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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 10, 2013 0:50:55 GMT -6
Very interesting...........
Thanks
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wags
New Member
Posts: 3
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Post by wags on Jan 10, 2013 16:18:09 GMT -6
Intersesting twist
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Post by patience on Jan 10, 2013 18:08:50 GMT -6
I am SOOO going to hate it when this one ends! ;D Great job!
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Post by steve on Jan 10, 2013 19:23:04 GMT -6
PART #0149
The apartment was lousy; There were dumpsters that were warmer, cleaner and smelled nicer. The landlord was seedy. The neighbors... The less seen and heard from, the better. It all gave me incentive to work that much harder at the roller skating rink and spend less time sitting around my apartment.
Summer and Fall were the two big seasons for the roller skating rink that I worked for now. Part time work graduated to full time work. I can't tell you how many non-paid overtime hours I worked at that place. I ran around the local area passing out fliers to promote the place. I went to all the area schools and passed out fliers. Hospitals? Fliers. Bars? Fliers. Record stores? Movie rental stores? Video game stores? Fliers, fliers & more fliers.
I nagged the local radio station to allow for free air time to promote the place. Got any free records or tapes that you're throwing out that we could use? OK, thanks.
The local college radio station was sympathetic towards my enthusiasm and gave the skating rink both free air time for promotion along with some songs. I eventually wound up having a weekly segment with one of the on-air personalities, airing the weekly specials.
Did I rub some of my co-workers the wrong way with my over-enthusiastic workaholic attitude? Probably. No... Definitely. It's a fine line between "brown-nosing" and genuinely wanting to succeed. No offense, but that place always looked like it was a few bad weekends away from closing down suddenly and permanently. I needed that place to stay open and be financially healthy as a person needs oxygen to breath.
In the span of five months, I went from part-time to full-time to also being the morning shift manager. It wasn't as illustrious as it sounded - The morning crews always had more work to do as this place believed that shutting down the rink just meant shutting off the lights and locking the doors on the way out. Everything else - The clean-up, the paperwork, the finances, the maintenance... That was done in the morning or, more specifically, done by me for the most part.
On another front, it was also time for me to grow up. Look at me - I'm 25 years old. Old. How far up could I go working at a roller skating rink? Owner of the place? This place? This place needed a million dollar renovation. Heck, this place needed to be bulldozed to the ground and rebuilt. I had managed to convince the owner to get some new arcade machines. I had convinced my landlord's brother, a general contractor, to at least bring the bathrooms at our place up to code by offering free admission to the brother's three kids for a full year. The two new speakers at the far end of the roller skating rink? They were old speakers that the record shop was going to throw out. They weren't much but at least now you could hear the music when you went around the entire track.
No matter how hard I worked at this place, I knew, deep down, it was time to move on with my life. To be a real grown-up. Get a grown-up job. That meant going to college and getting a degree and degrees weren't cheap.
It was a rare day that I worked the evening on September 8, 1984. Weekends weren't a joke anymore; Non-stop promotion and word of mouth had finally trickled down that the rink was slowly getting it's act together. The kids were going back to school and needed weekend activities to unwind. The college kids were coming back to town. Young adults were finally becoming interested in our weekend contests.
Heck, who am I kidding? The economy was finally picking up and people could find work again instead of standing in an unemployment line.
On September 8, 1984, I was helping out behind the roller skate rental counter when my life permanently and indelibly changed forever.
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Post by steve on Jan 11, 2013 20:08:55 GMT -6
PART #0150
I always handed the good rollerskates out first. The sooner that you handed the good rollerskates out, the sooner that you got them back. Often, most people didn't stay at the rink for more then two hours. Come in, skate around for a while, eat, play some video games, chat with friends, head on out on the rink for awhile, turn in your skates. I'd seen hundreds follow that pattern.
Sure, I always kept a few good ones in reserve in case we got an especially large crowd. Unless you arrived early, though, you tended to get skates that wobbled slightly, had a worn down brake pad (meaning you had to lean your foot down a little farther to stop), worn down wheels... You name it.
I was surprised by the large crowd. What can I say? For a place that didn't serve beer, had all of five arcade machines (admittedly, four of them were halfway decent), had bathrooms that made gas station public restrooms look respectable, had a sound system held together by duct tape, had lighting more akin to a horror movie set, had a rink that was just un-level enough that even amateurs could sense it and a grill that was older then even the owner of the place... We weren't doing that bad.
"Gender and size," I would ask. Everyone knew their gender (duh - Check between your legs and get back to me on that answer) but not many people knew their shoe size. "Check your sneakers," I'd reply, "What's the number on it?" Most sneakers had the number worn off for one reason or another. Thankfully, 'Mom' usually knew the answer or close to it. As a last resort, we had foot ruler that we could break out that came close enough to the answer to satisfy most feet.
I never even saw her come in, that's how busy we were.
"Hey," the woman stated in between chewing her gum, "I need some skates."
She wore a black leather jacket, fingerless gloves, red lipstick so bright it glowed, orange-rimmed sunglasses, combat boots and orange pants so tight they looked as though they were spray-painted on. Topping it all off was a blue mohawk just tall enough to be intentional. Hey, stop laughing - It was 80s. I've seen worse.
OK, so I peeked - So sue me. The chick was stacked. Weirder still, the chick was alone.
"Gen..." I began to say automatically, but interrupted myself and merely asked, "What's your shoe size?"
Chewing her gum, she paused for a moment and smirked.
"I dunno," she replied, "I was told I have big feet."
Great - Another punk rocker wannabe with attitude. I began readying myself to give her all the answers I usually had to deliver: No, we don't serve beer. No, you can't go outside with your skates on. No readmission. No smoking in the restrooms. No wearing walkmans on the rink. No food or beverages on the rink. No...
I looked down at her feet and saw the combat boots. Her boots didn't look that big.
"Take one of your boots off," I stated, "See if there's a shoe size on the inside."
"Can you show me how to roller skate?" She asked, slightly nasally, as she began unlacing one of her boots, "It looks like torture out there."
Something... You know when you have a piece of food stuck between your teeth and you just can't get it out? Something... Did I know her? No... I'd have remembered a chick who looked that hot.
SLAM! The woman slapped the boot down onto the counter, knocking me out of thoughts.
"There you go," she replied, a grin crawling across her face as she chewed her gum. I gingerly picked up the boot, trying not to show my distaste for her obnoxiousness. Something, though... Something was just odd about her. Was this a prank? Some sort of joke?
"Just arrived in this town," she stated as I looked into the boot to find the number. Big feet, my a$$... No larger then any other woman's foot, according to the boot size. Big attitude was more like it.
"Was in prison for awhile..." she continued to ramble as I reached for some skates.
Prison... Big Feet... What was it? Prison... Big Feet... Town... Why did that all sound... So...
I grabbed a pair of skates and placed them down onto the counter. My expression was neutral.
"I think I've got a pair big enough for you," I answered quietly.
"No one has a pair larger then mine," She replied, the grin vaporizing.
"Just a pair?" I asked, "What happened to the other?"
"I left them at home," She explained, expressionless, slowly grabbing the skates from me, "To come here. To learn how to skate."
"You came all this way just to learn how to skate?" I asked blankly.
The woman leaned in slightly towards the counter, "I never got the chance to learn at a real rollerskating rink. In a real town. With a real person who cared more about who I was then what I was."
I nodded my head slowly, a smile slowing forming.
"Then I'll just have teach you how to skate," I replied, "Oola."
A grin slowly emerged from the woman's face. A tear began to swell at the edge from her sunglasses.
"I can't wait," she replied.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 11, 2013 23:19:00 GMT -6
Awwwwwww
Thanks
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Post by steve on Jan 12, 2013 10:34:05 GMT -6
PART #0151
No one wanted to be a c**kblocker, not that I was going to give them the chance to be one. Even though no one complained about me not working another minute that night, I made it up to them anyway by pulling some non-paid hours a week later. I didn't mind the trade-off and neither did they.
I remembered everything now, as clearly as if it had happened just a moment ago. The Town, the Archives, the Prison... Those stupid costumes we wore during the re-enactment rehearsals, the "goo" bath... Everything. All at once.
There was no sudden feeling of displacement, only feeling of absolute relief. Like finally dislodging that last piece of food stuck in between your teeth without having to look into a mirror and use your fingers to pick the thing out. Everything made sense now... All those little moments where I would just stare at a broom or daydream during brushing my teeth. It was as though a part of my brain had wanted me to remember all those little moments but hadn't been allowed to.
So I taught Oola how to rollerskate. For real. Keep your feet parallel. Push off with one foot. When you want to stop, slightly crouch down like you're beginning to kneel on one leg, back straight, raise your skate's heel up. Don't go too fast. Keep to the outer edge for safety.
She was a fast learner. She swore that this was her first lesson.
We played a few video games. She was lousy at the games but she didn't care. Neither did I. She ate some of our food. I warned her ahead of time not to do it. She didn't care.
She never stopped talking and I never stopped listening. At some point, we left the rink. She didn't have a home. My place would do.
My deal to the Zekopors was straight forward: I'd stay if they let her go to Earth as a normal human and be free.
Oola, it turned out, had made a similar deal with the Zekopors: She'd stay behind with my clone if it meant that I could go back to Earth.
I'm guessing that the Zekopors split the difference somewhere down the middle. Where the divide fell, though, no one knows. Could I really tell? Was I a clone or the genuine article? Was I the original who regained my memory or was I the clone who was supposed to not have one and somehow managed to access it again? Did the Zekopors once again make a mistake and not realize it? Was Oola a clone or not?
You could go crazy second-guessing and poking at those shadow conspiracies. The truth was that we didn't care. We had each other and that was all that mattered.
Oola had been given a "real" name - Ophelia. "Oola" for short. Get it? Her driver's license looked real. A real-looking copy of a social security card. A real birth certificate. She had a real credit card. A real bank account. Real money in a real purse.
I took some days getting Oola situated. An OK apartment that wouldn't drain her bank account. A decent enough wardrobe so that she could walk around town without turning heads for all the wrong reasons. We then moved in with each other because, quite frankly, my own apartment was a roach motel.
She needed a job. The local library always needed help. After a hair cut that made her look like she was a cue ball-in-training, the library agreed to give her a part time job. The hair grew back dark brown. Good enough for me. I asked her years later what the blue mohawk was all about. Like a true teenager, she just wanted to try it on to see how it looked. The blue color wasn't an accident.
With college starting and Oola settled into society, it was time for the next phase of my life to begin.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 12, 2013 14:08:21 GMT -6
Thanks
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Post by patience on Jan 12, 2013 17:12:08 GMT -6
I'm REALLY glad they got together again! Let's see what happens next...
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Post by steve on Jan 13, 2013 9:06:18 GMT -6
PART #0152
Oola worked in a library. I worked at a roller skating rink. Neither would last for as long as we would have liked but such brevity was a part of life.
The future was computers. They were everywhere. I didn't need to deal with the Zekopors to know that technology was the future. As much as I had loved the atmosphere of the roller skating rink... No one gets younger. It was time to move on.
I couldn't afford college but I went anyway. I took night classes at the local community college. Computer repair was hard. Computer programming was harder. Making ends meet on the fewest hours of sleep possible was the hardest of all.
Have you ever heard of StarShine Computer Systems? Of course you haven't. Practically no one has, especially in modern times. Well, back in 1985, the company was comprised of only five people... I became Employee #6. That's right, I left the roller skating rink after working there for about a year and a half. My major was in computer science and StarShine was a computer company. I don't think many people missed me much at the roller skating rink. No offense but I'm not waking up in the middle of the night nowadays thinking of them, either.
What did StarShine Computer Systems do? They built computers, they sold computers, they maintained computers. Is your computer not working? We'll repair it. Need something installed on your home computer properly? We'll install it for you. We'll open up your computer and vacuum it out. Defrag the hard drive. Install a new hard drive for you. Do you want to explore the world of BBSes? We'll install the modem and the software for you. Hey - It was the 1980s... Not a lot of people understood these things back then.
Money was tight. It was always tight. Oola was making next to nothing at the library. Meeting payroll was always a mystery at StarShine until the checks were actually cut and then it was a mad dash to the bank to cash the check.
Oola became Employee #7 when one of my co-workers at StarShine saw her. Yes, she gets that reaction from a lot of men. That's Oola's face and figure in a lot of our early advertising. The hefty cleavage in some of those photo shoots isn't a mistake and the brisk rise in our sales and other services wasn't a coincidence.
The steadying influx of revenue allowed everyone to breathe easier and pay their bills on time, for a change. At that point, I proposed to Oola. Why not? We were already married in everything but name and ceremony. Now we really were married. For real.
StarShine expanded and, by 1990, we had over one hundred employees. We had our own BBS. We handled both home and business accounts. Heck, we were managing computer systems for five local towns, including schools. Somewhere along the way, I got my degree in computer sciences. Against the backdrop of a ten-hour workday, walking across a stage to pick up a piece of paper was almost anticlimactic.
In 1991, we started a business software division - Our sophisticated business rational could be summed up as "Hey, why not?" Guess who was in charge of our first products. You're looking at him.
By now, Oola was working in public relations. Whenever we needed to appease heterosexual men which, in the computer industry at the time was all the time, we used her. It seemed to work far more often then not.
I tried getting Victor Harrelson from SRA to work for our company. He was a no-nonsense guy who could cut through the clutter of meetings dominated by increasingly younger employees. Unfortunately, Victor had one foot in retirement by the time I got to him. I don't want to say that he had lost a few steps but, once you see the light at the end of the tunnel of your career, it's hard to look away from it. I understood.
StarShine Computer Systems eventually became StarShine Computer Solutions. By 1994, we had over five hundred employees. We had a seasonal catalog. We had facilities in five states. Three of the first five employees of the company? Retired. The other two employees? They had left for other ventures. None of those guys were hurting for cash.
In 1994, I was the only "original" guy left... And my wife. That's when something called "The Internet" happened. It changed everything... For better and for worse.
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Post by steve on Jan 14, 2013 16:02:02 GMT -6
PART #0153
How did I get so old so fast? I can tell you how - Working ten to twelve hour days, six to seven days a week. Sure, Oola and I went on vacations but the computer industry never slept. It never blinked. Take one day off and you're lost when you come back. Take a week off and you feel like you're on another planet when you come back. Take a month off and you might as well start looking for another job.
The company figured out what I was good at - Managing projects. Put me in charge of ten to twenty people and I can get the job done. Put me in charge of ninety people and watch my head explode, complete with sound effects.
In 1994, the Internet happened. Everyone, and I mean everyone, jumped onto the bandwagon. That included our company's management, but not in the way everyone would have guessed.
By 1994, we were a bona fide company. We were building personal computers, creating business software, creating game software, repairing personal computers, setting up business networks... Those are a lot of balls to juggle in the air all at once. The Internet was another such ball... One ball, as it turns out, too many.
It became known as "Chainsaw Friday." The day the company broke the news that the company was both downsizing and expanding at the same time - Spinning off "old" divisions or selling them to other companies and creating new divisions. A lot of empty cardboard boxes were going to be needed.
One of the few perks of being Employee #6 at that point was that I was told a week prior and given the dignity of resigning. Originally, they were only going to give me half a year's worth of pay as compensation. Someone figured out, though, that such a paltry sum would look bad in the computer industry. It was increased to a full year's pay.
Was I disappointed? Yup. Angry? You bet.
I was also out of work for the first time in years.
A few former co-workers, like myself, banded together to form a new company: SunLite Internet Solutions ("Slice" for short). We started working on a better graphical web browser as our first project. It wasn't long before word got around that we knew what we were doing. A much larger company wanted our source code and wanted to give us a lot of money for it.
And so our business model was born - We did the work, some other company bought our code, we signed a Non-Disclosure Agreement and swore we knew nothing. Wash, rinse, repeat. It didn't make us wealthy but it kept the lights on at the office and the bills paid at home.
In 1998, we began work on a project called CYPHLOS - An encryption / compression algorithm that could be used from E-Mails to pictures to video to audio. One-stop shopping for the masses. Eighteen months later, we began demonstrating it to government and private organizations.
Someone bought it for a lot of money. A lot of money. Enough to call it a career. Some stayed on; They were young and eager. I had become neither. I'd like to think that I had proven my point to the world.
On January 21, 2000, I worked the last day of my life. I waved goodbye to my co-workers. There was a party. There were laughs. The gag gift was a block of cheese carved into a gold watch ("What? I thought you wanted a cheesy gold watch?!" Get it? Get it?).
I would have thought that a life of retirement would be easy. In hindsight, a day at the office, though, is so much easier to a day of real life, especially when that real life involves aging...
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 14, 2013 23:19:44 GMT -6
Thanks
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Post by steve on Jan 15, 2013 15:42:34 GMT -6
PART #0154
They don't teach you in high school how to walk past a coffin. There's no class or seminar that trains you for that moment. As you get older, you simply learn - Learn how to walk past them gracefully or learn how to avoid making friendships so you won't have to in the future.
In 2001, I received a phone call from Victor Harrelson's son that he had passed away. I was told it was a stroke. I never asked for details.
In 2003, Dad decided that he felt tired and took a nap in the afternoon. He never woke up.
In 2009, Mom thought that the road was clear and started to pull out of a restaurant parking lot. It wasn't. The man in the 18-wheeler slammed on his brakes too late. He got a few bruises on his arms and a cut on his lip.
You're told that it gets better with time. I'd like to believe them but some days are better then others.
Depending on your definition, StarShine Computer Solutions ended anywhere between 1996 and 2005. The company, as I recognized it, got chopped up into little bits and either sold off to other companies, forced to become their own companies, or simply ended.
The last computer built by StarShine was in 1994 - That division got sold off to a large competitor who used the StarShine name briefly as an economy brand but ended that in 1996.
The last non-Internet business software StarShine wrote was in 1994 (WordStar 3.0) - That division briefly became it's own company, StarShine Software Enterprises, before being bought by another company. All that other company wanted was the source code to those products; Everything else either got laid or sold off.
The BBS ended in 1993; The ISP, started just after I left in 1994, was spun off to some cable company in 1997.
The games software division became a studio for some larger game company and lived in some form (the name got dropped in 2000 as a part of some re-branding effort) until 2005.
The networking stuff? It became it's own company that went out of business in 2001.
Webbler's, that grocery store that I worked at for a while, got bought by a national chain in 1988, which promptly dropped the name and the barnyard motif. The store itself survived until 1993 when it was bulldozed to make way for a larger store which exists to this day (so I'm told). I spoke with one of my former co-workers from there, who decided to become a sales representative for a slot machine company. I haven't heard from him since.
That rollerskating rink I worked for after Webbler's? Closed inside of two years after I left. It briefly re-opened a year later under new management but then closed again only one year later. It was later converted into offices, then bulldozed to make way for a mini-mall that never happened because of environmental issues. The town now owns the property. Who knows when anything will ever happen to it.
Scientific Research Analysis entered into a partnership with a pharmaceutical company in 1995 and was completely absorbed into that company by 1997. The company then spun off the "Research" part of the company to an area university and kept the building for administration personnel. For all intents and purposes, it no longer exists.
And my first job, the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park? Well, you already know part of that story. It was taken over by Rollerskate Parks of America in 1984. The RPA went bankrupt in 1990. The building was vacant until 1992 when it re-opened briefly as an inline rollerskate indoor park but mismanagement and a few unfortunate accidents (boys will be boys) forced it to close in 1993. The building has since changed hands too many times to recount here. I'm told it still exists today.
And life goes on, even in retirement... Well, until recently...
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Post by steve on Jan 16, 2013 19:20:22 GMT -6
PART #0155 I learned quickly that you don't stay retired for long. For instance, I found a new job: Marriage. Sure, Oola and I were married and had been since the 1980s. No one ever tells you, though, that marriage is a full-time job. It's not like one of those houseplants that you only occasionally have to water and, if you leave it sitting on a window sill, will somehow manage to survive. Retirement, it turned out, was the best thing that could have happened to our marriage since we had met. It forced us to iron out our differences and our visions for the long-term future. We started getting involved in town activities. See us over there setting up tables for the library book sale? We've been doing that for years. How about over there, with us helping out at the local elections? That's us at the town meeting, setting up and putting away the folding chairs (most of which don't ever get sat in but the town is obligated by local law to set up at least one hundred seats for... Oh, forget it... I don't even understand that law myself). That's us helping out at some local church's tag sale. The soup kitchen? Yup, that's us in the back, washing and drying the pots and pans. It's odd that we've taken less vacations now then when we did while we worked. It's not about the money - We have the money to go here, there and anywhere we want. Obviously, we're not billionaires or anything like that - No staying at five-star hotels or dining at restaurants that require four-month reservations (tuxedos and evening gowns required). I've been tempted to go back to work a few times - I was mighty tempted to take a teaching position at the local community college for introductory for web programming. Oola toyed with the possibility of going back and helping the library part-time. Moving was a possibility at one point, especially after my parents died. The problem with moving, though, is that there's no guarantee that life will be any better or any easier where you move to compared with where you moved from. Palm trees and surf waves might be nice for a day or two but everyplace comes with it's own set of environmental challenges. In the end, we just decided to grow old where we were most comfortable. And grow old, we did. Clone or not, the Zekopors made me well but not perfect. See my hairline or, rather, what's left of it? I'd be lucky if that was my only problem. I take medication now for blood pressure and cholesterol. Exercising is mandatory and, in this world, there's no "grey goo" to help you out. Oola, of course, remains always lovely but even she's beginning to get a case of "old woman neck." She's also been thinking of *ahem* "downsizing." Apparently, her doctor has finally convinced her that her back pains are being caused by all of her frontal 'baggage.' I've already told her on multiple occasions that I would support any decision she made. Life had moved into a comfortable rhythm for us; A lot of house work, some volunteer work and a few vacations here and there on the side. A few charitable donations written out once a year to support some worthwhile causes. Then, yesterday, this was found on our answering machine: "Hi, my name is Mr. Zekopor. Please call me back at 1-888-555-6782. That's 1-888-555-6782. I you hope back call soon." Oola and I listened to it a few times in absolute silence. What did it mean? On one level, we knew exactly what it meant. On another level? We sat with each other for awhile, just snuggling. We had a nice dinner. We laughed. We looked over some old pictures... Of our wedding, of the vacations that we took with my parents, of our old workplaces (bad hairstyles and clothing fashions all). I sent out a few E-Mails to a few of my friends. Oola did the same. Maybe I call and nothing happens. Maybe I call and... Who knows? The mind wanders. Did we do something wrong? Will they admit that this was all a dream? Am I still floating in a gel chamber somewhere? Did they finally see that I had "remembered" everything that I was supposed to forget? Will they invite us to "come back up"? Ever since I had left, I hadn't heard anything from them but... Why now? Why all of a sudden? If I've learned anything from what happened to me so many years ago, it's that you can't live your life with a bunker mentality. It just doesn't work. Sure, you can survive with a bunker mentality but you can't live a full life with one. You have to explore and be prepared for failure. You have to be willing to financially fail and, trust me, I have at times. I've bought high and have sold low more times then I care to admit. I've missed out on some truly killer deals. I've failed... A lot... Despite my successes. But that's the point - You can't win unless you're willing to accept those losses. Without substantial risk, there is no substantial gain. I'm not talking about lottery tickets or anything like that - I'm talking about the decisions that can shape your life. Had I not spoken out and pressed my point the Zekopors, Earth would never have been rebuilt. Oola would have never experienced Earth as it should be. It's easy to just... Be average. It's easy to try to excel and it's really darn difficult to actually excel and keep at it. I don't know what is going to happen now. I guess I've stalled enough. Oola is beside me and I've got the phone receiver in my hand. I suppose it's time to dial that number and find out. THE END. Dedicated to Sophie - ( ? - 2012)
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Post by steve on Jan 16, 2013 19:42:07 GMT -6
BUNKER MENTALITY IS DONE. FINI. THE END.
I would like to thank everyone for reading my story. Thank you very much. I have appreciated your comments deeply and immensely. I hope that I have provided an entertaining story for you to read and enjoy. I hope that the daily format gave you something to look forward to each and every day as it did for myself.
Here's some useless trivia -
* This is probably the first story in recent memory I have written where there is a definite ending. I have no notes or even the slightest substantial idea on any possible sequel.
* Originally, the story was going to end at around PART #0150 but I decided to put a definitive ending on this. I gave myself just the tiniest bit of leeway and that was where the whole "Is he or isn't he a clone?" subplot came into play.
* For the record, I have no idea if he is a clone or not. That's for you to figure out in your own mind.
* I went through a lot of drafts for the "Zekopor Finale" inside The Town. At one point, I was going to have wild ferals invade the town. In another, I was going to have our hero and Oola escape the facility and go out into the wilderness, being chased by ferals. A lot of these possibilities fell by the wayside as the story solidified.
* At one point, I was going to have Oola learn how to rollerskate while at the facility to utilize that for part of the finale. This was dropped for various reasons.
* At one point, I was going to have our hero use a rifle and bring "law" to the Town while wearing the police uniform (part of the reason why he wears the police uniform). The uniform was kept but that part of the plot was dropped.
When creating a serial story, lots and lots of possibilities are thought of and eventually abandoned. Don't be shy - Ask questions and I will provide the best answer that I possibly can.
To the moderators / administrators of this board - This story is now complete. No more entries will be made. It'll just be questions and answers from here forward.
* I'd like to take this opportunity to turn slightly more serious for a moment. I am dedicating this entire story to a dearly departed family pet. She was with us when I started this story but passed on before it's conclusion. I miss her dearly and I hope her brief few years with us made up for the hardships that she undoubtedly endured earlier in her life. I rarely offer my opinions on such topics but please allow me to editorialize for this brief moment: If you have a pet, please devote yourself towards the maintenance and upkeep of that pet. You are their strongest and most effective advocate. Pets are not devices - Do not ignore them or take them for granted. Televisions, computers, smartphones, computer programs... They can all be replaced. The unique interactions with a pet can not.
And although I've already written it more then once, I'll write it again - Thank you.
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Post by patience on Jan 16, 2013 21:19:09 GMT -6
BRAVO! A truly great read. I do hope you write more. A ssequel would be fine, but what ever you choose to do I will look forward to your work.
We need and applause smiley.... ;D
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Post by kaijafon on Jan 16, 2013 23:04:57 GMT -6
awesome and truly unique story! Thank you!! great ending! And I appreciate all the "insights" on the story.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 16, 2013 23:20:04 GMT -6
Well I hope we have more offereings for us soon. I was set up to not like the story but couldn't stop reading. I ended up liking it a lot.
Thank you
And very sorry about your pet. You have a kind heart it seems.
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wags
New Member
Posts: 3
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Post by wags on Jan 17, 2013 22:15:28 GMT -6
A very unique story line. Thanks for sharing your talents.
Sorry to hear about your pet, they are often with us for far to short of a time.
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Post by steve on Jan 18, 2013 19:02:03 GMT -6
Again, I'd like to thank everyone for their positive comments. It is wonderful that you enjoyed reading the story.
Here is some more useless trivia in the event you need even more useless trivia -
* Not naming the hero was, believe it or not, mostly unintentional. I'd love to take credit for intentionally not naming the hero but it was merely an initial oversight that I never bothered to correct. It was never a burden to work around that feature, though.
* A subplot that was hinted upon but never elaborated on was the disaster itself. Initially, I had mapped out a fairly detailed disaster with the intent of detailing it at a later time in the story. As it turned out, I never felt that I really needed it.
* DID YOU KNOW... That, at one point in development of the story, Oola was going to come down to Earth in her original form? She was going to tour the world as a circus sideshow. Another variant was that she would make her career in Hollywood as a very realistic "alien extra."
There you go. More happy trivia.
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Post by hardtrailz on Jan 22, 2013 9:50:04 GMT -6
Thank You!!!!!!
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Post by teedee on Jan 20, 2014 14:40:57 GMT -6
Boy was that original! I loved it and thank you for all your time and effort.
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Post by kareninks on Aug 24, 2014 3:58:07 GMT -6
Just finished reading this story. It was worth losing sleep over. Keep up the good reads. Am looking forward to more, MORE, MOAR!
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Post by steve on Aug 24, 2014 13:05:16 GMT -6
Hi kareninks, thanks for reading my story and thank you for the kind words. You mentioned that you would like to read more of my work. Although I haven't worked on anything directly post-apocalyptic (it would be categorized more as "far future") lately, here are some of my other works that are here on this forum (in no particular order): War of the Worlds radio adaptationAfter the DisasterThe New DarknessTrapped in ParadiseJust finished reading this story. It was worth losing sleep over. Keep up the good reads. Am looking forward to more, MORE, MOAR!
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Post by derrick on Jan 14, 2015 22:05:15 GMT -6
BRAVO!!!!! What an amazing story. Thank you very much for writing it.
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