### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### #### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ## ####### ###### [ The Machinery of Desire ] [ By The GNN ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ THE MACHINERY OF DESIRE by THE GNN/DCS/uXu Clink... schwoosh - bang! In other words, today's mail had arrived through the slot on the door. Without exaggerated enthusiasm, he rose from the breakfast table and walked to the hallway and back. Bills, bills, bills. He sighed heavily and put the stash of depressing demands for capital on top of the morning paper, resuming spreading butter over a dry toast. It was eleven o'clock and he had just dragged himself out of the bunk to yet another day of idleness. No work, nothing to do, nothing to hope for. Life could hardly get any worse, he thought. Then his eyes fell on an envelope in the stash he had not noticed. It was obviously not a bill; neither could it be some commercial crap: his name and address was handwritten on the front. Hence, he rashly concluded, it could very well be good news! He tore the envelope open and fished out a neatly printed letter. Dear Sir, As we are well aware of your current state of monotony and hopelessness, we kindly offer you a place in the Machinery of Desire. Your Sincerely, The Department of Desire (The Machinery of Desire was, to put things short, a device to which you connected your brain and then kind of dreamed a whole - very happy - life. You were of course not aware of the fact that you were in the machine while dreaming; you actually thought you lived a real life.) He stared at the offer for several minutes. The sender obviously believed that it would cheer him up. But it just made him angry. How did they dare to send such shit to him? Indeed, his life was... slightly boring... but it was not of that kind that he longed for giving it up in favor for the faked reality in the Machinery of Desire! The letter was not a nice offer, it was a pure insult! Something had to be done! He quickly took a shower, got dressed and headed downtown by bus. The Department of Desire was a huge brick building. He knew that it mostly contained (happy) dreaming people, floating around in huge water tanks, unaware of their present situation. He did not want to join them. He wanted to complain - he wanted them to know that he actually enjoyed his existence, no matter what them bullying bastards thought! He demanded to speak with whoever in charge. A secretary dutifully led him through the winding corridors to an office, in which a little bald man with loads and loads of papers on his desk worked. The secretary left them alone, closing the door behind her. "Yes?" the little man said. "What's this?" he shouted and threw the envelope theatrically on the desk. The man reached out and picked it up. He leaned back in his chair and glanced through the letter. "Right. The marvellous Machinery of Desire. Do I sense an interest in joining the happy community, yes?" "Not a chance! On the contrary! I want an apologize! How dare you insinuate that my life is boring and hopeless?" The little man threw the envelope in a trash can under the desk and explained that the Department of Desire did not judge people. The Department simply analysed personal data and tried to estimate the state of misery. Of course, he said, the Department made mistakes now and then. If someone felt insulted, well, then they were truly sorry. But it had to be remembered they worked for the public good. It was fairly obvious that the man had experienced similar situations before. He spoke as if he read trite sentences from a script. "Okay... that sounds good, but... if you send me this kind of junk one more time, I will report this to... someone!" The man swung around in his chair to a computer terminal on another desk. "A simple telephone call would do..." he mumbled while typing something on the keyboard. "What's your name again?" "It's printed on the letter!" Tap-tap-tap. Then silence. "Oh! A mistake, indeed!" declared the man. "Mistake? What mistake? What do you mean?" The man swung around once again and faced his uninvited guest. "We are very sorry - we sent you an improper proposal. You were not supposed to be offered a place in the Machinery of Desire. I am so, so sorry." Suddenly he did not feel enraged any more. Nevertheless slightly offended, out of altered reasons: They did not want to offer him a place? Why not? What was wrong with him? Was he not good enough? But as he had already stated his case, it was no idea to make something out of the new circumstances. He just said "well, uh, okay", and headed for the door. He was finished with the Department. The little man was however not finished. "We were supposed to give you a different offer concerning the machine", he heard behind his back. "But someone obviously made a terrible mistake and put you on the wrong list." "What 'different offer'?" In retrospect, he knew he never ought to have asked that. In fact, he ought never to have gone down to the Department of Desire at all. If they did not want to put him into the machine, but yet wanted to offer him something in relation to it, only one thing remained. He tried to think hard and fill his brain with sufficient noise so that he would not perceive the man's response, but it was of course deemed to fail. Anyway, it did not matter. He knew what was about to be said - and even worse, he also knew that he had to accept the proposal. "Do you want to get out?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #491 Underground eXperts United 1999 uXu #491 Send your submissions to submission@uxu.org ---------------------------------------------------------------------------