Short Story: Fishnets and Shopping Malls

"How much for a night with one of your girls?" asked the old and ugly man with greasy hair and some missing teeth.

The door cracked open to a paper-thin slit, only wide enough for one green eye to peak through. For just a few seconds the eye frisked the man like an officer, and then must have marked him clean, for the door opened the rest of the way. In the rectangular gap which the door once filled, there stood a rich and gorgeous man, clothed in glamours of golden necklaces, glittering rings, and no shirt. He grinned a welcoming grin and gestured the man into his home.

At the invite, the man scanned the halls to his left and right with a wary eye, but then entered the bowels of the room.

Right as the man entered, the pimp also scanned the hall, then shut them in. He turned to face the man. "One of my girls, you say? What kind of girl you asking for, buddy? Want one of these lovelies over here? They're some of my best."

He pointed into the room. Three girls were lounging on the floor and chairs, smoke floating from their cigarettes. Even though their faces were numb, the man knew their eyes would light instantly at the sight of dollar bills.

"How old?" asked the man.

"Girls," he hollered out. "Be a bit friendly, yeah? Tell our customer your age."

Under their smoke they uttered their ages. 

"Too old," said the man. "Do you have anybody younger?"

"Of course, my good man!" The pimp patted him on the shoulder. "How young we talkin'?"

"The youngest you have to offer."

The pimp chewed his lip. "How does fourteen sound? Pretty fresh, yeah?"

"Fourteen sounds fine."

"You want a virgin or someone a little more experienced?"

"I'll take a virgin," he requested this with a stolid stare, and was 
answered with a filthy grin. 

"Good choice. How long?"

"All night."

"Ah, now that might cost you a bit more. Seven-hundred."

Without a first or second thought, the man slipped out seven-hundred and pushed it into the pimp's palm.

"My man." He still glittered his golden grin. "I'll call her up."

The pimp slipped out of the room to call his girl - or perhaps, the man thought, the girl's parents.

"May I join you?" Then man turned to the girls. One of them shrugged.

As he lowered himself onto the dusty couch, he looked around for the grey and buzzing lamp that he felt was lighting the room.

The girls continued to smoke dully, moods drooping as they monotonously watched their fumes curl and twist from their mouths. The man knew that they had no intention to say anything.

"Mind if I steal a cigarette?"

The one in the fishnets and frizzy red hair tossed him a cig.

"Thank you," the man beamed. He bent over and placed a twenty dollar bill into her lap.

"You think I'm gonna fuck you for twenty?"

The man looked confused. "That is for the cigarette."

With the bill still unmoved in her lap, she stared at it like something foreign. "Twenty dollar for a cig? You know it's just a cig, right? It's not like I jacked it with anything special."

"Then I guess I'm twenty dollars poorer now." He lit the cigarette and joined their lounging. As the girl took the bill off her lap, the man saw her bend her lip into a faint grin for just a moment, and then return to sucking on the stick, staring at nothing.

Behind him, the door clicked open and the pimp once again joined them. Ten minutes later, so did the girl.

"Ah, here she is!" the pimp cheered.

The girl was doubtlessly fourteen, sullen, and her curly, blonde hair shadowed over her baby face. The man knew this would be the greatest night of his life.

She took reluctant steps forward, and the pimp nudged her along. "Come on, now, sweetie. Look happy to see him. He's paying you good money."

A tear caught on her check. She dismissed it with her dimply hand, lifted her wet, blue eyes, and smiled. "Hello, baby," she said. "Are you ready for me to make you happy?"

"That's my girl," the pimp bragged. "Now you two get outta here." He slipped open the door and gestured them out with one slick motion. "I hope you get money's worth."

"I plan to," the man assured on his way out.

As the pimp shut the door behind them, the man wrapped his arm around the girl, and they progressed to the exit and stepped into the cold night. He led her through the lot, and felt her head turning upward for a grim view of the sky. It shadowed over them, so dark that perhaps the sun would fail to overthrow it in the morning.

He drew his keys from his blue jeans, sifted through, and found the remote for the doors. The girl reached to open the passenger side, but he opened it for her, and she took a seat on the grey fabric. He closed it behind her.

The girl hardly spoke a word as he drove the roads to his home. She smiled the whole length, and would return his occasional glimpses with a wink, but she stayed as wordless as a corpse. When cars flashed past them, their glowing headlights lighting her face for only a second, she looked as pale as a ghost. The man hoped that they would arrive to his house soon so that he wouldn’t have to look at her anymore.

“What’s your name, baby?” she shakily purred, only the second time she uttered words since they started the drive.

“Simon.”

“My name is Sugar.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Do you want my real name?”

“Do you want to tell it to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s Donna.”

“You have the same name as my daughter.”

“You… Have a daughter?”

“I do.”

She returned to her silence until they stepped through his door. “Nice house,” she muttered, her arm hooked in his.

Various portraits of his wife, children, and other family members were scattered around Simon’s bedroom. They were the only decorations other than his bed, on which Donna sat in wait while Simon rummaged through his closet.

“What are you looking for?” By now she had adapted to her discomfort and seduced with ease. “I don’t think we’re going to need any more clothes, baby.”

Simon felt two scrawny arms slip around his stomach. He gently pushed them off and turned to her.

She rubbed his cheek and whispered, “I’m getting impatient.” Then with a twinkle in her eye, she moved back and few steps and started to slip off her top.

She had only lifted to the bottom of her bra when Simon lunged forward to stop her and pull her shirt back down to where it belonged. “Please don’t do that, Donna.”

“Would you prefer we start with you?” She pulled on his belt, but he stopped that, too.

“No. We’re not doing that, either.”

“Ummm… Then how about-”

He quickly swatted her arm away. 
“No.”

A puzzled look appeared on her face, and she could do nothing but just look at him in wonder. “W-Well then what?”

"Where do you want to go?"

And still, her expressions hung unmoving. A gestalt of every subtle, ambient, humming sound - the whooshing of the fan above, the blowing of the vent - they suffused throughout the bedroom, around their frozen bodies. The cool blue light from the moon glowed through the glazed window, onto the walls, the floors, and it colored the sides of their faces.

"What do you mean?"

"Donna, I don't want to have sex with you. I'm going to take you somewhere you want to go."

"Then why did you- why did you pay money?"

He smiled. "To give you the best night ever."

She hugged him and wept. "So then am I never gonna go back?"

Simon breathed a long sigh. "No. I have to bring you back or else somebody might kill us. It wouldn't be safe. But let's not think about that."

Donna borrowed clothes from Simon's daughter, and they went shopping for more. After they shopped, they bought food, and after they stuffed their faces, they returned to the quiet, blue, and restful room. Simon let Donna sleep on his bed while he slept on the couch. When they woke, he fed her the best breakfast he could cook, and then drove her back. She cried. And she hugged him for life. He cried as well with as much grief as she. But he promised to come back.

And he did.

Criticism: Limitations and Modifications--An Argument Against Video Games

I loved video games, I liked video games, I hated video games, I quit video games, I hated video games, and now I like video games. There lies a large chunk of my life in a nut-shell. Honestly, I cannot claim to still hate video games – I still enjoy digging out my Nintendo 3DS on a dull afternoon – but as it takes a girl many years to forgive and return to her once-abusive boyfriend, an enormous amount of time passed before I could even glance at a video game. I knew its tormenting power. Sadly, however, when video game addicts struggle with their addiction, they seldom realize that such a struggle even exists in them. As they pour their hours into blasting barbarians, seizing fortresses, and lunging through levels, they rarely realize its effect on their health, their school, and their moods.

Televisions have filled up living rooms and theatres for a decent slab of time now, receiving much criticism, and video games inflict mental states similar to that of watching television. After all, whether sucked into a movie, television show, or video game, the person still stares at a lit and moving picture. Doctor T. Berry Brazelton, a renowned physician, brought attention to what he called the “shut down effect.” On the screen, the lights and focuses of the pictures shift constantly; this assaults the senses of the viewer and sags him or her into a sleep-like state. Post-game, players often function passively, highly fatigued from the work their senses endured. Also, as gamers adapt to the constant grinding of their senses, they start viewing the real world as dull, and they often adopt an impatient and low-attention-span nature.

So, while the simple act of staring at a lit and moving picture already poorly impacts the viewer, video games impact in even more ways than that. Supported by psychological studies, observation, and personal experience, I can honestly claim that video games often result in the neglect of school. Obviously, the more time a student invests in gaming, the less time remains for him or her to school. Quite often, students burn through their free time and let their games creep into school time. Accused of this, gamers aggressively defend themselves, flinging their fists into the air with fury, claiming they finish their work just fine; but they hide the fact that they often must neglect sleep to do so. Back when I played, I remember gaming away for an entire afternoon and into the night, then foolishly trying to confront my homework at midnight. Seldom would I crawl into bed before three of four in the morning. Because of this, students yawn and drag the next day, and tend to perform terribly on their work, for they view their work as an obstacle which blocks their path to bed, and they merely desire to brush it aside as quickly as possible, rather than tentatively delve into it. In addition to its stymies on school through sleep deprivation, video games can also affect school in a much more direct way; they suck out all of its color. Gamers addict to the feeling of power which the games provide. The games move fast and provide the players experiences they could not experience in the real world, and so the gamers begin viewing their school as dull in comparison.

Many parents can relate to the scene of shutting off the gaming system for dinner and his or her child screaming with rage. Such a scene represents the sickness games can infect into moods. For a first example, the classic debate of violent games pops in. Do violent games encourage bad behavior? Many video games allow the players to harm others, sometimes frequently, reward the harm, portray the harm as humorous, portray the harm as the “fun” way to play the game, and rarely offer realistic consequences to violence. All these things condition players to favor violence, and such players often start trending towards more aggrieve an antisocial behaviors. Video games also implant the mindset that if a problem troubles, blast it away; if a level challenges, shut off the consul. In older days, popular hobbies, such as hunting or fishing, encouraged patience and work, but video games obliterate real-world patience with their easy-solution lessons. Gamers often retreat from the world, retreat from family, and, as shows the case with some, retreat from women, a problem hardly ever faced until gaming. If anything can fully absorb a man, a woman can, and now video games have even intruded on that.

Once, I lost myself in the world of games, but then I beheld the harms and have determined to destroy this trending addiction. Most parents would never permit their children to game as much as they do if they knew its actual effects, and so I hope to raise awareness. Hobbies and interests aplenty have busied the world, from war-training, as seen in many works of classic literature, such as Gilgamesh and the Iliad, to fishing and hunting, and art has wavered to and from the mainstream in most cultures. Yet never has such a large majority of people adopted an activity as destructive as video games. While they clearly provide positive effects, entertainment, and delightful socialization in some cases, should we suffer all the harms in exchange? Can people receive these positive benefits from sources less destructive? On the issue of video games, parents, individuals, and perhaps even the nation face many considerations of limitations and modifications.

Movie Review: The Imitation Game

Nominated for film of the year, many recently-made fans grumbling its failure to win, newspapers and magazines flaring up with endless praise, I’m sure everyone has heard of The Imitation Game. This world war two thriller tells the story of the historical hero, Alan Turing, and it seems about time that he gets the attention he deserves. Stripped from its history and themes, The Imitation Game delights, thrills, and ultimately succeeds to seize the attention of movie-goers. However, as we remember the purpose of historical stories, or stories in general, it loses quite a bit of its value.

Now, I refuse to fling out anything captious towards this film before I crown it with the respect it deserves, for The Imitation Game succeeded in many aspects. Reasonably I can assume that most people have noticed the hideous trap most thrillers fall into of shallow characters, poor acting, cliché plotting, and most other elements, all for the sake of thrills. Imitation Game rises above these failures and demonstrates that films with depth are more memorable. And peeling them back layer by layer, the film truly fleshes out its characters and paints them complicated and believable. The acting is superb, the filming is excellent, and the writers turned up the suspense to a maximum.

However, it does waste some time on backstory. These scenes seem unimportant. We have no need to know the history of why Turing is the way he is, but merely that he is the way he is. In many films, backstory slips smoothly into the plot and serves as another way to provide information about a character. But as we watch Turing try to win the war, the scenes already flesh out all of the necessary information; there is no need to clarify characteristics already made clear, especially when it disrupts the film’s primary plot. Also, in the end, the entire plot shifts from winning a war to overcoming gay-rejection; I have no issue with plot twists, but a plot twist can seem silly when the twisted plot only lasts for the last ten minutes and shares no organic unity with the rest of the film. However, viewers can easily ignore these faults, for the rest of the film is wonderful.

The Imitation game is a true story, and when I watch a true story, I always make sure to read up on the history after my viewing. Everything seemed rather believable in the film, and so I found myself aggravated when I read up on what really occurred in the tale of Alan Turing. The film paints him as an almost Spock-like character, rather clueless of social clues and not very likeable. He seemed like a genius who would much rather save the world on his own than have to work along-side others. After my research, I found out that the real Turing happily and willingly worked with his co-workers, he was a very nice man, and most people loved him. His team was a very tight unit; they worked with Turing because they liked him, not because they were forced to. This means that the film of Turing’s life completely changed his personality, assumedly for the sake of a “quirky” character, as is the trend these days.

Also, the film never clearly states when Turing died, but it informs the audience that Turing died at the age of 41 in direct response to the claims of him struggling to cope with the sex hormones he was taking. However, nobody quite knows how or why Turing died; in fact, many believe that it was an accident, and present a very good argument of why – you can read up on it if you would like to know. Turing did not die until a year after the trial, and so the likelihood of the death responding to the hormones seems low.

One of the most obnoxious mistakes that the film slips into is that it bases one of its most powerful moments, the scene where Turing reveals that he named the machine after his childhood friend, on a myth. Not a shred of evidence exists which records that he named his machine Christopher.

Now, onto the theme of the film, I can easily split it into two distinct categories: the intended theme and the presented theme. The writers clearly tried to write a story about acceptance – made clear from the discussions and questions of what makes minds different, the gay-acceptance plot, the overly-repeated line that “Sometimes it is the people who no one imagines anything of who do the thing that no one can imagine,” the co-workers of Turing struggling to accept his differences, and many more scenes. But the presented theme – or, in other words, the theme actually brought forth by the presentation of the film, regardless of the writer’s “intentions” – was a very “man vs. machine” sort of theme. It questions whether at the end of the day logic and mechanical thinking triumphs over human, emotional thinking. The trauma of world war two bears down on the world, and Turing works for an agency that desires to crack a code using humans (keep in mind that even here we have humans fighting a machine, the machine being the code). Turing thinks that they can defeat this code if they instead use a machine of their own, a machine to break a machine, and receives much resistance. This brings our movie to its main premise of the fight between Turing and his authorities, trying to answer the question of whether humans – from the soldiers to the workers already trying to crack the code – or Turing’s machine will win the war. In the end, the machine wins, which contributes to the reoccurring answer that machines triumph.

Turing’s sexuality, a human emotion, leads him nothing to nothing but chaos, for the law forbids homosexuality, and it hurts one of his friends. He loved a friend as a kid, but his friend died, and Turing found his heart broken. A girl loves Turing, but is much wounded when she discovers that he’s gay. The soldiers try their hardest to fight a war, but the tanks, planes, and codes of the enemy trample over them. The agency tries to crack the code using human minds, but they fail, and only Turing’s machine leads them to success.

Alan Turing seems to sum everything up when he asks, “Do you know why people like violence?” and then explains, “Because it feels good. Humans find violence deeply satisfying. But remove the satisfaction, and the act becomes hollow.” This fleshes out Turing’s indicated belief that most emotional actions are hollow, and only have negative results. The movie parallels this.

As much as I would like to believe that the writes purposefully proposed such a thought-provoking debate over man vs. machine, all the material on acceptance points otherwise. It seems they stumbled upon this discussion accidentally. The problem here is the battle between themes. The man vs. machine theme courses throughout the entire film, and thus should have been the primary one, but the acceptance theme, which appears a very minor theme, for it relates nothing the primary plot of winning the war, receives all of the attention. This is very distracting, causes the film to seem uneven, and indicates that the writes had no control over their script.

As a thriller, stripped from its history and conflicting themes, The Imitation Game is a very good film. But it suffers from some major issues, which are far too large to overlook.

I award it three out of five stars.