Say my name! Doesn't anybody want to play? The best he could do was get those lyrics into a popular singer's head, but he couldn't even manage to work in his name. Generally, it was hard to get that in the lyrics, but some of his compatriots had had some success working it in when the record was played backwards. Alas that modern technology had entirely ruined that avenue. Now they were reduced to figuring out how to get it into the DVD as an Easter egg, but for one thing, they were personally repelled by the term Easter egg and figured that You-Know-Who had done that deliberately to forestall them, and for another thing, they were not very technically skilled. Although they did have at least one of the big guys in the industry in their pocket, they rather suspected that he had gone out of his way to invent a new operating system that did not allow such subtle manipulations simply as a way to thwart them. Of course, they retaliated by breaking his products as often as they could.


Inspiration: "Hear My Name" - Armand Van Helden
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Funny bit about the computers, though.

What's a girl to do when she's stuck on a backworld lo-tech planet and she really, really needs an anti-grav belt, for reasons that really aren't her fault if you'd just listen to how it went down, but does anybody ever listen? No. They don't. They never listen, and they always expect you to go and fix it even if it really wasn't your fault. And that, she thought, was how she'd wound up in this hashish bar trying to make contact with a drug dealer who also sometimes dealt in things more risky and profitable. He probably also sold hi-tech weapons (most of them did, that's where the money was), which meant he'd also be really dangerous, so she'd made sure to put on her special lipstick and wear a blouse cut lower than normal. Dangerous guys had a certain image--

Inspiration: The need to acquire a "rad belt" for a party.
Potential: High.
Notes: I really like the character and the voice and the (apparent) tendency to get into trouble and the (not original) idea of planets where higher tech is prohibited. Could be a lotta pulpy noirish adventure goodness.

They were obsolete. They sat on the shop's back cabinet and sighed to each other. "Nobody likes blondes anymore," complained the curvaceous doll.

The redhead scoffed at her. "That's not true, silly. Just nobody likes you. I saw the markers out front--blondes sell most."

"Why not me?"

"Because you're not the type they're looking for," the brunette spoke up, turning her head and staring directly at them with her empathic brown eyes. "They're looking for the later dolls."

"Those things?" the blonde protested. "You can't hardly tell they're supposed to be human!"

"They're not," chimed in the black-haired doll reclining on top of the cabinet, inspecting her nails. "They're something else. We're all meant to be human--"

Status: Written as "Unloved Dolls." Published under a pseudonym at Ruthie's Club (currently closed, plans to reopen in 2010) in the Valentine's Day 2009 issue.


Inspiration: "obsolete"
Story Potential: High. I find this creepy.
Notes: Right, so the (Japanese and elsewhere) trend for sex dolls, along with more human-like robots and better AI, is naturally leading in this direction. Duh. That's old news. But when the more human-like models swing out of fashion? What do they do? This could be done as erotica, but I think it would be more effective played as...ahem...straight science fiction. Heck, I could write 'em both.