The Tent kunde varit Margaret Atwoods litterära bloggande: det är en samling korta, ironiska, mångtydiga prosastycken - utkast som kanske varit början på romaner (eller inte, som "Three novels I won't write soon").

Roligast är Take charge, en mininovell (mikroroman? nano-epos?) på 30 meningar om mänsklighetens utveckling - från

"- Sir, their cannons have blown a hole in the ship. It's below the waterline. Water is pouring into the hold, Sir.
- Don't just stand there, you blockhead! Cut a piece of canvas, dive down, patch it!
- Sir, I can't swim."

över

"- Sir, their anti-tank missiles have shredded the left tread on our tank.
- Don't just sit there, you nitwit! Take a wrench, crawl underneath the tank, fix it!
- Sir, I'm a gunner, not a mechanic."

över

"- Sir, their diabolical worm virus has infected our missile command. It's eating the software like candy.
- Don't just lounge there, you dickhead! Get going with the firewalls, or whatever you use.
- Sir, I'm a screen monitor, not a troubleshooter."

till

"- Sir, the makorin has malfunctioned and set off the pizzlewhistle. That has saddamed the glopzoid plapoodle. It may be the work of hostile nanobacons."
- Don't just hover there, you clonedrone!"

... och ännu längre.


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