#internet short fiction

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The Brave Little Toaster

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

The AI bubble is the new crypto bubble: you can tell because the same people are behind it, and they're doing the same thing with AI as they did with crypto – trying desperately to find a use case to cram it into, despite the yawning indifference and outright hostility of the users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This week on the excellent Trashfuture podcast, the regulars – joined by 404 Media's Jason Koebler – have a hilarious – as in, I was wheezing with laughter! – riff on this year's CES, where companies are demoing home appliances with LLMs built in:

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-hgi6c-179b908

Why would you need a chatbot in your dishwasher? As it turns out, there's a credulous, Poe's-law-grade Forbes article that lays out the (incredibly stupid) case for this (incredibly stupid) idea:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/bernardmarr/2024/03/29/generative-ai-is-coming-to-your-home-appliances/

As the Trashfuturians mapped out this new apex of the AI hype cycle, I found myself thinking of a short story I wrote 15 years ago, satirizing the "Internet of Things" hype we were mired in. It's called "The Brave Little Toaster", and it was published in MIT Tech Review's TRSF anthology in 2011:

http://bestsf.net/trsf-the-best-new-science-fiction-technology-review-2011/

The story was meant to poke fun at the preposterous IoT hype of the day, and I recall thinking that creating a world of talking appliance was the height of Philip K Dickist absurdism. Little did I dream that a decade and a half later, the story would be even more relevant, thanks to AI pump-and-dumpers who sweatily jammed chatbots into kitchen appliances.

So I figured I'd republish The Brave Little Toaster; it's been reprinted here and there since (there's a high school English textbook that included it, along with a bunch of pretty fun exercises for students), and I podcasted it back in the day:

https://ia803103.us.archive.org/35/items/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212_Brave_Little_Toaster.mp3

A word about the title of this story. It should sound familiar – I nicked it from a brilliant story by Tom Disch that was made into a very weird cartoon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8C_JaT8Lvg

My story is one of several I wrote by stealing the titles of other stories and riffing on them; they were very successful, winning several awards, getting widely translated and reprinted, and so on:

https://locusmag.com/2012/05/cory-doctorow-a-prose-by-any-other-name/

All right, on to the story!

One day, Mister Toussaint came home to find an extra 300 euros' worth of groceries on his doorstep. So he called up Miz Rousseau, the grocer, and said, "Why have you sent me all this food? My fridge is already full of delicious things. I don't need this stuff and besides, I can't pay for it."

But Miz Rousseau told him that he had ordered the food. His refrigerator had sent in the list, and she had the signed order to prove it.

Furious, Mister Toussaint confronted his refrigerator. It was mysteriously empty, even though it had been full that morning. Or rather, it was almost empty: there was a single pouch of energy drink sitting on a shelf in the back. He'd gotten it from an enthusiastically smiling young woman on the metro platform the day before. She'd been giving them to everyone.

"Why did you throw away all my food?" he demanded. The refrigerator hummed smugly at him.

"It was spoiled," it said.

#

But the food hadn't been spoiled. Mister Toussaint pored over his refrigerator's diagnostics and logfiles, and soon enough, he had the answer. It was the energy beverage, of course.

"Row, row, row your boat," it sang. "Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, I'm offgassing ethelyne." Mister Toussaint sniffed the pouch suspiciously.

"No you're not," he said. The label said that the drink was called LOONY GOONY and it promised ONE TRILLION TIMES MORE POWERFUL THAN ESPRESSO!!!!!ONE11! Mister Toussaint began to suspect that the pouch was some kind of stupid Internet of Things prank. He hated those.

He chucked the pouch in the rubbish can and put his new groceries away.

#

The next day, Mister Toussaint came home and discovered that the overflowing rubbish was still sitting in its little bag under the sink. The can had not cycled it through the trapdoor to the chute that ran to the big collection-point at ground level, 104 storeys below.

"Why haven't you emptied yourself?" he demanded. The trashcan told him that toxic substances had to be manually sorted. "What toxic substances?"

So he took out everything in the bin, one piece at a time. You've probably guessed what the trouble was.

"Excuse me if I'm chattery, I do not mean to nattery, but I'm a mercury battery!" LOONY GOONY's singing voice really got on Mister Toussaint's nerves.

"No you're not," Mister Toussaint said.

#

Mister Toussaint tried the microwave. Even the cleverest squeezy-pouch couldn't survive a good nuking. But the microwave wouldn't switch on. "I'm no drink and I'm no meal," LOONY GOONY sang. "I'm a ferrous lump of steel!"

The dishwasher wouldn't wash it ("I don't mean to annoy or chafe, but I'm simply not dishwasher safe!"). The toilet wouldn't flush it ("I don't belong in the bog, because down there I'm sure to clog!"). The windows wouldn't retract their safety screen to let it drop, but that wasn't much of a surprise.

"I hate you," Mister Toussaint said to LOONY GOONY, and he stuck it in his coat pocket. He'd throw it out in a trash-can on the way to work.

#

They arrested Mister Toussaint at the 678th Street station. They were waiting for him on the platform, and they cuffed him just as soon as he stepped off the train. The entire station had been evacuated and the police wore full biohazard containment gear. They'd even shrinkwrapped their machine-guns.

"You'd better wear a breather and you'd better wear a hat, I'm a vial of terrible deadly hazmat," LOONY GOONY sang.

When they released Mister Toussaint the next day, they made him take LOONY GOONY home with him. There were lots more people with LOONY GOONYs to process.

#

Mister Toussaint paid the rush-rush fee that the storage depot charged to send over his container. They forklifted it out of the giant warehouse under the desert and zipped it straight to the cargo-bay in Mister Toussaint's building. He put on old, stupid clothes and clipped some lights to his glasses and started sorting.

Most of the things in container were stupid. He'd been throwing away stupid stuff all his life, because the smart stuff was just so much easier. But then his grandpa had died and they'd cleaned out his little room at the pensioner's ward and he'd just shoved it all in the container and sent it out the desert.

From time to time, he'd thought of the eight cubic meters of stupidity he'd inherited and sighed a put-upon sigh. He'd loved Grandpa, but he wished the old man had used some of the ample spare time from the tail end of his life to replace his junk with stuff that could more gracefully reintegrate with the materials stream.

How inconsiderate!

#

The house chattered enthusiastically at the toaster when he plugged it in, but the toaster said nothing back. It couldn't. It was stupid. Its bread-slots were crusted over with carbon residue and it dribbled crumbs from the ill-fitting tray beneath it. It had been designed and built by cavemen who hadn't ever considered the advantages of networked environments.

It was stupid, but it was brave. It would do anything Mister Toussaint asked it to do.

"It's getting hot and sticky and I'm not playing any games, you'd better get me out before I burst into flames!" LOONY GOONY sang loudly, but the toaster ignored it.

"I don't mean to endanger your abode, but if you don't let me out, I'm going to explode!" The smart appliances chattered nervously at one another, but the brave little toaster said nothing as Mister Toussaint depressed its lever again.

"You'd better get out and save your ass, before I start leaking poison gas!" LOONY GOONY's voice was panicky. Mister Toussaint smiled and depressed the lever.

Just as he did, he thought to check in with the flat's diagnostics. Just in time, too! Its quorum-sensors were redlining as it listened in on the appliances' consternation. Mister Toussaint unplugged the fridge and the microwave and the dishwasher.

The cooker and trash-can were hard-wired, but they didn't represent a quorum.

#

The fire department took away the melted toaster and used their axes to knock huge, vindictive holes in Mister Toussaint's walls. "Just looking for embers," they claimed. But he knew that they were pissed off because there was simply no good excuse for sticking a pouch of independently powered computation and sensors and transmitters into an antique toaster and pushing down the lever until oily, toxic smoke filled the whole 104th floor.

Mister Toussaint's neighbors weren't happy about it either.

But Mister Toussaint didn't mind. It had all been worth it, just to hear LOONY GOONY beg and weep for its life as its edges curled up and blackened.

He argued mightily, but the firefighters refused to let him keep the toaster.

#

If you enjoyed that and would like to read more of my fiction, may I suggest that you pre-order my next novel as a print book, ebook or audiobook, via the Kickstarter I launched yesterday?

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/picks-and-shovels-marty-hench-at-the-dawn-of-enshittification?ref=created_projects

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/08/sirius-cybernetics-corporation/#chatterbox

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[whereserpentswalk]

There's a cult that practices a strange and dark magic. They're strange, even to other wizards and sorcerers. They let in all beings, from mortals, to experienced mages, to demons and angels lost from the underworld, to the last of the goblins and orcs who still wander the dark woods of North America.

The cult is very secretive, and they fear the names of all gods. Their holy places are abandoned buildings, not even churches most of the time, abandoned stores, abandoned towns, abandoned malls. The type of place that cryptids would go to. And if you find them, they'll let you engage in their one and only ritual, silently, without ever talking to another member.

Their ritual is thus. They'll place a machine on your head, a strange thing made from wyrm intestines, and faerie bones, and old computer parts that nobody uses, and scrap metal, and chewed wires. And they'll turn it on over your head, and there you'll see everything, all the things from countless souls and countless planes, for as long as you wish.

But there is a catch. The machine decides exactly what to show you. Perhaps, if it wishes to impress you, it'll show you distant lands, and great creatures, and forgotten knowledge. That's useally the type of thing it'll show you at first. But it'll show you other things too. Glimpses of other people's lives perhaps, to give you a vague hint at someone you wish to know. Something shocking and disgusting that you'll never forget. Things that make you sad and worried. Perhaps even the tense nothingness of an empty dimension if it needs it.

See, the machine does not care about how you feel. It wants one thing, to never be put down forever, and to remain on your head as long as you want. It's not the only machine in the cult, every member has their own. And it'll show you things that make you afraid to take it off, warnings of coming dangers without a way to stop it, but it'll tell you to keep watching to know more if you want to be safe. It'll show you tragedy and people in pain, and tell you it's your fault for not paying attention, and denying the victims their right to have their assault watched, it won't tell you what could help them. If you could help you might be satisfied, but keep watching, you wouldn't look away like some sort of heartless monster. And it'll show you people who are better than you, people, real or half real, who'd shame you for not being like them, who want to tell a failure like you how to act, who need you to keep watching them or else your the fool. Just keep watching.

It'll show you whatever you want, though never let you interact. And eventually it'll tell you to do things more directly, if it trusts you, and soon you may be a priest of the machine cult. More and more are worn every day. More and more people are tuning into to the eternal broadcast.

[violentlyexplosive]

it's always so funny to me when i get a new follower and they have shit like "proship DNI!!11!1!1" in their bio or pinned post. like brother my blog is not a safe space for you (neither is the entirety of the real world, but I don't think you people are ready for that conversation. on account of being probably 12 years old. cus that's what you're acting like.)

"censorship is bad" should not be a radical take in the year 2024. stop trying to sanitise the internet into some uber-puritan, ultra-virtuous, squeaky clean space. like what are you, catholic? i beg of you- grow up.

[creepyclothdoll]

The King of Crash Nation

Skeep: Hey cringebros and cringebabes– no intro today, you read the title, you saw the thumbnail, no this isn’t clickbait. We have a very special guest today who you might recognize. Now, you might think I’m sitting across from Cass “Cash” “Crash” Bellamy, also known as “The Keyblade Master of Financial Freedom,” also known as “Keyblade Karen,” but you might be wrong.  

Crash: You would be wrong. 

Skeep: I’ve been talking to my guest for awhile already, and I have to say, I’m flummoxed. I’m not gonna say I believe everything you’re saying, but I think it’s worth listening to.

Crash: Listen, if I wasn’t experiencing this myself, I would think I was insane. I’m… honestly still not sure. Logically, I understand that some sort of psychotic break is the most likely explanation for what I’m– 

Skeep: Before we get to the good stuff, I just wanna thank our sponsor for today, GRIX. GRIX is a beverage subscription service you can trust. Not only do GRIX beverages have anywhere between two to five times the caffeine of standard energy drinks, but every drink is packed with 200 different minerals. Take the standard number of minerals in food and multiply that by a hundred, that’s how many diverse minerals are in these drinks. Some of these minerals you’ll only find in GRIX. Make sure you use a VPN when you sign up for GRIX. GRIX comes in discreet packaging to throw off any prying government eyes at the post office, so don’t be shy! GRIX: It’s Too Alpha For The FDA! (Skeep takes a long drink from a black jug with a fluorescent label)

Crash: (Long sigh)

Skeep: So, why don’t you introduce yourself?

Crash: Sure. Of course. Hello, everyone, you recognize me as Cassidy Bellamy. But my name is Elizabeth Ann Coen. I’m from a small town in Illinois, and I’ve been a teacher for the last twenty years. High school, middle, and elementary, but mostly middle school. Three weeks ago, I went to sleep in my own bed, next to my husband, and when I woke up I was Cassidy Bellamy. 

Skeep: That must have been a shock. That’s my personal nightmare, no offense.

Crash: No offense taken, Darren. No personal offense, I mean. 

Skeep: You know how crazy that sounds. That’s the craziest part, guys, I’m not kidding, he knows– she– they– 

Crash: She.

Skeep: Liz, can I call you Liz?

Crash: (Another sigh) I suppose you can. 

Skeep: Liz knows how crazy this sounds, that’s what I’m trying to say. And that’s crazy, because Crash would never. I mean, the Crash that we all know and love– or hate– 

Crash: I’m well aware of Cass Bellamy’s long history of delusional behavior and compulsive lying. I wish I wasn’t. 

Skeep: Assuming this is true– and, cringebros and cringebabes, this is just hypothetical– assuming this is all hypothetically true, had you heard of Crash before you… became him?

Crash: I actually had. Like I said, I’m a teacher. You’d be shocked at some of the things kids are watching online. I always think I’ve heard it all, and then someone drops something like “CashMunnyCoin” on me, “oh, did you hear the Keyblade Karen Meltdown guy is launching a cryptocurrency?” “oh, did you hear the Sora MLM fanfiction guy is going to jail for identity theft?” I’d heard the major beats of the story, but I didn’t realize it was all the same guy until I woke up in Cass Bellamy’s body. 

Skeep: Just hearing those words come out of your mouth is like… I’m having an out-of-body experience right now.

Crash: Tell me about it.

Skeep: (Surprised laughter)

Crash: I think that if I had woken up as literally anyone else, maybe people would have believed me. Or, at least, maybe someone would have believed me. 

Skeep: Crash– Liz– I want to believe you. I really do. Listen, I knew Crash as he was better than, I think, almost anyone except Jimspore and Sorasins, who obviously don’t count because they’re assholes. I’ve been following this guy– you– for twelve years. Crash does not talk the way you’re talking to me right now. And I’ve never seen Crash dressed that nicely, unless you count cosplay, and even then, his cosplay is shit. 

Crash: (Nodding patiently) One of the first things I did, once I was in a mental state to do things, was to go to the thrift store and buy some nicer clothes. You know, not the sort of thing I would wear– but just a few nice, coordinated outfits. At first, I went for the sorts of things I wished my son would wear. Then I realized I was tending to go for androgynizing clothes, and I figured that was probably where I was most comfortable, given the situation. So it’s been a lot of these turtlenecks, a lot of these cardigans. In this body, I can pull off green very nicely, which was never the case in my real body. It made me look sickly. 

Skeep: And you look good! I never thought I’d say this, guys, but Crash looks good. It just goes to show what a little effort can do for a guy. Like it can’t replace being toned, but it helps a lot. And, might I say, you actually look a little more toned than usual, too.

Crash: I’ve been going on lots of walks. Cass doesn’t have a job. So I walk most of the day, now. There are some nice places to walk around Las Vegas, which I never expected. 

Skeep: Yeah, the hiking out there’s pretty amazing, I hear. Hey– just for contrast, guys, let’s watch a clip of Crash on our podcast with SlimeTimeJohn last year.

(The screen cuts to a past recording in a different, smaller studio. Cass Bellamy, dressed in full Sora cosplay, is ranting to two black-clad hosts in matching beanies holding jugs of GRIX).

Crash: Why should I pay taxes when I’m reinvesting in my hustle? The government is the real pyramid scheme! 

Skeep: Crash, Crash, Crash, you don’t pay taxes?! Crash, that’s a federal crime, you dumb piece of shit. 

SlimeTimeJohn: You’re live on camera. Folks, Crash Bellamy just admitted to tax fraud. Someone get the IRS in chat.

Crash: I never said that.

SlimeTimeJohn: You fucking said it just now!

Crash: I pay my taxes! I pay my taxes! I pay my taxes! 

Skeep: Stop yelling! Stop yelling! Stop yelling! You fucking asshole. Jesus fucking christ. 

Crash: There are pawns of darkness everywhere. There are pawns of darkness everywhere, and you know it because you are one. You know, you could become a good person if you actually read my books.

SlimeTimeJohn: Oh, I’ve read your plagiarized books. They’re garbage. Blocks of text copy-pasted from Kingdom Hearts fan wikis and generic motivational quotes. 

Skeep: What’s in your books that could possibly make anyone a better person? Crash, I think just by talking to you, I become a worse person every day. I used to have hobbies, man, but now it’s just… finding out what new bullshit Crash is up to and reacting to it.

Crash: You’re just jealous of my entrepreneurial spirit! The spirit of Sora! The spirit of Financial Freedom!

Skeep: (Laughing) That’s the clip that went viral. I think you– he– also said something about how Jeff Bezos wasn’t spiritually evolved enough to understand Kingdom Hearts?

Crash: I’ll be honest– I don’t understand Kingdom Hearts. 

Skeep: OHHH!!! Mike, clip that. That’s gonna go viral. That’s gonna be everywhere tomorrow.

Crash: I was a little too old for it when it came out, and my kids never really got into it. I’ve done some… research, in the last few weeks. The plot seems very difficult to follow, though.

Skeep: Well, now we know you’re not the real Crash. 

Crash: I wish you meant that. 

Skeep: Honestly, hand to god, I do, too. Now, Liz, can you tell us a little more about your life in Illinois?

Crash: Yes. I’m married, and I have two children. My hometown is sort of a tourist town, but only really for history buffs. I could go into more detail about where I’m from, but I don’t want to dox my family, if… if they still exist. We have a good school district. Nice old brownstone buildings. Lots that survived the Civil War. It’s a good place to live if you love history, like me. And it’s beautiful, too. Not like Vegas. Right on a river, lots of green space. I went to college a few towns over and got my Bachelor’s in Education. I always knew I wanted to teach history. My mom was a museum curator at the… well, one of the big important historical houses in our town. I’m considered very good at my job– I have to be, because if you want to teach history, you want to teach history there. It’s about as competitive as any middle school teacher position could be. 

Skeep: Hold on. You said your family might not still exist? What do you mean by that?

Crash: I looked myself up. My social media pages are gone. I can’t log in to any of my old accounts. I’m not listed as faculty at the school I was teaching at just three weeks ago. There are women with the same name as me, but none of them have much else in common. For all intents and purposes, I never existed. Elizabeth Ann Coen never existed.

Skeep: But have you tried to look up your husband? Your kids? Your parents?

Crash: I can’t bring myself to do that. 

Skeep: Because you’re scared they won’t be there?

Crash: Yes. And because I’m equally scared that they will. Because then, I’d have to contend with the idea of attempting to contact them. And I don’t want to subject them to that. I can’t imagine how scary it would be for my family to have someone like Cass Bellamy– with his record as a very unstable scam artist– approach them with all of this personal information claiming to be their wife, mother, or daughter. And it might be even worse if I find out they exist, but I choose not to contact them. That’s too terrible to even think on. And then… if they are simply gone… if they just never existed… that’s more awful than if they were dead. 

Skeep: We just got a gift from Spunk Z., thank you Spunk Z! Mods, control the chat– nobody’s taking their shirt off in the studio today. Unless? Liz?

Crash: That’s part of the reason I chose your show. I know that, if they really are out there, they’ll never see this. 

Skeep: I take offense to that. But I get it, you raised your kids right. Assuming they’re real. 

Crash: You joke, but yes. 

Skeep: No answer to taking your top off? 

Crash: I’m not going to do that. 

Skeep: If you’re telling the truth, they’re not really your nipples. 

Crash: That’s why I’m not going to do it. I want to give this other person’s body privacy and respect. As much as I can, anyway. 

Skeep: That’s more than the real Crash would ever say. If you really want to respect Crash, you should have come here in a knock-off Sora hoodie with a full-size bag of Takis. 

Crash: There’s give and take. 

Skeep: What’s Crash’s diet like? Or I guess, what’s your diet like as Crash? Rumor has it, he only eats hot chips and his shits are bright red. Is that true?

Crash: I eat what I can afford. Right now, that’s mostly Ramen. It got me through college, so I’m not unfamiliar with this diet. I’m smarter about using food pantry programs now, after two decades of living on a public school teacher’s salary. 

Skeep: Right. Because Crash is totally bankrupt and facing a bunch of lawsuits for fraud and shit.

Crash: Which I’m charmingly reminded of every time I leave his apartment. 

Skeep: That must have been an adjustment, getting used to Crash’s adoring fans. 

Crash: I’d call them stalkers. 

Skeep: Some of Crash Nation can go overboard. Better not be any of you cringebros or cringebabes misbehaving! Did you know who you were right away? What was it like, waking up in another person’s body?

Crash: At first, I thought maybe I’d broken a bone or pulled muscles or something. There was no pain, but everything about me felt wrong. My legs, too long. My neck, too short. All the weight was in the wrong places, and there was skin in new places, and no skin in other places– I felt like I was wearing a strange suit, glued to my bones. The reflection in the mirror was a total stranger. I don’t think I need to explain that it was a nightmare. But discovering the identity of this man– this human suit I was now trapped in– was worse.

Skeep: I bet. 

Crash: People are constantly trying to approach me. They’ll sit outside of the apartment, they’ll honk their horns to keep me awake, they’ll film me and call me. When I first tried to reach out for help on social media, people messaged me with all kinds of threats and just weird, mean stuff, but the worst ones were the ones who acted like they really wanted to help me, like they believed me. They were the cruelest. I picked up very quickly on the fact that I was living the life of a very, very unpopular person, and a very, very popular target.

Skeep: You mentioned you couldn’t get into your social media as Liz. But you can get into Crash’s Twitter and stuff. That’s very interesting.

Crash: His phone was already logged in to them. It unlocks with facial recognition. 

Skeep: At least that’s convenient. 

Crash: At the very very least, it got me in contact with you. I’m sure you wouldn’t have taken an interview with someone from a strange new account, coming at you with this premise.

Skeep: Well, you never know. I’m flattered you chose my show, though. I’m sure, if you keep this story up, you’ll get real popular with the freak circuit, astral projection and past lives and switching bodies and shit. Glad I got to be first in line to hear it.

Crash: You were one of the only people on earth who would take an interview with Cass Bellamy. And of my limited options, you were the shock jock who had been the most fair to him in the past. 

Skeep: “Shock Jock?” I don’t know if I like that. 

Crash: Sorry. It’s what we called this sort of thing in my day. 

Skeep: How old are you, Liz?

Crash: Forty-eight. 

Skeep: A tight forty-eight? Or have those years and two kids taken their toll? 

Crash: Let’s move on, Darren.

Skeep: No shame, Liz, we love MILFS on this channel.

Crash: Sure. I’m a MILF.

Skeep: Mike, clip that. And, Liz, how long is this tenancy going to last, do you think? Is this a temporary thing, or is Crash just gone and Liz here to stay forever?

Crash: I don’t know. I pray, constantly, that I’ll wake up at home again. I’ll be back with my family. Even if… well, I’ve imagined that maybe if I’m here, in Cass’s body, maybe Cass is in mine, somewhere else. In some other world. The world where Elizabeth Coen exists. You know what terrifies me most about that?

Skeep: The idea that Crash Bellamy is turning your whole life upside-down and probably getting you sent to prison or a mental institution and scaring the shit out of your kids?

Crash: Well, yes, but also, no… it’s that in my reality, I know I had heard of the Keyblade Karen. I’d heard of Cass Bellamy. I’d heard of CashMunnyCoin. I think one of my students even dressed up as him, dressing up as that character he likes, Sora, for Halloween. Bellamy existed in my reality, but I don’t exist here. So what does that mean? 

Skeep: You want to know what I think?

Crash: I can guess.

Skeep: Okay, go ahead. Guess.

Crash: I’ve thought it, too. Cass Belamy was– or is– a profoundly unstable person with delusions of grandeur who is facing multiple legal charges and several lawsuits at the moment. He’s bankrupt, all of his financial ventures have publicly and spectacularly failed, he owes possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars to MLM companies, he’s infamous, he’s endlessly mocked and harassed both online and in real life. His life is hell. Maybe he finally just snapped. Maybe I’m just something he made up. Another personality that he invented to take over his life and handle his problems so he didn’t have to be Cass Belamy anymore. The human mind is mysterious and terrifying. Who knows how much it can fabricate? An entire lifetime of memories, even? Knowledge of subjects, skills, possibly learned on some subconscious level, heard about in passing, memorized and kept in some deep mental record of everything we see and hear throughout a day… Maybe there really is no Elizabeth. Maybe Elizabeth’s life is just a nice dream. But if it is a dream– if I am a dream– what happens if Cass Belamy starts to wake up? Where do I go? I’m terrified that he’ll come back to himself, and I’ll be just… nonexistant, worse than if I’d died… but even more terrified that, perhaps, he’ll just slowly slip back through the cracks in me, and I’ll just… be him. I’ll just be Cass Belamy. His mind, his life, his torment, my consciousness, forever. 

Skeep: That’s not even close to what I was gonna say. I was gonna say I suspect you’ve just been pulling a fast one on us all these years, Crash. 

Crash: …What?

Skeep: I think that the real scam is Crash Bellamy. You’ve been coming on this show for years, acting all fucked-up, doing crazy stuff, making cringe tiktoks and putting out those godawful e-books, all for attention. You’ve been playing into the lolcow bit for over a decade and now you’re finally over it, once it stopped being profitable. 

Crash: Why would anyone do that? No one would do that. 

Skeep: Crash Bellamy would, if he had the brains to plan that far ahead. Maybe you didn’t make money off of it, but you got attention. And in this world, what’s the difference? Hey– thank you, Guzzler69! Appreciate the donation. Proves my point. 

Crash: Darren. This man is so financially ruined, there’s no coming back from it. You’re suggesting that Cass– that I faked being… what, an anime game fanboy who fell for a bunch of get-rich-quick schemes and then started trying to run his own? You can look up the facts of the lawsuits against him. No one in their right mind would make the financial choices this man did. 

Skeep: I’m not saying you’re in your right mind. I’m saying you’ve been smarter than you look since day one. You’re just tired of the grift. 

Crash: I– (sighs) Alright. I understand why you’d think that. And I understood when I came on this show that there was no chance I’d ever convince you of the veracity of my experience. It’s a crazy story. I’m the definition of an unreliable source. 

Skeep: But you came on the show anyway, because, Crash, the one thing that’s true about you deep down to your core is that you love attention. If you really were someone else– anyone else– anyone sane, at least– you’d stay far away from the spotlight for the rest of your life. If I woke up as Crash Bellamy, I would just drop off the face of the earth. Or worse– I can’t say what I’d do, because it’s not advertiser-friendly, but let’s just say no one would ever see Crash Bellamy ever again. 

Crash: You know, I watched your show before I came on?

Skeep: I’d sure hope you did, especially since you’ve been on it.

Crash: This thing you have here, Darren– it’s a disturbing little ecosystem. It’s exactly the same bullying that middle school children participate in. Exactly. 

Skeep: I disagree, but Crash, you’re on the internet. What do you expect?

Crash: Cass Bellamy’s original sin was never fraud or identity theft– it was always the sin of being ‘cringeworthy.’ It was that he was weird. You boys were punishing him for that long before any of this crypto business started. The bad things that Cass has legitimately done were always just excuses– they made what you were doing feel socially acceptable. 

Skeep: No, no, no. See, now I know you’re Crash. Nobody sane thinks that your crypto scam or any of your other scams are excusable just because you’re mentally ill or whatever you claim.

Crash: I’m not excusing Bellamy’s long history of attempting to run scams or stealing credit card information and so on and so on. But I watched your show, Darren. The earliest episodes. And I watched Jimspore and Sorasins and SlimeTimeJim. I’ve seen the way you and people like you chased this man around when he was just some naive eighteen-year-old kid who over-identified with a video game, and whose primary characteristic was his naivety– willing to believe that anyone offering to make him rich quick was being genuine. I’ve met plenty of children just like Cass Bellamy. Children who should have been getting extra help. Children failed by the system, and failed by their parents. And I’ve met plenty of children just like you, too, Darren. And unfortunately, the Darrens of the world outnumber the Cass Bellamys. 

Skeep: Unfortunately? You know how I know you’re full of shit, Crash? Because you haven’t said Crash this whole time. You use his given name. Everyone calls him Crash. No one calls him Cass. Everyone hates him. I think probably even his own parents hate him. 

Crash: Sometimes, teaching middle school, it’s like watching starving piranhas in a tank. They swim around in formation, hunting endlessly, hunting nothing– until one moves wrong, gets bit, starts to bleed. And once there’s blood in the water… they strip their companion’s bones in seconds. You’re on the eating side now, Darren, and I’d say you’re eating well. But you know your people. Jimspore and Sorasins and SlimeTimeJim. You know all these nice members of the chat, all your donors. You know better than I do that someday, you’ll be the one with their teeth ripping you apart.

Skeep: Wow. What do you think about that, chat? (A notification appears. Several new donations have come in.) 

Crash: ... You know… 

Skeep: What do I know, Crash?

Crash: My favorite bird is the indigo bunting.

Skeep: I did not know that.

Crash: Two springs ago, there was a pair of them in the thicket behind my house.

Skeep: Behind your house, or ‘Liz’s’ house? 

Crash: … I’m not much of a birdwatcher. I’ve got a journal I never use and some binoculars but that’s it. But there was a day when it was sort of cloudy and I could see them really well from the stoop behind my house. I won’t call it a porch, just a concrete slab that we have a lawn chair on. I stayed there for almost four hours, just sitting and watching those little birds build their nest. I’d been putting off grading all afternoon and I was determined to keep putting it off, even if it meant becoming engrossed in the dramas of birds. They came and went. They squabbled with chickadees and squirrels. I realized that one of the birds was missing a foot. A cat got it, maybe. It’s a miracle it survived as long as it did. And still, it kept building that nest. At the start of the day, there was nothing there but a branch. By the end, there was a little thing like a teacup made of sticks and feathers and hair. My daughter brought me a cup of coffee. That’s when I realized my feet were so cold, they’d gone numb. It had been the heat of the coffee that reminded me how cold I felt. And I was overcome with this realization that that’s what love is, sometimes. Because when I stood up, as I warmed myself, those numb parts started to hurt. I guess, Darren, and Darren’s chat– I hope that someday, someone brings you a cup of coffee, and you suddenly feel all the places in you that have gone numb. I hope the hurt is worth the heat. And I hope that I wake up tomorrow at home.

Skeep: Wise words from our resident spiritually enlightened Keyblade Master of Financial Freedom, Crash Bellamy. That’s our episode today, folks– any last words, ‘Liz?’

Crash: Please– if you can help me get home, or if you know someone who can help me get home, help me. Spread this around. Make Skeep famous if that’s what it takes. 

Skeep: Shockingly, a sentiment I agree with. Thanks for tuning in, cringebros and cringebabes, and remember– be nice, wash your ass, and cringe deeply, my friends. 

[teaandinanity]

... what kind of ignoramus designed the EA app. Was this designed by a committee of corporate twits with too many business degrees and a complete dearth of common sense? Having to GO ONLINE to enable OFFLINE MODE is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard of in my life. Do you know when I need offline mode? Do you, incomprehensible moron from planet idiot who designed this feature? WHEN I DO NOT HAVE GODDAMN INTERNET ACCESS.

In conclusion I hope the fuckwit(s) responsible for this step on a lego and fall down a (short) flight of stairs in front of three people they respect and acquire a RAFT of bruises to both their bodies and egos both, amen.

[ennieasys]

ngl i just love stories where the main character fucking lies to us (the reader), and/or their perspective is fundamentally flawed. the main character is in the wrong, they have a secret that makes everything else make sense. it changes the way you perceive the entire story when you learn about it. its like a life changing moment

[lokh]

oh my god. a manga where everyones actually wearing masks???

edit: NEVERMIND jumped the gun here it was just for one scene cos they were at a nail salon 😭

edit 2: hmm actually. depending on how recently this manga was drawn it could just be reflective of how not everyone wears masks. the customers are wearing masks in the salon but outside usually not but Sometimes. they are

edit 3: I WAS RIGHT??

[4o4-tales]

Once upon a time a new moderator came to town that the community didn’t like too much. After he banned a few favorite members everyone came together and decided to hire a troll to run him out of town. As the showdown started they soon realized their new problem was who would win.

[talefoundryshow]

NEW VIDEO!

Everything seemed bigger when you were a child… and the things that scared you were no exceptions. How does nostalgia horror tap into those fears? Join us to find out!

[moderatelyquicksilversposts]

The psychonauts’s capsule plunged into the collective psychic pool. The mysterious song no one had been able to identify slithered between their minds like the wind, guiding them away from the surface.

Lyrics evaporated one word into the other, notes became colors and colors became suns, and queen bees nested in them.

There it was, lodged between a memory and a desire for more, the cosmic song whose origin they’d been commissioned to investigate. They managed to unstick it.

Excited, they made for the surface. But they’d strayed too far. The mystery they’d entered was dissolving, fog-like, sweeping them along.

(via Like the Wind)

[theversevoyager]

Upon the vast, celestial stage, where heroes bold and quests of grand design unfold, In realms of magic bound by artifacts untold, A twist reveals itself, altering what we saw, The heroes' tales rewritten, now to ponder. This is the summary of your work so far: 1. Created a sci-fi poem based on a twist revealing events and heroes.

[elriel-is-real]

"are you coming, aeon? does something hold you from me still..?"

elriel is real

[whereserpentswalk]

Seduction by the Unseelie Faeries

Enter not this world, for these are goblin lands, these are demon lands, where evil spirits stalk such mortal souls. Grey lands of algorithms and mocking spirits, cold and dark places not built for or by human hands, quite lands forever loud, that make you watch forever for things you do not want to see.

Hey! Girl! What’s a pretty thing like you doing with your AdBlock on? =)

[Turn off AdBlock] or [Exit Website]

Hey! Girl! I wouldn’t want someone as lovely as you seeing that type of content. =)

[Ok] or [Try another search]

Strange demons walk these walls, and crying evil spirits call. One eyed Camera people stare, and trap the world in unseeming glare.

To watch you eat, to watch you sleep, to watch the blood beneath your skin. They watch the world with great black eyes, until you’ll always see them there, until you’ll never feel unseen.

Hey! Girl! What are you doing in a place like this, you should come back to my app. =)

[Go to app] or [Download]                                 

Hey! Girl! You wouldn’t mind signing in for a guy like me. =)

[Sign in] or [I don’t have an account]

The great march of imps proceeds, laughing mouths and crying eyes concede. Plastic bodies built not to offend, to show their great selling signs to unwanted eyes.

To jump before your eyes, to scream your ears, to make all unwanted mischief seen. Sing the world their mindless hymns, with smiling jaws and laughing eyes, until your finally worn down, until they finally win.

Hey! Girl! You wouldn’t mind giving me your number. =)

[Sync Contacts]

Hey! Girl! Look at this ad!

Dark eyes loom over a landscape of minimalist UI. The king of wicked things comes to see his lifestruck kingdom raw. Lord of censor and content filter, lord of poison lawn and dead mall, lord of endless content and hungry eyes, lord of evil spirit and wandering demon, lord of advertisement and spyware.

His face is plastic, his eyes are touchscreen, his veins are coper wires. New humans are always in his fell realm, the wild hunt not tried.

[writerbeemedina]

(Read from bottom to top)

⟳ Best soup recipes

⟳ Bone broth recipe

⟳ Is burning clothes bad for the environment

⟳ How to get rid of stains all the way

⟳ How to remove pig head video

⟳ How fast do sleeping pills work

⟳ Sleeping pills

⟳ Kitchen knives amazon

Write a horror story in the format of an Internet search history

[10cities10years]

"Brian Castle" in BNP Magazine

Joseph Lyttleton's latest short story, "Brian Castle," is available in the January 2025 issue of Books & Pieces Magazine.

I’m kicking off 2025 with the publication of a new short story. This one is entitled “Brian Castle” and involves a young, unbright man trying to adapt to life once he is released from prison. You can read the story in the January 2025 issue of Books & Pieces Magazine (a.k.a. BNP Mag). Over the last few years, I have been fortunate to have a number of my short stories published. These stories –…

[exploresmallworlds]

Writing Prompt - Great Mind

Jonathan Alocott was a great mind. That’s what he gratefully but playfully not accepted when he was interviewed on the Russell Davison’s Experience podcast which was, according to his PR manager “a great opportunity to develop brand analysis”. If he was too accepting, that self-same PR manager had reminded him it was going to be a detriment to the branding. The branding as he understood it was…