I Entered a Contest
A couple years ago, I found out that my friend Jennifer Anne was helping out a weird organization that holds little filmmaking competitions. They call themselves NYC Midnight Movie Making Madness, or 'NYC Midnight' for short. She convinced me to participate in one of the contests, wherein we had to show up to a club downtown on a Friday night, and at the stroke of midnight they gave us all (about 60 filmmaking teams) the subject/theme of the film we had to make and then we had until midnight the next night to return to that same club with the finished product on a video tape.

We had to come up with a concept, write an original script, find actors and locations and costumes and props, shoot, edit and score (with original music!) a 10-minute (max.) little movie in under 24 hours. I don't think I've ever consumed that much caffeine in a single day before or since. We told the cab driver we'd tip him extra if he ran some red lights to make sure we got there in time. He did. The fare was maybe $12 but I just threw a couple $20 bills at him and we ran to the door of the club barely making it in under the wire. But we didn't win the contest. Still, it was pretty fucking fun, and quite an interesting challenge. If nothing else, it was a routine-obliterating exercise in sheer lunacy.

Or maybe it was a lunatic exercise in routine obliteration.

Either way.

Despite how much fun it was, I haven't exactly had the urge to repeat the experience. But I am on the organization's e-mail list, so I've learned that they've been successful enough with the film contests that they've branched out into other types of contests. The latest: short story writing.

Now that's something I'd like to try, I thought. So I did. I ponied up the $40 entry fee, and waited until the designated evening when, once again, at the stroke of midnight, the contestants would all receive the genre and subject matter of the short story they had to write.

This contest worked a little differently. A little over 200 people from all over the country (and beyond) entered. They divided us up into about 14 different groups and everybody in a group was given the same genre and subject. Some of the possibilities were:

Comedy - counterfeiting
Drama - domestic abuse
Romantic Comedy - bachelorette party
Fantasy - a stream
Horror - snow
Thriller - electricity

and the one that I got was: Science Fiction - a fish tank.

My first reaction was, "well, at least I'm not one of the poor bastards who had to write a drama about domestic abuse!"

I mentioned the assignment to my pal Robert who pointed out that the whole fish tank thing is kind of a staple, a sci-fi cliché even. So, I decided not to write about some kid who doesn't realize that he has an outerspace creature or some tiny lost civilization living in his fish tank. Instead, I decided to treat it as a metaphor for paranoia, voyeurism, shit like that.

I know a little something about paranoia. I used to feel it almost all the time. Once, when I was still working at the MTV, I got this especially horrible creepy feeling that everybody was watching me and could read my mind. It was so disturbing that I got up from my desk, walked out of my office and went to get a drink of water. I was halfway to the pantry when this other guy comes around another corner singing out loud (to nobody in particular, but looking me straight in the eye) that '80's song that goes "I always feel like... somebody's watching meeeeee." Creeped me out so hard I nearly shat. True story by the way.

Anyway, this is only the first round of the contest and we were all given one week to write and send our stories in via email. I kind of mulled the story over in my head for the first 5 days and then wrote it in a day and a half. Once again, I got it to them with only minutes to spare. It had to be 2500 words or less, and mine clocks in around 1600. If I had had more time, the story could've benefitted from using more of the words allowed. But given the circumstances, I don't think it's too bad. Wanna read it? Here it is:


FISH TANK 108
by Jon Levin


As you can see, nano-imaging technology gives us total access, no matter where someone goes or what he does -- the Holy Grail of surveillance. If you look at the monitor, here is test-subject number… um… 108, standing in his living room, talking on the phone.

What is that he's standing next to?

It appears to be a tropical fish tank.

Very impressive. How does the technology work?

Microscopic cell-like robots float around the subject in what essentially amounts to an invisible "cloud" and send continuous audio-visual information back to us via radio signals, which we can then de-scramble and view on these monitors.

What is their power source and how do they maintain contact with a specific individual?

They derive all the energy they require from the body heat and subtle energy field generated by the subject himself, all without his ever knowing it. Some of the nanobots migrate through the subject's respiratory system, into the bloodstream and take up residence in the brain, where they broadcast to the nanobots hovering in the energy field around the subject. Once linked in this way, they never break contact and we need never lose sight of him until we decide to stop viewing.

How do we get the nanobots in place to begin with?

Well, we're working on a more reliable remote delivery system, but at present, one of us has to come into actual physical contact with the target, to ensure accuracy. We deliver the nanobots by spraying or smearing a small amount of colorless, odorless liquid onto clothing or skin. The first of them to evaporate and become airborne automatically migrate into the subject's brain, and once in place, the rest activate as they become airborne as well.

What if some are lost, or are accidentally inhaled by an unintended target?

Obviously, it's preferable to place the nanobots on the intended target when he or she is alone. If this is too difficult, and placement must occur, say, on a crowded subway train at rush-hour to avoid detection/suspicion, it is possible that more than one person will inhale some nanobots--

--or due to the ventilation system, indeed all persons on the train could conceivably inhale nanobots.

True. But so far the nanobots have proven completely harmless to all subjects, and nobody will ever know they have them in their brains. If you are worried about a dose of nanobots being spread to thin to work effectively with an intended target due to being inhaled by everyone on a commuter train, we've addressed that problem by making the nanobots self-replicating. When there are fewer nanobots hovering around a subject than required for optimal surveillance resolution, they automatically begin producing more of themselves until a full complement is in place.

Will they do this for the unintended targets as well? Everyone on the entire train?

Well… yes. But does it matter? We don't have to actively monitor everyone who has been accidentally dosed with nanobots. Though, if we wanted to we probably could. The database is capable of keeping track of billions of subjects simultaneously. Potentially everyone on Earth.

Why don't we just let them spread to everyone? Wouldn't that save us a lot of trouble?

Something to consider. Turn up the audio. I'd like to hear the sound quality.

* * * * * * * *

Test subject 108 feeds his tropical fish while talking on the phone. He watches intently as the fish swim to the surface and eat the small flakes of food.
"… Actually, there was this one funny thing that happened at work. You know how I've been re-assigned to the affiliate sales group? Well they're on the 16th floor facing north, so instead of the nice downtown skyline view, all we look out on is the side of the Sheraton Hotel tower. So, I'm at my desk, procrastinating like usual when I hear Kate, the executive assistant -- yeah, the redhead -- and she's like shrieking 'Oh my god! Oh my god!" and we're all like 'What the fuck!?' so we all go running over to see what's the matter, and Kate is standing at the window looking across at the Sheraton, and she points to some guy a couple stories below us, standing at the window of his hotel room, totally naked. Yeah… completely oblivious…. Right, it was a floor to ceiling plate-glass window and he was just standing there in all his glory… I don't know… Like, just looking down at the city below. So all the assistant girls start calling all their friends in the building and telling them to go over to the north side of their floors to stare at this dumbass. … No, I don't think he was an exhibitionist. I think he was just clueless. Probably here on business from some small town somewhere, never been in a big crowded city before and simply had no idea that about a thousand low-level administrative employees were gawking and laughing at him from the office building across the street. … Well, he was in sunlight and we were in shadow. He probably couldn't see us at all. And he was only like 30 feet away. At one point, he started scratching his balls or something, and all the girls were like 'Eeeww!' and giggling like they were in junior high. Poor bastard. Not like he'll ever know, but still. So anyway, meet up for beers later? … Yeah… Sounds good. See you then."
108 puts his phone down, sits on the couch, slouches. Turns on the TV with a remote control. Channel surfs for a while. Settles on a local news broadcast. Grabs a bong and a lighter off the coffee table and smokes some pot. Puts the bong back down. Channel surfs some more. Cartoon network. After a while, he gets up, goes to the kitchen, opens the fridge, roots around for a while. Takes out some leftovers. Sniffs them. Sniffs them again. Sticks them in a microwave oven on the counter. Grabs a half-eaten bag of potato chips off the counter. Eats some potato chips. Gets a can of soda out of the fridge. Drinks a little. The microwave beeps. Food is ready. He takes the food, chips and soda back to the couch. Eats while watching the TV. After he finishes his food, he takes off his clothes, goes to the bathroom, turns the water on in the shower. While waiting for it to get warm, he sits on the toilet.

* * * * * * * *

Will the shower water interfere with the nanobots hovering around him? Will they get knocked out of place? Washed away?

They shouldn't. They are programmed to ride air currents out of the way of oncoming physical objects, and water droplets shouldn't be any exception. If necessary, they will automatically expand their radius to a safe distance. There may be some visual distortion, due to the water, but nothing serious. Perhaps we could even implement a specific shower-recognition-and-correction algorithm.

Are there any female subjects we could look in on?

Of course.

* * * * * * * *

Subject 108 showers. When he is finished, he gets out and dries himself off. He wraps a towel around his waist and comes back out to the living room, where he does a few more bong hits. He goes and watches his fish swim in their tank.
"You guys don't have a care in the world, do you? Lucky bastards."

* * * * * * * *

Oh, like he's got it so bad? Nice attitude pal.

Keep your comments to yourself please.

* * * * * * * *

108 puts on some clothing. Watches more TV. Smokes more pot. Channel surfs. Channel surfs. Nothing good on. Turns TV off. Gets up to watch the fish. Phone rings. He answers it, staring at the fish as he talks.
"Oh hey. … Yeah, sorry about that. I musta spaced. … Well, I suddenly don't know if I'm up for it anymore. I'm kinda not feeling very social at the moment. … Yeah, I don't know. I just don't feel like being around so many people. You know it's gonna be totally crowded anywhere we go. … I know, I know, you're right. Sorry man. I just hate when everybody's all crammed in at the bar, people shoving past, and I feel like they're all so judgmental and you gotta be on your game the whole time. It's exhausting. … Yeah, of course I need to get laid. Sure. I'll go out tomorrow night. … I dunno. Smoke more probably. … Nah, TV sucks on Friday night. You wanna come over? Get a movie, get high, drink some beers? Maybe get a pizza delivered? … Can't tempt ya? … No seriously, I'm in for the night. I can't stand feeling like everybody in the club is looking at me, judging me. Like I'm on display for their amusement or something. I just feel really paranoid all of a sudden. … Well, maybe it's the pot, but it's pretty good shit and I don't usually react like this. I dunno. It's a really sick feeling. Even now, I feel a little creeped out. Hard to explain. Sorry if I'm not making much sense. I'll let you go. You have a good time. … Gonna smoke more and go to sleep in a bit. Yeah, thanks, it'll be great… just me 'n' my fish tank. … Okay. See ya."
108 hangs up. Pulls a rocking chair over by the fish tank. Wraps a blanket around himself. Sits in the chair, rocking, staring at the fish.

The End

Or is it? (No, it is.)

So, yeah. That's what I came up with. I hope it was creepy enough. Supposedly, I should find out by the second week of March if I made it to the next and final round or not. They're only going to pick 15 or so people who will all be given the same genre and subject, and only 24 hours to write the whole thing. That's gonna be brutal. I can hardly wait. Wish me luck! And feel free to leave comments with feedback about the story. Be HONEST. I can take criticism. Be harsh even. That way, if the judges are harsh I'll be prepared!