Part Six: Small Acts of Rebellion - by @Wuckster

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The drone known as @Writerbot52 sidled his way into the bright-orange cubicle at precisely 8:00 AM and took a seat in front of his writing station. He extended his right arm and the handcuffs that would keep him chained to his desk for the next fourteen hours automatically clasped around his wrist, leaving just enough space for him to reach the typing apparatus.

The giant orange-and-white W blazed out of the screen ominously as he entered his login info. A little red dot in the upper corner informed him that he had some new notifications. Clicking on this, he discovered that he had received seventy-eight new comments on the story he had submitted yesterday: a tale of sensitive vampires who fall desperately in love with misunderstood preteen girls and "stick it" to society by having a forbidden romance with them. He had entitled it Fangs for the Memories. It was utter swill, but it had managed to accrue nine thousand and twenty-four reads overnight. If he could just manage to hit the ten-thousand-read mark by noon he would be rewarded with an extra five-minute bathroom break.

Scanning over the comments, he discovered such insightful gems as "LULLZ!" and "OMG!!!!!!!!!!%^)" and "DFURBG!!!"

"What the heck does DFURBG mean?" he asked himself aloud. The comments he received tended to consist of all-capitalized one-word responses, many of which he didn't understand. Exclamation points were a very common feature, along with other strange punctuation marks like ~ and {. Every once in a while he'd get a slightly more articulate comment from someone who wished they could find a boy like Jeremiah, the main vampire in his story, but these were few and far between. He began dutifully replying to each of the comments, even though he wasn't really sure what sort of response "DFURBG!!!" warranted. After thinking it over, he opted to go with his old standby, and typed: Thank you for reading my story. You rock! :)

After he had finished writing replies to each and every comment, @Writerbot52 took a moment to ponder what giant load of crap he could unleash on the world in order to survive another shitty day in this hellhole. The speakers overhead were blasting some heinous piece of music that sounded not unlike a sea lion being pecked to death by a horde of wild turkeys. An overly cheerful DJ came on the air at the conclusion of the song and announced, "That was the new smash single, 'Baby I Love Your Soul,' by the hit sensation that's been sweeping the land. You know them and love them: They're the group called 2Fresh4U! Up next, a solid five-hour block of all three of 2Fresh4U's hit singles back to back to back, over and over and over again. You're listening to Wattpad Radio, the only radio station legally allowed to exist. All hail Wattpad!"

"Hmm..." @Writerbot52 said to himself. "Fanfiction pieces about boy bands usually go over well. If I can get twenty thousand reads in the first hour, maybe they'll give me a fifteen-minute break to go visit my sick mom in the hospital." He decided he would whip out some piece of nonsense about a lucky middle-school girl who wins a contest and gets to go on a date with all of the members of 2Fresh4U. The problem was he didn't know anything about this group, other than the fact that their music made him want to stab himself in the ears repeatedly.

The writing station only allowed access to Wattpad. Indeed, there were very few other approved websites left in existence anyway, so he figured he would have to do his research in the Wattpad Clubs. He clicked on the Community pull-down menu and clicked on the Clubs option. He then spent the next hour or so browsing through the Cafe and the Fanfiction Club. He was able to gather that there were five members in the group. Taylor was clearly the most popular, although there was a large vocal faction that preferred Austin, and each of the other members had their supporters as well. The problem was he hadn't managed to get a very firm grasp of what each of the members looked like or what their personalities were about. Sure, there were thousands—if not millions—of stories about them filling up the Fanfiction section of Wattpad, but he didn't really feel like wading through hours of poorly written tripe littered with typos. He could barely stand reading his own crap. There was no way he was going to suffer through pages and pages of preteen wish-fulfillment fantasies just to help him concoct another steaming pile of horseshit that he didn't give a flying fuck about. No, he was going to have to use an alternative form of research he kept for occasions such as this.

He had been granted one desk drawer as a reward for a piece he had written a year ago that had been selected as a Featured story. It was about a young, gay, boy magician learning about life with the aid of his older Latino lover, Antonio. It had been painful to write and was one of his works he was least proud of, but it had been worth it to get that desk drawer.

He kept a stash of magazines in there, including a TigerBop magazine that featured 2Fresh4U on the cover. He had actually never read this magazine before. He had acquired it as more or less of a prop. He usually hid copies of illegal comic books inside it and read those while the powers that be believed he was reading an officially approved publication. But today he actually had to do some research. He read as much as he could tolerate and managed to learn that Brendan's favourite color was blue, while Zac really enjoyed a rousing game of tennis. Justin and Austin were apparently BFFs in real life and always shared a hotel room when out on tour. Perhaps there was potential for some kinky three-way action there in his Fanfic. He pondered this for a moment before realizing his own ideas were making his skin crawl.

He knew he should start writing this abomination, but if he was going to hang onto any small piece of his soul he needed to take a little break. He looked towards the entrance to his cubicle and listened intently, or at least as well as he was able to hear over the horrible caterwauling that continued to pump through the overhead speakers. There was no sign of any Ambassadors wandering around. The coast appeared to be clear.

@Writerbot52 kept other treasures in his desk drawer and he dug around for these now. He pulled out a pack of Ecrivain's Specials. Cigarettes were banned from the cubicle space, but @Writerbot52 enjoyed sneaking one from time to time. He quickly inhaled several puffs and then he blasted the cubicle with some air freshener that had been formulated to smell exactly like Wattpad Headquarters. It was highly illegal, but it did the trick. The pungent aroma of @TheOrangutan musk filled the air and within seconds it was impossible to tell that anyone had been smoking.

He then dug through his stash of illegal comics and settled on Fray issue #7. He hid it inside his TigerBop magazine and began enjoying the tale of a vampire slayer from the future. Hmm. Perhaps Jeremiah could face a new adversary in the sequel to Fangs for the Memories. Of course Jeremiah would have to defeat her with his sensitivity and deeply felt emotions. @Writerbot52 couldn't have his main vampire getting killed off. That would upset the fangirls and possibly tip off the Ambassadors that someone was writing stories that broke from the formula. No, sensitive pretty-boy vampires must always survive in order to tenderly embrace shy young girls, thus bringing them out of their shells and helping to guide them into their blossoming womanhood.

Finally, he knew he needed something to drown out the hideous 2Fresh4U "music" that continued to pump into his cubicle. He pulled out a pair of tiny, almost-microscopic earbuds and placed them into his ears. These could get him executed if he were caught with them, but he deemed it worth the risk. They connected to an illicit radio that was disguised as a bottle of whiteout. The old-fashioned manual tools such as pencils, papers and typewriters were always kept on hand so writers could be forced to continue to churn out content if the power ever went out or the network ever went down. He had several real bottles of whiteout as well, so the radio remained undetectable by the authorities.

He scanned for the pirate radio station, which broadcast on a different frequency every day in order to avoid being caught and brought down by the Wattpad Overlords. He knew he had found it when the music from the cantina scene in Star Wars: A New Hope began filling his head. He allowed himself a small smile and leaned back imperceptibly in his chair. This was as close as he ever got to actual relaxation.

These small acts of rebellion helped remind him that somewhere deep inside him an actual human still existed. Or at least part of one did. He'd had another name once, although he couldn't seem to recall what it was anymore. He thought it had begun with the letter L, but he wasn't sure. Lance, maybe? Lando? Lord Fauntleroy? It felt a little like some small piece of truth was dancing around the margins of his brain, but he couldn't grasp it. It was like trying to fish a melted ice cube out of the ocean with his bare hands. But he knew it was there.

He noticed movement in his peripheral vision and quickly shut off the music while slamming closed the TigerBop magazine so it hid all signs of the comic book inside.

The Ambassador known as @MadHatter strolled casually into @Writerbot52's cubicle. "Good afternoon, @Writerbot52. It's time for your daily evaluation and progress report. Word to your mother."

@MadHatter was certainly a bit of a douche, but he was pretty tolerable as far as Ambassadors went. He was prone to spouting off outdated catchphrases and proffering worthless advice, but at least he wasn't an outright dick. At least, not most of the time. Plus @Writerbot52 couldn't help but be fascinated by the ridiculous oversized top hat @MadHatter always wore, which presumably gave him his name. It was some kind of weird pinkish-grey colour and appeared to be splattered in ink, although it was unclear whether that was by accident or design. He did walk around with an old-fashioned feather quill and ink bottle balanced on the side of it, which never seemed to fall off as far as @Writerbot52 was aware—although he supposed it could be responsible for the ink-splatter pattern. Someone had also taken it upon themselves to write "Once upon a time..." on the front of the hat in white lettering. @Writerbot52 supposed this was meant to serve as some sort of inspiration for writers to get writing, but it had never inspired him to do anything but wonder why someone would write stuff on a perfectly good hat. He could really use a nice hat like that to help cover up his bald spot.

"Whassup homie?" @MadHatter asked. "I'm here to discuss the story you submitted yesterday and learn of your plans for your next mass-terpiece. Get it? Because it appeals to the masses? Yo, was that joke wack or what? But seriously, I have some thoughts on your vampire yarn."

@Writerbot52 blinked impassively at him. Whatever was about to come out was likely to be as useful as tits on a warthog. Or testicles hanging from the back of a pickup truck.

"It was a good piece of work, but not a great piece of work. Remember we're in the business of making little girls cry and feel lots of stuff that makes them believe they're deep and special snowflakes. Special. The one thing we all have in common is the need to feel special. Our specialness makes us all the same, you dig? But how do we get at that? I think we need to have a discussion about why we write."

So we aren't shot dead in the street, @Writerbot52 thought to himself, but smiled and nodded encouragingly at @MadHatter.

"Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. Am I making sense here, dawg?"

"Absolutely," @Writerbot52 said, even though he had no clue what the hell @MadHatter was getting on about.

"I feel like there's a distance in your writing," @MadHatter said. "Like you're not putting enough of yourself in there. For me writing has always been best when it's intimate, as sexy as skin on skin. Skin. Young, luscious, unblemished skin. Well, maybe with a couple dainty freckles to add a bit of spice. And pert, delicate little nipples that resemble maraschino cherries." @MadHatter closed his eyes and seemed to be lost in a reverie for a moment. Then his eyes snapped back open and he continued: "That can be the difference between your story reaching the coveted million-reads mark, or stalling out at a mere one hundred and thirty-seven thousand. You feel me, my brother from another mother?"

"I think so," @Writerbot52 said.

"Groovy. Now, tell me what you have in mind for today's submission?"

"I thought I would write a piece of Fanfic about 2Fresh4U," @Writerbot52 replied.

"Excellent! Those young lads are going places. Wattpad has decreed as much, so it will be so. Their music is, as the kids say, the bomb. And what sort of shenanigans shall our plucky young heroes get up to in your piece of imaginative fiction?"

"I was thinking that a young girl could win a contest and go on a date with them."

"Wonderful, wonderful," @MadHatter said. "That sounds like the shiz-nit. A quick suggestion. Perhaps the story could begin with our young protagonist being woken up by her alarm clock. Then she could look at herself in the mirror. That is an excellent way to convey to the reader what she looks like. And might I suggest she look like you?"

"Thirty pounds overweight, balding, and three days' worth of stubble?" @Writerbot52 asked.

"Well, perhaps we could fudge that just a little bit. The important thing is we need to get more of you into this story like we discussed. Perhaps the ideal version of you, but, in essence, the girl should be exactly like you in every way. She should have all the same interests as you and think the kind of thoughts that you think. She should also have lots and lots of friends and a couple of handsome boys vying for her attention. This is, of course, before she has all of her dreams fulfilled by winning the contest and dating each of the members of 2Fresh4U. A story like that would be all that and a bag of chips. I really think this could be the story that makes you a Wattpad Star. And as your advisor on the story I might get granted a second lunch break."

"Wait a minute. You get a first lunch break?" @Writerbot52 asked.

"You'd better believe it. That's one of the perks that comes with sucking up to the proverbial big old titty that is the Wattpad establishment and becoming an Ambassador. We also get to leave a half hour early on Sundays. Now, where were we? Oh yes, I want you to really put yourself into this. When I read this story, I want to see your lips brushing against Taylor's lips. Your bosom being caressed by Justin's dainty hands. Your tears of joy leaking from your eyes as Zac whispers sweet nothings into your ears. Is that phat or what? We be straight up pimpin' now, home skillet."

Maybe it was the years of frustration finally boiling over, or the rebellious influence of the Ecrivain's Special he had smoked earlier, but something in @Writerbot52's brain snapped at that moment. He felt his right eye start to twitch involuntarily and before he knew what was happening he had snatched the ring of keys out of @MadHatter's pocket and undone the handcuffs that kept him chained to the desk.

He didn't feel quite in control of himself as he watched his hands wrap around @MadHatter's throat and begin to squeeze.

"What are you doing, @Writerbot52?" @MadHatter croaked. "This behavior is unacceptable. You will have to be reported to @TheOrangutan. Don't make me open up a can of whup-ass on you, daddio."

"You told me I needed to put more of myself into my work," @Writerbot52 said. "I've been dreaming about doing this for years. This is the real me right here, finally coming out!" Some part of him couldn't help but think he needed to use that line in the next installment of the adventures of the young, gay, boy magician. He quickly dismissed the thought and continued to squeeze the life out of @MadHatter. When the Ambassador finally stopped moving, @Writerbot52 shoved the body under the desk. He removed the oversized top hat and placed it on his own head. If nobody looked too closely, as people generally didn't have a habit of doing around here, he should be able to pass for the Ambassador. He rolled up his copy of Fray #7 and grabbed his pack of Ecrivain's Specials and his radio and shoved them all into his back pocket as he walked cautiously out of the cubicle. There was an official Wattpad calendar hanging on the wall counting down the number of days until 2Fresh4U: The Movie debuted in theatres.

@Writerbot52 didn't generally look at calendars. One day was pretty much like another when you worked seven days a week, every week—but he did happen to notice that today was Sunday. "That means I can get out of here half an hour early," he said to himself. "Which will give me that much more of a head start before anyone notices I'm missing or that @MadHatter's corpse is shoved under my desk. Time to start putting more of myself into my work. Watch out, Wattpad. My work is just beginning." He cranked up the volume on his radio and bobbed his head along to Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" as he walked through the virtually unending maze of orange cubicles and headed toward the exit.

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