Monday, May 25, 2015

Hypo-ETE Concentration Districts

Stumbled upon a new unread single in the Kindle. Oh dear. I've got many unread physical books. Now e-books too. Eeeks. Jess Walter's 'Don't Eat Cat'. I didn't mind the author's other novels, especially 'Over Tumbled Graves'.

'Don't Eat Cat' describes a world in 2040 where zombies are kinda integrated into everyday living. Zombies are made by people taking club drug 'Replexen' and apparently could be hired to do mundane jobs. It's set in Seattle and when 'Starbucks Financial' popped up, I knew it would be nothing else but corny. And oh, apparently we're not supposed to call zombies 'zombies'. It's a bad word. Call them "unfortunate sufferers of hypo-endocrinal-thyro-encephalitis". Or 'hypo-ETE'. The ending was a bit of a let-down, but otherwise a cool little read over lunch that was a welcome pause to the madness of a work-day.

The e-short took all of 15 minutes to read, even at a really slow pace. It's really too short to talk about the matter of the curious relationship of protagonist Owen and the break-up with his girlfriend Marci. She took 'Replexen' and left him. After two years, he finally went into a Hypo-ETE Concentration District to look for her. The e-book isn't long enough to discuss sickness of the human psyche or the state of the environment. People were frustrated by reproduction and intelligence laws that seemingly set them on a path of life dictated from birth. Hahah. I couldn't help sniggering at that.

My guess was that Marci had disappeared into what was starting to be called Z Town. And if that was the case, of course, I was too late. Seattle was one of the worst cities for derelict zombies—old Fremont had been turned over to the hardcore clubs, brothels, and shooting galleries, to bars that supposedly released rodents during happy hour—places that made Andrew's shitty club seem like a Four Seasons. 
For two years after that, I waited for Marci to come back. But it wasn't until my last doctor's appointment and the bad news I got it—it wasn't until after Brando snapped and the death of that poor zombie girl—that I finally felt compelled to go to Z Town and look for her, for the only woman I have ever loved. 

The first documented zombie attack in months triggered by Owen yelling at a zombie Starbucks barista for burning his latte, and culminating in a vigilante zombie attack. Points and comments on society were underdeveloped. Kinda fluffy. I suppose this is what an e-short can't quite do for certain stories. There isn't much space to elaborate. A quick read. And about the cat. In this world, zombies love eating cats. The mere mention of the word turn their brains into mush. I would have loved to hear some more talk about zombies and cats.

But four days after the Starbucks Financial incident, Apocalpytics began protesting Starbucks Financial headquarters, and the company announced the complete suspension of its zombie retraining program, which got the hypo-ETE activists and support groups going again about the 60 percent zombie unemployment rate. Then worst of all, some vigilantes came to Seattle from the country and killed a nineteen-year-old zombie girl with an antique hunting rifle, shot her outside a club and left her body outside a Starbucks Financial. 

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