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About The Author: Timothy Carll
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Genres: Horror, Sci-Fi / liked it: 11897 Vote / writed by: Scarlett Amaris / 2019 / 6,6 / 10 / country: Malaysia. I was sprawled on the couch, idly watching TV, when my friend Dennis phoned me up. My mobile was plugged into a charger in the kitchen, and the vibrating noise began to drone incessantly. As it rang, my girlfriend Eileen was sitting at the kitchen table, colouring in the squares of crosswords in that day's newspaper with a black texta (Australian Marker Pen) -- (She'd already drawn fake eyebrows and moustaches on all the faces in the paper's many photographs --as she is in the hobby of doing of a Sunday). I have no idea why she does it, or why she even buys the newspaper. Who reads the news anymore anyway right? -- except maybe from off of the internet, or facebook feed. Anyway, Eileen was quick to grab my phone, when it rang that evening, and came in to hand it to me, in the lounge room, as I lay there, the name -- Dennis Cromwell -- displaying clearly on the screen. It was peak evening viewing time, (you know around... 8:30? ). Around the time when you actually begin to temporarily believe 'the idiot box' -- and tune out to the sermon of the daily corporate programming -- of all that numbing status quo. I was semi-relaxed -- and feeling lethargic -- not really in the frame of mind to socialise. My best friend Dennis has a habit of contacting me routinely every Sunday. He lives a few blocks down the road from me, and usually invites me over to show me something new about his back garden at least once or twice a week. (Dennis has an intense passion for landscape gardening, (and plant and herb cultivation), to the point of obsession). But this particular Sunday, he was unusually distressed. I told him upfront that there was no way I was going anywhere that evening. He then, flatly, asked me what I was doing Monday morning, and I apologised, but told him, extremely frankly, that I had a freelance job, (I'm a writer by profession for your information --though I generally write for lifestyle magazines, and am not accustomed to telling 'spooky stories'). I told Dennis that I had to work on this article for a catalogue which my editor wanted by Wednesday. Dennis pleaded with me so furiously, and told me that he needed my help-- in a tone of such sincere desperation-- demanding that I come around first thing in the morning. I struggled to say 'NO' to his anxious voice, and eventually assured him i'd be around at 9:00. Then I hung up and went back to zoning-out to the boob-tube. Eileen briefly asked me what Dennis had wanted, and I told her that he'd asked me to go around to his house tomorrow, and that I didn't know why. Before returning to her crossword, she briefly nagged me --that I simply HAD to remember to phone somebody about the leak in the roof tomorrow, and not to spend all day with Dennis. (We've got a hole in our ceiling, which is leaking water from one of the bathrooms in the apartments above us. The hole has caused a kind of grotesque mould patch to form on the white plaster, and the whole apartment smells unbearably like dead plants, or pea soup). I assured her that I would sort it out---quickly forgetting all about the Dennis situation, until the next day. I woke up early the next morning, and had a shower -- leaving my apartment for Dennis' at about 8:25. To give you some context, I live in an area of Hexton-- near the coast of Sydney, Australia. The area is called Kings Cross, and I live in a quaint old apartment at no. 10 Hardie Street: MY APARTMENT -- 'THE SAVOY': A PHOTO OF MYSELF, OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT -- 'THE SAVOY': Dennis lives about an eight minute walk away from my place, in a quiet street towards Elizabeth Bay called 'Roslyn Gardens'. I bought myself a coffee and a sandwich from a cafe that Monday morning, on the way down to his place. Then began walking down Bayswater Road. I had to cross the path of the creepy apartment on Dennis' road, which always gives me the chills for some reason. I really have no idea why. It's not dillapitated or gothic. It's just this unusual white building with no windows or doors called 'Aquarius'. There's a really long passageway that leads down towards it, and I often find myself staring ominously down -- wondering about the inhabitants of the building, or pondering who designed such a weird windowless structure ---and why the path is so long and narrow. THE ROUTE BETWEEN THE TWO APARTMENTS: 'AQUARIUS' - THE CREEPY PROPERTY ON DENNIS' STREET: 'LAKEMOUNT' - DENNIS' APARTMENT: This information may or may not be relevant to my strange experience the week following Dennis initial phone-call. I figure maybe if I share everything that happened with you all, in detail, you might be in a better position to understand what I experienced than I am myself. Because I remain, currently, utterly clueless to the meaning of my recent experience of inane terror. As a background to why Dennis may have been under an appreciable mental strain -- perhaps I should explain that he recently has been undergoing the beginnings of a potential legal divorce battle with his wife. Whilst the two of them are still living together, it seems almost certain now, that Dennis and Miriam will be separating. Every time I see Dennis, there is a different mood about the break up. Though Dennis himself, is obviously completely miserable -- One day he will tell me confidently they are back on, the next week it's off, and his moods submit to an emotional rollercoaster -- which I think is why he has been spending more and more time gardening, as an escape from the trauma of his disintegrating relationship. I don't have much to offer by way of consolation. My situation couldn't be more different from his. Eileen and I have only been together for a few years, and whilst we have a few commitment issues occasionally, generally we couldn't be happier. Really its a kind of twilight, honeymoon phase for her and I, and I find myself with absolutely no basis to give Dennis the advice he needs re: divorce. That Monday I visited him, it was apparent that his mental deterioration had reached a new level. Dennis has no history of psychological illness in his family as far as i'm aware, nor had he previously showed-- any early warning signs of schizophrenia, however, the minute I walked into his Lakemount garden that Monday-- I knew instinctively that something was terribly wrong with his state of mental well being. He seemed to have completely forgotten the desperation with which he had called me in Sunday's mania, and was now only obsessing compulsively over elements of his garden. Presumably, he and Miriam had had another fight the previous night-- and whilst he had been desperate to talk about it on Sunday, he had now-- switched back to the denial phase of his psychological stages of coping with trauma. Dennis' garden is extremely beautiful. Because his apartment is on the ground floor of the Lakemount building-- he somehow got the prime real estate, and the entire garden is considered his tennable property. The space is relatively small, (about 40 square metres), but Dennis has utilised the space to it's fullest, with beautiful stone masonry, tall sculpted hedges, red and yellow flower beds and herb gardens -- then in the centre of it --- is a beautiful Italian fountain balanced upon a grey-stone statue of the Hindu deity Ganesh. (The elephantine looking god of that religion). A large proportion of the garden is a well maintained lawn, of thick healthy grass. As I found Dennis that morning, he was engaged in the most mysterious act, crouching beneath the statue of Ganesh --holding a sloppy paintbrush, above a large tin of white household paint --- and he was bizzarrely, and furiously painting the green grass --a thick coat of white!! When I approached him, and asked him why he was so sloppily painting his garden with a thick coat of white house paint -- he launched into the most insane diatribe of paranoid word-salad imaginable. I had a mind to call the physicians at Bourkeley institution there and then, to come and grant him the soft comfort of a white padded cell-- however, remembering what a close friend he was, I made it my mission to try and appreciate his mental stress, and bring him back to ordinary thoughts. I'll tell you now -- in my own words ---what I remember Dennis to have said that morning, though I fear I won't be able to perfectly capture the immeasurable horribleness, and sadness of it: 'White ---is the only colour which can stop it. ' I think was the first thing he said to me, in a cracked, high-pitched voice. I raised my eyebrows in desperate concern as he began his frightening sililoquy; 'Ideas can travel through colours, that's how they get at you. Have you ever wondered why they use certain colours in church stain-glass windows? The light picks up on particular colours, in a very precise way, and only certain waves can travel through them--- which enhances the euphoria of the sunlight. You don't believe me? Did you see the newspaper headlines yesterday? They've taken pictures of gravity waves now! Do you know what that means? Einsteins theories about the relativity of space and time, were not only RIGHT... they were primitive! Gravity waves! Waves of time and space, are flowing all around us all the time -- we are surrounded by an aura of flickering time-space -- a fragile field of temporal reality -- caging the illusion of all we hold dear and take for granted! The air itself is an ocean of rippling time-space! ' Even at this early point of his mad ravings, I moved over to him awkwardly, wanting to touch or hug him, or pull the paintbrush out of his hand -- to give him what he really craved, (emotional devotion and human affection). Still -- unable to interrupt, I basically just stood and listened as he continued the insane speech: 'Miriam has been having dreams about plants for months. Do you know, that's what all of this talk of separating is really about? You remember I told
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Color out of space review chris stuckmann. Color out of space foundflix. Color out of space final trailer. Color out of space poster. Color Out of Space (English) 2019 - Direct Torrent Download Magnet Utorrent Color Out of Space Trailer Note: Don't Waste Your Time.. Just Remember Us.. Use Only Ctrl + D to Bookmark.. Movie Name Quality Torrent Link Size Color Out of Space 720p - HD Download Torrent 1. 0 GB 1. 4 GB 1080p - HD 2. 0 GB Color Out of Space Watch Online 2019 English Movie or HDrip Download Torrent Published on 2020-03-03 13:19:29 Color Out of Space 2019 ? Fantasy/Sci-fi ? 1h 51m 6. 2/10 IMDb After a meteorite lands in the front yard of their farm, Nathan Gardner and his family find themselves battling a mutant extraterrestrial organism that infects their minds and bodies, transforming their quiet rural life into a technicolor nightmare. Initial release: September 7, 2019 (Canada) Director: Richard Stanley Adapted from: The Colour Out of Space Box office: 576, 558 USD Producers: Lisa Whalen, Daniel Noah, Elijah Wood, Josh Waller Keywords: Color Out of Space Movie English, Color Out of Space English Movie, Color Out of Space 2019 Movie, Color Out of Space 2019 English, Color Out of Space Download, Color Out of Space Torrent Download Download Color Out of Space 2019 English movie from torrent downloads selecting either torrent or magnet link and watch hdrip Dvdrip 1080p or 720p full movie on HD Quality for free from torrentking. This is 2019 movies, in which all actors works awesome. You can find the complete data of this film on imdb and Wikipedia. Links are placed below. Name: Color Out of Space Language: English Year: 2019 More info: IMDB | Wikipedia ?.
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Color Out of space 2. What would you do if you knew how and when you were going to die? Would it paralyse you with fear? Would it supercharge your last days on earth and make you live life to the fullest? Maybe your life is miserable and knowing it will end will bring you a sweet bliss? Would you embrace your fate or would you fight it? Would you try to run and hide? I think that’s what’s happened to Jake. I think he has run and hid, he hasn’t been seen for 4 days now. Jake and I work together at a clickbait company. They call it something different, some bullshit like ‘Digital content & experience” but in a nutshell we make click bait articles. You know the type of stuff I’m talking about. ‘You won’t believe what these 90’s teenage hotties look like now’. ‘Top 10 life hacks that will change the way you take a piss. ’ ‘What’s your Disney princess/star wars/gangster/porn name. ’ The stuff that’s ruined facebook and will likely ruin every other type of social media before too long. I’m not proud of what I do but it pays the bills. In theory it was a step in the direction of real journalism. My chosen Career path when I left University 3 years ago and had to get a job. Instead I ended up here at ‘Provoke: Digital content & experiences’. Jake and I were part of the same bunch of new starters. Only 3 of an original intake of 6 are left now. Jake, myself and Daisy my secret love who is perhaps the most beautiful creature in existence. Provoke’s business model is to create content that generates views then sell the advertising space on our pages & apps to make a profit. Simple really but with everyone’s attention span so limited these days you have to keep coming up with new and innovative ways to grab people’s attention. Each of us ‘creatives’ has to generate enough ideas each month to hit our advertising revenue targets. I generally follow a formula I have dubbed ‘Triple S’ Sex, Sympathy or Sentiment. These seem to be the 3 things that consistently draw in the traffic for me. Chances are if you see a facebook post or meme about how a poor 1 legged, orphaned, ethnic minority puppy saved a Grandma’s life, my hand was behind it. The key is dragging the bullshit out over as many pages as possible. Provoke will monetise up to 12 ad spaces on any page so the math is simple. More pages, more ads, more revenue. I have mastered the art of turning an utterly pointless and completely fictional 150 word piece into 12 pages of money making art. There is absolutely no journalistic integrity or scrutiny on the internet. You can pretty much make up anything and even go borderline slanderous on politicians and celebrities and there is almost nothing the regulators can do. Every Monday morning we have a ‘creative meeting’ in the board room. All the creatives pitch their ideas for the week to the rest of the team and the partner. Feedback for bad suggestions is brutal so they can be feisty affairs. Pepper in the occasional accusation of plagiarism as people jealously guard their own ideas and they can also be great fun. At least they were back when Jake, Daisy and I joined and Tom Bostock was always the partner who chaired the creative meeting. Tom was a great guy, he founded the company and was down to earth, supportive and really helped with the creative process. He brought on another partner, Maaiki Kalma about 6 months ago. Maaiki is very different. She has a brooding, menacing nature. She is striking to look at, sharp but perfect features, pale skin contrasting with her severe and very black bobbed haircut. Her English is perfect but dusted with a light Finnish accent that makes everything sound like a rebuke. She oozes refinement & class. Immaculate power suits & simple blouses, always black contrasted with white. Her thin lips the same blood red as her manicured nails. Tragically Tom passed away 2 months ago. Poor bloke was only 37 so the massive stroke came out of the blue and really took the wind out of everyone’s sails. The atmosphere in the office has been terrible since, partly the sadness at the loss of our boss and mentor but as much because it left the poisonous Maaiki in sole charge. 2 weeks ago the Monday meeting didn’t go too well. Jake and I are seen as the senior creatives having been around for the longest. Daisy attends the meetings but she works in the sales team. Her job is to ensure we get the best advertisers paying the best rates, not to worry about having ideas herself. We pitched our ideas for the week, admittedly they were far from inspired. A tense silence settled over the room, Maaiki stared at the pair of us her piercing grey eyes drilling into us. “Out. ” It was a whisper but everyone shot from their chairs. “Not you two. ” We sat back down, bracing ourselves. After a long and uncomfortable silence she spoke. “I pay you for ideas, without ideas you have no value to me. ” “Maaiki, Jake and I will go work on our ideas, try to sharpen them up a bit. ” I wanted to get on the front foot and get out of there and figured this was the best approach. “Your ideas are pathetic and old. I have no use for them being pathetic, old & sharp. I want a game changer from one of you tomorrow morning. McDonalds has plenty of vacancies for morons with no imagination. ” She dismissed us with a flick of her hand. “Shit Simon. ” Jake said as we stood outside of the office vaping. “I don’t have any fucking game changers. You? ” “Nope. We should leave early and grab some beers. If we are going down let’s go down in style and hungover. ” My bravado was see-through. I didn’t want to lose my job and was as concerned as Jake. Even so that was exactly what we did. Left the office at 5 and went straight to our favourite bar. To my great delight the beautiful Daisy joined us. “She’s a fucking stuck up bitch. ” Jake moaned. “Anyone any ideas? ” We tossed around a couple of thoughts. Daisy sat quietly sipping her gin & tonic and watching us both. After 40 minutes and 2 pints of re-hashing the same clichés we had used for the last 12 months we slumped back into our seats defeated. “What’s the essence of social media? ” Daisy asked leaning forwards and breaking the silence. “People use it to stay in touch with their friends? ” I replied with a shrug. “Do they? ” Daisy said “I’m not so sure. I guess there is a bit of that but most of what I see is ‘look at me posts’. ‘Here’s what I ate’, ‘aren’t I amazing going to the gym this early in the morning’ ‘My kids are better than your kids’. ” “You’re fucking spot on Daisy. It’s all just ego shit. ” I was excited, a bit of insight that might land us an idea. “So you just need to find the most important thing in people’s lives that gives them the biggest ego trip and you have your game changer. ” She sat back in her chair and took a triumphant sip of her G&T. “OK so what it that? Having kid? Getting a new job? Starting a new relationship? ” I had a bit of flow now. “What does everyone have in common that they would love to fucking brag about. ” Jake just shrugged and I didn’t have the answer. “Their death. ” Daisy’s words cut across the table and we were silent waiting for what might come next. “Death is the one thing we all have in common. ” “Holy shit you’re fucking right Daisy” “So I write an App that predicts people’s deaths. ” Said Jake, picking up the baton. “We ask them a bunch of questions about their age, weight, lifestyle that type of shit. There will be all kind of data on line I can pull in that can create some sort of formula of when they will die. ” “There are websites that do this type of thing already. ” Daisy chipped in. “You need a different angle. ” “She’s right Jake. How about this, people don’t want to actually know the truth, they wasn’t some drama and uniqueness, something to brag about. So you give them how they will die and make the reasons exciting. ‘Bitten by a poisonous spider’ ‘fell off a mountain’, ‘taken out in a gangland hit’. People love that type of thing. ” Buoyed by optimism, our plans were formulated over a dozen more drinks. The last 10 of those dozen drinks seemed like a terrible idea the next morning as we sat in the boardroom waiting for Maaiki to grace us with her presence. She breezed in and registered our bedraggled state. “Pathetic drunks, this better be good. ” This appeared to be our invitation to start so we told her about the concept. To access the app you need to enter your name, date of birth, gender, country of origin and social security number. We planned to use that to look up individuals to make it seem more ‘authentic’. You then complete 10 questions that are largely meaningless then submit for a response. The app would scrape the last 2 years of your social media activity to look for any pass times or buzz words that we could use to add a bit of flavour to the death prediction. The prediction itself would be completely random from a list of about 100 exciting ways in which you could die. If the profile scrape came up with any interesting results it would influence the algorithm to make it more likely to predict certain deaths. From the date of birth, gender & country of origin we would apply some normalisation filters to the random death date to avoid predicting anyone would die aged 300 or anything ridiculous like that. On the spur of the moment I also pitched in that the App would apply further date range modification to the death date in the event of certain predictions. “90 year olds don’t generally drive motor bikes or do bungee jumping. ” I added by way of clarification. “I’m going to call the app ‘The Reaper’. ” Jake added with a flourish. Her hard grey eyes assessed us as she sat impassive and expressionless. Her lips turned upwards a little into the faintest of smiles. I had seen Maikki scowl and glower a thousand times but her smile was more fear inducing by far. �
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Color Out of space 2. What would you do if you knew how and when you were going to die? Would it paralyse you with fear? Would it supercharge your last days on earth and make you live life to the fullest? Maybe your life is miserable and knowing it will end will bring you a sweet bliss? Would you embrace your fate or would you fight it? Would you try to run and hide? I think that’s what’s happened to Jake. I think he has run and hid, he hasn’t been seen for 4 days now. Jake and I work together at a clickbait company. They call it something different, some bullshit like ‘Digital content & experience” but in a nutshell we make click bait articles. You know the type of stuff I’m talking about. ‘You won’t believe what these 90’s teenage hotties look like now’. ‘Top 10 life hacks that will change the way you take a piss. ’ ‘What’s your Disney princess/star wars/gangster/porn name. ’ The stuff that’s ruined facebook and will likely ruin every other type of social media before too long. I’m not proud of what I do but it pays the bills. In theory it was a step in the direction of real journalism. My chosen Career path when I left University 3 years ago and had to get a job. Instead I ended up here at ‘Provoke: Digital content & experiences’. Jake and I were part of the same bunch of new starters. Only 3 of an original intake of 6 are left now. Jake, myself and Daisy my secret love who is perhaps the most beautiful creature in existence. Provoke’s business model is to create content that generates views then sell the advertising space on our pages & apps to make a profit. Simple really but with everyone’s attention span so limited these days you have to keep coming up with new and innovative ways to grab people’s attention. Each of us ‘creatives’ has to generate enough ideas each month to hit our advertising revenue targets. I generally follow a formula I have dubbed ‘Triple S’ Sex, Sympathy or Sentiment. These seem to be the 3 things that consistently draw in the traffic for me. Chances are if you see a facebook post or meme about how a poor 1 legged, orphaned, ethnic minority puppy saved a Grandma’s life, my hand was behind it. The key is dragging the bullshit out over as many pages as possible. Provoke will monetise up to 12 ad spaces on any page so the math is simple. More pages, more ads, more revenue. I have mastered the art of turning an utterly pointless and completely fictional 150 word piece into 12 pages of money making art. There is absolutely no journalistic integrity or scrutiny on the internet. You can pretty much make up anything and even go borderline slanderous on politicians and celebrities and there is almost nothing the regulators can do. Every Monday morning we have a ‘creative meeting’ in the board room. All the creatives pitch their ideas for the week to the rest of the team and the partner. Feedback for bad suggestions is brutal so they can be feisty affairs. Pepper in the occasional accusation of plagiarism as people jealously guard their own ideas and they can also be great fun. At least they were back when Jake, Daisy and I joined and Tom Bostock was always the partner who chaired the creative meeting. Tom was a great guy, he founded the company and was down to earth, supportive and really helped with the creative process. He brought on another partner, Maaiki Kalma about 6 months ago. Maaiki is very different. She has a brooding, menacing nature. She is striking to look at, sharp but perfect features, pale skin contrasting with her severe and very black bobbed haircut. Her English is perfect but dusted with a light Finnish accent that makes everything sound like a rebuke. She oozes refinement & class. Immaculate power suits & simple blouses, always black contrasted with white. Her thin lips the same blood red as her manicured nails. Tragically Tom passed away 2 months ago. Poor bloke was only 37 so the massive stroke came out of the blue and really took the wind out of everyone’s sails. The atmosphere in the office has been terrible since, partly the sadness at the loss of our boss and mentor but as much because it left the poisonous Maaiki in sole charge. 2 weeks ago the Monday meeting didn’t go too well. Jake and I are seen as the senior creatives having been around for the longest. Daisy attends the meetings but she works in the sales team. Her job is to ensure we get the best advertisers paying the best rates, not to worry about having ideas herself. We pitched our ideas for the week, admittedly they were far from inspired. A tense silence settled over the room, Maaiki stared at the pair of us her piercing grey eyes drilling into us. “Out. ” It was a whisper but everyone shot from their chairs. “Not you two. ” We sat back down, bracing ourselves. After a long and uncomfortable silence she spoke. “I pay you for ideas, without ideas you have no value to me. ” “Maaiki, Jake and I will go work on our ideas, try to sharpen them up a bit. ” I wanted to get on the front foot and get out of there and figured this was the best approach. “Your ideas are pathetic and old. I have no use for them being pathetic, old & sharp. I want a game changer from one of you tomorrow morning. McDonalds has plenty of vacancies for morons with no imagination. ” She dismissed us with a flick of her hand. “Shit Simon. ” Jake said as we stood outside of the office vaping. “I don’t have any fucking game changers. You? ” “Nope. We should leave early and grab some beers. If we are going down let’s go down in style and hungover. ” My bravado was see-through. I didn’t want to lose my job and was as concerned as Jake. Even so that was exactly what we did. Left the office at 5 and went straight to our favourite bar. To my great delight the beautiful Daisy joined us. “She’s a fucking stuck up bitch. ” Jake moaned. “Anyone any ideas? ” We tossed around a couple of thoughts. Daisy sat quietly sipping her gin & tonic and watching us both. After 40 minutes and 2 pints of re-hashing the same clichés we had used for the last 12 months we slumped back into our seats defeated. “What’s the essence of social media? ” Daisy asked leaning forwards and breaking the silence. “People use it to stay in touch with their friends? ” I replied with a shrug. “Do they? ” Daisy said “I’m not so sure. I guess there is a bit of that but most of what I see is ‘look at me posts’. ‘Here’s what I ate’, ‘aren’t I amazing going to the gym this early in the morning’ ‘My kids are better than your kids’. ” “You’re fucking spot on Daisy. It’s all just ego shit. ” I was excited, a bit of insight that might land us an idea. “So you just need to find the most important thing in people’s lives that gives them the biggest ego trip and you have your game changer. ” She sat back in her chair and took a triumphant sip of her G&T. “OK so what it that? Having kid? Getting a new job? Starting a new relationship? ” I had a bit of flow now. “What does everyone have in common that they would love to fucking brag about. ” Jake just shrugged and I didn’t have the answer. “Their death. ” Daisy’s words cut across the table and we were silent waiting for what might come next. “Death is the one thing we all have in common. ” “Holy shit you’re fucking right Daisy” “So I write an App that predicts people’s deaths. ” Said Jake, picking up the baton. “We ask them a bunch of questions about their age, weight, lifestyle that type of shit. There will be all kind of data on line I can pull in that can create some sort of formula of when they will die. ” “There are websites that do this type of thing already. ” Daisy chipped in. “You need a different angle. ” “She’s right Jake. How about this, people don’t want to actually know the truth, they wasn’t some drama and uniqueness, something to brag about. So you give them how they will die and make the reasons exciting. ‘Bitten by a poisonous spider’ ‘fell off a mountain’, ‘taken out in a gangland hit’. People love that type of thing. ” Buoyed by optimism, our plans were formulated over a dozen more drinks. The last 10 of those dozen drinks seemed like a terrible idea the next morning as we sat in the boardroom waiting for Maaiki to grace us with her presence. She breezed in and registered our bedraggled state. “Pathetic drunks, this better be good. ” This appeared to be our invitation to start so we told her about the concept. To access the app you need to enter your name, date of birth, gender, country of origin and social security number. We planned to use that to look up individuals to make it seem more ‘authentic’. You then complete 10 questions that are largely meaningless then submit for a response. The app would scrape the last 2 years of your social media activity to look for any pass times or buzz words that we could use to add a bit of flavour to the death prediction. The prediction itself would be completely random from a list of about 100 exciting ways in which you could die. If the profile scrape came up with any interesting results it would influence the algorithm to make it more likely to predict certain deaths. From the date of birth, gender & country of origin we would apply some normalisation filters to the random death date to avoid predicting anyone would die aged 300 or anything ridiculous like that. On the spur of the moment I also pitched in that the App would apply further date range modification to the death date in the event of certain predictions. “90 year olds don’t generally drive motor bikes or do bungee jumping. ” I added by way of clarification. “I’m going to call the app ‘The Reaper’. ” Jake added with a flourish. Her hard grey eyes assessed us as she sat impassive and expressionless. Her lips turned upwards a little into the faintest of smiles. I had seen Maikki scowl and glower a thousand times but her smile was more fear inducing by far. �
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