Day #17

Lately, the gods of hacking have been raining down upon us. (For the uninitiated) Now, I’m not pro-piracy per se, but admittedly, my morals were no match for this barrage of leaks. After all, we commonfolk have been having the time of our lives, what with all that help from the buffoons at HBO Spain too. Anyways, “through some medium”, I was lucky enough to witness first-hand a few episodes of the Game-of-destruction-of-HBO’s-reputation; and I was jubilant!

There is something about watching SMPTE color bars at the start of the show (Exhibit 1) along with a clock counting down in the corner of the screen, with a constant siren-like sound populating the background. It felt like an inside scoop! As if I was privy to some private, pre-release, VIP screening.

1[1]

Anywho, the episodes obviously are great, the storyline better than last season. But while I was going a bit gaga over the blossoming love story till now, I no longer feel the same after the last episode. Someone was feeling a hot streak coming after a long line of lucky escapes, eh? (this might be an unpopular opinion, but damnit, these saved-by-the-bells are happening waaay too often nowadays; less Game of Thrones, more Bold and the Beautiful)

But hey, who am I kidding with my whining about the plot? Next time there is a leak (or there isn’t) I’ll be right there with a huge empty bucket for my insatiable appetite. In fact, if nothing else, these leaks have also made life a bit difficult. Everything is in jeopardy now, as my routine is screwed. No more is it true, that every once a week, on a fixed day and a fixed time, that this junkie would get his fill. Now it is feels like some mild form of Chinese water torture. It could be a day, it could be ten. And if it’s the latter, it’s like the season finale syndrome all over again! :/

Now, walking that thin line between spoiler and smugness, I leave you with this image:

abc

Talk about being a good, f—ing recruiter! Poachers & headhunters, take out your pads & pencils!

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

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Day #16

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

Grainy. White noise. The radio cackled and spat in sequence as they tried to get any reception. It was a lonely day at sea, not much to write home about. Of course, that phrase had become a mere fossil, its meaning lost with the first trigger pulled.

Life for the men in the boat had never been the same, but it seldom ever is. But what holds true for an individual, gets lost in the aggregate. As history ruled supreme, the victims struck back with whatever they had. And it fell just short of what was required. The scraps that got left over were just enough to be gorged upon by those few humans who should have died, if humanity were to live.

And so it was that in a remote corner of the globe, after what felt like centuries after The End, the men in question gathered around a radio, listening intently. Nothing, but static.

To be continued.