OptiGrids, et alia: Usilitel’ Dukha

OptiGrids, a failed lifestyle programme of the mid-30’s strata, received much criticism like other lifestyle products thenceforth. Not so much for its half-baked concept and poor execution in an attempt at besting a superior product, but for exacerbating social neuroses that are timeless.

The Opti-Proxy of one Taoja stood in the communal chamber making small talk with visitants and thru-passers.
  “Lookit the bugatty moodge,” shot one snide malapert.
  “Such dorogoy platties,” smirked another.
  Though Avatar Vitiation was a valid concern, skitebirds on hand wasted no time with hasty judgements based on mere appearances.
  “I got little deng,” explained Taoja. “My blazer is from the charity shoppe. My shirt and trou are cast-offs. Even my avatar construct is a favour from a tog.”
  “You smot that sophistos look, aincher?”
  “Bezoomny, the lotta ya,” Taoja shook his head.

There are no tall poppies in Tucland, and all of their crabs writhe at the bottom of the proverbial bucket.
  But Taoja was neither. Even had Validity Projection not failed, knee-jerk biteback would always be there.
  Worse than hatred of success, this was hatred of perceived success. Contact Slough is the only recourse for those who cannot stomach such a scabrous standpoint.
  ’Twas ever thus, the Spirit of Cain.

Medika Monaro: The Bittersweet Dadirri

From the antipodes comes the gift of guwiira — scarlet blooms with baby’s breath, a treasured felicitation to be sure. Posterity has the conferral committed to a planar preservation — a technical tome to hold the token bound, this poignant souvenir of Optigrids-era captivations from afar.
  Micro-aeons and macro-seconds elapse along with fading fervency, leaving to question the verity of a heart’s own fleeting eye.
  Passing time again finds the pages spread and that floral fairing extruding back into its axonometric constitution. And the heart’s self-doubt scales out every petal to a diffident topography of barren high plains ruddy with furrows of drear.
  Will every future affection garner the same qualms, no matter how compelling the pathos pleads in that very moment?

“Drying in the cold sun...”

A signal controller cabinet has displaced the old park bench across from Tailgate Plaza. At one time a Stratum XXXIII respite locale from BLU Team drudgery as well as an OptiGrids check-in site, the discarded seating accommodations are now a fitting eyesore.

Cue for the Visions: “Head Over Heels”

Tá an amhráin sin séala ár gcuimhní cinn mar céir ar an tsubstráit ama.

The 33rd Stratum saw many foreign market attempts at piggybacking off of Orville’s successful SetUp™ lifestyle product. An ignoble effort by OptiGrids Ltd. used substandard Image Toning without the benefit of Validity Projection, resulting in unfortunate Avatar Vitiation:

• Stone-faced Maoris wielding chainsaws want their cake, and also: to eat it.
• Adult proles on the dole in fancy dress scrawl Year 3-quality fantasies of faeries whilst their chav progeny regurge and belch nihilistic slogans they themselves learned... in Year 3. (A complete circle?)
• Theological posturing by hedonists who also want their (beef)cake. The in-word-not-deed theist approaches indistinguishability with the atheist.

Diaphanous façades thus disintegrated with Virtual Biteback and Contact Slough.
OptiGrids Lifestyle Programme: FAIL.