This is quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever written. Wait, it's worse than that. This is empirically the stupidest, most ill-conceived thing written in the history of man. I can take a kind of pride in creating such a foul block of verbiage, actually.
How do I even set this up? Well, I'd been reading Don DeLillo's gargantuan novel Underworld. It's a solid entry in the "Great American Novel" style: overambitious, unwieldy, oppressive, stunning and wonderfully obtuse. Anyway, DeLillo is famous for his weird, hyper stylized writing style, one of the most immediately identifiable traits in the whole of creation. Maybe I could more readily identify a passage from David Mamet or Henry James - but that'd be about it. It is also a blast to mimic his terse, elliptical writings.
So, while in a state of extreme boredom, I tried to fashion the story of one man's dream to make The Goonies II NES game better with jetpacks in the style of the preeminent wordsmith of the Cold War era.
This was the hideous result.
A kid skips his computer science class. Goes and plays Goonies in the Aladdin's Castle. Says to himself this is the life for me. To entertain, though the medium of computer science.
To make for others what has been made for him, to kill the inchoate nature of being alive and being a teenager.
Goonies ain't perfect, fuck no. Lacking in verisimilitude. Worse. Lacking jetpacks.
His parents laugh in unison, laugh so hard they start coughing on their menthol cigarettes. But they humor him, lend him enough to start something small. Never expect to see that money again.
What doe he do?
This guy, maybe he's a popular fellow, maybe he's not. He's not known, but he strikes something in others. He meets them attending conventions, conferences, tells them what he's got on his mind without overplaying his hand. Mostly, he meets them without seeing them. They are names on the screen. Maybe they're popular men like himself. He's not done so but he would add "or insane." Helps if they're driven. Always men.
Always men at first, but later women. Who share something of his vision. Or lack vision but do not lack perseverance.
Astoria.
This guy has his men. Some women, now. But needs are greater now. He needs to take care of this, his friends and backers and workers. He'll run their lodes best he can, but he's not a businessman. Not now.
Shit. Business.
Business is something else. The money and the greed to generate more money. He and his men have the idea, but the idea is not a Business, man. The idea is the world.
There are layers, here. This guy, he's a popular fellow. That's what everyone says, now, although not him, not aloud. What he is - he's known without being famous, you see, and the clout that comes with that? Nothing like it. He's not compromised. How can you work when you're famous?
How could you live totally unknown?
Working working, always working. Always with his friends, backers, some are calling themselves workers now, just like him - what they've joined to do is make the world.
But they are miles under it now. No matter. The world is there.
He's max on his Visa, his AmEx. Takes mortgages after mortgages on the dead parent's home. Thank God he inherited only this from the dearly departed - not the bad habits. Could have been much worse. Thank God.
Remolded the downstairs and garage and now it looks just like any other office. Computers. Render farms. Prototype is not done but it's proof of concept, and no one has ever seen a better proof. You can work it the other way but nobody does. The video shows you what you need to see.
The coffeepot's always empty and no one ever cleans and brews the next batch when they're done.
How can you readjust Jetpack Goonies before seeing your vision manifested? And now? We can see the basics. The underworld stabilizing what's above. Mechanics are still theory, but sound theory. We've checked them. Against themselves and against the projections. The philosophy behind it is solid. Theoretical still, but look at what we've got. We can see it. There's proof here, now.
