Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge: SometingPunk

This weeks Terribleminds Flash Fiction Challenge was:

SomethingPunk.

We were tasked with inventing our own Punk style genre, based on Chucks definition of current Punk genres; e.g Steampunk. Using said definitions I concocted:

SoMeCorpPunk aka Social-Media-Corporation-Punk

And this is the story I wrote for it

 

Disconnected

I let the cursor hover over the button for some time. I had stared at it for too long, knowing that, in clicking, my life would change, for better or for worse I could not say, but a change was certain. I have no idea where it came from, but my right finger hit confirm and with it, came a rush of relief. I had no idea what would happen next, but for the first time in years, I felt my heart pumping, I could feel the blood coursing through my veins; I felt, alive. I threw a bunch of clothes into my holdall; the apartment building was owned by Apple, and I knew eventually they would notice what I had done. No profile; meant no accommodation. In one swift click, I had become a social pariah, and I knew they wouldn’t take it lying down. I began emptying my pockets, ridding myself of anything that could get a signal; phone, glasses, watch, and I left it all behind. I headed straight for the car park, in the basement of the building. By the time I reached it, I had begun to feel better; the nausea that had come in waves while I packed had subsided, and so far, nothing had happened. My contact told me I had around thirty minutes before they noticed, and maybe a further fifteen before they investigated. By that time I could be on the edge of the city, at the meeting point, and it was unlikely they’d find me. I hoped she was right. I walked to the car, with only the echo of my footsteps for company, adding to the tension. I got in, and reversed out of the space, as casually as I could, and headed toward the exit. When I got to the barrier, and daylight could be seen, I began to feel relief. A minute passed; the barrier had not risen. After two minutes; delight became despair. A sudden – BANG! – turned me cold. My mouth was drier than a salt lake, and my heart was in my throat; trying to squeeze its way out. I knew immediately what it was clambering around on the roof, though I hoped desperately to be wrong. A pair of eyes appeared at the top of the windscreen. They were wide and vacant, but they seemed to pierce right through me, holding me still, in its gaze. The Facebooker flipped its body, and landed on my bonnet with a thud. Its face was upright now, and I could see it clearly; blue-eyes vacant and staring, its mouth in a rigid, permanent smile; idiotic, and yet, demonic. I just sat staring, frozen in my seat. And I knew, through the two slits in its face, between the vacant eyes and moronic smile, it could smell my fear. The seconds that passed, felt like hours. But eventually, it spoke; its voice was excited and idiotic
‘I’m sending you a friend request, lol’
I think it was trying to scare me into logging back in. I put the car into reverse; its eyes watching me as I did, head jostling from side to side like an intrigued bird. Seeing my intent, it stuck up the thumb of its large white hand, and said
‘Like!’
I took a deep breath and, as I exhaled, stamped on the accelerator like it was alight. The Facebooker tumbled backward, its long gangly limbs splaying like an octopus on roller-skates. I broke hard, the tyres squealing to halt. I watched as the heap of naked white flesh lay motionless on the floor. I waited for a moment, my heart beating in my ears; to my horror, it moved, untangling itself, and slowly got to its feet. The Facebooker puffed out its chest, and rotated its neck; the cracking of its bones reverberated off the walls of the car park. Its large, vacant, blue eyes, stared at me; despite its moronic smile, I could tell it was pissed. It raised its large white hand again; this time, extending its thumb downward, and in the same foolish tone it said
‘Unlike!’
I shifted into drive, and pushed the pedal to the floor. The tyres screeched in protest as the car hurtled toward the Facebooker. It took mere seconds to reach him, and I could have sworn in the milliseconds before contact, its once vacant blue eyes contained a flicker of surprise. Between the car and the barrier, which the impact had broken, there was nothing left but a white and red mess. Not sparing a second, I took my foot off the brake, and continued on, up the ramp, and out into the sunlight. I floored the pedal again; they were on to me, and there was no point in trying to be casual, I had to get to the rendezvous, I had to meet with members of Disconnected; after all, I was one of them now.