"The Watchman" (Short Story)

(This was written for NYC Midnight's 2017 Flash Fiction Challenge. The prompt was sweatshop/drama/automotive battery. I had a 1,000-word limit—and, boy, did that make things difficult. Nevertheless, enjoy!)

Every day I sit and watch them work.

The dozen or so rows of rickety old brown tables, the rusting typewriters that line each one, the monotonous clicking of the keys not unlike the irritating drone of a hundred crickets, the putrid aroma of spilled ink and bad breath filling the room as a silent, invisible killer, the sunlight streaming through the diagonal crack in the far wall that bakes them all slowly like meat in a broiler, the lines of individuals in similar drab attire pressed shoulder to shoulder in splintered chairs…they will never know this, but it is hell for me, too.

They will never know the bile that rises to my throat each time a young man—a boy, even—with a brown satchel greets me with a grin, takes a stack of papers, and continues off on his merry way. They will never know the ache that throbs in my temples as I scrutinize story after tedious story, at first itching to find the one that will most proficiently catch a potential buyer’s eye but soon enough drawing lots on which will fill the rest of the page. They will never know the smile that grows once one of them turns away, head bowed, after bidding me good morning.

The worst to bear, however, is the fact that they will never know that I know them.

There’s the man who sits in the far corner. Arnold. He’s a handyman by trade, will repair your leaky sink or change your tires free of charge if he likes you—or fears you, in my case—and never found a sufficient job in that field, so now he’s stuck here in what they all call the sweatshop, crafting false scientific studies and reports of fake technology. One morning, I went to start my car and realized the battery was dead, and I asked him if he could replace it, and he obliged without question. He’s a smart man as well as a good one. The irony is in the fact that here, he doesn’t even get to work with a computer.

Then there’s Susanne, who sits closest to my office. She’s pretty, or at least looks like she could be underneath the sweat and the frown and the messy hair. She’s the hardest worker of them all. Never once have I had to stand over her with that menacing look my predecessors and peers have told me to use. Sometimes I wonder if maybe someday I will talk to her, but she has been here writing celebrity gossip for five years and I have yet to do more than nod politely as I pass.

Next to her is Carla, who used to aspire to be an author. Then Sean, who was a librarian back before those all closed down. Then Lily, who is far too young to be here in my opinion, but there are no rules regarding that anymore.

Today, a man in a polished black suit steps into my office.

“Hello,” I say.

“Good afternoon.” He offers a hand and I shake it. “Emmet Smith.”

“What brings you here?”

“I’m interested in buying.”

I stare at him, confused. “You can subscribe by email.”

“Buying the company. I would like a rundown of how the place works, if you don’t mind.”

I swallow. “Okay. Um. It’s really no different than all the others.”

“If you don’t write something worthwhile, you go home hungry?”

“Exactly.”

He nods. “I own a magazine. I’m looking to, ah…” He gazes out my window toward all of them. “Expand my empire.”

I clear my throat. “I can give you the number of my owner.”

“I’ve already spoken with him.”

“Oh.”

He places a hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn it. “I’ll be back.” Then he opens it— 

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

—and closes it behind him.

I sit back down behind my desk. News stories. This would make a good news story. I’ll hand it off to Arnold or Susanne or Lily and have them write it for me. Headline: Man Infiltrates Company Office and Demands Ownership. It would sell so much that maybe I’d have enough to live off of if I were to lose this job.

Losing my job. I’ve imagined it before, of course. Each time I do, I pace the rows of tables and snap my fingers a few times in a few faces.

“Get your stories to me before sunset or you won’t go home tonight.” And then I feel bad, because I remember that they’re handymen and messy-haired and young. But I don’t take back my words.

Here, if you try to take back words, your own story will be pulled from underneath your feet.

I glance out at them, all of them with their heads bent over like the spines of those parabolic sea serpents, typing away. They will never know my feelings about this place. They will never know me.

They will never know that I am the one who bought the typewriters and eliminated the hand cramp-inducing pen and paper, that I am the one who prays at night for them to receive even the slightest bit higher pay than before, that I am the one who hates the distorted paper and defaming articles more than any of them.

I care, but they will never know, because I’m a coward. I’m a coward who doesn’t want to lose his job and will continue to publish a fake newspaper with fake stories for real money until one of them decides to write my own death.

So until then, I continue to sit and watch them work.

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera (Review)

It's been too long since I've held something in my hands as well-crafted as this, and I am happily (no pun intended) satisfied with my choice of final summer reading. This book, published in 2015, is an intriguing, eye-catching blend of contemporary YA and science fiction. It’s from the first-person POV of Aaron Soto, a high school student living in the Bronx with his mother and older brother in a one-bedroom apartment. He has a group of friends on his block (a bunch of hilarious, heartbreaking, and memorable characters) who like to fool around and play manhunt and a serious, devoted relationship with a girl named Genevieve.

Introduced in the first sentence of the book is a new institution named Leteo (the Spanish translation of the river Lethe—the river of forgetfulness from Greek mythology). Leteo provides a procedure to its patients that suppresses and makes them “forget” harmful and sorrowful memories…with some side effects, of course. Though it seemed foreign and unfitting for a story about friendship and happiness at first, it is so seamlessly integrated that it will leave you wondering how the world would change if something like this came into existence.

Without spoiling too much of the story, I’ll say that it had an incredible plot for something so character-driven, and its twists and turns left me gasping aloud on multiple occasions. I was extremely impressed by Silvera’s ability to keep me so hooked from the very start on these characters and this world I had never met before—a definite recommendation for all YA readers.

A Bit of Poetry

I've been working a little on a poetry journal lately, and I thought I'd share some of them today—the ones that fit under the broad theme of reading and writing. I can never come up with titles, so I'll just use dates to differentiate them. Enjoy!

4/28/17
A book takes you
     transports you
     makes you forget
     about the choices you've made
     the things you regret
A book shows you
     leads you
     to a faraway land
     so don't close the back cover
     'til it's real in your hand

6/6/17
If your poetry has no rhythm and rhyme
I'm sorry, but it is a waste of my time
If your poetry is any form of "abstract"
I'm sorry, but it is really quite sad

Poetry without rhyme is as if you took
Ten words from a newspaper and called it a book
Poetry without rhythm is like those "artists" that paint
A single dot on a canvas and think they're some saint

All of the poems oh-so-highly regarded
That could have been written in a kindergarten
All of the poems critics call "works of art"
Might as well be humans sans bones and a heart

6/10/17
A sonnet is composed of fourteen lines
Contained within each one five brief iambs
But how am I to tell you in these lines
Enough detail that you know who I am?

I have already wasted four of them
And I still have no clue how to begin
By now I've used another three, so then
I'll have to find some way to fit stuff in

With eight lines down the drain I'm getting scared
(You'll find I'm usually a bit afraid)
(Though friends tell me that I'm always prepared)
(However, for this poem, I've lost faith)

I've reached a dull penultimatum here
Suppose I should just end it now. Oh, dear...

8/30/17
There once was a comma named Oxford
She made sentences far less awkward
When writing a list
Before "and" she sits
But many poor writers forgot her!

"The Dark Prophecy" by Rick Riordan (Review)

This is the first time I have given three stars to a Rick Riordan book on Goodreads, and I feel sort of obligated to elaborate on why I chose to do so. 
I think THO was awesome—not nearly as strong as Rick's previous work, but the first book in each of his past series was always the weakest, so I still felt that TOA had great potential. Actually, it does still have potential. This book, however, just didn't sit well with me, and here's why.

1. Character choice. 

Rick chose Apollo, Leo, and Calypso to be the main questing trio. Calypso is simply an underdeveloped, bland character. I don't even know how to describe her personality. I do like how she could connect with Apollo because of their shared previous lives, I enjoyed the chapter in which she discovered she still had some powers, and the notepad thing was hilarious, but other than that, who is she? A person who just fights with Leo all the time? Speaking of Leo, he used to be one of my absolute favorites. He was developed so well throughout TLH, MoA, and HoH, but BoO just ruined him and Rick's attempt to clean up the mess he made was evident in this book. For example, he mentioned that he wanted to see his friends again, and I got really excited that everything would finally be fixed, but then he goes on to say that he isn't even going to stay in one of the camps. I can't accept the fact that he, a kid who spent pages and pages worrying about fitting in and finally found good relationships with everyone aboard the Argo II, would just toss aside his friendships so casually like that. 
The new characters Rick introduced were no better. There were too many of them at once and it was extremely confusing. I wanted to like Jo and Emmie and Georgie but I just couldn't. I thought that Lityerses was actually the most interesting and I hope he continues to appear in the future.

2. Humor. 

I still have mixed feelings about Apollo—he was a hilarious narrator in the first book, but this time around, his humor seemed quite forced and honestly overkill. Someone needs to bar Rick from popular culture because, while he used to employ sarcasm and wit, all he does now is reference it and call it "humor." It's like he has run himself dry. This book would be ten times more entertaining if he had cut half of the jokes and replaced it with some serious writing that he actually does so well. Apollo himself—his mindset, attitude, and situation—is enough comedy in itself, and it's great. I don't understand why he feels such a need to make EVERYTHING funny.

3. Plot. 

There seemed to be hardly any depth to the plot, and if there was, I couldn't find it buried underneath all the extraneous humor. I enjoyed seeing Apollo grow and become more compassionate. I liked his connection to the villain. I thought that Meg's growth and change was apparent and her storyline is intriguing. But what was the real plot of the quest? I couldn't tell you.

All in all, this book was rather disappointing. It was entertaining, yes, but it was far from reaching the standard that Rick's previous work has set. I am still holding out hope for the last three in this series and I believe that if he tries hard enough, he could redeem himself and write another three four- and five-stars. 
If only Grover had appeared sooner. If he is actually going to play a role in TBM, it will (hopefully) be much more enjoyable.

"Summer Nights" (Short Story)

Night was her favorite time of day. 

She wasn’t quite sure what it was that she so enjoyed—the darkness, perhaps, or the cold, or the quiet—but out of all the endeavors of her daytime schedule, none could compare to her favorite pastime—sitting on the roof of her secluded cabin just as dusk began to swallow the sun.

Bliss. Not a soul (dead or alive) to bother her, left alone with just her thoughts. Truthfully, those were oftentimes as irksome as any person could be, but raised there she could allow the gentle breeze to chill her skin, rustle her hair, and clear away some of that burden. Seeing the forest—now dark as charcoal—and the ocean—revealing the colors of its depths—from an elevated point of view seemed to change her perspective on life, as well, and caused each of her problems to dissipate for a brief moment, a temporary pause in time’s tiresome script.

She looked to the stars, too. She used to know all the constellations, back in her childhood and before the lights of neighboring cities conquered and distorted the midnight sky. Admittedly, she loved night’s scattered stars far more than day’s sole, and she sometimes felt, at such a height, as if she could extend two fingers and pluck them from their positions. Once she tried, in a moment of childlike credulity, but then lowered her hand in mortification.

Thus occurred to her another pleasant aspect of the Earth’s black shadow—every action of hers was concealed, hidden from any eye that might pry. She could make a great fool of herself, do any sort of unspeakable or ridiculous thing, and it would be known to none but her own conscience.

She kept a blanket with her—one of which the fabric was just thick enough to keep her warm but thin so that shivers from the slowly-cooling air still shook her. She was unaware of its color, as she hung it each night around the chimney and did not glance at it again until the sky reverted to black.

Her summer nights were of the utmost importance. Her summer nights allowed her a comfortable and kempt place to rest, whilst the day tossed her round and round until she could no longer see. Her summer nights wrapped her in velvet cloaks and lacy veils, whilst the day stripped her of coverings and laughed as the sun glared upon her bare skin. Her summer nights reassured her with comforting whistling and peaceful quiet, whilst the day hurled at her harsh insults and blatant shrieks.

Her summer nights belonged to her and her alone.

The Filter Bubble: Harmful or Hoax?

In the days, weeks, and months following the widely controversial outcome of the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election, the term “filter bubble” has been tossed around between liberals and conservatives alike—but what exactly does it entail? Is it a false theory perpetrated by those who are upset by the election, crafted simply to place blame on the Internet rather than their own political parties? Is it a phenomenon caused by the decisions of social media users themselves and not at all the fault of Facebook’s algorithms? Is it a real issue that should be studied and eliminated? Each of these claims have been supported by vast numbers, to the point where this “filter bubble” idea has become a household phrase. According to journalist John Bohannon of Science Magazine, “political scientists have wondered [for years] whether the social network’s news feed selectively serves up ideologically charged news while filtering out content from opposite political camps”—which is the theory behind the filter bubble (Bohannon 1). Eli Pariser, the author of a 2011 book regarding filter bubbles, agrees that “it’s much easier than it’s ever been to live in an information environment that is several standard deviations from normal” (Brodeur 2). Perhaps this idea of social media filter bubbles has existed for longer than this generation has imagined, and the recent election merely struck surprised voters with the realization of just how potent they might be.

The term “filter bubble” is defined as “the tendency of social networks…to lock users into personalized feedback loops, each with its own news sources, cultural touchstones, and political inclinations,” according to Amanda Hess of The New York Times (Hess 1). Many blame the networks themselves—usually Facebook and Twitter—for this phenomenon, but Michael Andor Brodeur of The Boston Globe disagrees, calling filter bubbles “self-styled personal ecosystems of information we burrow ourselves into” (Brodeur 1). Others believe that the bubbles are caused in part by users’ own behavior and choices but also by the algorithms these websites use to enhance the browsing experience. For example, “when you do a search on Google…the results you get back will differ depending on what the company knows about you” (Bohannon 2). No matter the origin, however, it is important that social media users become aware of their own filter bubbles and the threats they may pose.

A filter bubble creates an environment for an individual that is friendly to their political opinions and only exposes them to posts and stories with which they will agree. Perhaps this sounds harmless in theory, but it actually politically polarizes the user, allowing them to sink to the deep end of their political ideology. Liberal or conservative, left or right, the more they click on news stories that comment positive on their side or negatively on the other, the less inclined they will be to analyze or even consider an opposing opinion. John Bohannon of Science Magazine believes that this division of media exposure could eventually lead to total political extremism of both major parties, and ultimately a chaotic pandemonium of a country. Views like this can seem a bit far-fetched themselves, and many are skeptical, but it isn’t so hard to imagine the consequences of a society in which “liberals and conservatives…rarely learn about issues that concern the other side simply because those issues never make it into their news feeds” (Bohannon 2). Brodeur agrees that “these are not ideal conditions for a productive cultural conversation” (Brodeur 2). For these reasons, it is likely in the country’s best interests to attempt to defeat this filter bubble phenomenon.

Brodeur claims that “it’s highly unlikely that Facebook will take steps to burst its own bubble,” but a variety of solutions to this situation are available for individual use. The Google Chrome extension PolitEcho, which “crawls through [a user’s] Facebook network and visualizes its political bias,” is one option that is becoming increasingly popular (Hess 2). FlipFeed is a plug-in coded by researchers at M.I.T. that allows you to experience the Twitter feed of a “random, anonymous user of a different political persuasion” (Hess 2). Read Across the Aisle, an iPhone application, alters its users’ news-reading experiences—as they browse articles within the app, an onscreen meter will fade from red to blue and back again “based on the particular site’s ideological bent” (Hess 2). Another plug-in that deploys a different tactic is Escape Your Bubble, which is available for Google Chrome. Described as “aggressively positive,” it sprinkles stories and posts of opposing political views within a user’s Facebook feed and labels them with a pink heart icon, smiley face, and the message “happily inserted by your EscapeYourBubble Chrome Extension” (Hess 2). The idea behind all of these plug-ins and applications is the benefits of “stripping opposing ideas of their negative emotional impact” (Hess 2). Heavy emotional influence is one of the leading motivators behind a person’s political ideology. 

While not entirely agreeing that Facebook’s filter bubbles are caused by algorithms, CEO Mark Zuckerberg does agree that there is an existing “need to grow local news outlets…and present people with a range of perspectives,” which is just what these web extensions can accomplish (Hess 4). Zuckerberg’s net worth has actually plummeted by close to four billion dollars since the 2016 Presidential Election, and many believe this is due to the claims against Facebook’s code. Others see this as finger-pointing, however, and stand firmly with their beliefs that social media played no role in the election outcome. A 2012 study found that “Facebook’s news feed algorithm does indeed create an echo chamber effect,” but it is nothing to fear—according to their research, “the algorithm made it only 1% less likely for users to be exposed to politically cross-cutting stories” (Bohannon 3). This study was performed, however, by Facebook’s own in-house social scientists and could be heavily biased. Despite this, they did produce at least one statement of truth—“the power to expose oneself to perspectives from the other side in social media,” they stated, “lies first and foremost with individuals” (Bohannon 3). To have any hope of defeating the filter bubble, whether it be a product of a computer code or each user’s own internal bias, social media users need to increase their awareness of what they are reading and why and work to expose themselves to new beliefs and opposing ideologies.

March and April Reads

Here's a shelf update for March and April 2017. These past two months have been busy ones, and I didn't have a chance to read as much as I would've liked to. I have some exciting stuff on my list for May and June, though—including the new Rick Riordan book coming out tomorrow!

Once again, my favorite works are in bold:

• The Upside of Unrequited (Becky Albertalli, 2017)
• Mother Courage and Her Children (Bertolt Brecht, 1939)
• The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle, 1892)
• "The Final Problem" (Arthur Conan Doyle, 1893)
• "Young Goodman Brown" (Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1835)
• "Dr. Heidegger's Experiment" (Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1837)
• "The Birthmark" (Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1843)
• Blasted (Sarah Kane, 1995)
• "Miss Brill" (Katherine Mansfield, 1920)
• Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (Benjamin Alire Sáenz, 2012)
• Oedipus Rex (Sophocles, 430 B.C.)

To read/finish for May/June:

• More Than This (Patrick Ness)
• Hidden Figures (Margot Lee Shetterly)
• The Dark Prophecy (Rick Riordan)
• Alex and Eliza (Melissa de la Cruz)
• Eurydice (Sarah Ruhl)
• Alexander Hamilton (Ron Chernow)