I Write Like says I wrote this story in Kurt Vonnegut’s style. It’s included in a free collection Password Incorrect.
Because this story will be painfully banal, it will be also painfully short.
Peter Maria Kedzierzyna of the Tschekan coat-of-arms bought himself the newest model of a 25th generation cell phone from Siemens-BenQ-Nokia-LG ABC 123, incorporating all achievements of the human race up to the time when Bill Gates became an honorary president of the United States.
Of Tschekan coat-of-arms, a manager in an important department of an important software company spent two whole weeks inputting all data relevant in his life. And not just phone and address data. He included all codes, PINs, passwords, e-mail addresses and the many ways they could be configured, parents’ names, first and last names of distant relatives and degrees of relationship, important dates, blood type, date of birth, social security number, driver license and passport numbers, bank accounts, top ten of his favorite books, films, CDs, gourmet dishes, golf courses, works by modern painters, ancestral silver and European palaces, in rococo style. He also added the top ten of exotic countries and places he wanted to visit.
After two weeks, Peter of Tschekan realized that the cell phone was more valuable to him than a painting by de Bonnet-Majak – the number one artist on his list. He decided to protect the cell phone with an additional password, which was: *****.
Just in case, he set up a second password to secure files containing, what he called, “personally strategic data.” He added both passwords into the cell phone, just in case.
One day, during a conversation with a certain lady, he accidentally scratched his beloved cell phone. Even though the scratch was tiny, it broke his heart and haunted him for two weeks. It drove Kedzierzyna of Tschekan to despair and to an after-therapy conclusion that he lived too intensely and needed to calm his frenzied mind. He was playing with the cell phone when by accident the top ten list of exotic places appeared.
“Nepal,” of Tschekan read, and two days later was sitting on a plane to Katmandu.
He left the cell phone in a luggage locker at the airport, so the side wouldn’t get scratched.
Three months later he was back, picked up the phone and couldn’t remember the password, which was: *****.
Soon, people noticed a tourist with a backpack, wandering around the park and repeating over and over an assortment of five-letter words. The man didn’t remember his name and wasn’t able to explain where he lived.