, the squeak is gone! 

10. Stressed out and don't have time for massage, facial or visit to the spa? Cut up an entire cucumber and place it in a boiling pot of water, the chemicals and nutrients from the cucumber will react with the boiling water and be released in the steam, creating a soothing, relaxing aroma that has been shown to reduce stress in new mothers and college students during final exams. 

11. Just finish a business lunch and realize you don't have gum or mints? Take a slice of cucumber and press it to the roof of your mouth with your tongue for 30 seconds to eliminate bad breath, the phyto chemcials will kill the bacteria in your mouth responsible for causing bad breath. 

12. Looking for a 'green' way to clean your faucets, sinks or stainless steel? Take a slice of cucumber and rub it on the surface you want to clean, not only will it remove years of tarnish and bring back the shine, but it won't leave streaks and won't harm you fingers or fingernails while you clean. 

13. Using a pen and made a mistake? Take the outside of the cucumber and slowly use it to erase the pen writing, also works great on crayons and markers that the kids have used to decorate the walls!

8-Ball

My boy gets £1.50 pocket money a week. You can snub that all you like, but we're not a rich family. My wife left me 2 and a half years ago, taking most of my money and the car. She doesn't care about the kid, she's far too occupied by her buff new boyfriend. I hear he's got tattoos, and they'e going on holiday to Greece soon. That must be nice. I'm happy for them.
Anyway, the kid normally drags me to the pound shop to pick up a tacky toy that falls apart within a week, and then to this classic old sweet shop to spend his change on teeth-rotters. I like weekends, as unlike the weekdays I can spend time with him.

So we were browsing the isles of discount tat, when we came to the toys. Now normally a good 10 minuets is spent here as the kid chooses whether he wants the police hat with the plastic baton, or the army guy hat with the toy gun. I turned to browse the cheap garden stuffs, when I felt a tug on my arm. He had a little toy 8-ball in his hands, and was already wiggling it up and down to see all the alternative answers. I remember having one myself as a child, the famed "magic 8-ball" that could read your mind, but this one here was tacky and plastic. Even the messages that floated up out of the black were fuzzy and smudged, I could barely read what they said at this angle. The kid can be darn persistent at times, even when I told him it'd just break, and we ended up getting the thing. The only odd thing that happened was that instead of going our normal route to the sweet shop, He wanted to go straight home to play with the ball. This subtle change of routine certainly registered, but at the time I thought nothing of it.

"Hello"
I froze like a deer caught in the headlights of the TV in the otherwise pitch black room. I looked again and squinted, the 8-ball that I had knocked with my foot clearly read "Hello". snapping on the desk light, I brought it up to read it again.
"Hello".
Maybe the kid had tampered with it somehow, he had been pretty resilient to give the damn thing up before he went to bed. Maybe because it was late and maybe because I was alone, I felt like this ball was company. Tentatively I shook it again, not even bothering to ask a question, just to see if it had any other wacky answers.
"Yes"
Ah, that was normal, or so I thought. The hazy ink-water inside swirled again without me even shaking the damn thing.
"I have answers".
What the hell? Did it just answer a question I had in my mind!? I threw it into the armchair across the room, deciding that I was just too tired and must be seeing things. I'd come back to it in the morning, and with that I heaved myself out of the chair, flicking the light off on my way upstairs.

"Good morning".
The 8-ball was on my bedside table, facing me. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and gave myself a few pinches to see if I was dreaming still. No, I was still awake and the ball was real. Okay... This was weird now. I'd seen way too many horror films to trust creepy trinkets that seem innocent and then suddenly appear when you least expect them and demon things appear and kill you. I sat up in bed, planning to drop the thing off at the dump and buy my boy another on the way home, he'd never know a thing.
"Where is he?"
I had only glanced at the ball as I stood up and stretched, by the simple message instantly struck panic in me.
"Where is who?" I asked out loud, not even caring that I was talking to an inanimate object. I held my breath as the murky waters swirled again, until the inky text pressed itself up from the blackness again.
"Your son."
I panicked. I ran down the hallway, tripping and scrabbling on the door to my son's room and flung open the door. He was there, still asleep in bed. Perfectly fine, perfectly safe. I breathed out a sigh, and forced a half-smile, my boy could sleep through a thunderstorm, I'd wake him for school soon.
Walking back into my room, I grabbed a pair of my work trousers that didn't smell as bad as the others and pulled them on. I was still buttoning my shirt as I entered the corridor, skillfully holding my bag under my arm. Still a little rattled, I peaked my head into the kid's room to double check and sure enough he was still fast asleep. I'd give him 10 more minuets.

Still fiddling with my tie as I came into the kitchen, I stopped dead. I'd never been more terrified of seeing my son sat at the table making some cereal. I must've been white as winter, who the hell was upstairs? Before the kid could speak I scooped him under my arm  and bolted out the house. I've been back once since then, were transferred to another council residence, but even with the police there I was scared stiff. No amount of their investigations could ever determine who was in my son's bed, but it was always spoken in hushed undertones that I was mad. Insane. Hah! Like they could pretend they didn't see the evidence, how dare they choose to ignore the smashed and mangled toy 8-ball that we found in the bed, or the blue-ink stains slashed up the walls?

To this day I don't know what happened, and I think... I think I don't want to. I want to carry on living normally, working all week and shopping with my son at the weekend. I like this normal life, it can be hard to get by at times but raising a kid has its moments of bliss.
I think I'll pretend I don't see the other child.
Always there, always watching, slight hazy towards the corner of my vision. Yes, I'll pretend.
I'll pretend I don't see him getting closer.

Reputation Marketing 500 word synopsis.

Reputation marketing.

Online reputation sells, and it’s astonishing how many companies don’t know that. People browsing the web for services or information usually pick the top three search results on Google, which is vital for a small company with a lot of competition. Google chooses its top searches by taking in reviews and statistics from around the web, so if a company doesn’t have a Google+ page they can forget about being in the top results.

For example; a restaurant in a large city will need a lot of reputation to make it stand out. There could be another restaurant down the road that’s getting all the customers simply because they have more Google+ reviews, so they’ll need to up their game to look better online. Reputation marketing is a great way of beating the competition, which can make or break a business, thanks to Google prioritizing high-scoring reviews. 70% of consumers trust online reviews, which is vital for small businesses when getting their company recognized. If the company does not show up upon typing in certain keywords (for example the city name and the trade) then they need reputation.

Brand	Reputation
Store Front	Web site		Social media		Video reviews		Local directories
Market	SEO	PPC	Deal site	Social media	Adverts	Mobile apps	Email	SMS

Reputation marketing is not only about getting good reviews, it’s also about looking good online. A company’s website is an online storefront, so a disused or unprofessional website turns customers away. An area to target is mobile websites, which are normally not as good as the real thing as they were originally optimized for a big screen. This is why having an app for a business is another vital point in building an online presence. This can also draw people closer to the business in question, with the use of push notifications and in-app exclusive deals. People usually have a specific favorite provider to go to for certain services, for example if I’m hungry I’ll order Domino’s pizza because I have the app on my phone, making it easier to build up customer relationships.

A lot of companies think they can make a shoddy Facebook page and leave it at that. True that means customers can find them, but only on one platform. For an effective and wide-spread reputation the company needs to be registered on multiple sites, with frequent posts. You wouldn’t talk to a friend who never talks back to you would you? Keeping in contact with the consumer audience in creative ways can help, such as video reviews and special offers. These can then be laced with keywords that show up in search algorithms, which in turn bumps up the companies place on Google. Holding a higher place means more views, which in turn means more potential customers.

This may all sound perfectly logical, but so many small companies out there are oblivious to this, meaning they’re missing out. Some don’t even have a website, and are throwing away views and reputation. All in all, having a strong online presence is key to succeeding in any competitive industry.

Crow (short story) chapters 1 & 2

One

The man in the nice suit approached the man in the not-so nice suit. Removing his hat while his astoundingly perfectly gelled hair stayed where it was, he poked up his tinted glasses and smiled. The other man looked shiftily around for an excuse to cross the street, scratching the back of his bald head before finally making eye contact.

“Mister Crow if I presume?” he asked, and the man with the darkened glasses nodded. He withdrew a notepad from his coat pocket.

“Oh blimey, does this mean I’m...” the bald man was cut off by Crow.

“I know this may seem a tad hard to come around, but you’re dead. Have been so for about 15 minutes. Sorry I’m a little late, I had some demons to fight, plus I stopped off at subway.”

“You fought demons!?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, demons don’t exist” Crow’s eyebrows scrunched, as it to mock pity the man’s ignorance.

The awkward silence was interrupted a little by the street flickering, not something streets tend to do often. The bald man looked around with widened eyes, as Crow clicked his pen.

“Look I know these are your last conscious seconds and all, but I really do have a job to do. Let’s start with your name?”

The man started to run, shooting out panicked gasps and white jagged lines closed in and cracked the flint wall around him. A faint rumbling could be heard in the distance and Crow sighed, tucking away his pen and notepad. Turning his back on the screaming man disappearing into the gaping white chasms, his round glasses flashed as he smoothly stepped through the ornate oak door behind him. As soon as he had shut and locked it behind him, the door was ripped apart by the white cracks that consumed the world, and tore the bald man messily in half.

The front of the car was no longer attached, as was the bald man’s head laying some feet away. Crow winced a little behind his glasses, stepping out the door and back into the blare of the sirens. The constable looked at him under the peak of his cap, and he coughed before he spoke.

“Get anything on him then?” he grunted. Crow weighed his pockets down with his hands sheepishly.

“Not as such no. He knew about me and was scared, so scared he chose to run into eternal sodomy and be ripped apart than talk to me.”

“Rightly so, I don’t blame him.”

“Can’t see why”

A trickle of brilliant blue liquid ran out under Crow’s sunglasses, and down his cheek.

“I’m hurt, Constable” he mocked, wiping it away. Walking toward the crashed car that had ended the bald man’s life, he peered in through the shattered windows. Whipping out his pad to take notes, he scribbled down the interior of the car and straightened up. The Constable shuffled over.

“Well, anything?”

“Other than this wasn't an accident? I mean it’s pretty clear this isn't an accident. Cars don’t decapitate people.”

“Or course it’s not an accident! We wouldn’t have called you if this was a normal hit & run job!”

“Fair play”

“So.....?” The Constable fumed. He was growing sick of being led around. Crow gestured to the car.

“Gang emblem crudely cut onto the left passenger door, tyres sourced from the dodgy end of town, traces of illegal substances seen on back seats, bald head and suit is very stereotypical and honestly who could miss that the blood splatters all over the car are at the wrong angle. The bald guy was shot against the bonnet, taken here; the car was crashed while the driver escaped. I’m suspecting drug debts or gang war.”

“That’s all very well thought out, you defiantly sure?” grumbled the Constable, already knowing the answer as Mr. Crow leaned his tall frame over him.

“Have I ever been wrong?” he smiled.

Two

Not a great deal was known about Mr. Crow, at least by the general public. Some said he had a long hooked nose and a feathered coat, likened to a real crow. Some said he was monstrously skinny and misshapen, helping the police by day but preying on innocents by night. Others claimed him to be just a normal bloke, a bit on the lanky side but generally dressed in nice sharp suits and constantly pushing up his dark glasses. The latter were the right people, and the description himself stalked along the broad sidewalk, looking a bit out-of-place. His greased back hair was once again hidden by his hat, and his coat collar was pulled up in the night air. He seemed deep in thought, until his head snapped up as the woman’s scream pierced the night air. It was cut off abruptly as it started, leaving Crow standing alone in the quiet street under the orange light, which flickered once or twice. Comically raising his nose to the air like a dog, the tall man sniffed and turned sharply to a small alleyway at his left. Unbuttoning his coat as he ran toward it, a set of six small sharp knives glinted in the orange, strapped three –a-side to his chest. The alley was empty, aside the blonde woman’s corpse. Crouching down next to her, Crow noticed the blood was dry. Shooting her unblinking face a puzzled look, he straightened up and turned to face the oak door that shimmered into reality behind him. Something stopped him opening the door though; this woman had been dead for days, so who had screamed just now? Another woman discovering the corpse then fleeing? No, the scream had been too abruptly cut off, almost like a recording...? The only way was through the door. Crow took hold of the door knob. The word “trap” hadn’t properly graced his mind till he was part way through, but by then it was too late. He was in the alley, but he saw no woman. When he passed through the door normally he was no more than 10 yards away than the person who died, and could interview them to discover the whereabouts of their deaths. Complicated, Crow glared at the alley, silently demanding the woman to show herself. The only way he didn’t look was up. The angel smashed into him, throwing him into the brick wall. He swung a fist at the skinny all-white creature, but it glanced harmlessly off the huge feathered wings. The creature was a starling white, with no markings aside two golden slits for eyes. Crow in his all black suit was stunned, thanking his sunglasses or he would’ve been blinded.

“Hello there, I’m looking for a woman.” He coughed, pushing up his glasses. The angel barked from no mouth, and Crow jumped a little.

“Ah well then, guess it’s the hard way. You didn’t even let me fini...”

The angel flung itself at him again, Crow barely dodging to the side before the wall he had sat against became a pile of rubble. Drawing a knife, he scanned around for the oak door. Street fighter style, the angel dropped down square in the middle of the alley, blocking Crow’s path to the door. Straightening up his lanky frame, he brushed some brick dust off his shoulder and in one swift movement flung the knife perfectly into the angel’s face. It screamed, golden blood splattering across the ground as Crow kicked out one of its legs and sent it sprawling to the ground with a shattering punch. Using the confusion, he leapt over the shrieking mass of white feathers and made a dash for the door. Ripping it open, he took one last look back as the angel pounced and carved his shoulder open with long golden fingernails. Crow cried out, slamming the door shut behind him with his good arm, and sagging down against it on the other side. Blood was pouring down his left shoulder, and he gritted his teeth while using the last of his strength to pull a phone out his pocket. Holding in his consciousness, he dialed.

Destiny review (balanced argument)

Here's a little review for you.

When I pre-ordered destiny I was full on the hype train. The joy of unlocking new planets to explore and the stunning visuals blew away many players like myself, who basked in the light (little in-joke there) of a brand new next-gen game. But much akin to the mysterious 'darkness' that we've literally been told nothing about aside "you must kill them", I've begun to embark on a change of heart. 

Well destiny and I are past the honeymoon stage. I thought the love-child of Bungie and Activision would do more than be an addictive pass-time, but the only things it's really got going for it is immersive game play, decent visuals and the hope that you'll randomly win a legendary item. Aside that the story is absolute drivel with more unanswered questions than assassins creed revelations, and the servers break more times than my heart over getting another uncommon weapon in the Cryptarch. It's pretty and creative, but I've finally seen past that for what it really is; a monotonous fps with a buggy loot system, no story and poor voice acting. 

I'm done, rant over. Time to play some Minecraft or a game that's actually worth a damn.

Upon a few months reflection (by playing destiny for a good few hours most days) I have gotten over the initial. Bottom line: destiny is a good game, however it was the victim of over-hyping. The game play is smooth and addictive, and the hot fixes per week really help fix things so it feels like the players are being listened to.

The recent addition of the DLC the dark below was again a bit of a let down, however again over more time I'm seeing it's decent. It's ridiculous how much over-hype ad false marketing can break a game. We were promised stunning next-gen glory, and got a decent good game. It's easy to then pass it off as a pile of shite, but the game needs a bit of effort to get into, something most console gamers these days aren't used to. The majority of young gamers prefer simplest shooting targets with pretty graphics, which I think lead to the masterpiece we were promised being simplified a whole lot. Player trading was obviously taken out in late stages to make it simpler, which explains the randomized loot system. If all players were to get a certain item at a certain stage, the value of the item would decrease.
Yes, the short is still terrible, it can hardly be called a story. It feels (again like player trading) that it has been dulled down a lot to fit a more generic audience, who don't want to be dragged into any real inspiring story or feel any real emotions. Destiny's lore is sadly hidden in 'Grimore cards' which are unlocked via the online site after registering and killing enough in-game enemies. This is pathetic, and shows that at some point the story really was more than Dinklebot saying "let me scan this". Again the DLC has pulled through though, with much more engaging levels and a new deeper character: Eris Mourn. However its a shame it costs another £40. 

In conclusion I do think destiny is worth the time if you as a gamer are ready to commit, however at the end of the day that's just what it is: 

A game.

 

Quotes for use in creative writing

QUOTES TWO:

(For use in any work or writing etc)

A day without laughter is a day wasted.

My strength didn't come from lifting weights. My strength comes from lifting myself up every time I'm knocked down.

A man who won't die for something is not fit to live

Borders? I've never seen one, but I've heard they exist in the minds of some people.

It is ordinary to love what is beautiful, but beautiful to love what is ordinary.

You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of  nachos.

I'm not afraid of being different, I'm afraid of being the same as everybody else.

I don't know where I'm going, but come along and I promise it won't be boring.

Apocalyptic ink

Try not to die and raise all hell

The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. Wake up and smell the ashes.

Grant me serenity to accept the things I can't change.

Courage to change the things I can.

Wisdom to know the difference

The wisest people understood how much they don't understand

I don't want to fall, unless I'm falling for you. 

Un-named thing for a comic I guess

She woke up.
Sweat.
Tricking down her brow like it was the middle of summer and the AC was broken. But it was snowing outside. White flecks against the pitch black, shouldn't there be streetlights? She trod nervously out of bed, damp feet meeting the cool wood paneled floor which seemed to spin as she greeted it. The wind whipped the snow outside with a soft sweeping noise. Was she dreaming? She looked at the pills she had taken the night before, looked right at them spinning and digesting inside her translucent stomach. "They'll make you sleep just fine and all the bad dreams will go away", she winced as the distorted sound of the shopkeeper echoed in the black outside. They had tasted like gone-off fruit. Breathe. That's all this is. A bad dream.
Then she fell.

That gut punch when you drop is almost as bad as the landing, unless it's onto a concrete floor. The room was endless, its impossible horizon half-obscured by darkness. The girl hauled herself up, grunting as she nursed her scabbed elbow. Looking around, the darkness seemed to shift and squirm like a thousand tiny insects, writhing their legs about, silently snapping their mandibles. She shuddered, and began to walk, knowing as if it was some animal instinct to keep walking. Every time she tried to focus on it though, it seemed to condense into one area, a shape. She squinted.
There was a man in the dark.
A man or a woman or a thing, but humanoid. A person, shifting and  buzzing in the swarming haze.

8026,

8026.

Conspiracy theories. Oh man, how they used to make me laugh, a load of angry nerds prophesying “the end”, in any shape or form, arguing over how we were going to die next. It was always the government too, attempting to “protect us” when all they were really doing was attempting to leach information from alien brains. Oh how I used to find them funny.
Used to.
I am button operator 8026. I oversee and protect the button. Normally I wouldn't be able to tell you where I am, but since I’m going to die in, uh, let me check. 30 minutes. Hooray. I have half an hour to live, and I decided to write. Oh god I’m original. Anyway, let me tell you where I am. I don’t know where I am. They didn't even have the decency to tell me. I guess I’m underground, but that would be hard to tell, since I've got these cool window things. The T.V they gave me says they've only just been released into the world above (I’m just going to agree with myself that I’m underground) recently, and to the very rich. I've had mine for exactly 20 years and 36 days. They scene what mood I’m in and project it into the appropriate weather. At the moment it’s snowing, but the T.V says there are fire and ash all over new York, London and Tokyo. The other cities don’t even get a mention, none of them hold a shield. Well, I guess earth has even less time to live than myself, but I’m just estimating. I only press the button if its for certain that earth has fallen, and at the moment it looks like we are putting up a very good resistance. Man, I hope those are our cannons. I don’t want to press the button. They assigned me to be the latest operator, but I didn't think I would have to do anything like this. Not that I had a choice in the job. And now I’m sitting here like what the hell do I do. They wont pick up the phone. I can call one number, all others are blocked, and its unresponsive. Great, they really left me in the dark this time. Should I push the button?

Conspiracy theories. Man, they make me and my mates laugh so much! In our free time its always fun to mess with the nerds on internet forums, area 51 this, Bermuda triangle that. Oh man, and when they get angry it is the funniest thing! Did you know that me and Steve are the creators of a certain famous conspiracy that spiraled out of control? No? ever heard of the “red streetlight”? we got tonnes of people to believe that when streetlights do that red thing before they properly go on at night? That’s them scanning for alien life forms, and if they detect one they go all turret on it. It was hilarious! Some guys in the U.S wont even walk down their roads now, afraid that their streetlights will turn into chain-gun mode! How many times did we laugh at those memories while on XBOX playing some shooter game? it was incredibly funny, until the man came. Just knocked on my door one evening, asked to speak to me. My mum was pushed aside as she tried to ask for an explanation, and when she asked him to leave she was shown a badge. I couldn't see it, but just one look at it shut her up. This man must be from high up, he even wore one of those all grey silk suits that only really important people wore. Then it twigged. The red streetlight was real, and the government had sent this man to come and shut me up! He walked into my room and slid the door closed. I was expecting him to pull a gun on me, but when his hand came out his pocket, it brought a sheet of paper and pen with it, not any form of firearm I could see.
“hello Mr. Wallgate, I am from the U.S government. Don’t even try to question my authority here in London, trust me I could pull a few strings here and there and you could be dead the next time you walk to school. Don’t worry though, I’m not here with bad news, in fact I have a job offer for you. Unfortunately there is a bit of a waiting list, so I cant assign you to your post just yet, however I will need you to sign this “he slipped me the sheet “just at the bottom, and I’m sure you will see us shortly.”
It wasn't an offer or a question, it was an order. What choice did I have? I signed, and he smiled. He took back the sheet and neatly folded it back into his blazer. For a second, I swore I could see a shoulder holster with a glint of metal within, but a stern glare from the man forced me to shift my gaze. He left the room without saying goodbye. As I heard the door downstairs close I breather out, and realized that I had been holding my breath.

It was after that day that my family stopped talking to me.

Button operator manual 
1. Under no circumstances push the button.
2. Remain calm and composed during your time as operator, if you are suspected of losing mental stability the monitor assigned will withdraw you.
3. Keep updated with the news.
4. Do not insult the monitor, or it will learn this custom and make it unpleasant for future operatives. 
5. Under no circumstances push the button.
6. If anyone comes into the rooms and tells you to push the button, ignore them. They are a hallucination.
7. If you are called and told to push the button, do not.
8. Do not tamper with the tech
9. If you look like you are accidently going to lean on the button, the monitor assigned will withdraw you.
10. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES PUSH THE BUTTON.

“about time”
“look at the state of you”
“you said I’d see you shortly!”
“the previous operative took longer to expire than planned”
“you could have sent word, then I would have tried to find other meantime work”
“you are jobless?”
“jobless? Yes. and homeless”
“then welcome, button operator 8026.”

When I came to I gasped. The room was… cool. There was no other way to describe it. Gadgets and tech I had never seen before surrounded the outside of a large white circular chamber with large windows looking out on a raging thunderstorm. In the centre was a large red button. A small desk with laptop and computer, a bookshelf and a comfy bed that I was perched on were the only thing I recognised that didn’t look like something out a sci-fi movie. Seriously, robot arms!? How advanced was this place? That keyboard looked like it has about 30 extra keys? When am I ever going to need to learn or read Japanese in this place? Its not that I’m not going to have free time on my hands, its just I don’t need to speak Swahili to press a red button. And that’s all the job requires. Pressing a button.
Just once.
I stand, bare feet feeling cool against the white tile floor. My beard is shaved and so is my head, so bald, but a decent length. I’m wearing a white shirt and black tie and trousers, and I’m feeling incredibly clean and warm. I take a little lap around the button. When I complete the circuit I stop and stare at it, cocking my head to the left. How long did that contact say I had to stay again? There was no door. Claustrophobia kicked in and I feverishly scanned the walls for an exit, but to no avail. Maybe there is voice activation, I thought, so casually I whispered; “hello” nothing happened. Feeling like an idiot even though no one was there, I cursed out loud, and kicked a table littered with tech junk.
“please stop those feelings and acts of aggression”
I stopped. Turned. Faced the blue light glowing on the wall. It shimmered as the voice came from it.
“greetings operative 8026. Welcome to what the previous occupant, 8025, called ‘hell’”
A talking orb in the wall. Now THAT was cool.

I ended up beating monitor 116 to a pile of scrap. That was another thing that annoyed me about this place, the constant use of numbers. Everything must be cataloged and turned into data that is logged and kept in some book in some government place that I will never see because I’m insignificant and worthless. At least that was what monitor thought of me, if it could even think thoughts that were not data script, programmed to cause feelings of anger in me. Well, we soon saw who was insignificant when he met Mr. Spanner, my trusty club I found in a toolbox under a bench. When his remains fizzed and broke, a new orange light emerged from the wall space on the other side of the room, right next to the Mona Lisa that I’m still trying to work out if its real. And if she’s smiling or frowning. The light quickly identified itself as monitor 117, and after that it didn't talk much more. Maybe its just shy, but I think its spiteful and is punishing me with silence for the destruction of its brother. If they were even related.
It’s snowing today, and a calm chill has set about the room. I stalk around the button in the center, sipping a mug of cocoa and trying not to think of how many days I've been In here. I place the half finished mug on my table next to my bed and cross over to a light blue box with a lever on it. Upon pulling the lever, all grime and sweat is instantly absorbed by the box, rendering me clean. It took me ages to find the dam box the first time, only after reading the operator’s manual did I find the “cleaning box”, and that was only after I has been walking round for months and 116 bullied me about my smell. Like it even has a scent function. Stupid light thing.

Man, I do have too much time on my hands. If time even exists. Today it is cloudy, but I know its not real, that’s just my emotions being read by 117 and cast onto the “windows”. I guess cloudy represents confusion, but I see rain in the distance. What does that mean? I pace the room, and flick through a book I have read 7 times. I throw it at a table. Then i go and pick it up again and place it carefully on a shelf, picking up the T.V remote with my other hand. I have robot arms that dress me, a box that cleans me without getting wet, but I still need a remote to turn on the T.V. I think I really should have like a cool wristband I control everything with, or even better I just control everything in the room with my mind! That would be fun. Sighing as I flop in the chair that has molded to my butt over years, I have a browse of what is on. The news, more encounters with blurred shots of the president shaking hands with one of them, cutting to a worried reporter who blurts scripted lines and opinions at the camera, his sweat making is make-up look shiny and moist. Ignoring him I flip through a tech Manuel. There are too many of these lying about, I really should clear them up, but an armband that controls the machinery in the room would be really cool… an advert comes on about these new boxes that clean you with a pull of a lever. The public and reporter seem amazed by this feat, but I don’t even bat an eyelid. Just how advanced IS the tech in here!? Just then the phone rings. I stop and look at it. It’s never done that before. Confused and feeling like I shouldn't be doing this, I reach for it and take it off the receiver and place it upon my ear.
“get ready operative, stand by on the button.”