Friday, December 11, 2009

The First Seven Words of Conan O'Brian's Monologue Tonight

"Gotta talk about this weird weather we're-"
"I'm going to stop you right there Albert." I got up from behind the desk. "In a few moments a man wearing a red ascot is going to come in here and offer you a picture of Cesar Romero. Don't ask why just-" I closed the door. "Just promise me you won't take that picture, Albert."
"Linda, what are you-"
"Albert, I need you to promise me." The cuffs of Albert's jacket wavered slightly as he slipped his arms back on rests of his chair.
"I promise." He paused. "Linda, this doesn't have anything to do with the Robot Initiative, does it?"
"Of course not." I started walking back to my seat.
"Because I know you, and I know you're smart enough not to get this office entangled with revolutionaries like that."
I would never willingly risk the security or safety of the employees at Pardoburry Department Store's management division. In fact, this was my full fledged attempt at keeping them out of this. I was too entangled to leave now, but that didn't mean I couldn't save my coworkers from being in my position.
"You don't have to call them revolutionaries." I said.
"But they are." Albert got up to leave.
"I know, but you don't have to call them that."
He opened the door to my office and left back for the solitude of his own. There would be no more small talk today.
The methods of recruiters for the Robot Initiative were complicated and mysterious to begin with, possibly because they already had to deal with the fact that their supposedly 'underground' robot advocacy group was publicly called the Robot Initiative, but it always started with that picture. Then there were some emails, a 20 minute timed test, a few other strange trials that varied depending on the recruiter. Also there was a doctor, but he never examined the new members; he just sat in the corner humming the opening to Alfred Hitchcock presents.


  1. For some reason I wanted to write about robots. I...don't... I'll try to do better tomorrow.

  2. "The cuffs of Albert's jacket wavered slightly"
    what does that even mean, Sam... what. does. that. even. mean.