The Automatik

Part of what kept me from going completely insane (or was I already?) during junior high was creating and sharing Duran Duran fantasy stories with my girlfriends, which we called “What-Ifs.” Like Homer, we carried on the tradition of an oral history: sitting on the bleachers near the tennis courts during lunch and filling in the other members of the group with the latest chapter of our lovelorn tales. Or, we would spin our yarns in marathon phone conversations (much to the chagrin of our parents). In these fantasies we were always older, taller, beautiful, independently wealthy, and harbored a hidden secret. A secret that we would try to hide from whichever Duran we were involved with in the story (which was usually at least two members per story)…a secret that threatened to tear us apart…or bring us closer together.
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