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Offlinegreenspectral
Gutter Monk
Male

Registered: 10/27/09
Posts: 1,992
Loc: Chonyid
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
Re: Futurology [Re: Moonshoe]
    #18724636 - 08/18/13 08:35 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

Moonshoe said:
Quote:

greenspectral said:
i feel like this poster works for a think tank...i don't trust it.




:guiltyascharged:




i bet you do, forreal doe..:mad2:


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http://soundcloud.com/greenspectral ;  <---original electrik muziq


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: ModestMouse]
    #18724640 - 08/18/13 08:36 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

ModestMouse said:
I can really sink my teeth into this.

Thanks for the story.





Your welcome! Thank you so much for reading!


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Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: lazyfingers]
    #18724644 - 08/18/13 08:36 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

lazyfingers said:
one paragraph at a time, but totally worth it.




Thank you for reading!

:highfive:


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: greenspectral]
    #18724647 - 08/18/13 08:37 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

greenspectral said:
Quote:

Moonshoe said:
Quote:

greenspectral said:
i feel like this poster works for a think tank...i don't trust it.




:guiltyascharged:




i bet you do, forreal doe..:mad2:




Is there something bad about working for a think tank?


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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Offlinegreenspectral
Gutter Monk
Male

Registered: 10/27/09
Posts: 1,992
Loc: Chonyid
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
Re: Futurology [Re: Moonshoe]
    #18724727 - 08/18/13 08:55 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

it's a grey area for me...ethics don't seem to factor in much...but what do i know?


--------------------
http://soundcloud.com/greenspectral ;  <---original electrik muziq


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
 User Gallery

Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: greenspectral]
    #18724787 - 08/18/13 09:08 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

greenspectral said:
i feel like this poster works for a think tank...i don't trust it.




I'm curious, what exactly makes you feel like I work for a think tank?

:raptorJesus:


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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Offlinegreenspectral
Gutter Monk
Male

Registered: 10/27/09
Posts: 1,992
Loc: Chonyid
Last seen: 6 years, 5 months
Re: Futurology [Re: Moonshoe]
    #18724972 - 08/18/13 09:49 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

i mean isn't that what they do???

like, try to predict or imagine socio-economic trends, then lay out a course of public policy to be implemented by policy makers so that the results align with their handlers' interests?

social engineering 101?


--------------------
http://soundcloud.com/greenspectral ;  <---original electrik muziq


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: greenspectral]
    #18724982 - 08/18/13 09:52 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

greenspectral said:
i mean isn't that what they do???

like, try to predict or imagine socio-economic trends, then lay out a course of public policy to be implemented by policy makers so that the results align with their handlers' interests?

social engineering 101?




:heytherebadboy:


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibleThe Phleg
Big Dick Chakra
I'm a teapot User Gallery


Folding@home Statistics
Registered: 03/07/10
Posts: 14,473
Loc: Uncanny Valley
Re: Futurology [Re: Bodhi of Ankou]
    #18725021 - 08/18/13 10:00 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

Bodhi of Ankou said:
Ya'll have some seriously short attention spans. :lol:



I didn't finish reading what you said, but I assure my penis is at least average length.


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You wanna get high? Drink tap water.
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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: The Phleg]
    #18725090 - 08/18/13 10:11 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Oh my god I want the cat in your signature .


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibleThe Phleg
Big Dick Chakra
I'm a teapot User Gallery


Folding@home Statistics
Registered: 03/07/10
Posts: 14,473
Loc: Uncanny Valley
Re: Futurology [Re: Moonshoe]
    #18725120 - 08/18/13 10:17 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

I'll trade you for that octopus.


--------------------
You wanna get high? Drink tap water.
--------------------


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InvisibleModestMouse
IM WALKIN ON SUNSHINE
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Registered: 05/06/13
Posts: 19,227
Loc: Upstate
Re: Futurology [Re: The Phleg]
    #18725176 - 08/18/13 10:27 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

"That octopus" is fucking cthulu. Get It right, gosh.


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Anyone got a lowpass filter in this biiiiash?


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: ModestMouse]
    #18725405 - 08/18/13 11:31 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

It cant be cthulhu. Cthulhu had a humanoid body and wings. The emoticon is : zilla :

but I dont understand why.


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibledeCypher
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Registered: 02/10/08
Posts: 56,232
Re: Futurology [Re: Moonshoe]
    #18726085 - 08/19/13 05:57 AM (10 years, 6 months ago)

My favorite part was the David Wilcock reference.  :thumbup:


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We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.


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InvisibleMoonshoe
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Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: deCypher]
    #18726885 - 08/19/13 10:26 AM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

deCypher said:
My favorite part was the David Wilcock reference.  :thumbup:




:lol:

:creepylurker:


--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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InvisibleMoonshoe
Blue Mantis
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Registered: 05/28/04
Posts: 27,202
Loc: Iceland
Re: Futurology [Re: Tmethyl]
    #18728428 - 08/19/13 04:15 PM (10 years, 6 months ago)

Quote:

Tmethyl said:
Fucking brilliant writing, I am impressed.
Thanks Moonshoe.




Futurology was written in order to establish a hypothetical scenario to serve as the setting for a character driven science fiction narrative story. If anyone is interested in reading that story, in which the imagined future comes to life, I have posted it here. Hope you enjoy.



SEAN ISAAC


Sean Isaac woke up feeling groggy. He reflected that he may have overdone his dose of neomelatropine the previous night. He had been taking the designer supplement for three weeks, and it had been effective. His dreams were longer, more vivid and more bizarre, much like a powerful trip on Ibogaine root extract. The only downside, he reflected, was that he seemed to have a harder time getting moving in the morning. Still, he had plenty of solutions to that particular problem. Which should he employ now? He briefly considered snorting a pinch of methocaine, but decided that this might be overdoing it, and would certainly have ruined his appetite for breakfast. Instead he rose, stretched, let out an enormous yawn, and shuffled into the kitchen. There he went to his caffeinator, and scrolled through its digital interface, browsing its bewildering catalogue of specialty beverages. He tapped the interface with his index finger, and the machine instantly began dispensing a steaming stream of vanillated espresso into the gleaming chrome beverage cup. He sipped the drink, and it seemed as though his world came apruptly into focus. The sensation was almost like that of putting on a pair of glasses, as the melotropine fog vanished and his mind and vision became sharper. He had barely had time to appreciate his newfound lucidity when the artilect standing erect in the corner of the room emitted a pleasant chiming beep and took a half step forward.

“Good morning Mr. Isaac' it vocalized in its bland androgynous voice. 'You have a telephone call'. 
Sean nodded. 'Patch it through', he said, and placed the index and middle finger of his right hand to his temple. Immediately he heard a soft tone in his ears, indicating that the call was live. 'hello?' he said, reaching for his espresso.

The voice that spoke in his head was strangely modulated, sounding masculine one moment, feminine the next, as if two people were speaking simultaneously, taking turns drowning each other out. 'Hello Mr. Isaac. This is your blue contact for today. Your first appointment is at 1pm at transit station 69-49. Permission to uplink coordinates to your neural framework?'

Isaac grinned. 'Nice try, blue contact, but that won’t be necessary. I’ve got it'. He took a sip of his beverage, then placed his fingers to his temples once again.

A translucent digital map appeared, floating in his vision, overlaying his kitchen counter. He pointed at the map with his index finger, and a small blinking white marker appeared, indicating his destination. The strange voice resumed in his mind. 'Very good Mr. Isaac. When you arrive at the transit station, have a seat on the second bench from the entrance on the left hand side, directly beneath the lithocola advertisement. Wait there with your right hand resting palm up on your right knee with the pinky finger slightly extended and the thumb curled in to touch the tip of the index finger. For future reference this is known as Shiro mudra, and you may have use for it again in the future'.

'understood' Isaac said, and with his right hand he appended a small sticky note to the holotranslucent map swimming in his vision.

Flexing both hands he conjured up a keyboard, and typed in a quick description of the hand gesture that had been described. 'Go on' he said, as he strolled into the living room and flopped down into his orthopractic chair. Instantaneously a series of cracks and pops ran up and down his spine, and he shivered in ecstasy.

'when you are in position, a woman will enter the terminal. She will be wearing a white fetish sleeve and an elaborate white headdress constructed of motive lace. She will cross the terminal and board a transit cable. She is a distraction, and she will be followed by a short man wearing beige pants and a brown shirt. He will be wearing sunglasses and a hat. In his right hand he will be carrying a coffee. He will sit down beside you. On the back of his right calf is an adhesive strip which will affix itself to the underside of the bench. He will then board the next cable. You will then touch the bottom of the bus bench with your own calf, transferring the adhesive patch to yourself. You will then board cable 63-9A, and ride it to the metro arboretum. Your red contact will be waiting for you there with further instructions. If you think you are being followed or watched, place your right hand palm down on your right knee in Shabas mudra, and the transfer will be aborted. Understood?'



'Confirmed. Thank you blue contact'.

There was another soft tone and the link went dead. Sean reached for a nondescript blue book from his packed bookshelf. He ran his fingers over the gold lettering on the spine, and a small white cylinder slid out of the bottom of the book into his waiting hand. He placed the cylinder to his lips and snapped his fingers. A small flame emitted from his thumb, and he used it to ignite the cylinder. The flesh of his right thumb had been replaced with a heat retardant polymer, so that he would not be burned by the flame that issued forth from the tiny ignition implant embedded in the bone. He took a long draw, savoring the cool, mentholated flavor of the polycyclic cannibinol. His eyes glazed, transfixed by the coiling smoke suspended in the air. Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. Sean jolted, heart pounding, grabbing the folding combat knife concealed underneath his chair and flipping out its razor sharp carbonsteel blade.  He crept swiftly and silently to a small screen in the wall. The screen displayed a videofeed from the front door, but was not itself set in the door. This was to prevent someone firing a gun through the door while he gazed through a conventional peephole. The screen revealed two tall men wearing long blue patrol coats and brimmed leather hats. Police. The knock came again, loud and insistent. Sean's heart was pounding now. He pulled on a pair of jogging pants and a green windbreaker, and snatched the small black backpack which lay beside the bed. The hammering on the door was continuous now, and a voice was shouting- 'police! Open the fucking door!'... Sean knew he likely had less than a minute. He pulled on his running shoes and ran down the stairs to the basement.

He stepped over his small grey cat and wondered if he would ever see the little animal again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard a splintering crash, and then another. The door would not withstand a third. He tore aside a tall wooden dresser, revealing a door concealed behind it. He threw the door open and sprinted down the short tunnel on the other side. Another crash, louder than the rest, and then footsteps. They were in the house. No time to conceal the passage. He reached the end of the short dark hallway as he heard the police descending the stairs into the basement. Sean scrambled up the steel ladder, pushed open the trapdoor, and scrambled up into a musty room coated in peeled wallpaper. He was in the neighbouring house. He slammed the trapdoor and slid the bolt shut that would hold it closed from the inside. He rose to his feet and the trapdoor shook as it was battered from below. He sprinted up the flight of rickety wooden stairs, into a dusty hallway, and ran to the back door, throwing it open and leaping down to the street.

He could hear approaching sirens close by. Sweat poured down his brow and the hairs on his neck seemed to stand on end. He leapt over a nearby picket fence, ran across a manicured green lawn, and then jumped another. He crouched low, heart pounding, listening. He could hear shouting, the sound of more police officers exiting the second cruiser. He placed his fingers to his temples and whispered. 'This is Isaac. I need immediate evacuation'.

A melodious voice answered him a second later - 'triangulating your position. Extraction vehicle inbound. ETA six minutes. Downloading route.'

A red line appeared in front of Isaac’s feet, bisecting the lawn in front of him and then climbing the wall of a nearby fence. He took a deep breath and then leapt to his feet, pursuing the red line as fast as he could. He heard the barking of a dog. A k9 unit, deployed to track his scent.

He leapt over the fence, landing in another suburban yard. He heard a gasp and turned to see a middle aged man, wide eyed, mouth opening. Sean raised his right arm and pulled the hand back so that the wrist protruded forward, like Spiderman in the old cartoons. There was a hollow click and Sean winced at the strange sensation of a small dart shooting forth from a tubular cavity in his forearm. The dart struck the man in the chest, and he yelped once before abruptly collapsing to the ground, unconscious. Sean wasted no time sprinting after the receding red tracer, tearing around the side of the house and into a back lane. The red line illuminated a path down the lane and around a corner. He was about half way there when a heavy blow struck him from behind, knocking him to the ground. He cursed as sharp fangs tore through his windbreaker and sunk into the flesh of his left forearm. The police Rottweiler shook its head violently back and forth, tearing his flesh and disorienting him. He thrust his free hand into his pocket, flipped out the serrated blade of his combat knife and sunk it hilt deep into the throat of the animal. It made a high pitched yelp and released him, collapsing in a fit of trembling spasms.

He leapt to his feet and began running again, blood streaming down his left arm. A woman’s voice cried out from behind him. 'Freeze!' two gunshots rang out, and Sean’s bowels went cold, but he kept running and a moment later he had turned the corner. He cursed when he saw a police cruiser accelerating down the side street towards him. Suddenly there was a tremendous crash as a large black sports utility vehicle slammed into the passenger side door of the police car, sending it careening wildly into a storefront, spewing glass and bricks and dust. The red line he had been following suddenly turned blue, and a yellow van came into view, following the blue line towards Sean. It screeched to a halt in front of him and the door slid open. He leapt in and before he could close the door behind him the van was speeding off. More sirens were audible and closing in, but for now the only police in sight were buried in the rubble and wreckage of the car crash.

Inside the van, two men wearing blue baseball caps occupied the front seats, and they paid Sean no attention at all as the escape vehicle turned down a back lane and decelerated. A young woman sitting in the back grabbed Sean roughly by the collar and shoved him down to the ground. A nearby garage door opened and the van slid inside. The door slid down behind them, and a moment later sirens wailed past outside. Everyone in the van remained deadly silent, chests rising and falling. Then the mustached driver opened the door and gestured for the others to follow. They entered a house through the attached garage and Sean was silently ushered into another basement. Large jugs of drinking water and palettes of canned food lined the walls. The second man pressed a mate black pistol and an envelope into Sean’s hand, then turned to pull an extension cord out of its socket in the wall. When he did so, a concealed panel slid open, exposing yet another secret passage. The man pointed down the dark tunnel, and Sean ran through it. It closed behind him, leaving him in total darkness. He closed his eyes and touched his eyelids with his thumbs. When he opened them again he could see in the soft blue tones of darklight enhanced vision.

This corridor was much longer, and stretched fully thirty feet in front of him. Panting and exhausted, he sprinted down its length, coming up short before a reinforced steel siege door. He placed his left palm on the door, transmitting a magnetic identification signal, and the door made a series of clicking sounds as its numerous locks disengaged. He pushed and the door swung inwards. He stepped through into a candlelit room which glared unbearably bright for an instant until his enhanced vision adjusted itself. The room had a single occupant, a white plastic artilect that stood five feet tall on spindly legs that bent backwards at the knee. Its face was long, thin and protruded forward like the snout of a racing greyhound. 'Greetings, Sean Isaac' it said in a flat and emotionless synthetic voice. 'Your mission has been compromised. Alternative agents have been dispatched to receive the dead drop at the transit station. Your red contact has been reassigned. Please follow me'.

The artilect turned awkwardly and exited the room through a narrow open doorway. Sean followed it, and found himself in a white walled room that smelled of sterile chemicals. In the center of the room was a gleaming silver surgical table. 'Please lie down Mr. Isaac. I am afraid we have very little time'. Sean struggled to swallow, his throat suddenly ash dry. Nevertheless, he knew better than to ask questions and lay down on the table. The artilect leaned forward and touched him with its hard plastic hand. Sean felt a pinch as a syringe slid out of the robots palm and into his flesh. Almost immediately he was overwhelmed by a warm euphoria, and he closed his eyes, falling into deep unconsciousness. When he awoke he felt as though he was being smothered in strips of wet, cloying paper Mache. Yet he was ecstatic. He felt as though bliss was infused into every cell of his body. A lonely, quiet voice in the back of his mind said 'anaesthetics' well the rest of his being screamed - 'more!'.

He rose shakily to a sitting position and gazed around him. The white plastic artilect stood before the steel operating table. Red splatters of blood marked the panels of its chest and arms. 'Hello Isaac' it droned. 'How are you feeling?'

Sean grinned, and felt a strange tightness in his cheeks. ' I feel wonderful' he said, without thinking. Then- ' I mean, it hurts a lot. I better have some more of that anaesthetic'.

The artilect made three short chirping beeps as it ran medical diagnostic protocols. 'Anaesthetic dosage is at optimal levels. Increasing dosage by 3 percent to account for patient tolerance'...

A fresh rush of warmth and pleasure surged through Sean’s body. 'Now, Mr. Isaac, it is important that you keep your facial muscles as still as possible, to allow for tissue reintegration. May I recommend a short nap?’ Somewhere below the narcotic fog that immersed him, warning flags were going off in his subconscious.

'Wait…' he groaned 'what exactly have you... Bring me a mirror!' 



The artilect stepped forward and placed its plastic manipulator on his shoulder, pushing him gently but firmly into a horizontal position. 'Later, Mr. Isaac. For now you need to rest... You’re agitated... Here, let me-'

Sean felt another faint prick just below his shoulder. His vision swam, and everything went black.


Sean found himself sitting on the bank of a river. The river wound its way lazily through a dense forest. It reminded him of the genetically engineered carbon sequestration forests that surrounded Alacea, where he had been born and raised. Thick green moss covered the trunks of trees so large that six people could not encircle them standing hand in hand. He gazed at the clear water streaming past and felt a strange sense of foreboding. He crawled forwards on hands and knees, and looked down, seeking his reflection in the river... For a moment he could not make sense of what he saw... A tangled mass of bloody pulp and tattered flesh, hideous, monstrous, teeth and cheek bones naked and exposed like a leering skull... Horror overwhelmed him, and he tried to scream, but it felt as though his throat was clogged with wet rags...



'Stay still mister Isaac!'  The artilect was grappling with him, its thin metal arms disturbingly strong. Sean thrashed for a moment longer, then lay still, gasping. A white medical blanket draped over his naked body was soaked with sweat. 'A mirror' he croaked... 'Bring me a mirror'.... 

'Very well' the artilect droned. 'but please be aware that the swelling and discoloration will recede quickly, and the sutures will biodegrade within 48 hours...'

'now, God damn it!' Sean snapped. A flat panel on the artilect’s chest slid open, revealing a medical mirror framed in white LED lights. Sean gazed in the mirror, heart pounding.

The face that looked back at him was not his own. It reminded him of a homeless man he had once seen, passed out on the downtown streets of northern Alacea. A gang of teenagers, high on dystopics, had worked the man over while he lay there, too drunk to feel their blows. Like that poor, homeless drunk, his own face was bruised and swollen, the eyes bloodshot.

He felt nauseous. 'I’m going to throw up' Sean gasped 'what the fuck did you do to me?'

the artilect whirred into motion. 'It is very important that you not vomit' it intoned 'doing so could tear your mandibular sutures. I will administer an anti-nauseant'... Another prick, and the urge to retch subsided.

'Why?' Sean managed.


'Central has informed me that you are currently the target of a FEMA man hunt. An order has been issued for your detainment and transfer to the Medicine Tortoise civilian internment camp. Conditions there are... Sub-optimal. It was necessary to perform emergency facial reconstruction surgery and magnetically wipe and re-encode your sub dermal RFID chips. You now possess a fresh identification signature. Virtual intelligence computing programs are now generating a clean digital history and Facebook archive. It won’t hold up to sustained scrutiny, but it will certainly fool marketing and civilian causeway modules'.



Sean’s head was pounding. 'Am I safe here?' the artilect turned its back on him, fiddling with a plastic suction tube. 'We are monitoring police communications lines. It appears that police believe that you escaped this suburb, and door to door searches are focusing on sectors 5G and 6G.  We estimate that warrants will not be served in this area for at least three days. We will move you to a new safe house in 48 hours. For now, though, you need to rest. Would you prefer novomethadone, or metacodienate?'



Sean groaned and put his hands over his face. The artilect lurched forward, grabbing his wrists. 'It is important that you not touch your face Mr. Isaac... Administering sedatives'

Sean felt a fresh surge of anaesthesia wash over him. There was a faint, pleasant throbbing in his testicles. Novomethadone, then, he thought to himself, even as his consciousness slipped away once again.

When Sean Isaac woke again the artilect was gone, but a small bedside table had appeared. On it rested a glass of water, a small hand mirror and a portable telepad. He drank the water in one long gulp, alerted by a slight after taste that the water was laced with a mild opiate. Next, he picked up the mirror, steeling himself for what he might see. He was surprised and relieved by the marked reduction in swelling. The face that gazed back at him was still nothing like the handsome, youthful face that he still thought of as his own. But at least he looked human again, and not like some derelict corpse scraped off a back alley street by municipal organ reclamation workers.

His new face looked like it belonged to someone who drank too many high calorie carboslurries, and spent too much time vegetating in front of hypnoscreens. Sean reflected that this was probably ideal, as such a bland, doughy face would blend in perfectly with the bloated, flabby masses that dominated the Camerican suburbs. He sighed, shook his head and winced at the pain in his cheeks and neck. He reached for the telepad and turned it on, connecting to a global news feed that was slightly less censored than the others. Images of ruined cities shrouded in smoke filled the screen. It took him a moment to distinguish this from countless similar apocalyptic scenes. Was it another report on equatorial Africa, incinerated by the 2018 methane ignition? Or was it the ruins of New York, obliterated by an Islamic Eschaton suitcase nuke in 2019? Or was this the Islamic republic of the Congo, consumed by cannibal riots after the deployment of weaponized rabies-influenza in 2020? Or some new calamity? Catastrophe piled on catastrophe until they blended together in the mind like an apocalyptic collage.

He turned up the sound on the telepad. A dark skinned male interjected with commentary 'a densely populated residential complex in northern Ireland has been obliterated by the crash landing of an asteroid mining payload that missed its controlled descent trajectory at 9:45 this morning. Authorities estimate that casualties number in the hundreds of thousands, and radiolospectrometry has detected high levels of radiotoxic caesium-six. Virgin galactic has so far declined to comment, and experts estimate that this is the worst industrial accident since the 2011 nuclear meltdown in japan that triggered the Fukushima wars...' 



Sean turned off the telepad and reclined back on the surgical table. He suddenly found himself overwhelmed by a desire to escape from this room, to get away from the hard metal table and the smell of chemical disinfectants. He rose shakily to his feet, and stumbled towards the door. In the next room he found the artilect, plugged in to a power terminal on the far wall. A faint green light emitted from the robot, indicating that it was in the process of defragmenting its hard drives, a process roughly analogous to sleep in human beings.

For a moment Sean entertained the idea of slipping away, escaping from this dark hiding hole and this doting robotic surgeon. It was absurd of course. Without the support of the Dragon Society he wouldn’t stand a chance. FEMA military police or Cabal operatives would scoop him up within hours, and he would disappear to a civilian incarceration facility or a covert torture camp. 'Good to see you on your feet Isaac' said a sombre female voice behind him. He spun around, reaching instinctively for a combat knife that was no longer there. A slender young woman stood before the siege door, and it took a moment for Sean to recognize her as the girl who had pushed him to the floor of the yellow escape van.
'Who are you?' Sean asked.
'My name is Thomas Fields' she said. 'I guess you could say that I’m your new blue contact'. She smiled, a coy twitch of the mouth that was almost a smirk. Sean felt a hot pang in his belly and realized that she was beautiful. Sexy. He felt his face flush as he realized how ugly he now looked, with his flabby, puffy face. Embarrassment turned to mortification when he remembered that he was naked, but he stifled the urge to cover his genitals with his hands. After all, she had already seen everything.

“Hello Thomas.” He said. “Thank you for helping me escape”. Thomas strode into the room. Her steps were graceful and precise. The way she carried herself suggested to Sean that she had received combat training, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. 'No need to thank me. To be honest I was more than a little bit surprised that you made it to the extraction point. You had two FEMA retrieval units and a canine tracker on your tail. Lucky it was just a regular canine and not one of the new smart dogs. Still, that was good work. You move fast. That’s important these days'.

Sean tried to smile and managed a morbid grimace. 'Well, that was a damn good retrieval. Who was in that black SUV, the one that T-boned the police cruiser?”
Thomas laughed, in a way that Sean found painfully cute. 'The SUV was driven by a remote operated artilect. It’s a tactic that we have been having a great deal of success with. Of course, encrypting the control signal is risky and expensive. But in this case, the gamble paid off'.


“What about the cops? Did they survive?”

Thomas sighed, running her fingers through her hair. 'Unfortunately, yes. One of them had substantial brain damage. But he lived'. Sean was surprised by the bitterness in her voice. It was like a light inside her had suddenly gone out.
He waited a moment but she remained silent. Finally he had to ask it. 'Who did you lose?” His voice was just a whisper.

Tears welled up in her eyes. 'My mother. My sisters. And my...' she buried her face in her hands.

'And...' she was really crying now. 


'I’m sorry...' Sean said. He reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away.

“It’s ok. They took them to the FEMA camp in Missouri. That was one of the bad ones. Fifteen thousand people, rotting in the sun with no food or water. Half of them died before the rest finally tried to escape. The FEMA guards mowed them down with live ammunition. There were so many bodies that some people almost made it over the walls by climbing on top of them. Of course, there was a twenty foot drop on the other side, even if they could get over the barbed wire. Not one soul got out of there alive.'



Thomas was staring straight at Sean now, holding his gaze. Her face was wet with tears, but she was no longer crying. Her body was rigid. 'I escaped with my uncle James. We hid in the forest. For years I wished I had been there, that I had died with them. But now I understand that I have a purpose. A reason to keep surviving'.



Sean held her gaze, intimidated by her sudden intensity. 'What purpose is that, Thomas?' he asked.

She smiled, that same mocking smirk. 'Revenge'.



He nodded thoughtfully. 'Well, I guess that’s a start'.

She scowled, a sudden chilliness coming over her. She spun on her heel, turning her back on him.


'I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you' Sean faltered.



'Don’t be ridiculous' she snapped. 'We’ve wasted enough time. Get dressed. We need to go.'


The artilect detached from its power terminal and stepped forward. 'You’re looking better Isaac. There are clothes in the locker over there”.

It made a pointing gesture with its left appendage.
Isaac nodded, fumbling the locker open. His hands were shaking. He felt a knot in his stomach. He knew with a sickening certainty that he liked this girl. A lot. And he knew with the same certainty that she hated him now, for some reason that he could not fully understand. It wasn’t fair, he reflected, that a beautiful girl could appear in your life when you were naked with a freshly disfigured face. Worse yet, it was cold in here. He hoped she hadn’t thought him small. 


He struggled his way into the green coveralls in the locker, and placed the black pistol in one of its baggy pockets. Underneath the pistol was the envelope that the mustached man had given him earlier. He opened it and looked inside, finding a wad of purple Ceenotes and a holographic passpad. He tucked the envelope away and turned back to Thomas and the artilect, who stood watching him.
'it’s time to go Mr. Isaac', Thomas said.

Sean nodded, turning to the artilect. 'Thank you for your help' he said, placing a hand on its plastic shoulder plate. 'My pleasure sir' it vocalized in its emotionless manner. Thomas placed her hand on the siege door, and it slid open. He followed her back down the dark tunnel, and they emerged once more into the supply filled basement. A heavily built man was waiting there, sitting on a crate of canned beans. He wore a white surgical mask over his face and square glasses.  He rose to his feet when they entered and offered Isaac his hand, which was encased in a white latex glove.

Isaac shook his hand, and the man spoke in a deep, rough voice 'my name in Eidolon. I am a computer scientist and logistics officer. From now on, I will be providing you with cryptographical support and cyber intelligence assistance, in addition to that available to you through your dragonport shadownet connection. Transmitting your direct link protocols'.


A string of luminous white numbers scrolled across Isaac's vision, followed by a blinking question mark. 'Protocol accepted' Isaac said, and the white question mark turned into a green check, then disappeared.



'Now, we need to get you out of this precinct. In theory, that should not be a problem, as you are no longer the same person. You are now Benjamin Waterhouse. The secret police will be expecting you to use a fake passpad and a modified RFID chip. However, they are not aware of this facility, and we suspect that they underestimate the extent of your Society connections. Pirates Anonymous has accessed your FEMA files. According to that scan, the authority has you pegged as a mid-level operator with the Liberation Syndicate. They issued the warrant for your arrest on suspicion of ecstasy and ketamine distribution and dimethyltyptamine manufacture. They show you as having loose connections with the constitutional patriots and the cult of the Starchild, but profile you as a simple businessman, not a true believer.'



Thomas interjected. 'In other words, they won’t be expecting you to have accessed facial reconstruction surgery yet, and will be monitoring cosmetic clinics throughout the city. They will also expect you to be shopping the shadownet for a counterfeit Facebook profile, and will be fishing for you by posting tagged catalogues. So were two steps ahead of them for now.'



Eidolon coughed behind his surgical mask. “Nevertheless, it won’t be long until their quantum intelligence aggregate engines compensate for flawed inputs. Within 24 hours their estimates will be at least 300 percent closer, and within 48 the models will have you damn near nailed. So we need to keep moving, and keep changing the plan if we want to stay ahead. For now, we are going to physically evacuate you to a safehouse outside the tsunami wall. We have neurotelegraphical equipment there, so if necessary we can attempt to fax you out, so to speak. But hopefully that won’t be necessary”.

Sean Isaac, now Benjamin Waterhouse, nodded. He did not relish the prospect of having his consciousness removed from his body and transmitted through a neurotelegraphical channel, but it beat the prospect of a slow death by torture in a military prison. Sometimes, he reflected, the body could be a terrible liability. “Alright” Thomas said 'let’s move'.


Sean shook his head. 'Hold on. I still have some questions. Does this mission have official sanction from the Dragon Society? Or is this a rogue operation? It’s not that I’m uptight, you understand. It’s just that I’d like to have some idea what kind of blowblack I’m looking at here”.

Eidolon made a cutting gesture with his hand. “The only blowback you need to worry about right now is getting a bullet in the brain from FEMA or the Cabal. Were all on the same side here. I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to convince you. You’re going to have to trust us”.



Benjamin nodded slowly. “If you wanted me dead you could have done it while I was unconscious on the surgical table. Let’s do this”.

Eidolon grabbed a black duffle bag and led the team out of the basement and into a small grey office. He set his bag down on the desk, 'I will be following your progress from here. The Society has allocated us three dedicated rotating terminals. It’s not ideal, but then again, I’ve worked with less. Well, good luck'.

Eidolon shook hands with Thomas and Benjamin, then sank into the office chair and turned to his screen. Ben followed Thomas to the back door of the house and she took his hand. 'Look casual. Just a couple out for a walk' she said.  Sean/Benjamin reflected that they would make an unlikely couple, but enjoyed the simple human pleasure of her hand in his. They strolled out into the hot, stinging sunshine. Sean always felt a vague anxiety when in direct sunlight. These days you could get a sunburn in minutes and a melanoma in hours, if you had the bad luck to be standing under a hole in the solar refraction debris field.

“Look down at your feet” Thomas said.  “There’s a drone passing overhead”.

They walked on in silence, and Sean felt almost as if he could feel the gaze of the unmanned surveillance craft overhead. If it had gotten a view of his face it would be cross referencing it against the vast facial imaging catalogues stored in fusion centers throughout Camerica. It might find a close match and make a false identification, but if not, he would be flagged as unidentified. That likely wouldn’t be enough for them to dispatch the secret police to scoop him up, but it would intensify the surveillance they were under, and they couldn’t afford that now.

They walked to the end of the suburban street. It was eerily quiet, no cars driving on the street, no children playing in the yards. They neared a park and Sean felt the sensation of being watched intensify. 'Let’s rest for a minute' Thomas said, and led them to a green picnic table beside a small parking lot. They sat, and Thomas sipped from a water bottle. Sean noticed that she was tanned, like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. That was very rare these days.

“Elron Fucking Hubbard” Thomas said. “Would you look at that?”

She pointed to the canopy of a nearby tree. Sean squinted, then gasped when he saw it, perched on a branch, like a huge crow, but with large bulbous compound eyes like a dragonfly.

“A mutant” Sean said.

Such creatures were becoming more common every day. In order to try to reverse collapsing rates of planetary biodiversity, the Global Ecological Network for Adaptation had implemented an experimental procedure designed by the Tanhauser-Gates foundation. Organisms were infected with a highly contagious virus that destabilized its genetic code and created rampant mutations in the DNA. The consequence was that evolutionary changes which might previously have taken place over millions of years now occurred within mere weeks or months.

Activists had protested by the millions when the plan had been announced, arguing that the virus would wipe out many of Earth's remaining species by triggering catastrophic mutation paroxysms that would make individuals within a species too different from one another to reproduce successfully. In the end, the virus had worked surprisingly well. Although some animals died as a result of their mutations, others displayed remarkably rapid adaptations to hostile situations that they could not otherwise have survived. Scientists estimated that approximately 75 percent of the mutations were adaptive, providing a substantial net benefit. Existing species were more likely to survive, and new species and sub species were appearing every day. 
A shame they were often so ugly, though, Sean reflected, as the insect-crow made a wretching squawk and dropped a bright green turd on the pavement below.

Thomas shuddered and turned away. She glanced at her watch. 'Our ride should be here any moment. Still, we’d better keep up appearances'.

She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, but her eyes were cold. He smiled and took her hand, and they sat silently for a moment. He knew that for her it was just an act, a show put on for any aerial drones or secret police who might be scanning for suspicious activities or looking for a fugitive named Sean Isaac.  Still, he enjoyed it. The comforting warmth of her hand made him realize how afraid he was. The fear had been with him so long that he had ceased to notice it for what it was. Horrible dangers surrounded him on every side, but her hand in his was closer and more real to him than those dark futures. He took comfort in that.


A few more seconds passed before a boxy grey car approached, its tires grating on the gravel strewn across the parking pad.

'Let’s go' Thomas said, and they stood. Thomas got in the passenger side, while Sean sat in the back. The driver was a young man with delicate features and heavy blue eyeliner. His hair was shaded an impossibly bright white, like a sheet of clean paper. The driver glanced back at Sean and gave him a brief nod, then he lit a cigarette and began driving.

'My name is K' he said in an effeminate voice. 'I’ll be driving you to the tsunami wall. If we get lucky, that is. Patrols and road blocks are heavy right now”. K glanced at Sean in the rear view mirror.

“You look nervous, Benjamin”, He said. “That’s not good. Police see nervous and they assume you’re guilty of something. Here-' he tossed a folded newspaper to Sean. “Read that and try to look boring”.

Sean nodded and opened the newsprint. The front page was dominated by a large photo depicting men in radiation suits with the confederate flag sewn on the chest, brandishing assault weapons in a street littered with bloody human bodies, while buildings burned in the back ground.  The headline ran: Amexican Narco Patriots cross the fallout belt, besiege the city of Vancouver”.

Sean gazed at the picture, numb. The news these days was surreal. After the Fukushima wars had cut a radioactive swathe across the central United States, Old Amerika had been split in two. On one side of the black fungus belt, northern America had merged with Canada to form the state of Camerica. The cold and snowy nation of Canada had fared relatively well in the climate cataclysms, even benefiting in some cases when global warming turned frozen tundra into farmable land and extended the short growing season. With its reserves of fresh water and intact forests, Camerica had been spared the worst of the droughts and famines that had gripped so much of the world.

On the other side of the fallout corridor was Amexica, formed from the merger of the American Deep South with the Cartel dominated Mexico. Amexica was a dry, barren wasteland, full of methamphetamine addicted white trash and ruthless Narco-terrorists. Desperate to escape the hellish conditions in Amexica, the Amexican drug barons were sending wave after wave of stimulant crazed 'Narcopatriots' through the fallout corridor, and those who survived went on to rape, loot and slaughter in the Camerican border towns.

The border was protected by Blackwater mercenaries bought and paid for by the Camerican government, and bloody skirmishes were a daily occurrence.

“Don’t look now” Thomas said, “but I think were being followed. Black car right behind us. Looks like secret police”.

Sean resisted the urge to put his hand on his pistol. K accelerated slightly. The tailing vehicle kept pace. K took a sudden, sharp left turn down a back lane, hoping to shake them, but they stayed on his tail. Suddenly a second vehicle, identical to the first, pulled out in front of them, blocking their path. They were trapped. K hit the brakes and they slid to a stop. Two men got out of the car behind them, wearing black suits and sunglasses. They strode forward, standing outside the driver and passenger side doors, boxing them in.  K rolled down the windows. The first agent held up a badge. FEMA special police.

“Identification papers please” the agent said, while his partner examined the vehicle and stared at its occupants. Sean pulled out his passpad and passed it to the agent while the others did the same. The agent took them and returned to his car. 'Any drugs, weapons or prohibited items in this vehicle sir?” He asked.



”No sir”, K replied. The other officer returned to the car. “Step out of the car please sir” he said.

K opened the door and stood up. The officer pushed him up against the car and began patting him down. He reached into K's pocket. He pulled out a small bag of white powder.
“Got some cocaine here sir? A little meth?”

K looked  back at the bag. “No sir. Its teva-methylone sir. It’s legal”.

The officers glanced at each other. 'And just what does this shit do for you, son?”

K smiled. “It gives you a lift officer. Gives me some energy, that’s all.”

“You think this is fucking funny, punk?” The officer grabbed k by the back of the head and slammed his skull into the car. K cried out in pain, blood streaming down his face.

Sean stepped out of the car, hands raised. “Please, officer, that’s not-“ he began. The second policeman drew his weapon, pointing it at Sean’s face. “shut the fuck up!” the policeman screamed “get back in the mother fucking car!”.

Veins popped out of the man’s neck, his face red. 'Ok ok' Sean began. He turned to get back in to the car, when he was struck hard in the back of the head. He collapsed to his knees on the concrete, groaning. 'I said get back in the God damn car! Now!” the officer screamed.

Sean touched the back of his head gingerly, wincing. His hand came back red with blood. He struggled back to his feet and tried again to get back in the car. The agent kicked him hard in the side of the right knee. He cried out in pain and collapsed again.

“What the fuck is wrong with you son?” the man screamed. “Get in the fucking car or I will shoot you in the God damn head!” Sean grabbed the edge of the door and pulled himself into the car, but not before the policeman kicked him again in the ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs, leaving him choking and gasping for breath. Face down, overwhelmed with pain, Sean listened as the first officer continued to question K.

“Looks like this powder of yours isn’t on our contraband list. But you know what? You’re no better than any other fucking junky.” He slipped the powder into his own pocket. “I’ll hold on to this, for your own protection”. The officer tossed their pass pads into the car. “No outstanding warrants...”

The officer fell silent and stared wordlessly for a long moment. K wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve. “Are we free to go?” he finally ventured to ask. The officer sneered. “Why the fuck do you wear that makeup anyways? You some kind of faggot?”

K raised his hands disarmingly. 'Please, officer, we don’t want any more trouble. Please, just let us go”.
The agent pushed K roughly up against the car with both hands. “I asked you a fucking question! Are you a motherfucking faggot? You like to suck dick?”

K shook his head, staring down at the ground. “No sir” he almost whispered. The officer grinned. “We’ll see about that”. He put his radio to his mouth. “Unit 2, go ahead and pull on out. We got this under control, thank you”. The second black car pulled away, and a voice answered on the radio “roger that unit 1. See you back at the station”.


The officer standing next to k waited until the other vehicle had disappeared around the corner then grabbed K by the back of the neck. He began pulling K away towards the police vehicle. Thomas was frantic. “He didn’t do anything! Where are you taking him? Let him go!”

The second officer stepped forward, pulled out his pistol and pressed it to Thomas' lips. She went rigid, face pale, eyes wide and wet with tears. The policeman pushed the pistol between her lips, forcing her mouth open. A sob wracked her body. “You talk too much, little girl” the officer said.  “Step out of the car”. 
Thomas did what she was ordered, shaking slightly with fear. The cop gestured towards the vehicle that k was being ushered in to.
Sean's heart was pounding. The situation had spiraled completely out of control. He had to do something.

He leapt out of the car. The officer escorting K saw the movement and spun, weapon raised, but K was faster, grabbing the police officer by the wrist and executing a judo throw from the hip, slamming the cop down on his back. The man’s head slammed into the pavement and his gun discharged wildly into the air.

The other policeman swore, eyes bulging. “Jesus Christ!” he grabbed for his radio.

Faster than Sean’s eye could follow, Thomas produced a ninjato from somewhere under her shirt and buried the five inch blade into the officer’s throat with a sharp, spinning motion. He made a wet, gurgling sound and collapsed as blood welled up from his wound in a pulsing spurt. The look of shock on his face as he died was so complete that Sean almost felt sorry for him. The first policeman still lay sprawled and semi-conscious where K's skillful take down had dropped him.

K had picked up the man’s pistol and held it aimed at the prostate officer’s face. Thomas looked strangely calm, almost serene, as she pulled the knife from the dead officers throat, strode to the second and knelt beside him. She gazed into the man’s eyes for a moment and he opened his mouth as if to speak. She pressed a single finger to her lips, smiled, and drew the razor sharp ninjato across his neck, slitting his throat from ear to ear. He stared at her, eyes wide with terror, as he bled out in profuse gushes. After a moment his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp except for a slight twitching of his fingers.  



Sean was stunned and stood gaping, but K and Thomas sprang into action. Thomas opened a com link.
“Eidolon! We have two iced pigs here, can you neutralize their RFID transmitters before they send reinforcements?”
Sean heard eidolon's response in his own cochlear implant. “Difficult, but possible. Give me a physical tag”.

Thomas knelt and placed her palm on the dead policeman’s forehead, holding it there for moment before doing the same to the other.

“Got it” eidolon said. “Broadcasting a counterfeit bio signal... Done. If we’re lucky they will assume it was a temporary false reading and these two are still alive. Making them seem to be somewhere else will be another matter. Get those bodies out of sight now!”

“Already on it” K said.  “For the love of Krishna, help me Ben!”

K was struggling to drag the corpse by both legs. Ben leapt forward and grabbed the man’s arms, and they hauled the body back to their own police vehicle. Ben grunted as they lifted the man and shoved him roughly into the back seat. The three of them then did the same with the other corpse.

“Quick, let’s get out of here!” K said. They sprinted back into their vehicle and peeled out, taking wild, random turns and trying to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the dead cops. Meanwhile, Sean maintained the com link with Eidolon.

“We put the pigs back in their car, but it’s sitting there blocking the back lane’”.

“The counterfeit bio signals are authenticated. For now they probably think those cops are having a smoke and a donut. But I’ll try to hack into the vehicles onboard computer. Initializing protocols. This is going to take a minute...”

K interjected. “In the meantime...”

He pressed a key on the dashboard. Instantly the paint of the car changed to a bright sky blue, like a chameleon changing its skin. He pressed another key and the windows darkened their tint, obscuring the occupants. A third key and the licence plates rotated, displaying a new sequence of letters and numbers.

'That might buy us some time” Thomas said. “How we doing with that hack eidolon?”

“I’m in. Establishing remote access and control. Ok... I’ve activated the window tints and I have the car rolling. For now it’s going to look like they have resumed their patrol. But that’s only going to hold up until someone tries to raise them on the radio. For now I’m keeping their lines open, so any calls will get a busy signal, but that will raise red flags eventually. I’m afraid that’s all I can do for now”.

“Great work Eidolon. Thank you” Thomas said.

“Anytime, my dear. Now, let’s work on figuring out a new escape route for you folks... Here we go. A slight change of plans. Two dead cops will do that. You guys are way too hot to get past the perimeter now. Head to skid row. We have a guy there who specializes in helping people lay low, and for the right price he can get you out of the city. Hell, he can probably get you to Amexico. But first you need to get to him. Stick to the back lanes. We need to get you off the road ASAP. Downloading route”.

Sean saw a red line appear in his augmented reality display and knew that the others saw it too. He realized his hands were shaking violently. A wave of nausea washed over him. “Fuck” he said. “I need a smoke”.

K reached into the glove compartment and tossed a pack of cigarettes back to Sean. Sean caught it, gave it a sniff and looked at it with distaste.

“Thanks K” he said “But that’s not actually what I meant”. He put the cigarettes down. Thomas turned and gave him a searching look. Then she reached in to her pocket and pulled out the bag of white powder that the dead cop had taken from K earlier. He hadn’t even seen her take it back. “I’m sure we can get you whatever you need when we land on skid row. Until then, a taste of this should take the edge off”.

Sean nodded and accepted the bag. He flexed his hands and brought up his holographic keyboard. He typed 'teva-methylone' into the search field and scanned the entry. Stimulating Euphoriant. Oral or insuffulated administration routes. Sean thought for a moment, shrugged, and then tapped a generous measure of the powder out on the back of his hand. He sniffed half of the pile up his nose and licked off the rest.

K grinned at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Pass that up here” he said. Sean did so. K sniffed some and passed it to Thomas who dipped a finger in and licked it. There was a moment of silence. Then, as one being, they all burst into laughter. Sean laughed until his belly ached and tears ran down his cheeks. The drugs, the adrenaline, the relief... It was all too much. K hit a button and music began playing. The deep, reverberating bass lines of darkstep.


“You guys are almost there” Eidolon's voice chimed in. “take the next right”.

They did, and pulled in to a below ground parking lot, the armored door rolling up as they approached and slamming shut again behind them.

“We’re in” Thomas said, as though she couldn’t believe it herself. 

END.



--------------------


Everything I post is fiction.


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