This was written for the geek contest earlier this year, but my laptop died, and it took months to recover the data.
All those involved in the story are over 18. It is set in the UK.
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After almost a year, I was finally going to see my best friend again. David and I had grown up together. We'd lived in the same street, gone to the same school and gone to the same college. We'd both been huge geeks through our teenage years, playing Dungeons and Dragons together, as well as debating the eternal battle between Star Trek and Star Wars. (We actually came to the conclusion that Babylon 5 was vastly superior to both, but that's neither here nor there.)
But all that changed when we chose different universities. I wanted to stay closer to home, and since our local university already had a good programming course, I didn't go anywhere. David however, wanted to study psychology, so went up north to one of the lesser-known universities in Scotland. The 'brothers geek' were separated.
At first we spoke and emailed regularly. But after the first three months, something changed with David. He sent me a strange message, telling me he was researching something very important, even life changing. But he needed to devote all his time to it. He promised to tell me everything when he came back for summer. And that was it. He stopped replying to my messages, refused to answer his calls, and even deleted his account on Star Trek Armada!
I only received 3 messages since then. The first was very cryptic. It just said, "I think I've found the secret". That was back in April. In May I got another, saying simply "It works". The last message I got from him was two weeks ago, telling me to meet him at the 'Golden Monkey' nightclub at 10pm on the first of July.
So here I was, feeling like an idiot, sitting by the bar alone in the worst of the 3 nightclubs in our town. The music was awful. Luckily it was quite dark, so I couldn't see the bad décor. I felt so out of place. This skinny geeky guy trying to look casual in a place he clearly didn't fit into. It was still early, so there were only a few other people. Three girls were dancing in a circle around their bags in the middle of the dance floor, and a few couples were around the room, either talking or making out.
Finally, David walked in.
He looked the same as he had before, a skinny, slightly tall guy with curly brown hair. But he was walking with a confidence I'd never seen in him before. And his clothes were unbelievable. Before, he'd always worn black hoodies with obscure metal band logos on the front. Now he was wearing a sharp suit, maybe even tailored.
We got a drink, and took a table in the quietest corner of the room.
"OK" he said to me. "I need you to promise you'll listen to everything I say. It's going to sound strange, really strange, but trust me, it's all true."
"Fine" I replied, hesitantly. "As long as you don't want to indoctrinate me into a cult."
He laughed. "No cult. I've become a Jedi."
I looked at him in disbelief. "I've changed my mind," I finally answered, after a drawn out silence. "Please be in a cult."
"I'm serious." He said, looking straight into my eyes. "OK, maybe Jedi isn't the right word, but it all comes from them. George Lucas at least."
"So where's your lightsaber?" I replied sarcastically.
"Would you just stop snarking for a minute and let me explain?"
I nodded my head and sipped my beer silently as he explained.
"It all started in a psychology lecture back near the start of term. The professor was explaining about success traits, and how people get to their place in society. And as a side point, he said that the only person he knew to break the rule was George Lucas. Somehow, this overweight, slightly ugly nobody suddenly got a huge deal to make a film, which goes on to become one of the greatest franchises of all time."
"Maybe he got lucky?" I offered.
"Even luck can be accounted for with advanced psychological analysis. No, it was something else. So, I started watching and re-watching the original 3 (and occasionally the prequels) to try and find the answer. So I started to wonder -- what if George Lucas was a Jedi?"
"So you're a Jedi...and now so is George Lucas?" I said skeptically.
"No," he said in slight frustration. "I'm not explaining it right. Look, in psychology, there are ways to trick the human brain. Like hypnosis. Like if you ask for something with confidence, you're more likely to get it than if you seem unsure of yourself. It doesn't matter what you're asking for, it's about how you ask for it."
I nodded to show I got the basic concept.
"George Lucas found some of these tricks. Four of them, in fact. They don't do anything useful unless combined. If you can do all of them at once, it's like being a Jedi. People become open to your suggestions. Crazy open. You won't believe what I've been able to do since I discovered the secret. I've slept with a new woman practically every night. I've got perfect grades at university, despite barely doing any work. Shops give me huge discounts, or sometimes even just stuff for free. It's changed my life."
It was hard to argue that his clothes were different. And he was walking with more confidence now. But this was just crazy!
"So why are you telling me this? And why did you have to bring me here to tell me? Couldn't you have done it at my place, over some classic N64?"
He laughed the laugh I've known for twenty years.
"I'm telling you, because I want you to be my Padawan. Do you really think I'm going to have a secret this amazing, and not share it with my best friend?! And I've brought you here, to give you a demonstration. To prove I'm not bullshitting you. Finish your drink and walk with me to the bar. It only works if you're standing up, and they can see your feet."
I downed the last of my pint and followed my friend to the bar. He spoke to the barman in a strange tone of voice, while doing a strange finger wave and moving his feet oddly. The barman looked dazed for a second, then started pouring us both champagne from an expensive looking bottle.
"OK, semi-impressive." I remarked after sipping the expensive champagne.
"That's nothing," he said with a laugh. "The blonde walking over towards the bar. Think she's cute?"
The woman looked about twenty-four, with firm boobs, long legs, skinny waist and an extremely tight dress on. Way out of my league. She was one of the women who'd been dancing around their bags. Her two friends were still going in the middle of the dance floor.
"She's hot." I replied honestly.
He walked over to her as she ordered herself a drink.
"Hi," he said to her. Again he was speaking in an odd tone of voice, and making a small wave with his left hand. "You think my friend is handsome, don't you?"
