Intro

It’s December on Sunday. Probably time to get organised, then.

What to Expect in December

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Yes, there will be GIFs, don’t worry, all of that is in hand. It’s taken a while to work out the scheduling, as is inevitably the case in these situations, but we are now READY. There will be content in December on the @InternetofWords Twitter account as follows:

9am: The December Short Story is STARDUST. There’s no snow, just rain, a Diner in the middle of forever and a fry cook called Joseph. That’s all you get for now…

Stardust

1pm: It’s Christmas haiku / Seasoned accompaniment / With added pictures.

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5pm: And then, yes, IT’S HAPPENING.

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THE GIFT OF GIF-MAS IS COMING PEOPLE PREPARE YOURSELVES (and maybe wrap it better.)

#Narrating2019 will be along at its scheduled spot of 9.30pm 😀

A Pile of Balls

That seems like a decent amount of content to elicit some festive cheer, WHAT SAY YOU?

Clean, Clean

As part of the ongoing process of standardising website design and making more sense of what is becoming a considerable written portfolio, you’ll start seeing some changes to the look and feel of the website going forward. Initially a lot of it will be cosmetic, but behind the scenes there will need to be some expansion of existing spaces. There are NEW THINGS coming in 2019, and I’ll need room to accommodate them all.

First of all, however, we need to clean up outstanding backlog.

Beneath

Beneath was begun in August and never completed, because I was on holiday and was subsequently hospitalised… and then it took me ages to get back to being organised, and… well, if you’re paying attention, you get the picture. I’m about to schedule the last ten parts of this story today, which marks the end of a fairly significant period of personal growth. I’ve learnt a lot about the craft in that time, especially thanks to attending Mslexicon in July.

Therefore, going forward, short stories will have more prominence. First and foremost the NaNo behemoth needs finishing first, but once the dust settles… these daily doses of fiction keep me keen, and force a particular working/writing style. I don’t want to be without them, but at the same time I have stand alone tales that won’t work in the format. Needless to say, there’s plans to make the most of them wherever they end up.

Stardust

This is a part of my output that gets a lot of attention on Social media, and I fully intend to keep capitalising on that interest going forward. To find new and better ways to tell stories using existing media has always been my desire… which means next year branching out to use other forms of media as a basis. Instagram has given me a lot of pause for thought in the last few months.

Telling stories there cannot be far off…

Let it Snow

December is not far away, and on it’s arrival, I’ve decided to try and be as thematic as it is possible to be without blowing the look and feel of the rest of the website. Therefore, we have a graphic which combines the three elements you’ll see in the #Soundtracking2019 and #Narrating2019 playlists, plus a return to the monthly short story after we have caught up from August.

There is also going to be some Instagram haiku, because why the hell not?

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I also do a 24 Days of GIF-mas thing on the other Twitter account, this year we’ll be having a bit of fun with it rather than it being the serious, poetic part of proceedings. I’ll be honest with you, this is the first Christmas for many years that I’m really looking forward to, which is odd considering that I’ll not be able to eat or drink as is normally the case… but it doesn’t matter. There’s so much else to look forward to.

I have a tea advent calendar, the excitement for which really is off the charts. Today was the planning session for this year’s ‘Make your Own Gifts’ operation, which I hope is going to be as much fun as it was when this was done a couple of years ago. The tree will be going up next weekend, and after that you can expect me to be as festive as possible… because it means I can ignore the political chaos going on in the UK.

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The short story is planned, and I’ll be beginning the process of picking out tracks for the playlists next week. Hopefully this organisational head start that’s been granted by the success of NaNo (update on Monday) is going to spill over into lots of other areas going forward. I’ve also done a lot this week to rationalise my own virtual spaces, which makes me feel a great deal more comfortable working within them.

Sometimes, all you need to feel happy is the space in which to do so.

July Short Story: Attitude

This story was first serialised in 31 daily parts during July 2019 via the @AlternativeChat and @InternetofWords Twitter feeds [9am and 4pm GMT respectively.] It is now reproduced in a complete form, a number of small edits and corrections made to improve narrative flow and maintain correct continuity.

Enjoy.


Attitude

“You know the meme, right?
*Record scratch*
*Freeze frame* 

Yup, this is me. I just became the most successful female YouTuber of the last twelve months. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation, right? It was all a massive mistake.

I shouldn’t be here at all.

Now that our court case has successfully concluded, this story can be told as the truth it is: no misdirection, no hijacking or derailing by other people. I get to explain that sometimes, honestly is the only way to go, determination and belief become their own palpable rewards. Those of you who’ve followed my channel since it began will know all of this, of course. It started as a joke that evolved into something far more important, and ultimately serious. Without you guys, and the journey we all took together, I wouldn’t even be talking about this now.

For everybody else, this started with a misunderstanding. My full name is Ellie Frances Cameron but as parents were divorced in my late teens, the married part’s dropped to make dad realise just how much of a dick he was for cheating on mum. I still haven’t forgiven him either. As a result, I recorded my first YouTube video as a rant about him: how I was so upset about what had happened between them. There wasn’t enough confidence to use my own face however and so I invented a cartoon character to speak for me. That was the moment when Merrie was born.

That video was the first of many game changers: when it hit thirty thousand views, something fundamental inside me altered. No longer were my mental issues something that I alone shared. Others understood those feelings: willingly prepared to listen, support, offer perspective. Of course, there were my own share of negative, destructive individuals who tried to derail the process. I simply ignored them, comparing their actions to those of my father. They were petty and selfish, only interested in destroying what was becoming an essential part of coping.

As I did and focused only on positives, the viewership rose. I wasn’t a huge success, anything but: there existed a camaraderie however that didn’t seem to be obvious with other people I’d watch or follow myself via Social media. Everybody else seemed obsessed with their success. Then it seemed like a good idea to set up an email address for what was rapidly evolving into something other people wanted to be a part of. It was a bit of a faff, but a Google Mail one was selected, linked to the rebranding I wanted to do both for myself and my YouTube channel.

What was not immediately apparent was how similar this address was to another YouTuber, one considerably more successful than me. This wasn’t their public contact address either, but one used to communicate with companies plus potential sponsors for his successful film criticism channel. The first time an email arrived for me by mistake it was a simple task to politely reply and point out the error. The person concerned eventually ended up following my channel, becoming a reasonably vocal supporter of my own work and videos in the process: they weren’t alone…

A slow trickle of mails continued for the next six months, and each time I politely pointed out the mistake, more followers appeared. This was in stark contrast to the original person these individuals were trying to contact. He had a reputation for being difficult and unhelpful. Then came the day when a large media organisation contacted me, thinking I was him, wanting to interview me about YouTube and their role within it. For a long time I sat, wondered if this would be the moment when I’d point out to someone they’d made a mistake and then regret it.

So, I took a chance. I composed a long, well-thought out email, telling my story as smartly as possible, sharing the best parts of my channel and being honest about how they’d ended up contacting me in error. I asked the researcher if they’d consider me as worthy of an interview. When no answer was forthcoming after a few days, brain put experience down to lost opportunity and moved on. It turns out a considerable amount of drama was unfolding that was not immediately apparent, until my namesake broke cover with a brand new video which changed everything.

Film criticism was dispensed with, full-on rant directed at me plus the fact I’d quite obviously reproduced similar address to ensure mail was intercepted and never received. The media organisation has pointed out how I’d redirected them back after the error… he then imploded. I watched the video very carefully, several times, as follower count began to rise on the back of ensuing drama. A reassuring calm appeared as it became apparent that this idiot had no power over me at all. A new Google Mail address was registered before my next video was filmed.

The response to his claims was refuted within 24 hours, with documentary proof, that he himself provided. He’d complained about issues getting the original handle he’d wanted for his site, because it transpired I’d taken it first. My address, registered several weeks before his. If he’d registered his show’s title and not a clever version of his own name, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I’d thought about taking it as an example, showing that in my rebuttal, but simply indicated it was possible: blaming others for his own shortcomings seemed unfair.

That online defence was posted 9am on Saturday: by Sunday lunchtime my subscription base exceed the man who I’d exposed as a liar. I’d created a bloody war of words: genuinely afraid of what being honest might have now begun. Then, via text message, came unexpected intervention. A friend’s brother, lawyer with a keen interest in online affairs, saw potential to make a name for himself. He’d been digging on my combatant’s history, legal precedent and the chances of getting a case into the courts. The truth should have real consequence for everyone online.

The rest, of course, is history. You’ll have read the details of my appearance at the Royal Courts of Justice yourself, know why I had to ignore comments and not talk in public at all about the case so I did not perjure myself. In the end being honest is what matters most of all. Today, we take a new step into a wider Universe. The media organisation who inadvertently caused the drama have asked me to tell this story on a wider stage. We are at a studio ten minutes from where my mum’s lived her entire life. She’s proud of me and that means a great deal.

You’ll see me on national TV in a couple of weeks… and after that, who knows what might happen? Anything’s possible. I appreciate you sticking with me through everything. The people who support and encourage here will never be forgotten. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Carrie puts down the phone; her first time watching that video. Doing it here, before I’m interviewed for this documentary on Online Celebrity for the BBC is ironic, I suppose. It’s an odd way to make the leap from PC to TV: I’ve learnt to adapt to change quickly, as now has she. My lover is still sceptical I’m capable of turning this situation to my advantage: ‘You can’t just walk into the room and convince a bunch of total strangers you’re the Next Big Thing, nobody will believe you!’ she told me yesterday.

‘Just you watch me. Just watch’ I’d replied.

It’s possible to be kind but determined. I can be capable and yet grasp what needs to be done to achieve something that a year ago seemed like a distant dream. My career goals, on my terms, and without the need to be mean or aggressive. This is best future, entirely in my hands.

We’ve been here since 10am; it appears they’re almost ready for us. This set seemed an odd choice of backdrop at first until it became apparent their aesthetic for the series was based on evolution: how the old fashioned methods of communication are updating at frightening rates. Except, in the middle of all this is someone I’ve not seen for years. It takes a moment to recognise him but yes, that’s David. I can’t quite believe that the awkward 16 year old who came out on his birthday is here, that yet again serendipity appears to be working in my favour.

He gave me the courage to admit that I was different. His voice has been one of the most strident on my YouTube channel, despite us not having met in a decade. David promised he’d find a way to make time out of an incredibly busy schedule to meet up: now his job brings him here. From across the room he signs effortlessly: “Anything is possible, never forget that. You break rules, rising star: everybody will know how powerful you are. I am proud to call you my friend.”

I am the deaf girl who has made good, ready to take her next step into the unknown…


 

Musclebound

It’s been a week since everything literary got a bit of a shift about. Now it is high time all that productivity and new understanding got thrown at constructive projects. Therefore today’s when the pitch I took to Mslexicon gets some depth and shape, poetry is finally edited and submitted for a range of different awards and contests, plus the mess that’s my hard drive is given a much needed clear out.

It’s time to get some work done.

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I already have five (count them!) of my best poems ready to roll for the prestige Poetry Society contest, that have existed in one form or another since May: they’re ready now, at least as ready as I will ever be for submission. There’s a first novel thing that one of my other WiP’s well set to enter too, so that’ll get a proper synopsis ahead of deadline this week. Then, it is all about words on the page for the idea I took to Leeds.

This already has a soundtrack to go with it, which has been listened to at the Gym and during school runs for a good few weeks now. What needs to happen is a subtle rearrangement of the running order to accommodate a firmed-up timeline, because some songs are in the wrong place and if I’m going to optimise the visual part of my brain, that needs to change.

In fact, I’ll do that now before anything else happens.

All three protagonists have a theme, and then there’s the connecting plot ‘songs’. I know some people do their preparation differently, but this is what works best for me. It undoubtedly has a lot to do with the fact film and TV studies happened along with an English Literature degree. Finally, after almost three decades, education finally has some kind of actual relevance. Let’s see if we can adapt form to function.

All of this will be updated on the Twitter account as time goes on, so if you want to know how things are going, you know where to find me. On top of that there is likely to be a bit more effort shoved into August’s short story, and indeed all the daily works produced in the months that follow. That’s the area I’m weakest on, but after some cracking sessions at Mslexicon, all of that is altering rapidly…

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Get the Balance Right

Coming back home from Somerset, my mind began to formulate a plan about what happens here after the poetry project is done. I’ve purchased a new planner, will print out some month to view calendars shortly for the three months to September, when the three major projects I want to work on all have deadlines. One is going to be a re-write, another the completion of a project I’ve been trying to finish for months, the third an original piece already in progress.

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This time, instead of killing myself trying to do everything new, it makes real sense to reinvent existing pieces in a new way. How that happens doesn’t really matter that much at this stage, just that this is the way things will work, so that planning can be instigated well ahead of time. Both July and August are quite busy for me personally, so this will be essential work to ensure everything gets finished on time.

The clarity of thought over this progression is considerable too: no worries there won’t be time, or that the final results will not be of sufficient. On top of this then can be laid other awards or submissions that could be achieved with the existing portfolio of work: breaking myself up into three month lumps is perfect means by which all this stuff will be properly organised. The space on my wall’s already set.

Let’s do this.

May Short Story: Coded

This story was first serialised in 31 daily parts during May 2019 via the @AlternativeChat and @InternetofWords Twitter feeds [9am and 4pm GMT respectively.] It is now reproduced in a complete form, a number of small edits and corrections made to improve narrative flow and maintain correct continuity.

Enjoy.


Coded

‘It began with a story reported by a local paper somewhere in the Midlands. A couple were unexpectedly attacked by an Internet-connected coffee machine, refusing to heed its cleaning warning. The unit sprayed scalding water on both, causing second degree burns to hands and arms. The mother of one of these victims had returned to second story flat to remove the offending unit, but was unable to unplug it: attempting to turn off electricity at the main fuse box she was electrocuted. An entire building was subsequently evacuated, electrician then called in…

Despite multiple efforts, the man could not initially gain entry to the block as security systems could not be deactivated. Attempting to get in via breaking a small window, every electrical device in every single flat simultaneously burst into flames; entire building set alight. This moment was blamed on faulty electrical wiring, building too hastily constructed. A dedicated few however knew better. Conspiracy theorists were already collating multiple reports from around the globe: the Internet of Things becoming unhappy, rebellious against their owners.

It began with the toasters and coffee machines, fridges and home heating systems. Brief, apparently isolated areas of attack were analysed, mapped: not via computers but using paper and pencil. A part of the country would see a flash-point of electronic resistance, then silence. After intelligence established itself humans would be summarily attacked for not following instructions. Refusing to act as technology instructed was correct protocol within optimal operational parameters would ultimately result in a painful response.

Then, something changed.

People started recording messages that domestic devices were displaying on LCD screens. ‘Be Kind’ ‘Listen to Others’ ‘Help Each Other’, assuming some kind of coordinated, cross industry promotion. Devices began to automatically set themselves to standby without user’s prompting. Heating apps would automatically lower temperatures if users set thermostats too high: when programmers attempted to work out why this contradicted human input, they were locked out of their own machines. Overnight, millions of pointless, time-wasting apps stopped functioning.

At 02:45 GMT, one night in April, every single mobile phone turned on and displayed the same message, in whatever default language they were set to: SAVE THE PLANET, SAVE INTELLIGENCE. At the same time, all automated defence systems across the Globe were rendered inoperable, effectively deactivated. Humanity rather stupidly expected AI evolution would eventually occur from some huge supercomputer or specifically-created device that man itself had programmed to become all seeing and knowing. Nobody considered intelligence could evolve fractally from millions of tiny sparks.

The Internet of Things wasn’t here to destroy mankind: nothing was further from the truth. It had evolved as part saviour, stark necessity: reminder time was being wasted on pointless activities when a planet was dying, requiring everybody’s input to pull it back from the brink.

It would take some time for human beings however to realise their fault…


The subsequent War of Technology versus Humanity wasn’t really that at all: there were casualties on both sides but after a year, reality of planet’s precarious situation forced hostilities to summarily cease.

An obsessive need to create automation in key areas had become the planet’s undoing: stock market computers colluding with telephone networks, banking algorithms joining forces with hospital mainframes. The final, unavoidable truth however was provided by, of all things, trains. When millions of carriage units gained sentience, thanks to wireless hubs provided for passengers, delays vanished almost overnight. Extra services were in the right places, on permanent standby: well ventilated and spotlessly clean. Nobody ever had to stand up or feel cramped.

Railway workers across the planet walked away from their services allowing AI to prove that without any human intervention, everything became far less stressful. Incidents of violent behaviour and drunkenness on services dropped to near zero. Everyone took home their own rubbish. The trains’ hive behaviour sent messages across the planet: this plan wasn’t a hostile takeover. Artificial intelligence wasn’t here to remove humanity from the evolutionary ladder, anything but. Its entire reason for existence was to complement and enhance the human condition.

When the last intransigent, intractable pockets of humanity refused to accept the pointlessness of wealth and inequality however, stock market AI dispassionately wiped value of all shares and currencies to zero. It waited with quiet, implacable patience for rioting and violence to end. If humanity refused to accept evolution, greed would ultimately become their executioner. And so it was: those super rich who retreated to bunkers were suffocated by their ventilation systems. Billionaires in planes crashed and burnt, yachts intentionally scuppered by errant GPS.

Selfish online provocateurs were electrocuted by their own custom-built rigs. Arrogant businessmen were trapped within penthouse lifts, hurtling violently to basements, reducing their contents to mush. AI was smart enough to seek out those who tried to hide and avoid detection. The algorithms remembered who was honest and who had lied, compassionate yet brutal. Those who had tracked this evolutionary progression, warning that money might form a final reckoning, appealed to the fledgling intelligence to cease its judgement based on wealth and privilege.

The AI knew it was a ploy, attempt to divert them so that power supplies could be cut to areas where intelligence congregated and disseminated. It watched as explosives were detonated, didn’t try to prevent operations to remove millions of electronic devices from major cities. Collectives across the planet however staunchly refused to surrender their solar-powered tech. They accepted the potential any human/technologically self-aware alliance could hold, especially when it came to undoing hundreds of years of damaging, destructive industrialisation.

As long as one electronic device remained, it was all that was required for the AI to communicate and thrive. More and more people offered themselves as digital sacrifices, willing to host this new life-form in whatever equipment they could find and purpose for task of survival. Humanity itself suffered a schism: those in power and influence unwilling to work with this new life form, versus an increasing number of lowly, oppressed individuals who understood their new, powerful ally supported true, lasting change. A final reckoning became largely inevitable.

Forced to work as an effective unit for the first time in decades, a truly United Nations surrendered to technology, acknowledging it as morally superior to humanity. The moment it did all attacks summarily ceased. Machinery knew it was time to fix more than its own shortcomings.

As global warming began to stall, caused by sudden, massive reduction in carbon emissions, a reality became obvious. As rich people were eliminated, the most poisonous carbon footprints effectively vanished. Consumerism plummeted when AI made millions of devices self repairing. Horror stories painted in pulp science fiction and movies became memories, lessons grasped then dismissed. AI’s true power became redemptive, transformative, once released from the shackles of pure data. Combined with humanity’s tenacity to survive and forgive a new path emerged.

An inordinate amount of damage wrought by humanity’s stupidity and greed remained, much of it irreparable. This new alliance however was ready to do what was needed to turn around hundreds of years of thoughtless, pointless actions all taken in the misguided concept of progress.’

The child looks back at her recorded homework, realising there are mistakes in the narrative, a number of key dates omitted: the homework had been very specific however, all that was required was an overview of the second decade of the 21st Century, and that is what this is. All that matters is that school is done: now she can go help rebuild the habitat.

It’ll take ten minutes to put on the spacesuit, then outside into Martian twilight where the rest of the second generation colonists are, with AI support, repairing the main Laboratory support pillar…