Branching Out

The thought had occurred to me a while back that it might be possible to make at least something of a living writing short stories for submission to magazines. With the impending termination of my current job being a viable source of primary income, the idea of writing stories has suddenly sprung back to life!

I am currently at work on 3 stories of differing subject matter. The bad news is that there will be a delay between when I send these out and when the income will potentially come in. The good news is that any one of them, if published, will pay my expenses for a month.

Here are some small snippets from 2 of the stories I am writing: "ARMAS Assault" and "Spokesman". Enjoy!

ARMAS Assault

**Attention: Senior Director Daita

**Origin: Shimazu Isao, Director of Special Projects, LiChing Division

**Date: 23.7.754 AP.

**Subject: Test Subject # 312-G

Good afternoon Senior Director,

It has come to my attention that “Project R” is in need of new test subjects. While the relative scarcity of candidates has hindered our progress so far, we have located what I believe to be the ideal subject.

She is currently a Sergeant, assigned to an assault/rescue mecha armor squad (ARMAS, I believe it is called) in the Central Shizuhama Police Department, Izanami. Her record is outstanding and her fitness reports highly encouraging, but what I find most intriguing is that all of her superior officers indicate that she possesses exceptional mecha synergy. Their team reports all speak very highly of her mecha control abilities, and it is for this reason that I wish to contact her regarding a place in Project R.

Her file is attached. Should she meet your approval, I will set out for Izanami and contact her immediately. The Shin-Vector corporation has already set about preparing the simulator for her use.

Your time is always appreciated, Senior Director.

Respectfully,

Shimazu

It was cold in the hangar. It was always cold in the hangar. Being a kilometer off the ground could do that to a building, even with the most efficient heating systems. Nami Takahashi zipped the front of her combat suit all the way up to keep out the chill. Despite all the synthetic polymers designed to absorb shock and adverse temperatures, there always seemed to be a leak somewhere.

She checked over her suit one more time, making sure all the connections were clear, then looked up at her machine. The Shin-Vector “Spartan 4” was a sight to behold. Just over 4 meters tall and 2.5 meters wide, the metallic humanoid was a marvel of modern engineering. Coated with thirty two millimeters of thalium armor and armed with the latest in assault-class firepower, the Spartan was the pride of the ARMAS. The latest in Shin-Vector’s line of Drudge Exoskeleton Systems, the Spartan 4 had gained admiration from those it worked for and a sensible dread from those it worked against. Large shoulder plates carried the heavy artillery: a Yokozuka M-42 26mm Machinegun and a Montaver MBR-3 140mm Missile Launcher. In its right hand, the Drudge held a Type 2 Tactical Assault Weapon; a Montaver M-1D 32mm assault rifle and an ASR-56 45mm shotgun underneath it.

Obeying orders from the central command office located at the rear of the hangar, the front of the Drudge opened at the chest, lower abdomen and legs, allowing Nami entrance to the metal behemoth. A small whirring noise issued from behind Nami’s head as the Drudge extended its Neurojack connectors. A small metal jack slowly crawled towards the plug at the base of Nami’s skull. With a slight jerk of fiber muscles, the cord sprung the jack into place, connecting Nami to the machine.

She blinked, then felt the sickening lurch as her vision was yanked from her eyes and thrown up into the cranial sensors of the Drudge. Her field of vision now covered a much wider area, considerably higher off the ground, and was augmented with a tactical display containing weapon data, engine output and targeting vector. Her mind gave the command for her body to raise her left hand, but instead of seeing a hand and arm made of flesh, the bulky armored gauntlet of the Drudge lifted itself into her field of vision. She opened and closed the fingers, tightening and loosening the fist to make sure the synth muscles worked properly.

Spokesman

As so many things do, the movement known as “Malcolmism” started small and snowballed into a global phenomenon. It all began with advertising. Young male centerfolds in clothing catalogues circulated in the spring with a new model among the pages: a bright-looking, European-built patrician named Malcolm Tessaria.

His popularity was small at first. Jeans modeling to start with, then shirts, formal wear and on to underwear. Then markets other than the fashion industry began to take notice of him. It was something more than a fantastic body and a pretty face. Something intangible in his eyes that would rivet you and command your attention whether or not he was selling a new tuxedo, a flannel shirt, coffee or underpants. The image of Malcolm Tessaria was like nothing the advertising agencies had ever seen before. Any product that bore his likeness was bound for great things. Before long, nearly every product bore a Malcolm likeness or endorsement. Malcolm jeans, Malcolm Breakfast Cereals, Malcolm Hair Care. More endorsements followed. Restaurants, theme parks and even a city, just outside New York.

Three years after his introduction to the world of media, the name “Malcolm” had become synonymous with anything hip, sheek or cool. “That’s so Malcolm!” the kids would say. And then, Malcolm did the last thing people expected. He endorsed a presidential candidate. The media fury was nothing short of a hurricane. A famous spokesman endorsing a political candidate? Why not. Malcolm’s candidate won by a landslide and even though his name wound up as little more than another contemporary president, the name of Malcolm Tessaria lived on.

The years went by, yet the image of Malcolm never seemed to age or fade. People began to wonder if Malcolm was in fact a real person. When asked about Malcolm, the advertising agencies would simply shrug and say “I’ve never met the man, but I respect his privacy.” The exact nature of Malcolm was never made public, yet his endorsements persisted. Everyone wanted everything they owned to be a Malcolm-approved brand. And before anyone realized it, they had what they wanted. A decade came and went before people stopped thinking about Malcolm. Every single product that came into or went out of the country had Malcolm’s approval on it. He had become more than a household name. He was the household. Just when it seemed as if people were about to let Malcolm Tessaria slip into the realm of the unconscious, Malcolm burst back on the scene with a new product to sell: religion.