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 ~: FICTION / SCI-FI :~  The Bookmark That Didn't Work by Matthew Revert Life was a trial for Amanda Dink. Amanda dreamed of being an avid reader but suffered from 'Slow Eye'. It was a debilitating condition that slowed the movement and perception of the eyeball to an unworkable degree. Ever since racism was abolished for being 'unprofessional', 'Slow Eye' provided an easy target in which former racists could pour their scorn. It was as if Amanda's eyeballs dragged across each sentence like an overweight corpse. Her brain was so much faster than that and it was a constant source of bother that she should be made to dwell on each word, ruining the intended flow. Amanda's bookshelves buckled under the immense weight of her large collection and what really stung the most was that each and every book remained unfinished. As a result of her slow eyes, Amanda never managed to get much further than a few meagre pages. This affliction was exacerbated by a poor numerical memory. Amanda was able to count to 7 without too much trouble but everything after that scabbed her brain over in hardened disappointment.  Amanda would see fellow commuters on her morning train blissfully lost in whatever book they were reading and marvel at how far some of them had progressed. It wasn't uncommon for some to have surpassed the halfway point. Some were even perilously close to that magical last word on that magical last page. The jealousy Amanda felt was all-consuming. One time she actually saw a passenger close a book, having just finished it and stare contently out the window. How is it possible? she would often think, cursing her wretched slow eyes. -- It surprises many to learn that bookmarks are a relatively recent development in history. Many advances in science and technology occurred well before the first inkling of the modern bookmark took shape. It was a chap by the name of Earnest Titswaller who stumbled upon what is commonly believed to be the first bookmark. While reading a book on how to win at Nintendos he found himself growing decidedly weary. He was seconds away from closing the book - and praying he'd remember where he was up to - when a wayward bird torpedoed in through his open window. In a state of confusion, the bird flew directly into the book, knocking it from Earnest's hands. The book landed on the floor with the poor bird wedged between the pages. Feeling tired, Earnest thought little of it and promptly fell asleep. It wasn't until the next morning when the import of the serendipitous events of the night prior hit home. Earnest awoke in a well-rested and enthusiastic state of mind. His first thought related to the desire to win at Nintendos. He reached down for his trusty book and was initially startled to find the dead bird nestled within. Eventually he recalled what had happened and was readying to dispose of the bird when it dawned on him: the book had fallen in such a way that the bird remained stuck between the pages. After carefully removing it and wiping away the visceral smears, he was delighted that he didn't have to rely on his memory in order to resume the book. He continued to utilise the dead bird until the book was finished, never losing his place once. Needless to say, he successfully managed to win at Nintendos. An entrepreneurial spirit now infused Earnest and he recruited several friends to hunt for birds. Via some well-executed demonstrations, he convinced many thousands that his dead birds would ensure no one had to lose their place in a book ever again. Earnest developed and honed his technique by pre-flattening the birds and draining them of fluid. This made it easier for the consumer to wedge the bird and ensured books came away from the experience with fewer stains. For the next few years, Earnest's 'Birds for Books' business boomed and he made significant amounts of money. There were those who mimicked his success, hunting their own birds and accumulating large financial reward themselves. Millions across the world were now using birds to help keep their place in books. This boom could only go so far however as the increased demand for Bookbirds saw a devastating decrease in the bird population. It wasn't long until all bird species were officially extinct. New methods of book place-holding were soon explored. -- "Read anything good lately, Amanda?" asked a sniggering group of co-workers at the steel mill where she worked. It was a question that had been posed to Amanda on numerous occasions, simply to get an entertaining rise. She had long ago decided not to let their bitchy words deflate her although it didn't help that all of Amanda's co-workers were avid readers and, more importantly, book finishers. No one can help having 'Slow Eye'. Surely they have some smelting to do, she thought as the co-workers formed an imposing ring around her. The shoving soon commenced followed by fevered speed-reading; all at Amanda's expense. Penny Needlescrapes watched the mass bullying as she smelted rods. She had a deep affection for Amanda that went well beyond typical male fantasy lesbianism. Penny also suffered from the debilitating 'Slow Eye'. She admired Amanda's strength and multitudinous breasts (of which there were roughly fourty). Penny wished she had the courage to admit her affliction but knew it wouldn't happen. Prejudice was abundant like pus in a blister store. Penny's 'Slow Eye' needn't be revealed however. Penny was now the proud owner of a brand new bookmark. -- Following the extinction of every bird (and the gibbon), the torch was handed over to science. A significant amount of time was devoted to the book place-holding dilemma. Utilising advancements in nanotechnology, books were soon developed that could remember what point their readers had reached. The necessary technology required reading matter to form a rudimentary consciousness. Books were soon aware of their own content and behaved accordingly. Those books deemed 'classics' pomped around, demeaning all and sundry with their egotism. It wasn't uncommon for a book to actively prevent those deemed unworthy from reading its contents. There were books that would refuse to open or snap shut without warning. This led to a fear of literature that saw anxious readers resorting to material of the most unsavoury kind. It was the fiction that wallowed in pornographic gratuity that benefited the most from the new technology. These unsavoury books - now comprehending their content - were in a state of constant sexual arousal. As a result, wave after wave of readers were raped by their own reading material. Books that dwelt upon the most obscene graphic violence were imbued with a bloodlust that sparked a paper cut epidemic. For a period of 18 months, all books were avoided. This sent the field of nanotechnology into a downward spiral that permanently destroyed its reputability. It is for this reason that nano-technology's sole commercial use remains in the field of pornography to this day.  -- Penny ambushed Amanda in the rod storeroom. Although her methods were intimidating, her intentions were pure. Amanda tried fiercely to scurry from beneath Penny's growing loom. "Please don't run, I just want to help you." The sincerity in Penny's eyes comforted Amanda immediately. She had never seen such sincerity before and it made her feel safe. Amanda wasn't the kind of girl that attracted help from her fellow humans. Her slow eyes made eye contact a laborious chore and it gave her an outward appearance of mild retardation. She had been implored to maintain eye contact when involved in conversation so many times that it was pointless keeping count. Penny knelt down to meet Amanda's gaze and together their slug paced eyes slowly locked. There was an instant connection between the two that bloomed into a lung-crushing hug. They both fell to the floor, struggling for breath, which was granted via the hug's abortion. "You have it too, don't you?" asked Amanda. "You know it, sport," replied Penny. They fell once more into an eyeball-popping embrace that didn't end until death had overcome them. Fortunately the power of their connection ensured they were quickly resuscitated by gentle winds of mutual understanding.  "You'll have to forgive me," said Amanda, "It's just so overwhelming to meet someone who understands what I feel." Penny smiled warmly, her luscious lips coated in dribble. "You want to read, don't you?" Amanda found the question confronting. How did she possess the nerve to just say it like that? "It's ok," said Penny, "I was like you not so long ago. I'd start reading and tire after an hour or so, only to have read a couple of meagre pages." Amanda was interested now. This kindred spirit had clearly overcome a very similar problem. "So, what did you do?" trembled Amanda.  "The answer turned out to be so simple. I was introduced to it by an acquaintance." "What answer?" Penny flashed a grin and reached inside her collar pocket. A few anxious seconds of fumbling later and she had found it. "I got it!" she beamed. In her hand was a simple slip of card, yet it seemed to radiate with such abundant purpose. "What is it?" asked a clearly awe-struck Amanda. Penny grinned knowingly. "Rather than tell you, how about I show you?" She detached a novel that was strapped to the back of her head. It was a thick one, probably over 500 pages. The sheer size filled Amanda with all-encompassing defeat. What I wouldn't give to make my way through such a volume, she thought. Penny fanned the pages of the novel wildly, "Tell me when to stop." Confused by the demonstration, the fanning had to occur several times before Amanda muttered a feeble, "Stop." Penny held the novel open at the spread. "Okay, remember this. We're on page 240 - 241. You got that?" Amanda nodded. "No, say it out loud. I need to make sure you remember. What spread are we on?" "240 - 241," she repeated. What happened next was so overwhelming that Amanda feared she would faint. Penny held up the book, with the pages still at 240 - 241 and slid the slip of card inside. With the dramatic flair of an illusionist she snapped it shut. "NOOOO!" screamed Amanda instinctively. "What if I were to tell you that thanks to this slip of card, we'll be able to find our spot instantly?" "I'D SAY YOU WERE A LYING WHORE!" Amanda was clearly a little distressed. With those harsh words ringing in her ears, Penny flipped open the book at the exact spot where the slip had been placed and held it up to Amanda. "Would you please read aloud the spread you are currently seeing?" Amanda moved in close, waiting for her eyes to catch up. When they finally did, she focused on the page numbers. Sure enough, the book was back at 240 - 241. This time she did faint. -- A parapsychologist by the name of Herman Friars stumbled upon the next phase in the evolution of the bookmark while conducting a séance in Pasadena. Herman Friars was well-respected in his field and conducted weekly séances in various decrepit locales around town. One such gathering found Friars attempting to communicate with the soul of one Stephanie Dundergrass. Dundergrass was a Pasadena resident in the late 1800s who had passed over while attempting to maintain her spot in an entertaining romance romp she had been reading. Historical evidence suggests the book was entitled 'Longing for a Plague-free Johnson'. Dundergrass grew weary with reading at roughly the half-way point and sought sleep. Not wishing to lose her place, she rigged up a rather elaborate sleeping chair to ensure her upright position was maintained. Her arms were locked into place by a trusted servant and the book attached to her hands with mild adhesive. As the servant left Dundergrass to her own devices for the night, he quite accidentally toppled a lamp. The adhesive used turned out to be extremely flammable and the flames from the lamp leapt toward her hands, eventually devouring her body, burning her to a crisp. Stephanie Dundergrass' corpse was discovered the next morning by her father. The burnt-out book still attached to her blackened hands. Aware of the fascinating history surrounding Dundergrass, Friars gathered a small group of paranormal enthusiasts to attend the séance. The group held hands and in unison chanted Stephanie's name. Immediately a disembodied voice wafted through the air exclaiming I never lost my place. I never lost my place. Give me a tome in which I may read. Friars reached into a nearby satchel and placed his latest book, 'On Why I'm Cumming', onto the table. The book flipped open, controlled spiritually by Dundergrass and immediately slammed shut again. "I SHALL NEVER LOSE MY PLACE," said the ghostly voice as the book re-opened at the exact same spot. Participants of the séance sat aghast as the energy left the room. From beyond the grave, Stephanie Dundergrass had achieved what so many had failed to do. News of the occurrence spread internationally. Séances became the standard way to maintain one's place in a book. Herman Friars benefited financially by teaching the skills involved and it wasn't long before basic séance techniques were taught in school as essential research tools. However, the extreme spike in spirit world contact upset the theosophical balance and the world was soon overrun with poltergeist activity and church burnings. Representatives from the major religions formed an emergency committee with a goal of ending the séances. Thanks to some hard work they were ultimately successful and once more, the issue of marking one's place within a book was relegated insurmountable.    -- The shock of Penny's bookmark demonstration was enough to render Amanda bedridden for upwards of a month. Penny steadfastly sat at Amanda's bedside, willing her back to health. "You simply must wake up," Penny implored. "I believe that within you lurks a voracious reader and, with the aid of a bookmark, your 'Slow Eye' will be forgotten." Having spent so long at Amanda's unconscious side, Penny got to know her equally concerned family very well. The source of the 'Slow Eye' was revealed. Amanda's eyes never used to be an issue. In fact, it was the rest of her body that had made life difficult. As a child Amanda had what was known as 'Fast Body'. On any given occasion, her body would move as if in fast forward, tiring out anyone bearing witness. This was with the exception of her eyes, which doctors claimed, moved in exact accordance to acceptable protocol. A confusing calibration treatment was initiated, with the eventual aim of matching the speed of Amanda's body with her perfectly average eyes. Due to poor handwriting, the calibration treatment met with some hurdles. Although successful as far as body speed went, Amanda's eyes were slowed to a drone. When evidence of the mistake was shown to the doctor responsible, he leapt gracefully from a window and was never heard from again. This was in direct contrast to Penny's particular strain of 'Slow Eye', which was caused by a test screening of 'The Curious Case of Benjamin Button'. Amanda's eyelids rose like a bridge. Penny stood over her, wearing a smile and absolutely nothing else. "Your labia are really long," were the first words from Amanda's mouth.  Covering herself up with an embarrassed hand, Penny held the bookmark aloft with the other. The look of awe returned to Amanda immediately, however she was able to stave off another fainting spell. "You absolutely have to get yourself one, Amanda." "But I don't even know what it's called, Penny. I don't even know where to get one." "All you need to know is that it's called a bookmark. I'll take care of the rest." The word bookmark repeated itself hypnotically inside Amanda's head. How could the answer to life's most enduring mystery be so simple? she thought.  -- Ironically it was an illiterate man called Doodlewanky Peppercorn who stumbled upon what is today known as the bookmark. Sending his son Mark off to school one morning he had to provide a note of absence for the day prior. His wife Trumpetina had to write the note when his own effort resulted in plagiarism. Not wanting Mark to forget the note, he slid it into his mathematics textbook. In what will surely go down in history as one of life's happiest accidents, Doodlewanky slid the note into the book at the exact page his son - and the rest of the class - were currently up to. That day in maths class the teacher anxiously clutched the textbook to his chest, hoping that somehow he would stumble upon the correct page. All students were instructed to ready their own copies, which is when Mark happened across his note of absence. Flicking through the book to retrieve the note, he was utterly mystified to find it opening to the page his teacher had so desperately wanted. His arms fell to his side as the urge to collapse bit at him. Meanwhile Mark's teacher paced the classroom, casting glances at his students all the while. Most avoided eye contact while some simply lost themselves in his crotch. There was one student however who appeared to already have his book open in what the teacher could only decipher as a crazed act of cocksureness. "What's that in your book, Mark?" he asked. Not receiving any reply, the teacher strode over toward the desk. "I asked you a question, Mark!" It was then that he saw it. This student, this nobody, had somehow managed to find the page. What's more, he'd done it easily. "How is this possible?" he asked Mark, who was still dazed.  Mark picked up the note with a shaking hand and held it up to his teacher. "I'm supposed to give you this, sir," he stammered. The teacher plucked the note from Mark's hand and asked, "Where did you retrieve this note, young man?"  "It was in my book, Sir. My father must have put it there." The teacher's eyes widened and at once, he was struck by the sheer enormity of what had occurred. He picked up Mark's book and opened it to a random page. Quickly noting the page number, he slid the note back inside and closed it with a dramatic thud, causing all the students to jump in fright. His eyes darted frantically around the classroom where the students sat dumbfounded. Very slowly, he opened the book, unsure of the outcome. Ever so nervously he read the page number and to his utter amazement found that Mark's slip of paper had achieved what previously he'd only dreamt about. "YOU'VE DONE IT, MARK!" he yelled before collapsing lifelessly. -- "They're still so new that a lot of places can't afford to stock them yet," said Penny as she walked with Amanda. "The only reason I can even afford one is coz I know a guy who makes bootlegs." Amanda still couldn't believe what they were about to do. If what Penny said was true, by the end of the day she'd have her very own bookmark. Amanda had already been convinced to withdraw $500 from her savings account, which she clutched tightly in a balled fist. "Seriously, these things are selling for up to ten grand. I know 500 seems a lot, but it's nothing compared to how much these things are worth." Amanda believed Penny implicitly. Sure, spending such large sums of money wasn't a regular occurrence in her life but this was worth it. If it meant she would finish a book, any price was worth it. "Thank you, Penny." "For what?" Amanda stood lamb-like, her jumper pulled childishly over her hands. "For helping me realise my dream, for believing in me." Penny pulled Amanda in for a hug. "It's okay. Remember, I'm just like you. After this we can start our own reading club." Amanda pulled away in total excitement. "What!? A reading club!? That's been my dream since before my mother was even born!" She pulled Penny back into the hug, squeezing harder than ever as mutual admiration coursed through their bodies. They arrived at a residential address just outside the CBD. It was a stylish looking place with minimalist design, almost certainly German in approach. "This place was designed from sketches by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe himself," said Penny. "I have no idea who that is," replied Amanda. "It doesn't matter. All you need to know is that inside this house lurks your new bookmark." That was enough to send Amanda into spirals of joy. It was such an unassuming house, yet it contained the potential to alter the course of her life significantly. "I'm almost too nervous to go inside," she whimpered. "It's okay. Just follow me," responded Penny with a sympathetic nod. Penny's knuckles rapped against the door as Amanda hid nervously behind her. Time stretched as they awaited an answer. When the door finally opened, both let out a gasp, followed by a delicate queef. "Ahhhhhhh, you made it, girls," said the overtly confident man who answered the door. He was of average height and sported a single, awkward dreadlock that arched from his head. "I'd like you to meet Vincent Peopleworthy," said Penny to Amanda. "Vincent, this is Amanda." Vincent looked Amanda up and down and decided he enjoyed what he saw. "Pleased to meet you, Amanda," he said with hand outstretched. Amanda placed her delicate hand in his and nodded self-consciously. "So, you girls ready for a bookmark or what?" -- The accidental discovery of book marking became known as the Doodlewanky method. A research team was quickly developed thanks to the joint efforts of many international interest groups. For six months, Doodlewanky Peppercorn was subject to a barrage of invasive testing that destroyed his marriage. The problem faced by the research team concerned Doodlewanky's inability to comprehend what had happened. As far as he was concerned, all he did was slip his son an absence note, no more. The researchers didn't care. In their methodical minds the discovery of the bookmark was a carefully deployed series of intrinsically sensible decisions. No one, under any circumstances, stumbles across such a thing, it was simply impossible. Having decided that Doodlewanky had been paid off by those with competing interests, the researchers eventually gave up. It was too late for Doodlewanky however. He was now synonymous with the rumoured discovery and there was nothing he could do or say to change that. It wasn't until the opportunity to appear on television presented itself that Doodlewanky was able to set the record straight. The talk show was called, 'Are You Ready to Start Talking for Audiences?' and was one of the top-rating shows on TV. The host of the show, Blimey Stinksnatch, had requested Doodlewanky specifically and buzz surrounding the airing was high. Record numbers tuned in, readying themselves for what they assumed were the wise words of 'The Reading Prophet' as he'd come to be known. The first words that fell from Doodlewanky's mouth were enough to destroy any and all illusions, "I can't read." Incensed by this revelation, Blimey Stinksnatch choked Doodlewanky to death. No one endeavoured to stop her. After this, on-air choking became in vogue and many people needlessly died in what will be remembered as 'a rather unusual period'. -- "I'm sorry to get all brazen on your lovely arses but I needs to see the money." Vincent rubbed his fingers together, illustrating his point. Amanda reluctantly let her $500 drop on the kitchen counter in a crumpled heap. "It seems a little harsh, I know, but I've had more than one dirty scammer try to rip me off. I hope you understand n' all." "It's fine," said Penny, "We totally get it." Vincent flashed a series of confusing winks at the two ladies and gestured for them to follow. They arrived in a small room decked out in 'Who's the Boss' memorabilia. "I loved that show," offered Amanda. "Who didn't?" responded Vincent. "You two ladies wait right here, I'll be back." He returned a minute later with a small briefcase. Amanda nearly wet herself, fully aware that the briefcase contained her future. "Now I got three for you to choose from, all hand-crafted in Lisbon."  He slowly opened the briefcase, the charming scent of bookmarks filling the air. They sat perfectly, three lined up, all screaming buy me! Perspiration formed on Amanda's forehead. Her eyes hadn't caught up yet and were only now starting to take them in. "They're beautiful." "They sure as hell are," said Vincent, full of pride. "I guarantee ya, take these out n' about and there ain't no one who'll think you paid a measly 500 for em." "I just don't know how to choose." "Take your time. I ain't gonna pressure you." Amanda turned to face Penny. "If it weren't for you, I'd never have this opportunity. I'd be honoured if you'd choose one for me." Penny blushed her cheeks apart and shook her head like she was having a seizure. "Please, Penny. It would mean the world to me." After an internal dialogue that concluded with the consumption of elk, Penny agreed. She walked toward the briefcase and studied the three bookmarks available. They all looked so stunning, so perfect. She thought of Amanda and tried her best to match each bookmark with her personality. It was vital that she made the right decision. Eventually she picked one up, saying, "This is it. I just know it." She held the bookmark toward Amanda, praying it would suffice. There was a painful moment of silence, which mercifully ended with emphatic nods of approval. "It's perfect, Penny. Thank you so much." Once more they both hugged. Vincent attempted to muscle his way in but was elbowed away. The bookmark was a marvel of design. It was stark white with bold, black text that advertised an insurance company. Its grandeur was topped off by the company's web address.  -- The notion that a tool so vital to the art of reading was discovered by an illiterate sickened the elite who steadfastly refused to ever utilise such a device. This had obvious impact on any financial gain investors hoped to make. A posthumous ploy to paint Doodlewanky as an eccentric genius was enacted. Several covert authors penned labyrinthine novels emblazoned with Doodlewanky's name that were presented to the world as uncovered masterpieces. The ploy unravelled when the novels were deemed poor by many of the world's leading critics. This didn't completely deter everyone however. A rich philanthropist called Newlunge Cracklebang was extremely interested in the humanitarian possibilities the bookmark suggested. He was forward thinking (and rich) enough to ignore the reactionary furore that had arisen to this point. He recruited a team of scientists and designers to develop a range of bookmark prototypes. The team ultimately consisted of 450 scientists (many of whom specialised in bisonry) and 200 designers (many of whom were dead). A research/development institute was erected in Yemen and christened 'The Tit' after Cracklebang's mother.   The first bookmark (codename: Harpies Knee) was completed eight months later. Doubling as a bison insemination device, Harpies Knee was an alarmingly expensive example of overindulgence. Costing 20 million to develop it was soon shelved after a trial suggested it only had a 10% success rate. It was back to the drawing board for Cracklebang and his team. -- Amanda could barely contain her excitement as she hurried home from Vincent's. Her bookmark was safely stored in a complimentary case to protect it from outside elements. Tucked under her arm was a 700 page instruction manual that went over the basic aspects of bookmark use. A more detailed edition was available should she request it. Given the immense size of the basic manual, Amanda sincerely hoped it wouldn't be necessary. The fact that the manual was so long it required the use of a bookmark struck Amanda as unusual. The agonising trip home finally came to an end. Amanda scurried into her apartment and drew the blinds, not wanting the outside world to interfere with her special moment. With the environment prepared she carefully removed the bookmark from its protective casing and sat it on the coffee table. She spent several minutes staring at it in veneration. Beside the bookmark she placed the hefty operation manual. Her eyes glanced over toward her bookshelves. How can I possibly choose which book to use first? I desire to read them all. She decided to shut her eyes and point randomly toward the bookcase, letting fate decide. With her eyes tightly closed and an outstretched finger, she walked toward the bookshelf, toppling several nativity displays along the way. Finally she felt her finger bump into a spine. A grin enveloped her face. My first book, she thought. Her eyes opened and she plucked it from the shelf. The book was 'On Why I'm Cumming' by Herman Friars. Oh joy! I've heard this one is very good. The next four days were spent sleeplessly pouring over the instruction manual. She was only an eighth of the way through but was fairly certain she had acquired the adequate knowledge to use her bookmark. She wisely decided on a nap first which turned into a seven day sleeping binge. When Amanda finally awoke she was full of energy and desire. She scurried toward the coffee table where the bookmark awaited, urinating on the way. She opened 'On Why I'm Cumming', got herself comfortable and began to read. The prose was remarkably dense and largely nonsensical. Many lines had to be read more than 80 times before even the slightest meaning was revealed. After 10 hours, Amanda was disheartened to find she had only progressed six pages and still had no idea why Herman Friars was cumming. Her slow eyes had really copped a workout in the last few days, so she decided now would be the right time to use her bookmark. Picking it up carefully from the coffee table, trying her best to remember the recommended grip, she placed it into the book. Amanda shook as she began to close it, reminding herself several times that the instructions promised her place would be maintained. When the book was completely shut, she crossed herself and retired to bed, body unfed and exhausted. Amanda awoke in high spirits. 'On Why I'm Cumming' sat on the coffee table beckoning her. It seemed inconceivable that she would soon pick up the book and continue exactly where she left off. The book felt majestic in her grip. The bookmark jutted out, doing its job tirelessly. You've been here all night, just holding my place. I love you. She opened the book where the bookmark suggested and was immediately struck by confusion. No, this doesn't look at all correct. I hadn't progressed this far, not even close. Amanda was staring in horror at page 190, knowing full well that she barely managed ten pages the day before. Is it possible that I just lost track of time? After muddling her way through several passages it was obvious the bookmark had failed. Tears clogged her eyes and she fell backward, sobbing wretchedly. She had pinned her hopes so completely on the success of the bookmark that there was no fallback. -- Harpies Knee was a resounding failure but it didn't stop Newlunge Cracklebang from persevering. Dozens more bookmark prototypes were developed at unthinkable costs but with each new prototype, they arrived closer to one that worked. Word of their ambitious project spread throughout the scientific community and at last the Doodlewanky controversy faded from view. The number of lives lost during the bookmark's development tormented Cracklebang but with each new fatality, his will to succeed only increased. He wasn't having so many good men die for nothing. And so it was, seven years after the first prototype, a bookmark called 'The Wrinkly Slit' was trailed with overwhelmingly positive results. Cracklebang and the seven surviving members of his team rejoiced and the world's media was instantly alerted. Cracklebang was regarded a hero on an international level. He was awarded the annual P.I.S.S award (Performance in Scientific Studies) which he dedicated to the memory of the good men and women who died for the dream. Production on commercial bookmarks began immediately. The technology associated with the first generation bookmarks was exceedingly expensive. The first batch came off the production line with a price tag of $120,000, ensuring that only the most affluent individuals could afford to possess one. They were snapped up surprisingly fast by the military, who refused to divulge their intended use for the bookmarks. Within two years, the cost of bookmarks came down to a more manageable $30,000 and they finally started to filter into family homes and schools. The impact was immediate but widened the divide between social classes - the price still being well beyond the means of lower income families. -- Penny grew worried about Amanda who hadn't been to work in nearly a month. She had wanted to give Amanda the opportunity to enjoy the bookmark alone but so much time had passed that the worry took over. She paid Amanda a visit that night. When her door knocks went unanswered at first, it only intensified her concern. "C'mon Amanda, I know you're in there. It's Penny. Please open the door." After 40 minutes of unwavering pleading, Amanda finally opened up. Her eyes were puffed shut from the constant tears. "Oh no!" said Penny as she wrapped her arms around Amanda. "You poor thing. What's happened? "It's the bookmark. I can't get it to work," sobbed Amanda. "Let's have a look at it. We'll get to the bottom of this." Penny led Amanda back into the house and sat her on the couch. Penny's presence provoked a tiny smile on Amanda's face, the first in days. "Now, tell me what the problem is?" Amanda picked up the book in order to demonstrate. "It's simple really. I insert the bookmark as specified in the instructions and when I open up where the bookmark suggests, the page is always wrong. I've tried hundreds of times but it's beyond my capabilities. I can't work, I can't sleep and small pieces of my back have fallen off." Penny's eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "That doesn't sound right. Give it here, let me have a look." Amanda handed the book to Penny who found a page and quickly slid the bookmark in. She waited a few seconds before reopening the book. Sure enough, the page was wildly wrong. "I don't get it," she said, still staring at the page. "Amanda, I don't think there's anything wrong with your method. I think it's the bookmark itself. It simply doesn't work." A tiny burst of relief erupted in Amanda. For the first time she had a glimmer of hope. Maybe it wasn't her after all. She had just obtained a faulty bookmark.   "What can we do?" asked Amanda, "I can't afford to buy another one." "Buy another?" scoffed Penny. "Screw that! We're marching over to Vincent's and getting a replacement right now. You're not spending a cent more." "Do you think he'll do it?" "He'd better or he'll be wearing my fist!" Amanda grinned and wrapped her arms around Penny. We sure hug a lot, Penny thought. -- The high cost of bookmarks caused an underground bootlegging movement. Wildly unpredictable replicas found their way onto the market boasting an irresistible price tag. Underground bookmarks didn't exhibit the same level of craftsmanship and weren't subjected to the barrage of safety testing of their commercial counterparts. Like anything though, the bootlegging technique was honed and achieved a level of stability comparable to the commercially produced product. The practice was still against the law but was no longer heavily enforced. An unspoken agreement that the good outweighed the legality permeated most cities where bootlegging took place. As long as injury didn't occur, bootleggers were no longer prosecuted. -- "Vincent! Open up!" screamed Penny as she pounded the door. The passion in Penny's voice intimidated Amanda but she definitely appreciated having her as an ally. A tired looking Vincent eventually opened, wiping his eyes and yawning like a whore on Tuesday. "What the hell! You ladies woke me," he said with irritation. "I don't care! You have some explaining to do. What's with the bad gear, Vincent?" Vincent looked deeply offended. "What!? Bad gear? You gotta be shitting me. I ain't never given out bad gear in my life." "Yeah? Well explain this!" Penny snatched the bookmark from Amanda's hands and waved it in front of Vincent's nose. Vincent dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "I don't got time for this shit right now. Why don't you girls run along?" Penny pushed past Vincent in a huff, dragging Amanda behind. "Hey bitch! Get outta my house!" "We'll get out when you give Amanda a replacement!" "I ain't giving anyone shit!" Penny stormed over to Vincent's rather stark bookcase and pulled out a book about pens. She slammed the book and bookmark down on the kitchen counter. "There, try it for yourself! Your shit doesn't work!" Vincent eyed the two ladies suspiciously. What are they trying to pull? He thought. Tentatively he picked up the book and flicked to a random page. "Remember to pay attention to the page number," yelled Penny. "Alright, alright. I'm not an idiot." Vincent placed the book mark at roughly the half way point, paying attention to the page numbers; 340 - 341. He let it sit for a while before opening it again at the marked page. He couldn't believe what he saw. He had been thrown back to page 22 - 23... The history of the bookmark is an admittedly complex one. Although the perfect design hasn't yet been achieved, developments continue to occur at a remarkable pace. The price continues to plummet and more families are able to utilise one. Government initiatives have been created to ensure lower income families are given the opportunity to own one. It can only be assumed that in the next five years, bookmarks will achieve the ubiquity they so deeply deserve. It's important to recognise the sacrifices that were an unfortunate by-product on the road to the bookmark. From the early days of Bookbirds to the serendipitous discovery by Doodlewanky, the road has been plagued with difficulty. Maybe now, as the bookmark moves ever closer toward perfection, we can appreciate exactly how we got here. ..."What is this shit?" Vincent asked in amazement. "What did we fucking tell you?" Penny retorted. "Now go get a replacement for Amanda here and prove to us that it works before we leave." Vincent was deeply disturbed. He had never sold bad gear before and it sickened him. His eyes darted around the room wildly, as if searching for an easy solution. "Well?" asked the increasingly impatient Penny. "Sorry, no refunds," screamed Vincent before diving dramatically from his first storey window. He died upon impact. Amanda slumped forward and with tear varnished eyes said, "I just want to read a book and finally reach the end." |
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|  Adventure Book Reviews Crime Drama Experimental Fantasy Horror Humour Modern Period Romance Sci-fi Scripts Thriller Younger Readers | |
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| Matthew Revert | |
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| Matthew Revert is an author from Melbourne, Australia. His work explores the outermost reaches of ab...>> | |
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| More Sci-fi: Number Thirty-Nine by Cameron Laird The process of freezing a human had always been fairly simple. Person, plus extremely cold temperatures, equals homo popsicleus. It is the reverse freezing that had always eluded mankind and the thousands of scientists that spent their lives trying to find an answer to the puzzle would all be in vai... >> Air by MuscularTeeth I float here in my suit, and the important gauge reads a tank 40 percent full of air. Another gauge tells me I'm losing air faster than I’m actually using up just by merely breathing. It estimates roughly 15 minutes of air left. ... >> | |