Neon Aliens Stole My Mind

Putting the coffee cup down gently and gathering her belongings Milla glanced at one of the other patrons of the coffee shop. she recognized him from somewhere. Maybe just a coincidence, but the fact he was drawing reminded her of someone she knew from over the Internet. Not wanting to appear to weird Milla walked out of the shop and let the bell ring on the door frame behind her.

Ninja glanced across the shop and sipped his coffee. A girl who had been reading a book and was now leaving was staring at him looked familiar. Like a character from a book or a TV show. She was pretty, even if she looked melancholy leaving the café. As the door bell tinkled into silence Ninja started to draw a picture of her.

The Internet, late a night was Millas adopted home. She was also bored and waiting for a reason to sleep.
"Milla dear, go to sleep. You've got lecturers tomorrow," said her mom though Millas door.
"Okay I'll be asleep in an hour. I promise," lied Milla.
Milla clicked op a list of RSS feeds and saw a friend of hers had posted some new art.

It was her.
Well not exactly her.
The artist must have only seen her very quickly, as details had been filled in incorrectly.
But it was her.
Comment.

- Comment @ 23:30-
That's me!
Right down the poster I was sitting next to while I had coffee after buying some games in town.

M.

- Reply @ 23:37-
No way!
I thought I recognized the person.
If I'd have known it was you I'd have said hello or something.
What games did you buy?

NJ.

- Reply @ 00:23-
Weird.
Well at least it wasn't some crazy creep drawing me.
Oh the games I bought. Erm Puyo Puyo and Chrono Trigger.
I was feeling the need for some SNES love earlier.

Ninja decided not to reply further from that.
How could he?
It was an interesting oddity of a coincidence in his mind but nothing more.
Besides Ninja was busy scribbling together the first issue of "Back Hat Cowgirl". He was having difficulty coming up with a sensible dress and poncho combination that didn't look silly or naked blowing in a dust storm.

Fuckup beeped with a new SMS message.
The sound filled the room for a few seconds which where unbearably loud this late at night.
It was from his boss.
"Will you have that art done before the meeting tomorrow?"
"No. I'd like to have had it done. But I need to get some sleep around about now if I'm going to even make the meeting on time," replied Ninja.
"Oh well deadlines are made to be broken. Don't worry too much about being on time. Good night."

- Subject - Five Years.
- Location - Home home, Silicon City, Silicon Island.
- Date - 09-11-06.

Well here we are five years later.
Five years after the World Trade Center was deleted from the New York skyline. Almost five years since the crusades of Bush started. Lots of people died on that day and people have been dieing since. Conspiracy theories where born on that day as well. Most of them utterly crackpot. All of them of dubious origin.

I came home late that day. Probably because the bus was delayed due to the TV news. Who cares though? I was late home. It just means I only saw what happened because a friend of mine dragged me into his house to show me the TV.
I didn't believe it when she told me.
Until I saw the pictures on the screen a few times.

Then came the big dumb response.
Justified by the atrocity that had hit them they did some good.
Removing the Taliban was a good thing. Even if it was mismanaged after that.
But I think the leap to Iraq and WMDs was to far for the American state to maintain popular sympathy.

Shit they should have got after Saudi Arabia if they wanted to get Al Quad-ia and their supporters.

Although removing Saddam wasn't totally wrong.
Just everything else the Americans and the coalition of the willing did was pretty much messed up and handled by out of paradigm incompetents.
Civil war, religious war or just insurgents causing unrest - they didn't think of that.

Would things be okay if everything was "automagically" fixed tomorrow? I doubt it.

9/11 was a butterfly flapping its destructive wings. It has been the defining event of the decade. Which we are only now, just over half way through.
I don't want to imagine the terrible event that will end up overshadowing 9/11. But something of that magnitude will happened. Time and geo-politics will see that that. So while 9/11 will affect the rest of the century, like World War I influenced the rest of the last century. In 2100, five years will be ninety nine years. And something else will have happened. No doubt influenced by 9/11 in the same way 9/11 was influenced by the events of the prior century.

I wonder what was the first act of aggression or hate to start this causal chain?

But then I think it might just be best to move on.
Or at least find something hopeful to run this century on.

- M. -

-Yash- AOL isn't that bad. There is a crappy connection program.
-M- And the dumb users. Idiots that pay for a substandard service. Most of those users got AOL because that's what the advert told them they wanted.
-Yash- Elitist.
-M- And proud. =)
* Alex has joined the room.
-Alex- Hello.
-Ninja- Rawr!.
-XWN- Salute.
-M- Besides it isn't elitism if most people agree. Just intellectual bigotry. =P
-Yash- omg its Alex!

Alex chewed on a mint and put a mug of coffee down on his desk in the tiny gap between his keyboard and his ancient and large monitor.

-RJ- I think my monitor is on the fritz.
-Yash- What is wrong with it?
-RJ- It's flickering. More then a monitor should.
-Yash- Your phone isn't near it is it?
-RJ- No! Why would that affect anything? Who uses crts now anyway?
-Alex- I do!
-RJ- You do? How come?
-Alex- It was cheap. And environmentally friendly.
-Yash- Always a good thing.
-RJ- Ah you had a hippy moment.
-Alex- Among the many I have everyday.
-M- That would explain the haircut.
-Alex- Cheeky monkey.
-M- Among other things.
-Alex- Well LCD monitors hurt my eyes and lots of companies throw perfectly working crt monitors away. It's a shame to let them go to waste.
-RJ- Yeah. I'm always trying to grab discarded shit from work. The Hole is hosted on reclaimed bits.
-Yash- The Hole?
-Alex- The web sever that hosts S-Hub. Or a fictional news feed. No it's the first one.
-Yash- Oh. Why the Hole?
-RJ- Because until I offered some bitz and bandwidth. S-Hub burned a hole in Alex's pocket.
-Alex- It still does burn a hole in my pocket.
-RJ- Well it is kind of hard to self host and keep it old school and not have to pay an electricity bill.
-Alex- I'll get round that someday.
-M- Sure you will.

"So you are Irish?" Asked a school girl who tried to match Jacks pace as he walked down the crowded Tokyo street.
Jack carried on walking.
"No," he said.
"English?"
"I bloody hope not!" Jack said putting a cigar between his lips.
"Scottish?" The school girl had ran out of places the name O'Mally might have come from.
"Ach nien I'm not from anywhere," said Jack.
"Really with a name like that you must be from one of those places. How come?" Asked the girl as Jack stopped to observe the 'don't walk' sign.
"It is just how it is," Jack O'Mally said.

"Just put the damn Dictaphone on the table," Jack shouted at the journalist.
Carl threw the black plastic Dictaphone on the table and watched it slide into the center of the table artistically.
"That thing on?" Jack wondered out loud.
"Of course it is. It's been on since I left the car," Carl answered.
"Yeah your not stupid. Hear anything good on the way in?" Jack said.
"Only that the whole top floor has been rented out. A floor which consists of five other suites like this. All rented to the Mothra Foundation."
"Mothra, is that the bug?"
"Yeah", said Carl. "Its the giant fucking bug."

Jack laughed.
"Good front name for when we are in town. I mean we are a giant fucking bug of organization. No matter how hard people try you can't kill us and you hear and see us all the fucking time," Jack observed. "Plus we've destroyed a few cities in our time."
"Really! Which ones has the United Nations Special Scenario Service destroyed?"
"I can't say. I shouldn't have said anything," Jack said, wishing he could just kill the journalist and dump the body behind some sea front fish gutting factory.
"Oh go on," Carl pushed.
"Well it was going to leak in a few days anyway. So lets see. Tokyo twice. Plus one in an alternate reality. But that kind of also destroyed that universe. Geneva in Switzerland once. A bad computer virus and some weird science caused that one. Geneva in Wisconsin three times. There is a really bad zombie and demon problem in that area. At the office we all have some pet theories about why. I reckon it is Gygex and that damn hypersigil of his. I can't say much more. My boss will be madder at me and this is really quite embarrassing."

"Well that was easy wasn't it," Carl said.
"Spilling secrets normally is once in a while when you spend all your time keeping them,"

Jack pointed out.
"True I guess. So is being an international super star hard then?" Asked Carl.
"Only when you have to answer awkward questions. Which you do all the time. Of course the perks are really rewarding," said Jack.
"Like what? House in Silicon City. Sports cars and a high credit limit. The Miami Vice lifestyle without the shitty hair, music, clothes." Carl listed the things he wanted, he liked Miami Vice a lot as a kid.
"Well I'd rather use James Bond as a metaphor. Except without the sexism, imperialism and union flags," Jack said.
"Gideon Stargrave might be a better example," said Carl.
"Who?"
"The Invisibles. Well before that comic he was in another Grant Morrison comic. But appeared in that series as well," Carl explained.
"I don't follow. I've not read a comic since I was reading Judge Dredd in between masturbating to Madonna as a fourteen year old," Jack said.
"Too much information man," Carl said.
"I know. I'm hoping that will be the headline of whatever news rag you write for. Not the U.N.S.S.S. destroying three cities on multiple occasions plus a whole universe," said Jack."

A mobile phone buzzed on the table top.
It rotated a little on its central axis a little and then stopped.
"That's my call to leave you Carl. Don't publish the story until we say so and nothing will happen. Remember the U.N. cares as an organization. As the monkeys that have to stop the serious shit from happening we don't care," Jack said as he left the hotel suite.

I'd like to think I am getting quite good at writing these “oh I'm so sorry for not posting” updates. Be it for [Insert Name] which has finally disappeared off the Internet (except for possibly archive.org) or just generally apologizing to the few people who care enough about my writings that I'm not writing enough. Oh well my excuse this time is far better.
Now to explain this I'm going to have to describe a place.
Normally I don't feel very comfortable doing this.
I'm big on details being hidden in a few words. But in this instance I can't really rely on that.

Where am I living?
Basel, Switzerland. It's a really cool, nice and generally amicable place. It has an old city, graffiti and trams. In fact I'd be really quite happy here if the bars I visited with friends didn't consist of Irish and English expat bars. Well apart from the fact I don't speak Swiss German, high German or French which all in all make everyday life a bit difficult. Although interesting. In my apartment – which is really more like a hotel room I have a toilet, sink and shower en suite. I'll miss them. Mostly because it is nice to wake up in the morning when you want and take a crap when you need it. I also have a fridge and cupboard that is warmer then is really healthy for storing food in. Oh and a kettle and a plate and basic eating irons. A TV also with lots of channels in German and French.

I've been watching Cartoon Network in German and French.
Somehow it doesn't work.
But there is sex on the Smerfs on the telly here, so that is all right!

Oh yeah there is a bed, no Internet connection and what is really a bench that sort of acts as a desk.

These aren't ideal conditions for writing fiction in.
It's too isolated from the other students I work with, and am living with.
I don't write in isolation from other people.
I can pretend to be an anti-social jerk all I want.
But I am really “pseudo-stranger” 'cos I'm not really that weird.
Not compared to the variation that exists in the world.
Although I do enjoy looking for that variation. Celebrating it and studying it as I go.

So I promise I'll start writing when I move into Muttenz on the 18th of August.
Well not immediately!
Okay, immediately!
Even before I've unpacked and just after I've paid for the taxi ride.
Am I allowed to make my self a cup of coffee first?
No, I guess I can't that would involve preparing coffee which would involve going into Basel to buy a French press.
Delaying the whole endeavor of me sitting down immediately and writing an issue of Neon Aliens somewhat.

Do you know what the difference between writing and drawing is?
Writers don't have to write to practice at their craft.
Drawing is a motor skill. Writing see, I reckon that is a state of mind and not a skill
Thinking about writing is something I do it all the time see.
I reckon it is more fun then writing.
And it isn't like thinking about a drawing is it?
The words in my head are just as valid as the words on the page or screen.
It's just you can't read them from my head.

Well I hope you can't read them.
That would be spooky.
And you'd be a voyeuristic pervert.
And I'd want to study you.
And probably celebrate the fact you're reading my filthy mind.

- Will.

Ninja walked out onto the sidewalk and felt the heat roll over him immediately.
Turning around on his heels he went back inside and put his coat back in his apartment.
Walking back out onto the street sans coat Ninja stomped off in the stifling heat humidity towards the subway station half a block away.

Climbing down the dirty steps into the station Ninja waved his wallet over the security barrier and walked through towards the platform.
After paying for a drink from a vending machine Ninja took a seat on a plastic bench molded into the concave walls of the platform wall. A digital clock showed the time till the next train. And people, not a lot of people milled around on the platform waiting quietly annoyed with their lives.
Making a game of it Ninja decided to count the sweat patches on the people trying to look serious.

He counted seven people.

The train a single grey carriage arrived and the people annoyed with the heat stepped onto the train. Inside the train Ninja was forced to stand next to an overweight business man who smelt bad.

Lots of stops later and still standing next to the smelly man Ninja came to the end of his book and looked at the station the train was just leaving.
"Oh shit!" Ninja cried when he saw he'd missed his stop.

The doors to Silicon City Comics opened. A hot and sweaty Ninja stepped through them.
"You're late," said Steve Odone, owner of the company.
"Heat. Distracted by book. Missed station. Had to backtrack," Ninja spluttered out before collapsing into a sofa next to him.
"Get this kid some water will you Dawn," Steve said.
"Yes sir," said Dawn who stood up from behind the reception desk.

"Thanks," Ninja said weakly accepting the paper cup.
"I've seen your drawings. They're good," said Dawn.
"Oh," Ninja muttered as he took a drink.
"I think you have gotten a good thing working with France."
"I've never met him," Ninja said.
"She's in the next room with Mr Odone."
"I should go in shouldn't I?" Ninja said as he pulled him self from the sofa.
"Yeah Charles you should."

"I'm done with college mum," said Ninja.
"But Charlie why?" his mum implored for a reason.
"I'm bored mom. I know how to draw. I draw to learn so I get better. All collage is teaching me is that people hate art," Ninja tried to explain.
"But why not just change your degree? Why don't you become an accountant like dad?" Charlie's mum tried to offer as a compromise.
"I just don't like college mum. The people are boring wastes. I want to draw. So I'm going to draw. Silicon City Comics have already given me a job penciling based on my portfolio. It's not like I'm becoming unemployed," Ninja lied about not liking collage.
"Well if you've already got a job. I guess me and your father will be proud of you whatever you do," said his mum, not agreeing with her sons choice.

Ninja waved as his mum silently left the flat and turned over to his drawing board.

The phone rang again.
"Yeah this is Ninja," Ninja said.
"Sure I can come into the office. Do you mind if I finish the panel I'm working on first?"
"Oh okay. That is quite important," said Ninja pausing to find his next question.
"That's great! Who am I working with?"
"Well he's a good artist but I didn't know he was any good at writing."
"Of course I'll draw his comic. I'll be in right away. Moose Sausage is an odd name for a series. Well it'll be fun to draw. Thank you sir. I'll be over right away," Ninja said before putting the phone down.

Putting his pencil to one side Ninja grabbed an old tatty paperback and his coat.

[Nut] So that's why I'd kick your ass. I have a gun and you don't.
[XWN] Well I'm too young to own one. But I don't see the point you having one. I peeked a glance at the crime statistics for your area and there is hardly any crime.
[Nut] That is because we all own guns here.
[Milla] Or you're rich enough to live in a good idea.
[Nut] That isn't the point. Everyone who can carry a gun, should carry a gun. Except if you are some kind of commie or criminal.
[Milla] But the Red Army is Soviet Russia had lots of guns.
* Nut was kicked by Soap (Go make your dinner).
[Soap] XWN go to school.
* XWN was kicked by Soap (And grow up).
* Milla kicked by Soap (stfu).

"Damn it," cursed Milla under her breath.
She tried to connect to the NeonAliens chat room again but had been banned by Soap.
She shifted her attention to another room on the same server and made an annoyed comment.

A few minutes later after browsing a couple of message boards and checking her mail a few more times then she regarded healthy Milla tried to join the chat room again.
Back in the room she found it dead.
No one was talking and it had probably Milla reckoned been dead for a couple of minutes.

"I hate leaders," Milla typed into another chat room on a different server. She promptly revoked her own leader powers, since the room gave everyone equal powers to remove people from the room.

Thinking to herself Milla decided that the idea of privileged users in a single chat room was counter intuitive. Often the power in this situation led to abuse, often in the form of censor. But reasoned Milla that if chat rooms were meant as a community that issues like who should be removed for being disruptive should be held by all the currently active members of the room. And not just a select few.

This Milla realized would remove the Catch-22 that made it nearly impossible to police the police in chat rooms. But also the one way nature of the policing by making them equally accountable and removing them effectively. Milla who hadn't considered her self disruptive before, since there was very little activity reasoned that if a significant amount people had actually cared enough to remove them that they would have been removed under what she thought was a smarter idea.

Annoyed with even having to endeavor on this line of thought Milla turned off her computer.

"All swords should be magical, " Kirk said.
"Why?" asked Raptor Jedi.
"Because...it's like a staple of the fantasy genre."
"So! What happened to breaking convention? Why are they so important that everything fantastic has to have a magic sword," argued Raptor Jedi.
"Breaking convention became lame when hack writers started to do it. Look the rule in fantasy is that if Tolkin did it. It must be done," said Kirk, speaking out of his ass.
"But Tolkin didn't invent fantasy. He didn't even make it popular. Look all I'm saying is that in a computer game that is designed about realistic parameters, the existence of magic and resurrection non withstanding. Well magic swords are overkill. One hit with a sword would kill you man. Well one decent hit, continued Raptor Jedi.
"So magic is okay on its own, but when the sword becomes magical it suddenly isn't okay," Kirk cried out, frustrated with this argument.
"I'm not saying that. Your the one saying that they should all be magical. I'm just asking what the fucking point of them all being magical is, " shouted Raptor Jedi back across the room.
"Because it is really cool, " Kirk said.
"I don't think it is," said Raptor Jedi.
"Well you're not cool then!"
"This is coming from the person that was the first person to buy a Gameslave on two successive generations," Raptor Jedi pointed out.
"Well okay, I was third in line for the first generation," said Kirk.
"Oh and that makes it so much better, " Raptor Jedi said.
"No. But my point still stands. All swords should be magical."

It is hot outside and Milla is bored and stuck in front a computer.
"Outside is hell land," typed Milla.
"It sure is," Ninja typed back.
"Yeah I might even open a window," Raptor Jedi responded.
Milla joked, "I've seen photos of your office - it is a cave. You don't have a window."
"So," Raptor Jedi typed, "That isn't my point. Besides I don't think the company would mind if I took a sledge hammer to an outside wall."
"I bet the people under the falling rubble would mind," Ninja typed.
"Fuck em," typed Raptor Jedi.
"Yeah they would have bigger concerns," Milla typed.
"Like a ton of bricks falling on their faces," typed Ninja.

Milla span around in her swivel chair.
"I'm bored," she typed into her computer.
"My air conditioning is none existent and I've got a long summer of nothing to do," Milla ranted.
"Get a job. Get some coffee. Sleep lots and or go outside sometime," Ninja offered as advice.
"Boring. Can't be bothered. Already have and I burn too easily," responded Milla.
"Besides only when you do those things Ninja," added Milla, as an afterthought.
"Well you're going to have a long, hot and boring summer," Raptor Jedi typed.

The Ninja fired balls of fire across the screen and dodged to the left to avoid a wave of oncoming ice. Snapping back to its original path the toon Ninja carried along its original vector of destruction. More aggressors, Ninja a different clan to our hero Ninja fly down the screen dressed in blue. When the fire hits them they disappear in a two dimensional cloud of smoke.

The screen darkens now. The TV flashes, 'Warning Boss Battle Commencing.' Snow, the TV screen is filled with snow. Crackling random static. The shogun, head of the blue Ninja spins into the center of the screen. Fighting in 2D the two trade fire and ice. The toon Ninja disappears in its own cloud of smoke. The worlds 'Game Over!' appear on the screen.

Ninja sat back in his wooden chair and dutifully place the joypad he was using on the desk.
"I'm going to drop out and draw comics," Ninja said, in a moment of clarity.

He turned to his drawing board.
I'd rather be drawing fun stuff then slaving away for a degree I don't care about. I'd better reply to Silicon Comics in the morning. Ninja thought to himself while repeating the mantra, "Bed, quit university hell, draw comics."

Miles of trees surrounded Murdoc the fighter.
In plate armor he navigated the trees running as fast as he could while swinging his sword recklessly at a woman in armor.
"Die priestess of foul unholy abominations," Murdoc shouted, as he slashed into a trees trunk.
The woman shouted in a strange tongue unknown to Murdoc and a bolt of lightning struck a tree ahead of Murdoc.
"Hah you missed witch!" Murdoc gloated running and fighting with the woman who kept dodging.

Murdoc tripped over the fallen tree.
"Divine intervention is every ones worst enemy. May Lady Harker guide you to unread sword waltzer," the woman said to Murdoc, before a bolt of lightning reached down from the sky to touch Murdoc.

"Aw man she critical me," Raptor Jedi shouted.
"Are you still playing that Swordwaltzer game RJ?" Asked Kirk.
"Yeah, I'm really damn addicted. I was just in the player vs player area and," Raptor Jedi said before being cut off.
"You where questing for the elven noodle an item of great healing power. Yap yap yap, come on lets get some noodles for lunch," Kirk said.

"But evil clerics still lurk in the woods," Raptor Jedi protested.
"And they will be there when you get back," said Kirk taking his keys.

Topic: M isn't here right now. Please leave a message with my ever increasing inbox. Topic set my user M at 09:05 am.

[RJ] Hey Ninja. How's the new art for that graphics pack you're doing?
[Ninja] Bad! I lost the contents of my hard disc this morning.
[JDoe] How come? Don't you have backups?
[Ninja] Well hang on a minute. This is more important then a silly graphics pack.
[RJ] Let me guess. You essays and digital art are gone.
[Ninja] I have lost everything I was meant to hand in next week. I explained the problem to my lecturers and my course supervisor. They are how shall I put it? Less then optimistic that the university (as a body they want me to understand not as individuals) will allow this as an exception to handing work in late.
[JDoe] Well did you have backups? You can still recreate what you've done. And then finish it!
[Ninja] You don't understand. I only have time to reach the point I was at last night. If I'm really lucky. I could just drop out!
Ninja has set the topic to, "You don't understand!" at 19:00pm.
Ninja has left #shub.
[RJ] I wouldn't recommend dropping out. If anything you need the studio space.
[RJ] Well he went. Back to silence.

- Subject: The Bitch Nerd Wakes. -
- Mood: Annoyed & Bitchy. -
- Music: Nightwish - Century Child. -

Yesterday me and Dr Banks finally had a fight.
I'm turning back to how I was before, back when I was in high school. Before I.
This is a good thing you understand.
The arguement was about Pedro Sy. Well Mark Twain/Samuel Clemens.

I was wrong to start playing Eve in the lecture. I admit that freely.
He however is (was) wrong to not read the journals of record for the subject he teaches. Or teach the currently held theories. Especally when it gives us new insight into a writer.

He challanged me to send him a e-mail giving my argument with sources.
I sent him one. It had a short essay outlining my argument supporting this theory. It listed my sources, and as such I can't really post the essay here. The urls I provided in the e-mail all link to a paid for academic database the university provides access too for students and teaching staff.

I'm tired now.
Happy that I got to vent at a inept lecturer. Finally after months of hogwash.
I am annoyed however that it had to happen how it happened.

Disgaea is calling me now. So I'm going to head that call and go and play it for a few hours.

- M -

"In 1901 Pedro Sy published his final story in the Steam City Tribune. The story entitled 'In the Coals of Our Future' predicted among other things that Steam City would take its position as a Mediterranean nexus of telegraph communications and expand on it," said Dr Banks, the lecturer of Steam City era literature who stood at the front of the class.

Milla who sat near the back of the class took her phone out. She started to play a game of Eve. Milla liked the robot creation simulation, it was fun. Today she felt like creating a tripod hunter robot.
"Milla! What are you doing? If your not listening get out!" Shouted Dr Banks.
"Playing Eve on my phone Dr Banks," said Milla.
"Get out," said Dr Banks, annoyed and point at the door.
Milla put the phone back in her bag.

"Fine. There is no merit to listening to someone spout crap about someone who never existed. At least as a writer," Milla said walking down the steps of the lecture theater.
"Never existed! Are you mad girl! Show due deference. Pedro Sy was the finest writer Silicon City has seen. How can a man so prominent and influential be fictional?"
"Easy. He was Mark Twain. A very good and influential writer. Samuel Cements if we strip all false names away," Milla said.
"Impossible," Dr Banks said, "I won't have one of my students spouting such nonsense."
"Nonsense. Sir if you say he was prominent you're overlooking the fact he wrote only five books. All of them short, even by our standards. Maybe he wrote a dozen newspaper and magazine peace. Is there any record of him attending any social event of the time? Or even accepting any of his awards. He was a mouth peace for Clemens. His views on American Imperialism. Clemens even says so in a letter written a short while after Sy wrote his last published work," said Milla as she stopped at the door.

"You know I'll need more proof then your word for that. Sources, lots of them," Dr Banks said.
"I know," Milla said, "and I have them."
"I'm still mad at you. Leave now, come back next lecture."
"I was rude. I meant to be. I don't suffer fools. I'll send an e-mail with the sources later," Milla said leaving the room.

"Right where was I before that witch started raving?"

The sun shone down on Silicon City, not a cloud in the sky.
The high rise corporate monoliths stood around Raptor Jedi as he rode in the middle of the street on his mountain bike. Taxis filled the taxi rank that Raptor Jedi cut through. Chaining his bike to a rail Raptor Jedi adjusted the shoulder straps on his backpack and walked into the reception of a glass and steel tower.

The lift was empty, at ten AM it tended to be. Raptor Jedi was late for work on purpose most of the time. Pushing the button for the fourteenth floor (actually the thirteenth floor in Raptor Jedi's reckoning) the doors closed with a polite ping.

The doors opened and Raptor Jedi shoved the ear-buds of his headphones into his ears. People ignored him if he did that.
"You're late Robbie! If your," said Raptor Jedi's most annoying user, who stopped talking when he saw the headphones.
At the end of a carpeted hallway the system administrator cave door stood out, covered in stickers reading, "Cav3 of 3vil," and "Just Slide and get a Penguin PC."

Taking out a bundle of keys Raptor Jedi unlocked the door.
Kirk was already at his desk, he knew about Raptor Jedi's headphone ruse.
"RJ, you know who wants you to fix his computer again. He says his keyboard has broken or some bollocks," Kirk said.
" I'll deal with it after lunch. He just wants to get out of doing any work so I've decided to give him the morning off" Raptor Jedi said, putting his bag under the desk and logging into his computer.
"Isn't he on the work group that has a report to hand in tomorrow for that buyout?"
"Yeah! So he might not be lying this time. But you know boy who played wolf. Well more MBA who played cry baby one too many times," Raptor Jedi said.
"So you're just going to not fix it."
"No, that isn't what I said. I will fix it. Just after lunch. After a very long, relaxing lunch. You can come if you want, I'll pay," offered Raptor Jedi, feeling uncharacteristically generous.

Raptor Jedi joined the Shooter Hub chat room.
"Hi man. Are you at work yet?" Queried Ninja.
"Yeah, I just got in. The traffic was terrible. And my bed was warm," Raptor Jedi typed back.
"I've got to go into Uni. Damn lectures," Ninja said, before leaving the room.
"Your turn to get coffee!," Raptor Jedi shouted to Kirk who was leaving the office.
"Okay I'll go after I make an errand to the server room."
"Damn you and that server room. What ever do you do in there?"

What is Neon Aliens Stole My Mind?
Neon Aliens Stole My Mind is a collection of on going stories written in the flash fiction format. The stories follow a group of people, their daily lives and involvement in a video gaming sub-culture based around a shoot em up computer game.


A short bit of history
This is my third serial writing project. Hopefully it will be better then the previous two.
The first serial I wrote was called dataJacks, and is of no interest to anybody.
The second is called [Insert Name] and is also a collection of flash fiction stories. Except with changing genre. This serial had its own website. It is still on the Internet. But is inferior to Neon Aliens Stole My Mind (Neon Aliens). Neon Aliens is an idea of roughly smiler vintage as [Insert Name], both dating back to around the spring of 2004 and my final year of high school.
Neon Aliens was turned into a film script for my A-Level course in Film Studies, I got a B for it.
[Insert-Name] was turned into a very underground website, and has been around for two years.

About the author.
Neon Aliens Stole My Mind is written by me. My name is Will Ellwood, and I was born in July 1986. I am a computer science student at the not very prestigious De Montfort University in Leicester. I like cats, reading, listening to music, playing video games, beer, coffee, hugs and candy.

Now a FAQ.
The questions
What is the point of this journal man?
I see a bunch of text and stuff. Where're the pictures?
Where do you get your ideas?
What authors do you like, and why?

The answers.

What is the point of this journal, man?

Too show off!
Well that is putting it rather bluntly. I suppose a more tactful reply would be to share the stories I write for your entertainment. But on the whole what keeps the site going is the feeling that someone is reading something I have written. The feeling is even better when I get a reply with constructive criticism or kind words.
But honestly the main reason can be boiled down to wanting a soapbox to stand on and go look at me.

I see a bunch of text and stuff. Where're the pictures?
There are no pictures, I can't draw! That's the simple reason why there are no pictures. The other reason is that with most of the text on the site being so short, having images would distract from the principle content of the site.

Why make a web serial with no pictures?
Why not? The web is just as good at handling text, if not better then it is handling pictures. The short short prose thing comes from the vignettes from Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs and Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin and many others.

Where do you get your ideas?
Ouch, that is a question everyone involved in creating anything dreads.
It is thankfully a highly personalized question. Unlike the much harder to answer question, how can I get ideas?
Well at the moment I get them on buses, in cars and walking to and from places. That might explain my fascination with transit. I suffer from problems sleeping partly causes by ideas. So I tend to get idea are points of the day that need brain power.
Another way I get ideas is from things people say and do. As well as things I read in books and newspapers. Oh of course films and to some degree video games. Music is another way of generating ideas. I've been using the VNV Nation album 'Empires' as brainstorming music for ages.
I guess then I just tend to get ideas from doing things and going about my daily life. I don't really have a shortage of ideas. Talent and discipline maybe, but not ideas.

What authors do you like, and why?
Ah, I like lots of authors although there are a few I would hope to draw influence from directly. I'm a big fan of William Gibson. I'm about to repeat a story told many times before. But the first time I read Neuromancer I was around age 13 or 14. I was having a hacker/cracker phase.
Why do I like William Gibson? I like the style of writing and most of his stories are somewhat relevant to me.
I also like Neal Stephenson because he overloads on technical details which makes reading his books and stories informative as well as entertaining for me.

Milla:

Alias:  M.

Description:

A Goth girl, currently studying literature at the local university.
Carries around a shoulder bag and has over ear headphone round her neck. Her skin for S-Hub is made up of Tim Burton Esq style sprites. In RPGs she tends to play the mage/cleric style classes with smiler imagery.

Raptorjedi:

Alias:  RJ.

Description:

Looks like a rock star. Tall with long hair and with Mediterranean skin it is hard to know where RJ comes from.
Clothing typical skater clothing baggy jeans, hooded top, studded belt. Can be seen with a backpack containing discs for trade and a joy pad. He has a black and white chalk skin in S-Hub. In RPGs he tends to play the fighter/ranger style classes. Of the cast he is the one that changes his in game adherence the most.

Ninja:

Alias:  WME.

Description:

Short, young and looks like a hairy hermit. Seen playing S-Hub with a cartoon Ninja based design. Carries a bokken for effect over his back. In RPGs he tends to play elven thief style characters.

X-Wing Nomad:

Alias:  XWN.

Description:

X-Wing Nomad is a kid from England, it tells in his accent and his mannerisms. He tends to wears mostly black, round his neck he carries a data stick with his custom skins on. The images he uses are cute anime ones. He often appears more confident then he is and rarely speaks and often when he is reply to someone it is in a submissive way. In RPGs he generally plays as a girl, often as a healer/druid.

Kent:

Alias: 0K0.

Description:

Kent is the creator of S-Hub, at least that is what he thinks and the majority of people think. He did play a large part in the creation of the game. Notably the programming aspect of the current version. But he didn't come up with the concept. No one knows who did...just because.
He is not tall, but stands above most of the cast in terms of height with only RaptorJedi being taller. He wears circler wireframe glasses and has quite short untidy dirty blond hair .
In RPGs tends to play wizards.