The Button

Margery answered the door timidly, with an anxious half-smile. It wasn't that she was afraid of the man -- no, quite the contrary. Margery had been waiting some time for his arrival, and had jumped into a flurry of last-minute housekeeping when she'd seen the van pull up, and had watched him carrying his equipment up and around to the side of the house.

She'd straightened the bookshelf, tossed a few stray toys back into their box, and randomly dusted here and there in what she presumed would be the places he'd be most likely to see. She had even -- in a particularly flustered moment -- dusted one of the children, before banishing them all to their upstairs bedrooms.

But there was the knock, and the reality that he was finally here settled down over her and shot her through and through with a near-crippling thrill. At last, at last. Her home would at last have its very own Button, and again she could feel -- but here she was, thinking all this over, while he stood waiting outside her door. Margery turned the handle. Opened it.

There in front of her was a man in a white hard hat and a pair of crisp, blue coveralls. He had a mustache on a sensible, pleasant face that you might think to describe as "no-nonsense" and "workmanlike," if you were to see it.

"Do come in," she said, shyly, stumbling a tiny bit over the rehearsed words.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, as he bent down to pick up his toolbox.

"Please, call me Margery," Margery said as he stepped by her. "Everything went all right outside?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, "I got the Unit installed right over next to your gas box."

"Oh, is that important?" She asked -- grateful, almost, that he'd refrained from taking her up on her offer of informal address. She was not at all a fan of pomp and pretension, usually, but this was, after all, a most momentous occasion. She led him into the living room and pointed to where the Button was to go.

"Oh no, ma'am," he answered, opening his toolbox, and already pulling out the Button -- red and terrifying and oh-so-beautiful in its little pop-top, plexiglass box. "I just prefer to keep things neat, you know? It's not strictly company policy..." he pulled out a cordless drill and began without any fanfare to screw the button down next to the telephone by the sofa "...but if a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well, I always say."

"I absolutely agree," Margery replied, "It's just a crying shame the sort of shoddy effort that passes for workmanship these days, and--" She was cut off by a piercing, blood-curdling howl from up the stairs. The man fumbled, for a moment, with a half-sunk screw, and Margery covered her mouth in horror. "Oh, I am so, so sorry," she said, her face turning a deep and glowing pink.

The man removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and delicately wiped at his forehead. But when he went back to his screwing, he was as composed as ever.

"Don't think of it," he said, "I have kids of my own." He sunk the last screw. "Well -- there you are."

With almost a little flourish, he stepped away from the Button.

"That's it -- that's all? No wires, or anything?"

"No ma'am," he answered. "The new units are fully remote. This light on the side will tell you when the battery needs changing. Just call the number on the plexiglass, there, and we'll be right back out to replace it."

He set his drill down into his toolbox, closed the top, and stood up. "How old are your children, ma'am?"

The personal nature of the question caught Margery off guard, and she stumbled a little in responding. "Uh, um... five, three, and oh, seven."

He nodded, "Well, we're fully confident in our patented child-proof tabs, but just the same it'd be wise to sit them down and have a good talk about staying away from the Button."

She nodded her rigorous agreement. "Oh, absolutely Offi... sir. I mean, Sir. Don't you worry about us. We're very responsible people."

He picked up his toolbox. "I know it, ma'am," he said. "The home office is very thorough with their checks." He stepped toward the door. "Well, that's it, then. Feel free to call if you have any questions."

In what was for her an astounding feat of daring, Margery grabbed at his arm and stopped him. "Thank you so much for this," she gushed. "This just means the world to me and..." she trailed off, choking up, but found her courage and went on "...I just felt like we were the last people in the whole wide world to get our Button."

The man looked down at her hand on his arm. Not bothered -- he was used to this sort of thing -- just figuring out how to extricate himself from the situation.

"Just the last ones on this street, ma'am," he said, gently touching her wrist. Margery yanked her hand back.

"Oh yes," she went on, trying to cover the awkwardness of the moment, "The first sign's been up for months. But you know, as reassuring as it's been to know that our neighborhood's protected, I told my husband I just wouldn't sleep right until he'd got us our very own button."

"Yes, ma'am," the man said as they approached the door. He paused on her doorstep and turned. "And remember, our product is one hundred percent guaranteed. Not only will it work, but should you feel the need to use your Button and activate the Device, the proper authorities will be immediately notified, and a team will be sent out right away to deal with the fallout." He chuckled to himself. "But just between you and me," he added, "At that point... who really cares?"

Suddenly, for the first time since she'd heard of the Button, Margery registered a flicker of doubt. "But, that won't happen, right? I mean, we won't ever have to actually push it... right?"

"Of course not, ma'am," he said, quickly. "This is an entirely preventative measure." He darted a quick, nervous glance back at his van. "They see the sign, there isn't an intruder on the planet who'd think of breaking in, here."

"Good," Margery said. "Great. Because I'd heard that someone out in the Midwest had pushed theirs, and the blast nearly--"

"No ma'am," the technician cut her off. "No, no. Not at all. I mean, that is to say... well, there has of course been something of a learning curve, as people have become used to the new system. But never, of course, in a neighborhood such as this one."

And then, before she could see his calm assurance slip, he turned and headed straight back out to his van, got in, and drove away.

Margery watched him go. The streets were quiet -- empty, really, as they had been for a while. She thought she saw curtains shift in a couple of the houses across the way. But when she looked, no one was there.

Margery thought of calling the children to come downstairs, so she could yell at them for their outburst. Instead, she grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it down in the living room, in front of the Button. As she took her seat and began to stare at their new Button, a smile curled her lips.

Their new button, at last. 


Her button.


- - -

Author's Note: A friend of my little brother's recently had their home broken into while they were in the house. When the police officers came, one of them told the woman of the house that the next time he was called out, he wanted "to see some dead bodies on the floor."

This got me thinking about how obvious it is that the only solution and deterrent for violence is more and more violence, and I wondered why we didn't just give everybody access to some truly awesome firepower. Because that would fix everything. This story is my exploration of that possibility.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more, please feel free to pick up a copy of my book, "IMMORTALITY (and other short stories)" on Amazon, today.

be not afraid...

"A lot hinges on the fact that, in most circumstances, people are not allowed to hit you with a mallet. They put up all kinds of visible and invisible signs that say 'Do not do this' in the hope that it'll work, but if it doesn't, then they shrug, because there is, really, no real mallet at all."

- Terry Pratchett (from Unseen Academicals)

14 Useful Steps for Getting Rid of Humans (But First: Buy a Cat)

1. Introduce non-native feline species to America.
2. Protect said species so it can proliferate without contending with natural predators.
3. Release said species into wild in the millions to kill avian species that would otherwise be eating pesky bugs.
4. Introduce non-native pesky bugs through an insistence on non-native fruits and vegetables in kitchens all over America.
5. Discourage farm biodiversity to meet competition from non-native fruits and vegetables and meet growing demands for homogeneous-looking foods.
6. Observe as humans move away from agrarian roots and become completely dependent on distant, disconnected food sources for sustenance.
7. Begin using chemical, industrial pesticides on massive, monoculture home-grown fruit and vegetable crops to lower labor-intensity of food production and compensate for feline-avian imbalance.
8. When pesticides are proven to kill bees, legislate reality out of the equation.
9. When monocultured fruits and vegetables prove to be susceptible to non-native bugs and fungii, pour on chemical pesticides at an ever-accelerating rate.
10. Insist that humans continue to eat chemical-laden, carcinogenic "foods" to maintain farm-industrial complex.
11. Ignore warning signs of increased cancer rates and hope you're rich enough to buy an island somewhere before unsustainable food supply completely collapses.
12. Observe the humans dying.
13. Observe the new, Feral-Cat Society rise to prominence.
14. Bow before newly-crowned Cat-King (or Queen).

the surprising Truth about LOCKER 212

The word-arrangements on this website are a product, made in the factory of my brain and shipped out through my fingers to you, the consumer. Sometimes, it comes with illustrations.

Although this product is free, I am still a salesmen, trying to use these word-arrangements to move you -- to get you to buy into my ideas. I try really, really hard not to feel bad about this, because I actually do believe in my product. And I also think this film project I've been hawking on here -- LOCKER 212 -- is worth your time and effort.

But it's still dispiriting. 

It's dispiriting to get hundreds of facebook "likes" and only a few (hugely appreciated) actual pledges. It makes me wonder if I'm just annoying you with this stuff.

But my old college pal, Trevor, recommended I read a book called "To Sell is Human: The Surprising Truth about Moving Others," by Daniel H. Pink. I just finished it today, and it led me to wonder if perhaps this self-doubt of mine is doing both me and you a disservice. You don't have to be part of my campaign to get this film made, after all. But dodge gambit, I really do think you'll benefit from doing so.

So I'm gonna take a page (or several) from his book and give you the pitch on why I think you should leave this blog RIGHT NOW, head over to Our Kickstarter Page, and make a pledge.

Pink's Pitches:

1. The One Word Pitch: Change.
2. The Question Pitch: What if there were a creative, artistic way to fight back against bullying and violence in our schools?
3. The Twitter Pitch: The best way to fight bullying & violence is to tell a story. LOCKER 212 is such a story. Join us.
4. The Rhyming Pitch: Don't be a talker... make a pledge to the LOCKER.
5. The Pixar Pitch: Once upon a time, we all lived in a world where kids did not feel safe in school. Every day, their parents would send them off to classes and try not to think about the cruelty and violence that had come to be a part of their educational experience. One day, somebody made a short film that encouraged people to open their eyes to the hurting people all around them. Because of that, they decided they'd had enough of waiting around for some authority figure to solve the problem. Because of that, they started to reach out in love not just to the bullied kids of the world, but to the bullies, as well. Until finally, the hurting people of the world all had someone to love them, and schools became safer than they had ever been before.

There you have it.

I've been giving you the product of this website for years, and you've given me your time. Thank you. I'm asking that you now take it a step further, and make a pledge to the LOCKER 212 Kickstarter campaign. There are rewards, sure, but I know you don't pledge money to kickstarter campaigns because you want some piffling reward. No, you want to be part of something that matters. And this matters. 

So please, pledge.

Every pledge helps build momentum. Your "likes" and "shares" are awesome and appreciated, but if you don't start putting your money where your mouse is, this sweet little love-child of mine is never going to be born.

LOCKER 212 is LIVE on Kickstarter!!

LOCKER 212 is a short film I wrote that tells the story of a high school bully who's in for a surprising revelation when he gets his wallflower-victim caught up in a conflict with school authority. It's an exploration of how making real, human connections with our most lost and hurting kids can help us alleviate the bullying and violence that have plagued our schools.

Watch the video, check out the campaign, pledge if you'd like, and PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE tell all your friends. Link it, share it, re-tweet it, hashtag it, and Like it on Facebook. Thanks so much! I love you all. If it were not so, I would have told you!