Post by Steve Sinclair on Aug 4, 2018 13:41:13 GMT
“GOD DAMN IT JACK!”
The scene opens up inside of a board room, a top secret, highly classified meeting of the minds. AKA, The Powers that Be. The 4 men that sit around this table, a table made from a wing of a F14 that saw action in over 350 bombing missions from yet several unclassified documents. These men, these brilliant minds that have a very delicate and highly classified job to do are sitting in cockpit seats that have been converted to office chairs with its billet aluminum casters and covered in premium high grade leather in which the leather comes from cattle raised in Switzerland where they do not use barb wire. The type of leather Ferrari uses in their high end supercars.
“Ted! Sit down before you have another heart attack. Jesus man. Relax.” Jack, a white hair man with a five o clock shadow says as he sits and swivels in his chair with his leg up on his knee. He keeps a hand on his coffee cup. A white cup with no logo on it, nothing. It’s a plain cup.
Ted, a ginger with a big bushy mustache that he hasn’t trimmed in like, 10 years since this project has started slowly sits down. He has a short fuse.
“I’m telling you, you irish prick, they aren't ready!” Ted says as he hikes up his pants and takes a seat.
“You say their not ready you jobby fuck.” says Jack.
“GENTLEMEN! Such language will not be tolerated in this room.” Nolan barks. Nolan is the oldest in the room and sits at the head of the table. He has been working on this project since [retracted] and is the senior man.
The leader.
The head honcho.
The guy who makes the final decision.
The ultimate Power in the Powers that Be.
The one guy who wields a big stick.
“Let me remind you of why we are in this room having this conversation.” Nolan begins to say before Ted cuts him off.
“We know Nolan! We know. Shit, I really wish you would just retire. Save us some of this bullshit every week.”
Nolan is 84 years old and has no plans at retiring. He furrowed his brow and glares at Ted and is quickly reminded of that time he had the chance to fire Ted from this project and did not and how he regrets that everyday of his life.
The fourth gentleman in this room, the youngest of the 4, the skinniest of the 4, who runs 15 miles a day, is a avid crossword puzzler and has stacks and stacks of crossword books in his office to keep his brain “sharp”, clears his throat and looks at his reusable metal water container. Fucking hippie…
“Guys.” He begins in his nasally voice. “We must make a decision on this…mission. 2600 and 7800 signed up this. This is what they have trained for. They have passed every test with flying colors. It is in my opinion that they are more than ready.”
Jack looks at JT in disgust. “Well if the white coat says that their ready then who am I to argue that they are not.”
JT and Jack do not get along, at all. Always butting heads.
“That is not what I mean Jack.”
“Then what do you mean JT? That their not ready?”
“Gentlemen…” Nolan chimes in with.
“For their first mission Jack I feel that ATARI is more than prepared and ready to go in and do what is needed for the security of the nation. That’s all.” JT says.
“Yeah but what about the next mission? Huh Doctor?” Jack says with a real thick layer of being condescending on it.
“If they don’t succeed, there is no second mission and all of this was for nothing! A whole life time of work, down the fucking drain!” Ted says agree and backing up Jack, whom he wishes would have a heart attack and die.
“Whatch your language Ted” Nolan says.
“At some point, we have to see if all of this training has been enough to go in and accomplish the mission objective! I’m with you Ted, Jack, failure is not a option. But we can’t keep these two soldiers locked up forever!”
“And I don’t want them to become just like 5200!” Ted says.
Silence falls over the room. 5200 is just too painful to talk about at this point. The wounds are fresh.
After a minute of silence JT clears his throat.
“5200 was doomed…”
“Not now JT! Jesus! Have some fucking respect.” Jack is quick to say.
Nolan picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip of his coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream. Black like his soul and his lungs from 40 years of smoking…..
Nolan sets his cup down and looks at the other 3 men in the room.
“Dabney has given them their orders.” He calmly says.
“AW Fucking Hell! DABNEY JUST SIGNED THEIR DEATH WARRANT!” Ted blurts out.
“That cock munching Dabney! Fuck! Christ!” Jack says as he lowers his head almost in shame.
“Bushnell seconded the mission.”
“AW Bushnell too!!!! For fuck sakes Nolan! You have to talk some sense into them!” Jack pleads.
“ATARI has their orders. They are in the field as we speak.” Nolan says as he takes one last sip and stands up. “Gentleman.” Nolan says before he exits the room.
Ted and Jack look at one another and both fear the worst.
“Well.” JT says as he too stands up. “We shall see.”
“Fuck off prick.” Ted says.
“May god fuck you with a pitch fork when you die you jogging french prick!” Jack adds.
JT smirks. “Love you too. Till the next time.”
JT leaves leaving only Jack and Ted alone in the room, with their feelings…….
Somewhere on God’s green earth.
A.T.A.R.I. Mobile Command Center
Code Name: Pong
The IBM 1403 comes to life and starts to spit out the message that has been sent to it and in less than a minute later the task it has been charged with is now complete. The iconic green and white bar paper slides out of the top of the IBM 1403. A gloved hand reaches for it and tears it off and holds it up. “2600” holds the print out in his hands and looks at it. He then looks up at his partner “7800” and hands him the print out. “7800” reads it and then inserts the green bar into the Fellowes PS-79Ci paper shredder. Once the document has gone through the Fellowes PS-79Ci shredder “7800” looks at “2600”. They both place their hands on their hips and nod to one another. “2600” then walks past “7800” inside the Mobile Command Center, his boots making a tingy sound as the floor of the MCC has a metal floor.
2600 doesn’t go very far as just behind 7800 is a metal wall and a sliding door with a key pad right next to it. 2600 taps in a code that changes daily and the sliding door slides open and 2600 steps through it.
On the other side of the door, that slides shut once 2600 is through it, is the MCC driving cockpit. A cockpit that looks like the inside of a 1980 Winnebago Chieftain Motorhome. 2600 takes a seat in the passenger's seat and reaches for the seat belt and fastens it. He glances at the driver. A redhead wearing glasses in a official A.T.A.R.I. driving suit that matches what 2600 and 7800 is wear minus the mask. The driver, female, age has been withheld for national security looks an awful like Alyson Hannigan, but it’s not. Nor has she been to Band Camp. A underground documentary that has been scrubbed from the internet made no mention to her childhood and no mention of ever going to Band Camp in the summer.
“Flashback 2” 2600 says to Flashback 2, that being her name.
“Yes 2600?” Flashback 2 says to 2600
“We have our orders. I assume you have the coordinates?” 2600 says.
“Yes.”
“Have the coordinates been loaded into the system?”
“Yes.”
“Very good Flashback 2. You have done a outstanding job today. I shall note that on today’s mission notes.”
Flashback 2 looks over at 2600 and smiles. She has a very big and bright warming smile. One that could make you feel so warm on the inside as it brightens your soul and lifts your spirits on a dreary raining day.
“Thank you sir. That means a lot to me. I appreciate that.”
“Duly noted Flashback 2. I will notate this and recommend you for a Gravitar.”
“Sir! A Gravitar? I…..I don’t know what to say. Sir that is….”
2600 extends his hand and holds it out for FlashBack 2 and she places her hand in his hand.
“Without you Flashback 2, this mission would never be a success. You are an integral part of this mission. I want it noted just how important you are to this mission, to this operation.” 2600 says.
Flashback 2 blushes. “Thank you sir. It’s a honor to serve with you and 7800.”
“As it is to serve with you Flashback 2.” 2600 says.
They share a moment. It is short lived as 7800 steps through the sliding metal door and takes a seat behind 2600.
“Stop Dilly Dilly! We have been given our orders. GWD awaits us.”
2600 glances back to 7800.
“You are correct 7800. We’ll never accomplish our objective by sitting here. I will note this on my mission notes.” 2600 then pulls his hand back from Flashback 2 and looks at her. “Flashback 2, The time has come. We must now make our way to this GWD. Operation Pong has officially begun.”
“Yes sir. Engaging the internal combustion engine. Selecting the D drive. Operation Pong is now underway sir.”
“Noted Flashback 2.”
“Dilly Dilly!”
“Also noted 7800”
Fade out…..
The scene opens up inside of a board room, a top secret, highly classified meeting of the minds. AKA, The Powers that Be. The 4 men that sit around this table, a table made from a wing of a F14 that saw action in over 350 bombing missions from yet several unclassified documents. These men, these brilliant minds that have a very delicate and highly classified job to do are sitting in cockpit seats that have been converted to office chairs with its billet aluminum casters and covered in premium high grade leather in which the leather comes from cattle raised in Switzerland where they do not use barb wire. The type of leather Ferrari uses in their high end supercars.
“Ted! Sit down before you have another heart attack. Jesus man. Relax.” Jack, a white hair man with a five o clock shadow says as he sits and swivels in his chair with his leg up on his knee. He keeps a hand on his coffee cup. A white cup with no logo on it, nothing. It’s a plain cup.
Ted, a ginger with a big bushy mustache that he hasn’t trimmed in like, 10 years since this project has started slowly sits down. He has a short fuse.
“I’m telling you, you irish prick, they aren't ready!” Ted says as he hikes up his pants and takes a seat.
“You say their not ready you jobby fuck.” says Jack.
“GENTLEMEN! Such language will not be tolerated in this room.” Nolan barks. Nolan is the oldest in the room and sits at the head of the table. He has been working on this project since [retracted] and is the senior man.
The leader.
The head honcho.
The guy who makes the final decision.
The ultimate Power in the Powers that Be.
The one guy who wields a big stick.
“Let me remind you of why we are in this room having this conversation.” Nolan begins to say before Ted cuts him off.
“We know Nolan! We know. Shit, I really wish you would just retire. Save us some of this bullshit every week.”
Nolan is 84 years old and has no plans at retiring. He furrowed his brow and glares at Ted and is quickly reminded of that time he had the chance to fire Ted from this project and did not and how he regrets that everyday of his life.
The fourth gentleman in this room, the youngest of the 4, the skinniest of the 4, who runs 15 miles a day, is a avid crossword puzzler and has stacks and stacks of crossword books in his office to keep his brain “sharp”, clears his throat and looks at his reusable metal water container. Fucking hippie…
“Guys.” He begins in his nasally voice. “We must make a decision on this…mission. 2600 and 7800 signed up this. This is what they have trained for. They have passed every test with flying colors. It is in my opinion that they are more than ready.”
Jack looks at JT in disgust. “Well if the white coat says that their ready then who am I to argue that they are not.”
JT and Jack do not get along, at all. Always butting heads.
“That is not what I mean Jack.”
“Then what do you mean JT? That their not ready?”
“Gentlemen…” Nolan chimes in with.
“For their first mission Jack I feel that ATARI is more than prepared and ready to go in and do what is needed for the security of the nation. That’s all.” JT says.
“Yeah but what about the next mission? Huh Doctor?” Jack says with a real thick layer of being condescending on it.
“If they don’t succeed, there is no second mission and all of this was for nothing! A whole life time of work, down the fucking drain!” Ted says agree and backing up Jack, whom he wishes would have a heart attack and die.
“Whatch your language Ted” Nolan says.
“At some point, we have to see if all of this training has been enough to go in and accomplish the mission objective! I’m with you Ted, Jack, failure is not a option. But we can’t keep these two soldiers locked up forever!”
“And I don’t want them to become just like 5200!” Ted says.
Silence falls over the room. 5200 is just too painful to talk about at this point. The wounds are fresh.
After a minute of silence JT clears his throat.
“5200 was doomed…”
“Not now JT! Jesus! Have some fucking respect.” Jack is quick to say.
Nolan picks up his coffee cup and takes a sip of his coffee. Black. No sugar, no cream. Black like his soul and his lungs from 40 years of smoking…..
Nolan sets his cup down and looks at the other 3 men in the room.
“Dabney has given them their orders.” He calmly says.
“AW Fucking Hell! DABNEY JUST SIGNED THEIR DEATH WARRANT!” Ted blurts out.
“That cock munching Dabney! Fuck! Christ!” Jack says as he lowers his head almost in shame.
“Bushnell seconded the mission.”
“AW Bushnell too!!!! For fuck sakes Nolan! You have to talk some sense into them!” Jack pleads.
“ATARI has their orders. They are in the field as we speak.” Nolan says as he takes one last sip and stands up. “Gentleman.” Nolan says before he exits the room.
Ted and Jack look at one another and both fear the worst.
“Well.” JT says as he too stands up. “We shall see.”
“Fuck off prick.” Ted says.
“May god fuck you with a pitch fork when you die you jogging french prick!” Jack adds.
JT smirks. “Love you too. Till the next time.”
JT leaves leaving only Jack and Ted alone in the room, with their feelings…….
Somewhere on God’s green earth.
A.T.A.R.I. Mobile Command Center
Code Name: Pong
The IBM 1403 comes to life and starts to spit out the message that has been sent to it and in less than a minute later the task it has been charged with is now complete. The iconic green and white bar paper slides out of the top of the IBM 1403. A gloved hand reaches for it and tears it off and holds it up. “2600” holds the print out in his hands and looks at it. He then looks up at his partner “7800” and hands him the print out. “7800” reads it and then inserts the green bar into the Fellowes PS-79Ci paper shredder. Once the document has gone through the Fellowes PS-79Ci shredder “7800” looks at “2600”. They both place their hands on their hips and nod to one another. “2600” then walks past “7800” inside the Mobile Command Center, his boots making a tingy sound as the floor of the MCC has a metal floor.
2600 doesn’t go very far as just behind 7800 is a metal wall and a sliding door with a key pad right next to it. 2600 taps in a code that changes daily and the sliding door slides open and 2600 steps through it.
On the other side of the door, that slides shut once 2600 is through it, is the MCC driving cockpit. A cockpit that looks like the inside of a 1980 Winnebago Chieftain Motorhome. 2600 takes a seat in the passenger's seat and reaches for the seat belt and fastens it. He glances at the driver. A redhead wearing glasses in a official A.T.A.R.I. driving suit that matches what 2600 and 7800 is wear minus the mask. The driver, female, age has been withheld for national security looks an awful like Alyson Hannigan, but it’s not. Nor has she been to Band Camp. A underground documentary that has been scrubbed from the internet made no mention to her childhood and no mention of ever going to Band Camp in the summer.
“Flashback 2” 2600 says to Flashback 2, that being her name.
“Yes 2600?” Flashback 2 says to 2600
“We have our orders. I assume you have the coordinates?” 2600 says.
“Yes.”
“Have the coordinates been loaded into the system?”
“Yes.”
“Very good Flashback 2. You have done a outstanding job today. I shall note that on today’s mission notes.”
Flashback 2 looks over at 2600 and smiles. She has a very big and bright warming smile. One that could make you feel so warm on the inside as it brightens your soul and lifts your spirits on a dreary raining day.
“Thank you sir. That means a lot to me. I appreciate that.”
“Duly noted Flashback 2. I will notate this and recommend you for a Gravitar.”
“Sir! A Gravitar? I…..I don’t know what to say. Sir that is….”
2600 extends his hand and holds it out for FlashBack 2 and she places her hand in his hand.
“Without you Flashback 2, this mission would never be a success. You are an integral part of this mission. I want it noted just how important you are to this mission, to this operation.” 2600 says.
Flashback 2 blushes. “Thank you sir. It’s a honor to serve with you and 7800.”
“As it is to serve with you Flashback 2.” 2600 says.
They share a moment. It is short lived as 7800 steps through the sliding metal door and takes a seat behind 2600.
“Stop Dilly Dilly! We have been given our orders. GWD awaits us.”
2600 glances back to 7800.
“You are correct 7800. We’ll never accomplish our objective by sitting here. I will note this on my mission notes.” 2600 then pulls his hand back from Flashback 2 and looks at her. “Flashback 2, The time has come. We must now make our way to this GWD. Operation Pong has officially begun.”
“Yes sir. Engaging the internal combustion engine. Selecting the D drive. Operation Pong is now underway sir.”
“Noted Flashback 2.”
“Dilly Dilly!”
“Also noted 7800”
Fade out…..