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• 2013-03-01 0 notes

  Sense Pt.7

  The physical sensebars were for the higher-class or socially mobile while the ones here on the net were easily accessible by just about anyone. Even so, everywhere had their preferred demographics and would go well out of their way to attract those people and creating a false exclusivity for them was common. There was no reason a decker like me couldn’t get into a sensebar that targeted panther-moderns other than the fact the panther-moderns were more likely to go to one where only they could go. Not all groups were so decidedly exclusionist. Goths, who based their style on some look that was popular pre-millenia, welcomed anyone, but only so they could prove to you firsthand how little they cared what you thought.

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  Sense Pt.6

  I stop near a sensebar to watch the digital socialites come and go. A sensebar was a place, both physical and digital, where people went to experience sense-manipulation. Usually the idea was to experience pleasant things, either passively while in conversation with others or alone and actively in a seperate virtual environment. Some people just wanted to experience something other than their own lives, however, and there was a market for everything from reliving the experiences of a celebrity to those of a chimp who’d been released into the wild with a recording implant. Most of it wasn’t for me, but I could understand the need to feel far away from yourself.

• 2013-02-28 1 note

  Sense Pt.5

  Across the horizon, a multitude of representational buildings reach far into the sky. The megacorps like to make sure we all remember their presence, even here. Only living in the shadows allows escape from them, and even then their reach may extend there if they feel it necesarry. But thinking of them caused the illusion of freedom I felt right now to fracture ever so slightly so I allow my mind to drift elsewhere, admiring the beauty of the largest pyramid-esqe structure in the distance instead. I couldn’t recall whose it was at the moment and though I could find out in an instant if I so desired, I did not. All I desired at this moment was to feel free, so I drifted with my thoughts, moving from place to place, node to node within the city, my virtual self following the path of my thoughts.

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  Sense Pt.4

  First, darkness. Then, pinpricks and lines of light. It all momentarily blurs, and when it finally comes into focus I see the city as it really is. Always in motion. Always alive. A city that never sleeps. Information and other users zip noislessly from node to node as I pull back to get a better view. A single thought and I am moving silently up, far above it all, though distance is merely a perception recreated here so the human mind can easily comprehend this other reality. I can still see my appartment from here, or rather the node that represents it. The silence becomes somewhat unsettling in my thoughtful state so I upload the city’s default ambient sounds but keep the volume low.

• 2013-02-27 0 notes

  Sense Pt.3

  I zone out for a moment as I stare through the monitor in front of me. It becomes a blur of white and I feel a million miles away. A hundred years ago, sleep could’ve come so easy right now. Instead I get of my chair and crawl across my bed to pull a cable out from under some pillows. It always gets shoved up under there and I don’t know how. It slides into the jack on my temple with a little effort, which is good, wouldn’t want it slipping out; that’d be disorienting to say the least. I send a mental command through the cable as I follow it to its other end and fish my ‘deck out of the rumpled sheets and place it on my crossed legs. I glance out the large, tinted window in the wall beside my bed, across the nighttime skyline, just before cyberspace overtakes my senses.

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  Sense Pt.2

  The screen was old. I was surrounded by old screens all running vid feeds I’d mute and umute as my attention diverted. This old stuff was easy to grift around here, though it took up lot more space than holos. Skip holos, I was saving up to shoot straight for the top, a top-line head computer. No more need for monitors or even my cyberdeck. But that would be an eternity from now. If I had the chance to dream, that’s what I’d dream of. I guess that’s how dreams work. I don’t remember any dreams I might’ve had, if I ever had any. Sometimes I pull on vid goggles when I slot a brainjump but keep the sound real low, just enough to keep out background noise. Someone told me that’s what dreaming was like, said he did it every night and it kept his brain fresh as an airtight insta-meal. They’re not really ever fresh, but I understood. That’s how I felt now. Fresh as a vacuum-sealed wrap of diluted, dehydrated, rehydrated, and dehydrated again soy-based foodstuffs. The package always says it’s soy-based, but everyone knows they make it out of whatever they can scrape up for cheapest. Still, I eat it and I’m not dead.

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  Sense Pt.1

  The screen went dead. It flicked off in a way unlike a modern screen should. But it wasn’t modern and hadn’t been for almost a century or some amount of time that seemed equally long. Though who measured time any more? Who bothered? It wasn’t that the whole world had grown somehow apathetic, though it had in some ways, it was only that they didn’t need to. Socket a softload with a brainjump program in the slot behind your ear, slap on a patch if you prefer to run all bio, or if you were lucky enough to be on the edge you could wirelessly upload or scan in a new algo’ for your nanos and let them do the rest. Anyway you did it, you just keep moving right along without stopping for so much as a catnap. Everything and everyone ran at full nonstop. I haven’t slept in years. I don’t know anyone who has. Some people haven’t ever slept. They get their implants at birth. I don’t know anyone like that.

• 2012-05-19 0 notes

  Scream Therapy, Pt.9

  If there are so many things that help me think, I thought that I should be getting a lot more work done.  After all, the deadline for my book is coming up.  I stared down at my pants and began to think of all the other things that helped improve my cognitive process.  “Coffee, coffee helps me think too.”  I blinked at Mr. Crumble, then returned my gaze to the floral patterned wall.

  “If there are so many things that help you think, you’d think you’d get more work done.  Aren’t you working on a book or something?”  Old Man Crumble laughed under his breath as he said this.  He should’ve done a full-bellied hearty laugh, and he should’ve smiled when he did it instead of flashing that sinister smirk.  A murderer with a hearty laugh would be a bit of a twist, and a twist is exactly the sort of thing this story would need.  But I guess those usually come later, having the twist at the beginning of the story makes writing the rest a great deal more difficult.

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  The Old Thing, Pt. 3

  I fell onto the stairs of my porch and grabbed the railing to save myself from injury, barely succeeding. I had little concern for this, however, as that horrifyingly vision was still imprinted on my vision. That sight of the old thing reaching out across distance, even across time, for me. I could still manage no reasoning as to purpose or intent, but this lack of understanding made it all the more terrifying. To think we are told there is nothing unknown left in the world, that there is no need to fear. Now even the very land around me seemed strange and foreign. Was this intent singular to the old tree or could it be spread across all this seemingly innocuous flora from which I now felt I had cause to recede? This simple thing I had imagined many times as a child and endured in nightmares not only gave me reason to fear the object itself, that damned old tree which stretched out towards the road, but to fear and question my own understanding of and grip on reality. What other horrors could be all around me even now?

• 2012-05-18 0 notes

  Fingerprint, Pt.3

  The night was even more unforgiving than I’d expected. It was just being cruel. I glanced at the knife laying in the passenger seat, the handle protruding slightly from inside the cloth I’d wrapped it in so I could carefully shove it in my coat pocket. Sure, someone who gets paid more than me will probably chew me out and threaten me with the same shit they always do, but I had a hunch and I went with it. I don’t even know how or if taking it will help, but sometimes it’s just nice to be carrying a big knife.