FOOLD


The people funneling out through the mansion’s front doors chatted until they dispersed. A few giving him a quick wave or a smile.

One guy stopped by to shake hands. “Thanks for the job, Bill” the handsome young man said, smiling.

“No problem, Dave. Best chauffeur I ever had.” Bill chuckled. “You know the mini-bus is outside to take you back to central casting.” he continued as he let slip the ‘chauffeurs’ hand.

“Yeah, thanks Bill. But just one thing I want to ask because it really intrigues me. Why did you choose to spend all of that money so quickly and in such a strange way?”

“Quickly? Yeh, reasonably quickly that's for sure. But strange… to you maybe, but not to me. During the last three months we have all played our parts, and it was easy for me to see you all as real staff, and friends, with kids being kids; and in the case of Lora, ‘my loving wife’. She did a great job. You all did.”

“But they haven’t even come to say goodbye, not even Phillip who's been your best friend all this time.”

“They're busy. They’ve got other jobs to go to. You don’t seem to get it, Dave. This era of faction and modeled personas has left you in the zone unknown, like much of the audience.

Government, mass media, and special interest groups have elevated deceit to such a level and made it so ubiquitous that the innate senses have been deeply confused and fragmented. Like beached whales. Television is a school of deception so lying has become the way of life. Society has become one giant scam.

What an opportunity I was handed when the money came! I created a fully-orchestrated social environment so well paid for that it had tensile strength. And I knew it was a masqueade. Well, we all knew it, but that didn’t really count so much for me. As long as everyone kept to their allocated characters.”



Every time Lora and I enjoyed dinner with our friends I knew that it would all run out on this date so I always knew how long I had. Much like knowing when you are going to die, or some other defining moment we'd all like to know about.”

"But aren’t you going to miss Mrs Lora? I know I would. She’s gorgeous.”
"She certainly is, but no, not really. All my life before, and from now on, will be populated by plastiq people chewing vinyl violence and neo-capitalist sex. Like mega-multiple television screens filling the sky’s store window in a dream about wondering if anyone else is awake." 
"Well Dave, ex-chauffer of moir. I was fully awake for three months just where I wanted to be. I wasn’t trying to pretend it was real and I knew it wasn't going to last forever. I knew Lora didn’t really love me. No doubt I'd be pleased to know she at least liked me but it didn't really matter. A smile is the best of masks. That was the most aesthetically pleasing aspect of it."

"The sudden changes, the fluidity of futures. The trauma of surprise, the reverberating emptiness of realization. The shocking disbelief of betrayal. The waking from a dream into an incurable nightmare….none of the above.  I just wanted things to be predictable for a while, that’s all.” he said as a cab pulled into the curb.

“It’s like this taxi, Dave. I know where it'll take me and how much it will cost.”