Author: Matthew Ferguson
Earth 106 AB (2077 AD) – Blamazon Prison #654
Hamish, an older man, and Janie, a young woman, wait in their cell for lunch.
“Eat your bleep and lament your bleep of robotic bleep”, intones the robotic jailer. The robot deposits two trays of grey food into the cell and rolls away.
Hamish picks up both trays and hands one to Janie.
“So why are you in here?” Hamish asks, as he sits on his side of the cell.
“They thought I wanted to join the resistance”, replies Janie.
Silence.
“Well, did you?”
“Nah, I was looking for renaissance paintings on Blamazon, when brime drones smashed into my apartment and sentenced me to life in Neon Bust’s martian manual labour force”.
“Wow, but why did they think you wanted to join the resistance?”
“I misspelt renaissance”, replies Janie.
They eat in silence for a few moments before Janie asks Hamish, “So how’d you end up here?”
“Similar story really. I posted on Breadit that Blamazon Brime wasn’t worth $120, and I was going to cancel it today.”
“Bleep, they’re really making it hard to cancel these days”, replies Janie.
Silence regains its foothold in the cell as they continue to eat lunch.
A robot jailer rolls up to the cell bars, “Bleep you inmates, you’re gonna suck my bleep bleep”, and rolls away.
“You know it’s so weird they keep bleeping rather than talking”, says Janie
“You’ll get it when you’re older”, replies Hamish.
They finish lunch. Janie takes both trays and slides them out of the cell. Turning theatrically to Hamish, “You know I really can’t stand this food, I need three thousand calories a day to keep up these guns”, as Janie flexes her arms.
A robot jailer rolls up to the cell door at high speed. “Inmate Janie are you saying you’ve got a gun?”
Eventually, after a substantial awkward silence, the robotic jailer rolls away.
Janie, exasperated, sits on her side of the cell and says, “This whole setup is so 1984.”
“You know I heard one in three people haven’t read 1984”, replies Hamish.
Both characters look at the fourth wall.
“It’s fine. I know a trick to getting out of here”, says Hamish. Then clearing his throat, he begins talking in excessively loud theatrical whispers, “I believe billionaires are job creators and shouldn’t pay tax”. The sound of robot tracks starts to slowly approach the cell.
Hamish points to Janie, “Oh, I get it… I’m gonna buy so much Nesla stock when I get out”, says Jaine with her stage voice. Hamish then adding “Nelsa to the moon!”. Tracks start moving away from the cell. They must be Blamazon review bots, Hamish mutters.
Janie leaps to the cell door and shouts through the bars, “Blamazon brime is brilliant, five stars, its original video content isn’t the height of mediocrity, it’s definitely not simple stories cut with ridiculous amounts of landscape and slow-motion shots to stretch content out, in a vain attempt to make the audience feel like they are getting value for money”.
At this point, two Blamazon robots rush to the cell door, crashing into it and exploding, destroying the cell door and themselves. “Bleep-ing Boggle maps”, mutters Hamish as they both leap over the burning robotic remains.
Turning and running down a corridor marked ‘Exit’, the cellmates find a dead end. Robotic jailers bleep insults at them as they close in and block retreat. Raising their lasers rifles against the cellmates. Jaine closes her eyes, obviously afraid.
Hamish smiles, “Relax kid, disintegration is easy, comedy is hard”.