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Chap 5.1 - Page 1frangles: Skip book 1: Writer's Bricks

 " 'Skip's genesis brainchild in a vague idea for the post-Singularity world of Kroffonia--where imagination harbored possibilities previously unimaginable, allowing instant tangibility of even the most wondrous ponders--was a working generic BB gun to slay the the piss-annoying focus-murdering bird on the balcony that wouldn't shut up and let him concentrate.  The vehemency of his curses alone stood a microcosm ambassador to the evolution of technology, their reached phonetic limit reflecting that of the brains of  mechanical and humanoid life, which had recently hit rock bottom.  Suddenly (though appropriately), he broke from the paragraph he was on to go yell at the bird for rhetorical irony, as doing so held no other purpose at this point.' "
               "Shut!  Up!"
               " '...he stupidly screamed out the window, his prediction of own idiocy his only creative irony of the morning.  In addition, it was a blow to his vocabulary, as he'd just used the phrase 'shut up' in the paragraph he'd written documenting his frustration, which had already been plagiarism of the 1st 47 times he said it.  He'd considered that a solution to the problem of how to audibly express himself might yield insight into the greater post-Singularity issue he was hired to help solve, but sans concentration, he'd finally resolved on 'shut up', a static choice that didn't foreshadow very much for the future of humanity.  On top of that, to his loathing--and her self-amusement--the phrase was repeated in the spoken prose of the cute little krforb by the door that had begun narrating Skip's actions between dictations to demonstrate her race's superior creativity, her own narrations escaping prose into the medium of real life.  (She didn't have any redundancy problems with this, as her time spitting back Skip's writing had already maxed out the limit of redundancy in the area.)  The scale of Skip rudely ordering her to shut up along with the bird was another, closer isormophism to his monkey-brained swear spectrum, though of course of a much earlier stage of evolution of it.  That is, at least as the lack of him having been vaporized by Pika stood testiment to.' "
               "Shut! Up!" Skip repeated, this time at the bot orb, which he refused to think of as a sentient being, however demeaning and antiquated a term for a living krforb.  With such a vast and elusive universe at hand, and a time period only just scantly after mechanical life had been accepted as entirely sentient by just about every existent being in the known universe called Okuaka, Skip figured there was still time to be radical and reverse the near-total consensus.  (This was due generally to his exctacy at being able to narrate into thin air, his rare and special loathing of a physical notepad and pen for reasons anyone following the story of his life was quite aware, and that his budget would be suffering to pay salary if he wasn't in an arrangement free of financial obligation.)
               " 'Shut!  Off!' might have been a more creative choice, achieving at least some rudamentary irony, given I don't have the option to.  Try it next time, I'll just footnote myself as the source.' "
               Skip opened his mouth to respond, couldn't think of anything other than 'shut up' or 'shut off' to say in response, then shut it and walked back to the comfy writer's bean bag he'd managed to materialize when trying to bring a silver spa into existence.  He sat back with a "froosh!" the bean bag was still working on, then stared upward blankly.  He considered asking Pika to spit back his verbose paragraph to contrast his sudden writer's block, but refused to lose face, as he'd already just told her to shut up.  To spite him--as she had his moods well-down by now--she did exactly the former.  In response, Skip closed his eyes and considered falling asleep.
               "Perhaps you should plagiarize the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Pika offerred.  Your beanbag/spa problem is similar to the situation Arthur and Ford face when they're plopped onto the Heart of Gold just after they're ejected into space by the super-brained Vogons."  Skip frowned in response.  Pika had a habit of alluding to obscure human works that Skip couldn't possibly have knowledge of, to show off her superior memory.  While probably real references, he suspected she spun them out of context to mock him.  Skip suspected it bordered fraud for other reasons, for he was pretty sure not all of her allusions were of past or present works.  The feeling didn't make much sense, but then again, nothing at all made much made sense in the vague idea for the post-Singularity world of Kroffonia.
               "New paragraph," he ordered, as if at an Information Age online messaging bot with prototype voice recognition not quite up to par with audibly recognizing the structure of dialogue from tone alone."
               Pika sighed.
             The bird shut up.
               The bag frooshed.
               Skip began to narrate.

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