The Tw@trix – Chapter 2

Somewhere in the Midlands a phone gets slammed down. “Too expensive? Do they think diesel is free?” he yelled at the phone. His building business had not been going so well since he’d started quoting for work anywhere near the many Tw@trix women he chatted with. He knew deep down that driving 200 miles to build a porch was impractical. Still, at least he got to claim the lunch and hotel as a ‘business expense’. And if he did get the job he quoted for, even better. It rarely happened since the recession started, and happened even less since his reputation in the Tw@trix spread faster than dose of herpes in a brothel. Mumbling to himself, he pushed the paperwork aside to reveal his keyboard… Just a quick 10 minutes jacked in to The Tw@trix, to see if there was any fresh meat… He logged in.

Suzie(please-form-an-orderly)Q spotted him first, and panicking, she sent a quick text to Global Mega-Trading Inc. Her and Thick_Slice had a thing a while ago, and some of their saucy photos were in the public domain now. (Those photos were the reason she had to be nice to that cretin CompleteJoke.) At home in her flat she was still in her pyjamas, eating a cheese toastie and drinking white wine. It was her favourite breakfast. She loved being a mature student, even if it wasn’t a proper course at a proper university. As long as the student finance cheques kept coming…

In a shed in S.E.London, (the head office – and only office – of Global Mega-Trading Inc.) an old phone beeped that it had a new message. BlunderingMale spun his office chair round so fast the resulting air-flow turned his comb-over into a single-sided ear-muff and shoulder-warmer. The next few minutes were spent putting the flap of hair back into its un-natural position. Slowly and carefully he spun back round to his computer and logged on.

“Sultryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy” “merrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy” “pipppppppppppppppppaaaaaaaaaaa”

‘I really must clean this keyboard, it’s very… sticky.’ he thought to himself as he quickly opened pm’s to every female nickname present and typed something less than flattering about Thick_Slice. He also hinted that the other JC females didn’t really like them. ‘Stops the bints talking to each other. Look what happened with that Kev bloke’ he thought.

Susie(please-form-an-orderly)Q breathed a sigh of relief. Her ally was there for her, like a faithful dog; when she called, he came (in more ways than one). She needn’t have worried though. Thick_Slice had pm’d 15 new female names within seconds of logging in, and hadn’t even noticed her. He had, however, noticed Net-Curtain, his arch-enemy, and she had noticed him. (Thick_Slice had to be careful; ever since the incident with the not-so-Lovely Agent he knew he was fair game for any of them.)

Harsh words were typed and knitting needles brandished. Everyone in the Tw@trix had seen it so many times before, most ignored them. For a few, sides were taken, fingers were flexed, and they joined in, bashing inane drivel to support one side or another. Yes, this is what they came in for… A good old slanging match like they used to get in the pub Saturday nights before they were barred… (As mentioned in Chapter 1, for many it was more real than reality, and better than life.)

A user morphed into an Agent, and most of the baying crowd shut up immediately, but the instigators and transgressors were let off scott free, with it being a westerly wind and The Agent just having sold 2 scented candles which had put them in a good mood…

Relative calm ensued, with much ‘lol’ing after every line typed and *eye rolling* and *shaking head* giving the illusion of a nice, friendly atmosphere and ignoring the brooding hatred tangible in the undercurrents. The smalltalk was small. Miniscule, in fact. No-one thought very hard about anything at all, and the machine world sighed contentedly.