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Password Incorrect
Nick Name
(Translator: Anna Etmańska)
Published: 2008
Categorie(s): Fiction, Short Stories, Humorous
Source: http://passwordincorrect.com
Password Incorrect
Because this story will be painfully banal, it will be also painfully short.
Peter Maria Kędzierzyna of the Tschekan coat-of-arms bought himself the newest model of a 25th generation cell phone from Siemens-BenQ-Nokia-LG ABC 123, incorporating all achievements of the human race up to the time when Bill Gates became an honorary president of the United States.
Of Tschekan coat-of-arms, a manager in an important department of an important software company spent two whole weeks inputting all data relevant in his life. And not just phone and address data. He included all codes, PINs, passwords, e-mail addresses and the many ways they could be configured, parents’ names, first and last names of distant relatives and degrees of relationship, important dates, blood type, date of birth, social security number, driver license and passport numbers, bank accounts, top ten of his favorite books, films, CDs, gourmet dishes, golf courses, works by modern painters, ancestral silver and European palaces, in rococo style. He also added the top ten of exotic countries and places he wanted to visit.
After two weeks, Peter of Tschekan realized that the cell phone was more valuable to him than a painting by de Bonnet-Majak – the number one artist on his list. He decided to protect the cell phone with an additional password, which was: *****.
Just in case, he set up a second password to secure files containing, what he called, “personally strategic data.” He added both passwords into the cell phone, just in case.
One day, during a conversation with a certain lady, he accidentally scratched his beloved cell phone. Even though the scratch was tiny, it broke his heart and haunted him for two weeks. It drove K?dzierzyna of Tschekan to despair and to an after-therapy conclusion that he lived too intensely and needed to calm his frenzied mind. He was playing with the cell phone when by accident the top ten list of exotic places appeared.
“Nepal,” of Tschekan read, and two days later was sitting on a plane to Katmandu.
He left the cell phone in a luggage locker at the airport, so the side wouldn’t get scratched.
Three months later he was back, picked up the phone and couldn’t remember the password, which was: *****.
Soon, people noticed a tourist with a backpack, wandering around the park and repeating over and over an assortment of five-letter words. The man didn’t remember his name and wasn’t able to explain where he lived.
Wishes Shovel Best
On Christmas Eve S?awek Przeko?niak received an SMS with these wishes: Wishing yo good ping super new”. He didn’t know who sent him that surprisingly enigmatic message. And he doesn’t know to this day. A pity, because thanks to that person he reached his current status and number 67 on the list of the wealthiest Poles.
Back then, during that beautiful, rusty white Christmas Eve night, Przeko?niak, who was rudely kicked out from a social network for utopian fanatics of extreme phobias (www.ilovefobia.pl) just a few days earlier, got an idea.
It was a quite good idea too, and the next SMS (“All at cart by unintentionally only honest lamb”) convinced him it was the best idea of his life.
S?awek Przeko?niak, together with a friend from ilovefobia.pl – Czesiek Ci?g, decided to set up an on-line service, through which one could send SMS greetings to mobile phones. And the most important feature of the service was that texts of the wishes were not going to be predetermined and there would be no set list of pre-selected options. Messages would be created by a special software program from random words provided by a customer. Such a system would allow for truly unique greetings, and after all, nobody said they had to be comprehensible.
Czesiek took care of the development of the software, which for now they named “John of the Disc”. Czesiek had suitable experience in the matter. While on the forum for (select as appropriate) phobics he designed an application, which created slogans for street protests. The application, even though it produced phrases completely illogical and nonsensical, became quite popular, and some of its most unique catchphrases you could have seen on TV – “Out With There Harm Out!” or “To Them Bag Away Now Now!”
Two future men of success got to work and the SMS greeting portal www.bestbestbest.pl went live just before Easter.
One of the site’s first users and enthusiasts was Ramona K?stowicz from the popular girl band Fluffysteron. She didn’t feel like writing her own greetings, so she logged in to bestbestbest.pl and filled out a short form. In the field “Words You Want To Use” she put “egg” and “merry”, and in “Number of Additional Words” she wrote “3”. Two days later she began to receive phone calls from friends and acquaintances with praise for her incredibly creative wishes. And there was plenty to praise:
“Merry goat’s egg skull stink”
“Egg cattle merry wedged marvelous”
“Ammeter splashing merry Oligocene eggs”
“Incontinence merry before egg postmodernism”
Soon the service was hailed as “the most innovative internet achievement of the year” by the “Internet Sites Beginning With N” magazine. The exclusive triple click rate adjusted for median parallel traffic soon reached 34.98 and grew at an impressive pace. Czesiek created a special mode for Mother’s Day, which turned out to be a mega-hit – the weekly magazine “Let Pass” included the “Mother’s left sickly bingo” wishes in its “Quote of the Week” column. And that’s how the uncontrollable popularity of the service began. Mobile phone operators noticed a significant fall in earnings due to a drop in profits from SMS fees. However, the always far-sighted S?awek offered them a revenue sharing option in return for partial investment and access to new technologies.
Czesiek designed two additional modes: Name Day and Birthday, and then after a job well done, concentrated his time and effort on viewing sites specializing in kinky naked everything. The end result of which was ¬– S?awek got merely to number 67 on the list of the richest Poles. And only the fact that he fired Czesiek shortly after, in a rather machiavellian manner at that – by sending an SMS “You work here not easy kaput finito”, allowed him to reach that 67th position at all. But this was thanks to only his and solely his sole and only hard work and merit. He wouldn’t even publicly thank his wife if he got the “Inzapbiz” Award for the Internet Site of the Year, an award on which he was still counting on and lobbied for.
To give luck a chance and to gain an even greater fame, Przeko?niak sent, posing as “Admirer”, SMSs to editors of major, highly influential papers, known politicians, people in culture, show-business, science, healthy living gurus, authorities on potted plants, teachers of the self-defense dance qualadora, as well as semi-virtual tango, an acquaintance who was also a philosopher, and a lady from a shop selling imported cheese sticks.
Just as he expected, the reaction was spontaneous, euphoric and unequivocally positive. With just one exception. A politician connected with the home service of his parliamentary section’s boss, with the mobile phone number 0-609-3459812, and known for his lack of sense of humor, did not take too well to a message from “Admirer” – “Wishes shovel best”. The inquiry was turned over to the Inquiry Board and the Board of Inquiries.
Ten months went by. In his new pad, upstairs (here it meant the 9th floor), Przeko?niak was trying on a new, titanium-kevlar threaded, quasi-black, self-adjusting suit. That night he was scheduled to accept the Award for the Site of the Year in a competition sponsored by “Przekobiz” (he didn’t have the patience to wait for “Inzapbiz”).
Number 67 on the list of the wealthiest Poles liked what he saw in the mirror. He practiced his smile and stride, checked if the paper with his acceptance speech was in his pocket, and smoothed down the mysterious tissue bulge on his belly. Thus pleased, he refilled his glass with the rest of the two-week ago opened Suwa?ki wine and glancing with admiration at his own imposing image, said:
“Cheers from afar throat through a bell”.
Exactly at the same time, black limousines from the Special Security Agency arrived in front of his house.
A Man Called Desk
Christopher Warm had a sedentary job. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs. In his company he was known as Office Desk, because when he was working he always sat behind his well-used piece of conference table standing in a hard to notice corner in the software specialists’ room. Christopher wasn’t a wide person, and so his piece of conference table didn’t have to be too big either, which also practically solved office space problems in the 0-1 Computer firm.
It was Warm’s secret that the majority of his time outside of the company, he also spent behind a desk. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs for the 0-1 Computer Associates company.
While the Man Called Office Desk (MCOD, or simply Cod in an alternative version) was writing an intuitive program for the management of empty office desk space in software companies, a thing that nobody had ever expected to happen happened.
Warm became fused with the chair.
The staff at 0-1 Computer were disappointed, they had expected Cod to fuse with a desk. It would have been much more entertaining to watch, you could have laughed at him a little, and the nickname, given to him by the programmers’ boss would have gotten a whole new meaning. And right now, there wasn’t even much to talk about during cigarette breaks.
Warm did not hide the fact he would have preferred to fuse with a mouse, or a mouse pad. Right now, all he could do was to pretend he totally ignored the fact he was physically stuck to a chair. And he was doing just fine until it was time to go to his second shift at 1-0 Computer Associates, where he had been working on a program for the management of empty space in staff lockers in telecommunications companies.
What Christopher felt first was a major stress on his spine. A stress much greater than a weak body of a prime programmer (pri-pro in short) could withstand. When he stood up, it caused nasty comments from his next-desk neighbor, who called the whole company, or rather, whoever was still left there in the evening, into the room to watch Cod’s exit.
Warm was completely used to such behavior and with his head raised high, as well as with certain effort, he left the office sideways, followed by his colleagues’ jokes.
“ ‘A Man called Chair’. Sounds much worse and I don’t think it’ll stick,” Warm thought with certain satisfaction as he approached his car.
Only then did he realize how one chair could complicate his life. On one hand, he wouldn’t have to ask for a place to sit anywhere anymore, because he always carried his own. That was particularly important at 0-1, where you always had to fight for a desk and a chair. But there was one small problem with 0-1, as well – how could you get there by car, especially when you’re already late? This was just too much for Warm to grasp all at once, and he eventually resorted to hiring a moving van.
He quickly got used to other people looking at him with suspicion, or simply making fun of him. It wasn’t that much different, or worse, from the experiences in his youth when his face was covered with acne. Slowly he learned to manage his mobility problem – he worked out a monthly rate with the moving company. The situation was much worse when it came to his love life. Julia, his girlfriend, was already unhappy that his computer programs were more important to him than a woman, and now she couldn’t stand how the chair’s presence in bed made them a threesome.
The third took too much space, was pressing into the mattress and creaked with every turn. She couldn’t imagine making love to a guy stuck to a chair, and especially making love that would result in making a baby.
Evenings with the three of them became more and more annoying, for her, for him and for the chair, which manifested its displeasure by loosening the telescopic lever for height adjustment. It reminded Julie of unpleasantly kinky bestiality, and after a few days and a few arguments, one evening after an exchange of angry looks, she left.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I won’t get stuck to it,” Julia remarked about the suitcase she was carrying.
Warm decided to do something about it, to solve this issue just like he always had solved problems of the inorganic computer matter. He got one idea and immediately started to work on it. Since it had started so promising, he finished a six-pack of beer and threw himself onto the bed to calmly think up new ideas. However, he forgot about the backrest and while he was making close contact with the blanket something popped in his spine.
He lay down for two days but didn’t improve.
“I can recommend physical therapy for your spine, but in your case, I don’t specialize in it, maybe you should ask at the hospital in Shpoolki,” an orthopedic specialist from the local health clinic said.
In Shpoolki, he talked with an orthopedic surgeon, a professor, supposedly the best in the country.
“Oh dear, of course something could be done, but I don’t have the time right now. And besides, it sure looks comfortable, you must admit, right? I wouldn’t do anything with it. Until it sticks, go out and enjoy life!” The professor said without even looking at the patient.
Eventually, Cod ended up with a private specialist of neutral medicine, who suggested him buttock tissue massage and antimaterialistic therapy, all preformed in his clinic, of course.
Warm rehabilitated himself for four months until one day, when he got up, he realized that his nemesis, like a scorn lover stayed in bed and even rolled over to the other side (or so it looked under the blankets).
He felt a pang of pity, and when he forgot he didn’t have anything to sit on, he felt down and broke his arm.
He continued to recuperate for another month.
During his chair recovery period, his duties were transferred to the programmers’ chief, the one who used to like to laugh at Cod. The chief had to work nights, because he wasn’t as skilled as his slight colleague from the far corner of the programmers’ room.
When Warm returned to work, everybody looked at him mysteriously. He went to his desk and saw his boss working on the computer. The boss didn’t even say hello. He didn’t look well either, as if he hadn’t left the place for quite a long time.
“What’s up with him?” Warm asked in the coffee room.
“Ah, nothing. Got stuck to the desk,” a receptionist quietly answered.
“It’s gonna happen to all of us, Chris,” his colleague from the programmers’ room added, a computer mouse stuck to his hand.
Mini-Anti-Aggressor
Like many other inventors before him, professor S?awomir Suwak designed only the things he needed himself. He had several patents on his conscience already: an automatic cork opener for wine in the indicative state, a portable set of board games for solving personality problems, a wallet with a mini-device for the duplications of 100 z?oty bills, and a piece of equipment “the day after” used to irretrievably eliminate from the time-space continuum days burdened with a hangover.
Now came the time for a mini-device preventing the development of symptoms of psycho-motor aggression.
The device was really simple. It weighed about a kilo and was the size of a bag of flour. It was to be worn on the right wrist. The fact it had to be the right wrist was very important. Otherwise, the invention didn’t work properly, or even worse, it produced results opposite to its intended effect.
Each day, its mini-containers had to be re-filled with substances promoting positive processes in the body leading to the return of good mood. There were three containers to re-fill, and the substances were not available on the local market and had to be imported using diplomatic channels from the USA. To operate the device, turning it on stand-by was enough. In that mode, it could be used continuously for one and a half hours. To recharge the batteries, you needed a charger, which was stored in a small suitcase. The device, when it was turned on, made a low murmur (or according to some - a loud growl) designed to keep the owner in a good mood.
Professor Suwak called his new baby “mini-anti-aggressor.”
The McPhilips corporation expressed its interest in the product early on, even when it was still at the drawing-board stage. The company partially financed the purchase of sub-assembly elements from its subsidiary specializing in the productions of components for technologically advanced products.
McPhilips also ordered the prototype of the device, which was to be formally presented for approval to the chief of its Europe, Africa and Israel division, who was known for being aggressive.
This was going to be a big day for Suwak. A Wednesday. The third Wednesday of the month. On days like that, at the end of the bio-weather cycle phi-alpha, the greatest number of people committed suicides and accidents of all kinds were at an all-time high. And it was exactly on such a day, as this carefully selected Wednesday (which blushed from this distinction), that the mini-anti-aggressor was going to make the biggest of impressions. Suwak was supposed to attend a press conference introducing this revolutionary invention and then meet with the McPhilips people to initial an agreement for the launch of the mini-anti-aggressor on the consumer market.
The press conference went just as the professor had dreamed it. At first, the journalists were somewhat irritated, but later, upon seeing Suwak’s phenomenally good mood, started to change their minds. During cocktails, several journalists tested the device and showed sincere, unadulterated enthusiasm. One decided to write three different articles (four columns each) for a modest contribution to cover the costs of a cousin’s son’s trip abroad.
The meeting at McPhilips went much worse. The businessmen were irritated and annoyed, and nothing could be done to improve their mood.
“Why is it so big?” One very important man asked.
“Yes, why exactly is it so big? And besides, the boss of the region died of a heart attack, and his replacement is a quiet, phlegmatic introvert. He won’t appreciate this,” another very important man added.
“Yes, the new one won’t need it. And if you bring us a device the size of a SIM card, then we can seriously talk about it.”
“Yes, then we can talk seriously. Good luck.”
“Yes, good luck and good bye.”
The professor did not explode with fury, because a large amount of substances imported through diplomatic channels from the USA entered his blood stream from three mini-containers located on his right wrist.
Before going into his apartment, Suwak turned the device off, even though the battery still had enough power for seven minutes of continuous use.
His wife greeted him cheerfully, but noticed that something was amiss. Suwak ate his dinner: the steak was too tough, and the pudding too runny. A new towel was hanging in the bathroom and a new bar of soap was sitting in the soap dish. On the newspaper rack, all the magazines were arranged chronologically with the most recent placed on top.
The professor was getting more and more angry. He ran to the closet.
“I got you now, you dumb shit,” he shouted infuriated pulling out a bundled pair of mismatched socks.
An argument of massive proportions, and not seen in the Suwaks home since the professor came back from the presentation of a portable set of board games for solving personality problems, took place.
In the morning, when his tired and still crying wife fell asleep in the locked bathroom, the exhausted professor sat down on the sofa, and said to himself:
“Now, that’s better.”
Part-Time Evening Elementary School
In September, a new and widely advertised school opened its doors in the capital city – the Part-time Evening Elementary School. You could read in its beautifully printed brochure that the school was designed to help all those “children of wealthy parents, who are too busy to learn during the day due to the time spent on the difficult task of maintaining our country’s high ranking in the very competitive field of computer games.”
In other words: when a parent wanted to have some peace and quiet, he or she would leave the kid at home in front of the computer with a bag of chips. When the kid had enough, which normally happened in the evening, he would go to school for about two hours.
The creator of PEES and its first principal was Krzycho Jedynak, a former junior high PE teacher in Potylica, a computer games fan and the winner of, as we could read in the beautifully printer brochure, “a local Amiga gaming championship”. Understanding exactly the needs of his future students, he planned to open classes of the following profiles: platform PSP (one group), platform PC (three groups), platform GB (one) and platform Mac (cancelled due to a lack of interest).
The school received an astonishing number of applications (four for each spot), which meant that many kids spent their days playing computer games and that many parents wanted time for themselves. To be accepted, young candidates had to demonstrate their social and psychological maturity and computer instincts, evaluated according to a patented method developed by Mr. Jedynak. The parents, on the other hand, had to pass an exam in using a joystick and provide a proof of income of at least 7000 z?oty per month for a young family member.
During the registration process was so competitive, it ended in violence. A disappointed father of a child who didn’t get in, shouted that only VIP brats had been accepted, for which he got hit in the face by editor Furtok, in private – a father of a kid who got in to group B2/platform PC.
The school was fully prepared to cater to its very discriminating students. Each room was outfitted with a leather sofa and three fold-out beds for students exhausted after a full day of hard work. The rooms were also equipped with the newest four-processor multi-media computers – two per student, to teach him divided attention in a modern battle field simulation. The lessons were 25 minutes long, any longer and the kids wouldn’t be able to withstand the constant stress. During PE, the exercises were designed to practice joystick skills and stretch the spine. English lessons were considered to be the most important and were held every day to allow for quick mastery of games not yet translated into Polish.
In the group A1/PSP, together with the home-room teacher it was decided that each lesson will begin with a humming of the soundtrack theme from the newest version of the “Soldiers of Call of Duty in the Blitzkrieg Return to Castle Wolfenstein” game.
Because the students were increasingly exhibiting symptoms of exhaustion and ADHD, Mr. Jedynak decided to open, sponsored by the companies where the kid’s parents worked, a fully equipped medical facility, along with a resuscitation unit, a repeated psychiatric intervention unit, and a unit for the prevention of premature sexual development.
The principal, during the meeting with the parents, had painted grand visions for the future – in two years he planned to open four more school in the city (one fully configured for gaming exclusively on Korean servers) and a school in every town where the computer user saturation level was above 23%.
In front of the entrance to the school, he planned a gigantic reconstruction of a battle field from level 3c of the cult game “Warriors of Battlefield 17” (map 4azurroknight. Pk3). And instead of a football field, which wasn’t necessary for spine stretching exercises anyway, there was going to be a replica of Omaha Beach for fans of the paintball version of “Closer Combat 4 – Ultimate Expulsion”.
Unfortunately, after three years the school was closed due to a lack of interest. The principal didn’t consider the rapid development of multi-player type games, where the users play with each other on the internet, mostly in the evening.
And some insiders even claimed that kids at PEES had surfed adult websites during classes.
Happiness in a Four-pack
A leading world corporation in the field of extremely rapidly degradable products, Hipsi Co. decided to introduce onto the Polish market a new, revolutionary product – ingestible energizing happiness, under the brand name Happi. Expecting a huge marketing success, the company also made a decision to simultaneously release it in all possible variations: as an energy bar, diet chips, effervescent tablets and a carbonated beverage. This last variant, as the main representative product, was to be sold in a four-pack.
Happiness Happi appeared on store shelves accompanied by the largest in history advertising campaign starring numerous Polish and foreign celebrities. For the first time, the TV stations reached the state when commercials were shown 24 hours a day. When changing channels, it as impossible not to stumble upon, for example, a two-minute ad starring the actress Gabriela Starsza?owska, who was convincing the viewers that it wasn’t nude film roles, but Happi beverages, that brought her real happiness.
It was a marketing hit. The Hipsi company riding on the wave of success decided to promote a couple of new versions: a magic tongue-coating powder and multi-flavor bullion cube. The general manager of Hipsi was immediately promoted to the position of the CEO for the regions of Central Europe and Afroasia.
After three months the sales fell rapidly – almost reaching zero in the month of M4+.
A series of consumer market studies was conducted. The main conclusion was: customers don’t want to be happy. They are much more effectively motivated by misfortune.
The Hipsi company decided to develop a new product, with a working name O’Sorry’Mio.
At the same time, a small firm from Ko?atkowo began selling regionally boxes of chocolates called “That’s Sad” in dark unsweetened chocolate, and “That’s Sad” – economy pack. This was nothing else than unhappiness packaged as multi-flavor chocolates produced locally from natural domestic ingredients.
After two months, the unhappiness from Ko?atkowo caught interest of several major hypermarket chains and the chocolates began to be produced under license. Their popularity surpassed the wildest expectations of the company’s owner from Ko?atkowo, who in a fit of happiness, threw himself off a bridge.
The sales grew even without any advertising.
Soon the “That’s Sad” chocolates became the most popular birthday, name day and holiday gift in Poland.
Childult
Benedykt Ossolinsky, age 39, began to grow childish.
On the first day of his midlife crisis, he stood in front of the mirror examining his receding hairline and wrinkles on his face. In that very moment, while staring at his reflection he found in his eyes that mad look he had last seen thirty years ago in a photograph taken at a tethered flying model competition. The photo was taken by Henryk the servant, when his little charge decided he wanted a red biplane model Curtiss Consolidated Skyhawk Cruisader 3A “Bingo Star”.
This new look was also noticed by his co-workers, who for the most part, considered him to be an infantile spoiled brat. It fit with their idea of a boss.
And Benedykt was indeed the boss, even though he himself couldn’t quite believe it. He was the head of a foundation for the self-promotion of the Ossolinsky family, well-known descendants of Polish-American aristocrats, engaged in business ventures there, and charity work here. The position was highly honorable and very prestigious.
Just as the employees didn’t like Benedykt, in equal measure Benedykt didn’t like his job. He considered it extremely stressful and felt it forced him to super-human sacrifices. Everything was arranged by the family as a penance for avoiding work. He had to go to the office at least three times a week for two full hours and entertain various smiling journalists, drink coffee with them and listen. He had to sign letters and open gifts from various companies hoping to win favors. And he had to play golf and attend social functions, movie premiers, shows and art exhibits. The family had only planned for three months of vacation time a year. Scandal! As a sign of protest he took to coming to the office wearing a t-shirt with the slogan “Attention, Baby!” on it.
All of these unfortunate circumstances resulted in Benedykt’s addiction to drugs, alcohol and sex.
“Luckily, one can be an addict in style,” he liked to repeat to himself as he inhaled another dose of funfetamine and washed it down with a Hot Benedictus cocktail.
To repeat after his father – Benedykt had everything and couldn’t appreciate it. And truly, the father was right, his son had already experienced everything, tried everything, and was interested in less and less. Not like when he was a child, when he was just discovering the world, and the parents let him do and have whatever he wanted. Including the red Curtiss biplane.
And that was exactly what Benedykt realized when he saw that wild look from thirty years ago.
The next day he noticed his skin was smoother, even though he didn’t apply his usual moisturizing cream the night before, because he was too preoccupied with getting addicted in a truly grand style.
“Listen, what happened to your wrinkle? You know, the one that kept me awake all night before the Charity Ball,” Ewelina asked, she was Benedykt’s new, eighteenth to date, fiancée and was crazy about looking good.
She was afraid that particular wrinkle on the face of her future husband will destroy the photo in the wedding announcement section of the newspaper, but fortunately, her parents arranged for photo-shopping at the editorial offices, so everything would turn out just fine.
“Not here and not coming back,” Benedykt answered mischievously realizing that he was absolutely convinced it was true.
“Ah, my Benedictino,” Ewelina the 18th fiancée said sweetly and looked at her man as if she fell in love with him all over again.
During the following days and weeks, Benedictino analyzed his look in the mirror and noticed more and more significant changes for the better. His hair returned to its college heyday, when he could use sugar paste to style himself a Mohawk, just like a certain punk band member, who always stood on the left and played on a brown guitar, which these days could be found in the basement of the Ossolinskys’ residence.
Thanks to the glorious return of the college hair, Ewelina was replaced by Marzena, the 19th Fiancée, who was only 20 years old, but the age difference was hardly visible and was still getting smaller. The only problem with Marzena was that she was tall and Benedictino was becoming shorter, thinner and his body proportions continued to change. He began to look like a teenager, and the family forbade him to go to work.
After a while Marzena left him, because next to him she felt old and fat. Which was OK with him really, as the majority of his time now was spent on playing computer games suitable for children aged 12 and up. In addition, his parents had to purchase the entire stock of a model plane shop for him, so Benedictino bambino could spent hours gluing models together with the help of old Henryk, who wasn’t really good at it at all – his hands were shaking too much. This became the subject of many pranks on the part of little Benny. Pranks, which drove the old servant to a nervous breakdown until the man decided to quit working for the Ossolinskys.
And little Benny went from model ships to model planes (but he didn’t want a red Curtiss this time), and finally to Blaster Blocks and Galactic Wars.
He also began to display interest in little girls. His parents, to avoid a scandal, locked baby Benny at the Noble Kozierobki estate, where he got to peep at his new nanny, Justyna, when she was in the shower.
His parents kept buying him smaller and smaller clothes and were happy – their own son fulfilled their great need for a grandson.
And Benny-bo at the age of 41 became the lovely adult baby just like in the photo taken at the flying model competition, and under the watchful eye of his parents, he was developing beautifully. He stopped riding his bike, stopped walking, stopped talking, and during auntie Helena’s name day party, he said for the last time: “Mama.”
After a while, he stopped crawling and sitting up. He became tiny, and his lovely skin was the envy of all ladies of documented aristocratic pedigree. Unfortunately, he also began to spit out his cream of wheat and throwing the spoon while being fed mashed celery, which should not happen to an adult man from a good family. This, as well as the fact that he peed during the night and had to wear disposable nappies, was a source of profound grief for his family.
“Ah, it’s not so bad. Grandpa Thaddeus had the same condition, and that was back in the days of cloth diapers,” Bennicito’s father tried to cheer himself up.
After a while, during an event for the Polish diaspora in America, little Benidicticino-baby-boo began to latch onto his mother’s breast, and that was simply appalling.
Maybe out of shame the infant began to curl up with his legs touching his chin. After a few weeks he fell out of even the smallest disposable diaper for newborns. A day after that, he disappeared, or rather ceased to be visible. He became an embryo. A little embryo of a grown man in the midst of his midlife crisis.
Micro-hockey
Out of boredom, two scientists from the New Contagious Diseases Research Centre devised themselves a new game. One day, as a result of the suspension of a research project dealing with a dynamically mutating vaccine following the pattern of the eyesocket flu bacillus, they had absolutely nothing to do until the end of the day, because the boss didn’t order them to wash test-tubes.
They decided to play a game of hockey under the microscope. For a puck they used one of the millions of experimental bacillus, and one-arm pincettes, which as it happened also resembled hockey sticks, served as sticks.
The bacillus was not happy with it at all. It wanted to rest after an exhausting task involving vaccine discouragement, and these whitecoats here planned to put it to work yet again. And this time the work was much more labor-intensive and even more exhausting than before, but the condition and health of the tired bacillus not as good as in the times of youth, about two hours ago.
The scientists got excited. On a microscope slide they etched a hockey rink with laser, agreed on the rules, connected the microscope’s camera to the big screen display and played until the morning. They had to change pucks several times, but that was fine, they had millions of them in stock.
The next day they didn’t have anything to do either and they continued to play. They even invited other colleagues and the popularity of the game was so huge they could afford to play it in a championship system. Soon, the games were joined by the guys from the car-repair garage next door. They were tough opponents and even tougher fans – they took from the lab and carried away with them several flasks and some equipment, as it turned out - to set up their own game station in pit number 5.
That was when Player Number One and Player Number Two saw in the game an additional source of modest income. They began to sell microscopes, and secretly, as a freebie, were including with each purchase a set of several million pucks.
Thanks to the internet, where you could watch the footage of the first qualifying matches of the World Microhockey Federation, the game was gaining enormous following in an impressively short time. The Federation authorities decided on several, crucial for the game’s rapid increase in popularity, decisions. The most important of which was the change in the shape of the puck from elongated to spherical, which allowed for a greater degree of control. After a long search, a new puck was proposed by the researchers from the university in Ghab-Akbad. It was an ideally spherical and unusually bouncy virus H4S19. Because this deadly virus dispersed through the easy-droplet-airborne method, special safety measures to prevent a massive epidemic had to be instituted, as well. The players, main and line referees, and the audience members in the first five rows had to wear surgical masks during the game, and each unsuitable or already used puck would be disposed in special bio-hazard waste containers commissioned by the Federation for specifically this purpose, and designed and produced by the Beoning company.
The choice of a new puck lead to an uncontrolled development of a “black league” – illegal games, where neither the players, nor the referees or the audience wore protective masks, and where the probability of infection in poorly-ventilated rooms varied between 0.75 and 0.79 to one.
On the internet, this “black hockey” was quickly named as the most extreme sport in history, and its popularity began to exceed that of standard “white hockey”.
The Federation reacted fast. For the upcoming world championships in microhockey, a super-vaccine was to be developed, which would be administered to all participants and audience members. Twenty three leading institutes all over the world, including the New Contagious Diseases Research Centre were busy working on the vaccine’s development. But FYI, the two famous scientists - creators of microhockey were not longer engaged in scientific research – they were simply too wealthy for that.
Voices of discontent were heard that the vaccine would lead to a dramatic fall in the popularity of the game. Hence the Federation members decided that the decision about the inoculation would belong to each participant individually, and each participant individually would be responsible for all resulting complications.
A great majority of people did take the shots, and the championships began in a truly great style – Jose Pelles from Brazil triumphed over Canadian Don Bronx. The games were held in massive hockey arenas, and fans sitting in the audience watched them on huge megatron screens, which single parts measuring 20 by 12 meters, made by the Beoning-Bell company were transported to the locations using stratospheric technology.
Until the second half, everything was going according to plan. During the game between Jose Pelles and Leonard Moktunowski a little incident took place involving Larry Dembovsky, a bio-hazard waste technician. Larry, while tossing a used puck into the container, yelled “Oh shit!” and fell down, lymphatic fluid began to flow out of his mouth, decationized blood gushed out of his ears, his eyeballs underwent rapid defragmentation, and thigh muscles began to reduce their volume at a visible to the naked eye speed.
“He wasn’t vaccinated,” an ER medic summed up, sneezed forcefully, and went back under the megatron to watch the second period, where in the midst of an excited crowd, he sneezed yet again and realized that something dripped accidentally from his mouth, not in the least his saliva.
An ethereal crowd of beautifully slight and delicate, measuring in nanometers, droplets was floating in the air. The droplets diffracted through them all twenty-seven hues of the rainbow, and this gorgeous spectacle would have inspired many a painter or a photoshop editor.
One of the more energetic droplets jumped through the right side of the nasal cavity and let the wind carry it all the way until the first row of the audience. At the very moment when Ms. Halinne Swider yelled out “yyyyyyeeeees!” the droplet lost its twentyseven hued tint and dived into the dark organic abyss of her mouth.
After nine minutes a voice was heard inside a capillary vessel:
“Excuse me, do we know each other?” The voice belonged to a red blood cell rather too busy with the taxes it owed the connective tissue.
“My predecessors were here. About seven months ago,” the microbe said timidly, and began, this time boldly to hug the blood cell and pound on it, with what must have been its head.
“Ah yes, I remember. But nothing had happened. Hahaha! Oh, wait, what are you doing? What they hell are you doing here? Let me go!”
“You know, a lot had changed since then. We were playing all sorts of sports, and you were not, so shut up and stop twitching,” the microbe’s tone of voice changed, it was lower and more resounding.
And no surprise, the bugger was already inside.
Fetus Replacement IQ Booster
At the Institute for the Development of Organic Motherhood, a new method of an IQ “intervention boost” was discovered, which could be used already during the gestation period. IQ boosting was achieved through a fetal replacement process where the embryos from two carefully selected mothers were to be switched from one to another. Such a drastic change in the external conditions, (especially in different habits of substance use and abuse by the carriers) was expected to have a very stimulating effect on young organisms and lead to the development in the moment of their birth of a prime basis for an IQ level higher by 50%.
Despite strong opposition from organizations dedicated to the protection of developmental sanctity of unborn children, from groups devoted to the protection of family traditions, and from task forces committed to the preservation of racial purity, the new method (license purchased by the pharmaceutical giant Robots Healthcare) began to gain tremendous popularity, especially since it was introduced onto the market in conjunction with an attractive credit plan, offered by HSBBC. For the treatment and all follow up care, one could pay in easy month-and-half installments spread over 25 to 45 years.
The number of performed procedures grew at a never-before seen pace, and a trend for an IQ higher than 180 lasted several years.
Children of the “fetus replacement” generation were popping out like bunnies in the spring.
They obtained skills, knowledge, awards, academic titles and scientific degrees. With honor and distinction they represented our country in the international arena (especially in the field of fractal genetic engineering) and were the pride and joy of the whole society. Then the demand suddenly decreased, and it wasn’t because of the actions of anti-fetus replacement organizations.
Parents realized there was no one left to take out the trash.