(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''Hawaii''](stop:)]
(live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''8:05 AM''](stop:)]
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''January 13th, 2018''](stop:)]
(live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[''Shift change''](stop:)]
(live: 8s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[You are Charles Gordon, Missle Alert system manager. You've been on the job 10 years, and you know the drill. It's the shift change at the Hawaii Missile Alert System headquarters. You've trained for this for a long time. The old familiar mantle of being responsible for all of Hawaii's missile alerts shifts once again to your Porthos-lian shoulders as Frank gives you one of those raised eyebrows things on his way out the door.
You're now the commander.
You take a sip of your coffee and reflect on your life. You remember...](stop:)]
(mouseover:"You remember...")[(t8n:"dissolve")[... [[your beloved child]], who looks up to you and is so proud of your commitment to serving your country.
... [[your devoted partner]], who understands that the long hours and sacrifice (on both your parts) are worth it to keep the country safe.
]]
(set: $alert to 0)At the top of your inbox is an e-mail that reads:
''Re: JAN 13 MISSILE ALERT SYSTEMS TEST''.
(live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[Oh shit. You forgot that was today.](stop:)]
(live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[
No need to panic, though, since you're a professional. You share a private chuckle with the void beasts.
There are two folders next to your desk.](stop:)]
(mouseover:"two folders next to your desk.")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
A red folder labled: ''//MISSLE ALERT TESTING PROCEDURES//''
A black folder, labeled: ''//EMERGENCY//''.
You [[pull out the red folder.]]]](align: "<===")[The manual is a one pager. This task, after all, isn't preventing missle strikes, just alerting the public to their existence. The four instructions are so simple you barely read them:]
(mouseover:"barely read them")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[---
## MISSLE ALERT TESTING PROCEDURES
1. Open messaging system.]]]
(mouseover:"Open messaging system.")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[2. From the drop down prompt, under //WHAT KIND OF ALERT DO YOU WANT TO SEND TODAY//, select //TEST MISSLE ALERT//.]]]
(mouseover:"TEST MISSLE ALERT.")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[3. Confirm that you want to send the alert.
---]]]
(mouseover:"send the alert.")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[You [[open the messaging system]]. You're a pro. You know what to do.]]](set: $alert = 0)
(set: $selection = false)
The friendly drop down unfurls before you, and you read:
(mouseover:"read")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
''What kind of alert do you want to send today?''
(link: "TEST MISSLE ALERT")[(set: $alert to "Do you really want to send alert TEST MISSLE ALERT?")]
(link: "MISSLE ALERT")[(set: $alert to "Do you really want to send alert MISSLE ALERT?")]
]]
(live:100ms)[(if:$alert != 0)[(goto: "Confirm")]](set: $selection to (confirm: $alert))
(if:$selection)[(if: $alert is "Do you really want to send alert MISSLE ALERT?")[(goto: "sent alert message")]]
(if:$selection)[(goto: "sent test alert message")]
(if:!$selection)[(goto: "open the messaging system")]
Your phone vibrates, and you [[look down]], confident in another job well done.
Your phone vibrates. [[You read the message]] that you just sent out.As a first generation Missile Alert System Academy graduate (the first in your family), you're the culmination of the American dream. Your family has been through it all - from the depths of poverty when they immigrated over to the moderate poverty of the rice farms to absolute moral poverty of joining the services.
Still, you are proud of your country.
And your child. Your child is the light of your life. Just yesterday, as you were struggling with another drop down menu while applying for health care through the exchanges, they came over and helped you figure everything out.
When you asked them why they did it they said, "It's cause I really love you, Dad. I really, really love you".
Ah. You wish you could sip forever of the nectar of fresh memory, but you're a goddamn professional, so you [[check your e-mail]] after you log into the secure system.
(set: $lovedOne = 'child')You met your partner right after you finished Missile Alert System basic training. They were sitting in the library, reading a memoir called //Quarter for the bus//, while you were trying, unsucsesfully, to decifer the menu options in ''LexisNexis''.
After a long string of swears and a bunch of shushing by the librarian, your future partner sauntered over and tapped you on the shoulder.
"Need some help with that drop down?" they said.
You looked up, and it was love.
You sigh the long sigh of memories, and [[check your e-mail]] after you log into the secure system.
(set: $lovedOne = 'partner')Years pass. You do typical Hawaiian things, like hula dancing, ukele playing, forgetting Sarah Marshall, attending pig roasts where people challenge each other to 50 first dates. Normal things that all Hawaiians enjoy.
On your death bed, years later, as a robot helper is comforting you, you utter your last words:
[[USS McAllister was a hackjob ripoff of "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream" by Harlan Ellison.]]
<a href="http://twitter.com/home?status=Hey%20@blackmirror%20where%20is%20the%20story%20by%20credit%20for%20Harlan Ellison%20on%20s04e01">With you dying breath, tell those hacks whats up.</a>
Or you can also [[go back in time->open the messaging system]], for some reason.
(set: $selection = false)
(set: $alert = 0)
(set: $lovedOne = "")### (font:"sans-serif")[Emergency Alert BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII.]
### (font:"sans-serif")[SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER.THIS IS NOT A DRILL.]
[[Oh.]][[Oh shit.]]Your life flashes before your eyes. You think immediately of {
(if: $lovedOne is 'child')[
your child. You are filed with resentment, since their constant helpfulness prevented you from honing the necessary skills to navigate drop down menus successfully.
](else-if: $lovedOne is 'partner')[
your partner. You curse their name loudly. If only they hadn't tapped you on the shoulder in the library, you would have had to learn how to use Lexus Nexus on your own, and this all could have been prevented.
]}
Someone's head will roll for this, that's for sure. You take a deep breath. You're still a professional, you remind yourself. You look at the picture of Derek Jeter on your desk. 'Yeah, Jeets', you sigh. 'Yeah'.
(mouseover:"Yeah, Jeets")[(t8n:"dissolve")[You take down the black folder and [[open it]].]]The EMERGENCY folder opens before you like the unfurling of one of those 17th century fancy dresses. This is a big honking folder.
It reads:
(mouseover:"It reads:")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[
---
## EMERGENCY PROCEDURES
''Have you sent out a missle alert by accident, civilian contractor?''
---
]]]
(mouseover:"sent out a missle alert by accident")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
You are stunned. This notebook has been here for ten years, and it has held the answer to this future disaster the whole time. You thank whatever diety put it there for just this occasion and [[scrawl yes on the page]] with a number 2 pencil.
]]Nothing seems to happen. You grubbily erase the ''Yes'' from the page and re-scrawl it a few times.
(mouseover:"re-scrawl")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
Nothing happens.
(live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[
You scratch your head.
](stop:)]
(live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[
The clock reads 8:12 AM. Five minutes have passed. Hopefully the world is getting on alright outside.
[[But why isn't this working?]]
](stop:)]
]]
The world, of course, is not getting along alright outside. Pandemonium casscades across the peaceful island nation.
(mouseover:"peaceful island nation")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
Adam has been a normal boy most of his life. He hears the news of the missle launch on the TV that his Mother is watching. His Mother. Where should he get started with the story about his Mother? Maybe the sandwiches? Who knows. Hoping to find some meaning in his life after 28 years of Jon Bon Jovi-esque decrepitude, he grabs hold of the knife he is holding and makes a move towards the couch -- and Mother!
"Hey, Mother", he says, as he raises the knife over his head, "how's this for a headline?
]]
(mouseover:"headline")[(t8n:"dissolve")[---
## //Adam, 28, kills Mother, Earth!//".
---
]]
(mouseover:"Adam, 28, kills Mother, Earth")[(t8n:"dissolve")[Elesewhere on the big island, Major General James "Jimmy" Freshca begins to realise that something is definitely up.
"Hey Martha," he says, "if the world is about to end, could you make me a cup of coffee. Full caff this time, eh?" General Freshca has really lost his marbles.
His secretary is disgusted. "No thanks," she says. "I've got a hot date with this bottle of valium."]]
(mouseover:"bottle of valium")[(t8n:"dissolve")[Even the ghost of Kamehameha is [[seaking shelter]] from the missle.]]
''8:42 AM''
(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[
35 minutes have passed. You've gotten tired of all the scrawling and erasing and have decided to go out to the Starbucks in the commisary and buy yourself a venti latte.
You're phone was really blowing up for a minute there too, but once you put it on silent, you felt your zen return.
](stop:)]
(mouseover:"your zen return")[(t8n:"dissolve")[As you approach the exit to the commisary, you notice that blast doors have been lowered all around the Strategic Missle Alert System Room.
You approach one of the doors. 'Hey, ''M.I.S.S.''', you say. Somewhere, a super intelligent A.I. whirs to life.
'Yes,' ''M.I.S.S.'' replies. 'I'm here.'
]]
(mouseover:"'I'm here.'")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
[['What's with all the blast doors?']]
]]''8:44 AM''
(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")["A missle alert has been issued," ''M.I.S.S.'' replies.](stop:)]
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[Oh, right. You remember.](stop:)]
(mouseover:"You remember")[(t8n:"dissolve")["Well," you say, after pondering for a few seconds, "how do I get to the Starbucks then?"]]
(mouseover:"how do I get to the Starbucks then")[(t8n:"dissolve")[A pause.
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")["There are two options. One, we could cancel the alert, and lower the blast doors."](stop:)]
(live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")["Or, I could issue a retaliatory strike."](stop:)]]]
(mouseover:"retaliatory strike")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
You shake your head. "Maybe...," you say, a grin spreading across your face, "maybe we should..."
[["...cancel the alert?"]]
[["...show Kim Jong-Un what a real button looks like?"]]]]
(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")["Canceling alert," ''M.I.S.S.'' coos.](stop:)]
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[You smile happily as the blast doors open...](stop:)]
(live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[... only to grimace in horror as they reveal a gun barrel pointed at your face.
](stop:)]
(mouseover:"pointed at your face")[(t8n:"dissolve")["Charlie!" Commander George yells. "Do you have any idea what's been going on out here?"
"I hope nothing too bad," you say. You know you did do a bad thing though. "Am I gonna be in trouble, George? Are you mad at me?"]]
(mouseover:"Are you mad at me")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
George looks on the verge of tears. "No, Charlie Gordon," George says. "I ain't mad."
"Can we [[move to that farm]] George, and get mice named Algernon?"]]"Hell fucking yes", ''M.I.S.S.'' chortles, her blueberry voice spilling over the bounds of the electronic. "Please step into the missle control room."
A door opens.
[[You enter->The Biggest Button]]"We surely will, Charlie," George says. He pauses, as if to collect himself.
"We'll have all the mice named Algernon you could want. Charlie, look into the missile control room. Can't you see the mice farm?"
"I can see it!" you yelp pathetically.
"We're gonna go right now," George says.
"Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta," George says.
You look off, and you can see the mice farm, and all the nice m----
[[BANG]].(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[Blackness.](stop:)]
(live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[Finally you see motion in the distance. You are drawn towards it. Eventually, it resolves itself into a being of pure beauty and light. The wondorous creature opens its mouth and speaks:](stop:)]
(mouseover:"mouth and speaks")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
''"I AM KAMEHAMEHA, GOD OF ALL HAWAIIANS. WHO APROACHES THE THRONE?"''
"Me," you sob. "Charlie Gordon."
''"OH CHARLIE"''. There is a hint of pity in KAMEHAMEHA's voice. The camera sort of shimmy pans to GORDON's face, tear stained and angelic.
]]
(mouseover:"sort of shimmy pans ")[(t8n:"dissolve")[----
(align: "=><=")[
''Kamehameha & Charlie''
[[A screenplay by Samuel Fuller Thomas]]
]
----
]]### (font:"sans-serif")[Emergency Test Alert.]
### (font:"sans-serif")[This is a test of the ballistic missle warning system. This is only a test.]
You glance over at the TV, which is showing and playing a similar test pattern.
Hours pass. Your shift ends, you leave the pressures of this awful responsiblity behind, and you [[return home]].---
(align: "=><=")[
(live: 1s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-style: "blur")[''Shift Change'']](stop:)]
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-style: "blur")[''A Thomas brothers Game'']](stop:)]
(live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(text-style: "fade-in-out")[[[Click here to begin->shift change]]]](stop:)]
]
(align: "===>")[''ACT I, SCENE I'']
(align: "<===")[''INT. HEAVEN DAYTIME''
CHARLIE GORDON, hero, sits in HEAVEN before KAMEHAMEHA, current GOD of all Hawaiians and former king of Hawaii. Charlie is 28 and just on the acceptable side of skinny. Think 6 months post //Machinist// CHRISTIAN BALE.]
----
(align: "=><=")[''KAMEHAMEHA'']
(align: "=><=")[''CHARLIE. YOU MUST RETURN AND UNDO YOUR MISTAKE.'']
(align: "=><=")[''CHARLIE'']
(align: "=><=")[I don't know how, my king.]
(align: "=><=")[''KAMEHAMEHA'']
(align: "=><=")[''LIKE THIS.'']
----
(mouseover:"LIKE THIS.")[(t8n:"dissolve")[(align: "=><=")[''SMASH CUT'' to KAMEHAMEHA'S FACE]
(align: "=><=")[''KAMEHAMEHA'']
(align: "=><=")[''ALL CUTS ARE SMASHCUTS.'']
(align: "=><=")[''SMASHCUT'' to: [[the begining->open the messaging system]]]
]]You enter a circular room. In the middle of a room is a console, and above the console is a sign that says NUCLEAR WAR in jaunty lettering and a big arrow point down. Great UX.
You stare at the console. In the middle is of the console is the biggest button you've seen today.
(mouseover:"biggest button you've seen today")[(t8n:"dissolve")[The button looms in the center of the arcane console like a powerful and handsome red god looming over a terrified weenie populace. It is one big-ass button. The button throbs as if with desire. Red. Gold. Red. Gold. It beckons almost plaintively. Below the button someone has scrawled ''For Kim Jong Un'' in gold sharpie.
You [[push the button->A countdown commences]]]]A countdown commences
(live: 2s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[5](stop:)]
(live: 3s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[4](stop:)]
(live: 4s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[3](stop:)]
(live: 5s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[2](stop:)]
(live: 6s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[1](stop:)]
(live: 7s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[0](stop:)]
(live: 8s)[(t8n:"dissolve")[(go-to: "ZERO")](stop:)]
To your Surprise, when the countdown reaches zero, your screen does not display liftoff. Instead, you hear a click, and beside the massive video monitor a pair of secret doors softly slide open.
[[You look up->Kim Jong Un himself walks into your control room]]Kim Jong Un himself walks into your control room.
Your body turns to stone. You lick your lips and your respiratory system tricks out. What. The. Fuck!
You knew it all along. The Kims were in on it from the beginning!
Jong Un advances on you slowly, his eyes intent and malevolent.
[[You back away, your eyes locked with his.->Kim pauses]]Kim pauses.
He keeps his eyes fixed on you, and begins to slowly gyrate. His legs and arms move as fluidly as a ballerina's. He pirhouettes and en pointes and then, in one swift motion, pulls his top off.
He performs a perfect Russian and as he does so his pants break at the seams and fall to the floor.
He's not wearing panties, and despite yourself your gaze is drawn to his penis. As he dances it flips and spins elegantly beneath his perfect rolls of fat like a trained fish.
After demonstrating his tecnical mastery of the form through a dizzying combination of somersaults, leaps, and thrusts, Kim returns briefly to the flamingo position, and then, still holding your gaze, tiptoes slowly backwards through the secret doors. A moment later, he is gone.
You look through the doors and see nothing but a great black expanse, and stairs leading down.
[[You boldly take the stairs.->The stairs lead down and down]]The stairs lead down and down.
And then stop abruptly. You rest your hand on the dirt wall, but to your surprise the wall is not solid, and when you put your weight on it you fall right through.
(mouseover:"you fall")[(t8n:"dissolve")[
Now you're in an antechamber. There is a strange light coming from... somewhere. You smell the loamy, cool breath of the underground. The dirt here is a mottled red-yellowish clay.
A small lizard, striped blue and black with short legs and a long torso, darts into view and before you know it, is clinging to your pants. You take the lizard into the palm of your hand and raise it to eye level.
[[You ask the lizard its name.->The lizard does not respond directly]]]]
The lizard does not respond directly.
Instead, you watch as it slowly moves its tongue out of its mouth. The tongue is long and blue. It keeps extending. The tongue touches your cheek gently and retracts. You feel your cheek tingling where the lizard's tongue made contact.
Then the lizard suddenly leaps from the palm of your hand and falls to the dirt floor. It begins to gyrate and move its body rapidly up and down on its short little legs. As it does this, you hear a low rumble build in the antechamber.
And then, directly from the lizard's head, a weird mist begins to emanate. The mist rises, takes shape, gains substance...
...and assumes the form of a certain United States senator. The senator notes your presence. He opens his mouth to speak.
"Rolamo. Klorb. Nimnim," He says. "Rolamo. Klorb. Nimnim. Rolamo. Klorb. Nim... Nim."
[[You know exactly what he means.->You turn, now overcome by an overwhelming]]
You turn, now overcome by an overwhelming sense of purpose. You clamber through the crumbled wall of the antechamber and rush up the stairs, repeating in your head the words the senator told you.
You're back in the control room, and on the giant monitor the news is broadcasting.
"... now that is one -virile- panda!" says the handsome woman on the screen. Despite yourself, you chuckle at the image of the falling panda on the screen...
...
...
...now what were you doing again?
...
...
... Oh that's right. You open your browser and type in, "funny panda sex."
You remove the filter in your Chrome settings and lean back in your chair...
[[You reach a large hand into your shirt and scratch->'What's with all the blast doors?']]
↶↷
Shift Change
A Thomas brothers Game