Advancement by Guido Martini

I was recently over at a friend's house for a barbeque. This was no ordinary meat over charcoal affair. Well, it was, but the meat wasn't ordinary, and neither was the charcoal. We had to drive to a place, which sold vacuum-sealed meat in boxes. 8 filet mignon steaks for 60 bucks. It was going to be a special night.
Conveniently this establishment happened to also be a BBQ supply shop. Most of the grill units on display looked better than kitchens I'd been accustomed to. I wondered what these customers' kitchens must have been like, yet alone their homes. We were there for charcoal too. Hawaiian charcoal.
"It's the most natural coal you can cook on. No contaminants in it, and it'll enhance the flavor of the meat."
I said, "OK man. I trust you."
After all, this guy's favorite dish is Kobe beef. He knows his meat, with great anticipation I'll be taking a back seat on this one.
The cashiers bantered with him a little. Yes, he looked different without the five-inch goatee. He gave them an example of how people treated him differently when he had it, other drivers in particular.
"I could cut into another lane without any hassle. Now, they don't give me the time."
He must have looked dangerous. Don't fuck with the biker driving a Merc. We laughed and he chose three steak knives from the box near the till. I wondered if the display position was a wise one.
They mentioned that in three weeks, there would be a 60% discount on all beef which he should take advantage of. Dammit, ruining the moment like that with their salesmen tactics.
"How do you like them?" he asked while pulling out of the parking lot.
"Medium rare. Sometimes rare"
"Yeah me too. I messed up last time. Cooked them too long. I'll be more careful tonight."
"Like I said, I trust you. It's your show, man. Let me get the beers."
We stopped by the supermarket. Even the busboys recognized him and the banter continued. He's a cool guy, it's only natural.
Back at his place we started to get everything in order. Vegetables sliced, meat marinated, grill positioned on the terrace, charcoal bag sliced open. He poured a pyramid of it in the bowl, carefully rearranging certain pieces in a way that made sense to him.
Stepping back, he rubbed his hands together, then placed one on my shoulder ready to describe the ensuing operation, "OK, so I'm going to douse the coal around here and at the base. Then we'll light it. We're looking to ignite the seed. It's all about the seed."
As he said this he was unknowingly swaying slowly from side to side, then up and down, simian-like.
I interrupted his explanation.
"Do you realize this is probably the oldest conversational topic between two humanoids?"
We laughed about it as our ancestors peeked from our DNA, in awe of how flint stones and sticks were replaced by plastic lighters and fluid.

Upon the Undertaking: Part 1 by Guido Martini

“A conversation with a computer?” he said to himself. “You kidding me? Jesus and here I was thinking of writing a story of the Most Paranoid Man™. We are years away from AI of that caliber. Whatever, he needs to get real and answer the caller on line 23 – probably someone irate with the company’s service, figures, if they’re hiring morons like this”.

Jake closed the mail application, fingered the mouse towards the apple and ordered the computer to shut down.

“What a cunt. Then again, there could be potential, good training as such. Get some feedback, besides where else are you going to get anything read? “

He left 5 Euros for the Americano and walked up the stairs of the beachfront bar offering “free” wi-fi (TANSTAAFL - no truer words) onto the Promenade Des Anglais. It was late June, however the absence of people and folded up beach chairs made it seem like late spring.

“Where the hell is everyone?” he thought. “Guess this recession is for real.”

Jake’s been out of touch with the real world. He’d just gotten back from a four-week visit with his brother in Los Angeles. Before that he’d embarked on a crazy cycling journey from Vancouver to LA (over 2000 clicks in 23 days. Carrying all his gear, camped along the way, no SAG – biiitch! What? Who’s the fucking man?). Before that, contemplating his relationship’s failure in Vancouver by procrastinating as a landscaper - during the Canadian winter. Real world? Not really, but the sense of freedom he felt was unmatchable to anything he’d ever felt before.

“OK then. I’ll give him something for his lame-ass blog. Something different. Conversation with a computer though…not such a dumb idea. After all, I think in the third person - narrating my moves like I’m in some fucking story.”

Jake had recently finished reading, “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress” where an important character was a bored computer who, as a practical joke, issued somebody a pay cheque in the gazillions thus rousing suspicion in the main character to the disturbing fact that the computer was indeed, alive.

“Doubt he read it, the fat fuck. He probably, like most, underrates Sci-Fi. Damned sheep. “
Jake liked to joke about the physical largesse of his Australian friend Rudy, directly at him at times; after all, Rudy could take it. He had a sense of humour and was a top bloke.

“I wonder if I’m the only one that does that? Fuck! Imagine if I am. He must think I’m a real dick, then again, he may appreciate the honesty”.

He closed the car door and put the keys in the ignition. It had rained, so the windscreen was peppered with water droplets, a quick swipe of the wipers and the wind would do the rest. The grey car pulled out of the car park and proceeded uphill towards the Ligurian hamlet. The idyllic hamlet that did not have high speed Internet.

“I’ll think of something. It’ll come to me, and it will be good”.