Of all the things I’ve written, this piece with this title is one of the most disturbing to me. After you read the last word of the story, think about what comes next.

Upstairs, they’d started in to it again. The bad karaoke renditions of Cher songs from the 80s shook his walls. Soon, the thumping bass would give way to another kind of thumping that would shake his basement apartment’s walls long into the night. The irony of living beneath a swinger’s club wasn’t lost on him, the virgin living under the sex addicts. But, the rent was cheap and no one asked questions.

Which was good for The Work. He needed isolation and privacy to concentrate. He knew that changes in technological epochs didn’t come without single-minded dedication to that purpose, dedication as well as sacrifice.

He’d left behind a full scholarship at one of the best technical schools in the country to focus on The Work. Happiness had always eluded him in places like that. They always made him work on things that weren’t The Work – things that were beneath him. Those days were behind him though, and his reward was finally within reach.

With the final solder finished, he closed the latex flap, said a silent prayer and thumbed the activator nub to the ON position.

Her eyes fluttered then opened. She looked at him and smiled.


Word was “solder” from El Cacique.

Written 2/23/09, approx 2:50pm.

If you want to offer a story idea, the original thread is here.