Hey folks!
I thought that in tribute to all of you wonderful people out there I would give you something hopefully interesting to read on my 1000th post!
It’s an unpublished sci-fi story that I wrote with a social commentary kind of edge to it!
I hope that you enjoy it!
The World’s Newest Profession
I decided to walk for a change. This was partially to stretch my legs a bit and partially to just look at the assortment of humanity that congregated around this part of town.
The atmosphere on Frankford Ave reminded me of the kind of decaying future that they used to paint in vintage films. There were holograms and simple AI run shops here and there amongst the tightly packed retail businesses that went from one end of the street to the next. Down the end of the block there was a robot that made the best pizza in town. It was all in the blend of cheese that one used really, but the device was always so nice that it was hard to not admit that the atmosphere kept me coming back.
Anyway, the street and the ancient buildings were permanently shrouded in a dim light from the equally ancient, yet high tech railway girders that were elevated about two stories above the ground. The structure had to be about two hundred years old with all kinds of glaringly out of place equipment and materials that were necessary to transform the thing into a magnetic system instead of whatever it had been before. The width of this rail system was almost up against the windows on both sides of the street of the squatty buildings that lined it. The structures were an equally cobbled together collection of styles that ranged from the nineteenth century to the twenty-second. All looked like they had been plunged into some giant’s anus and twisted around for a bit.
It was a bizarre contrast to the little bits of technologically advanced stuff that found its way over here. I’m sure that most of it was owned by someone that lived far away from the depressing action in this part of town.
An automated hotdog cart just flashed and said hello to me by name. That was a lot more than I could say for most of the people around here.
As far as I knew, this was an Irish section back when the city was young and things hadn’t changed too much. I had never been to Ireland but I couldn’t imagine that the people looked this bad over there. The majority of people appeared to have been brought up eating food that didn’t have any nutrients in it. Everyone was short and incredibly haggard looking. I knew people that just fed their kids noodles and toast all the time. Cigarettes and massive substance abuse were popular as well.
It wasn’t just them though, almost everybody here looked like they had been through some kind of dehydration process. There were tall scrawny black people mixed into the crowd and small depressed looking South Americans. It seemed like the only people to survive here looking good were the newly arrived Asians. They were always lookin’ good. Despite them, when I found myself walking down here I would start entertaining the fantasy of buying everyone a good meal. That wasn’t going to happen though.
I moved to this part of town to save money and that’s exactly what I was doing. In fact I was on my way to earn a bit more. I got a new contract that was not exactly the kind that anyone put into written form. The job was in the line that I was currently locked into, but most likely either outside the realm of legality, or of such a nature that the participants wanted to keep it discreet. I was being paid four times my normal salary for the job, and frankly, I was barely interested in just what I would be doing.
Additionally, I got a great bonus for the job. I insisted on it as part of the deal. I was required to dress in formal yet stylish attire for the event. I demanded a self replicating business suit for the occasion that I would be able to keep after the job was done. I didn’t think that they would come through but they did.
This kind of suit was something that you just could not, and most likely ever, be able to afford. It was covered with nano spiders, for lack of a better term, that constantly ate and spun new fibers. This made for a suit that was always new and that could be made to change colors and styles given a significant amount of time. Currently, I had the thing tuned to make a gray suit that slowly ran through all the shades of gray ranging from a matte to a shiny finish. If one enjoyed or was required to wear suits then this is the only one that would ever be needed.
On one hand, this meant that I looked damn good while on the other it meant that in this neighborhood I stuck out like a sore thumb. Normally, when I walked around here I dressed down and carried a telescopic club in my pocket. Thankfully, I never had to use it and didn’t have it on me to use if I wanted to. Not good to take weapons to a job and all that. Anyway, I think that my rather muscular frame tended to put people off from viewing me as a potential target. Even crooks could do a simple cost benefit ratio.
Unfortunately, the whole muscular thing tended to put off a lot of women too, as I assumed that they did not want to spend their time coupling with a human gorilla. Today it was a bit different though as my conspicuous display of wealth appeared to be lubricating the mental wheels of many a young lady on the street. Heads were turning.
Secretly, I hated these type of women and would not give them the time of day let alone actually let one touch me. It was a nice suit and all that, but I thought it a bit whorish to gawk at me when you were walking with your boyfriend. Also, it might inspire him to take action that I would find unpleasant. Neurotically, I also enjoyed them looking at me and chastised myself for being too hard on them. The weathered looking twenty-some things around here deserved to have a bit better than just fantasies of wealth.
I still had lots of time on my hands and I was only a few blocks from the train station. There was one girl that I was hoping would check me out, if indeed she was still working. I didn’t know too much about her other than she was not from this part of town and that she would get a big smile on her face every time that she saw me. She worked in a quiet and rather expensive little restaurant tucked away in an unlikely corner. It was sandwiched against the giant girders and faux futuristic structure that was the Frankford subway station. I didn’t even know her name but I just wanted to catch a smile or two just to further boost my already good spirits.
Within a few minutes I was in front of the deceptively shabby exterior of the place and then walking through its ancient looking wooden door. If an old redwood tree was capable of having a womb this is what it would look like. It was all dim light and curvy little wooden booths made out of this reddish brown wood and over stuffed black leather. The wood could have been synthetic for all that I knew because it was so perfectly unique looking, but that only made it more interesting to me. I never cared for wood too much. Despite that, and the girl, there was something relaxing about this place. Every time that I went in I would notice a thing or two that was different. I don’t think that they were adding new stuff; it was just that my brain would start shutting down after a few minutes once I was in my seat at the bar. I liked to think, and pretend that I was not looking at the girl, so I only had a limited time in which to drink in my surroundings.
I was right, and she was there. She was dressed in her usual scandalously tight clothes that I associated with narcissistic women that were out for money. It was hard to get angry about this because there was something about her face that just enchanted me.
She looked Latin with the most likely ethnicity being Italian. She had the kind of sharp square features that one would associate with renaissance art figures and the perfect rounded proportionality that only modern nutrition can bring to the table.
I said hello and ordered a beer instead of my usual whiskey. I inquired about how she was doing and the answer was that she was great. This was about as far as it ever went. It seemed like she was not much for conversation , generally speaking, and for some reason my usual ability to talk to just about anyone could not manifest itself.
I think that this had a lot to do with feelings left over from when I was poor. Back then I could talk to girls like this without any significant shyness. Then, I started to realize that yes they liked me but that I was not the wise choice in a boyfriend. I had gone to school to be trained as a graphic designer and slowly began to work my way up the ladder trying to get that one good job. Things were going pretty well until the world of science provided such a revolutionary turn that it ruined my chances and the chances of millions of people.
A drug company had been working on growing brain tissue as a method of treatment for a variety of head injury. They would simply graft it on the damaged area and configure it appropriately. This worked incredibly well and cured many problems. Personally, I considered it a miracle.
A few years later the same company found that the brain material could be programmed to retain manufactured memories. So, a stroke victim that had damaged vocal centers could get the brain matter installed and then they would instantly know their language again. An accident occurred when the treatment was given to a young Asian man that had been struck by a car and left seriously head injured. The doctors assumed that he was an American English speaking person and so they installed the standard brain sections in order to heal him. When the guy woke up he reported that previously he did not speak any English. In fact, he thought in Chinese but spoke in English.
That was the first time that anyone had really tried, although supposedly by accident, placing unknown knowledge in someone’s brain. It was also the case that the recipients of the standard procedures started to report that they never seemed to forget the information that their new brain parts contained. For instance, the language receivers could always speak and write perfect English if they so desired, even if they couldn’t before.
The doctors, to their credit, tried to stop it but there became a huge demand for brain parts installed as a new form of cosmetic surgery. For the children of the elite, this meant that a kid no longer required school or college to become educated. Soon after the upper middle-class caught on, they simply purchased their children college degrees in the form of an operation. This meant skills that took decades to learn and perfect could be simulated in the time needed for an operation and recovery. Something like artistic talent still took imagination but the new brain part knew every single technique ever created and so a little imagination went a long way. Millions of people, including myself, could not afford such an operation and were left with perfect eighteen and sometimes fourteen ( the legal working age) bosses. There was no way to get a promotion or compete without that operation.
I found that I was not hot at work, or socially, anymore. This was not a huge shock, but it still hurt, and I found myself getting justifiably demoralized and depressed. The worst shock was to find that I could get a date, but not keep it going. Invariably, the girls that I picked, or picked me, would slip the question about the brain implant somehow or other into the conversation. I grew to hate this kind of fishing for status and it became like a Pavlovian shock treatment against dating. So, I eventually gave up on the whole thing. It has only been recently that I have gotten my courage back in that department.
That’s because after several exhausting years of intense study and attempting to learn a variety of mnemonic tricks I finally gave up in absolute defeat and was open to anything. I began looking for ways to finance an operation for myself. Again, I was defeated as my student loans and mounting personal debts ruined my credit rating. Then, while searching on the web I discovered an obscure Asian company called Callowhill Entertainment Group offering no money down procedures while promising a new fun filled career. Well, that’s what I was looking for. So, I sent them an email and excitedly awaited their reply.
It’s a long story, but the company had developed brain implants that could be tapped into by an outside party. This allowed someone to share information with you on a real-time basis. These things worked much the same way as a mobile phones did and also could be triggered via satellite. If used conventionally a business man from Tokyo could get new project information transmitted to him from the home office or he could experience a recent meeting that was held there. The unconventional approach was that users could experience the emotions and senses of a base station person. In other words, If I was watching the sunset then X number of people could experience what I saw and felt about it. However, they could not experience what I thought about it as that was too complex a process. Additionally, they could make subtle suggestions via their own implant that the base person would be vaguely aware of such as look at that tree or flower on the ground and so forth.
CEG wanted to take the technology and make it into an entertainment medium. This would allow the public to use other people to do things that they had never done before. Do you want to go skiing or skydiving but can’t or won’t? Well, that’s what you could get here. The company had plans for a variety of experiences and events that would be like mini vacations for the people on the other end. The agreement with me was that all of the expenses would be paid and I would get a fat salary and commissions as long as I signed a ten year contract. If I signed a fifteen year contract then they would provide me with physical treatments that would makeover some of my less flattering features and strengthen my bones and whatnot against injury. I decided to go with the fifteen year package and threw caution to the wind.
In the end, I found myself with a two-way implant that had enough extra storage so that I could download anything that I liked into it. When I wasn’t doing this, if I saved up, I could buy the skill and play guitar in some club at nighttime or whatever. I also found myself with a somewhat more symmetrical face, and through a procedure used to help accident victims, I was left with crystalline reinforced bones and muscles. These last bits were a big help against various sports injuries, as people always seemed to be choosing me for sports and fighting experiences. Skydiving was a big seller and I must say that have had more than enough hard landings to justify the bone treatments many times over.
Anyway, all of these treatments were illegal in America and so there were few others in the states that provided this service. That was good for me as I got a lot of commissions but on the flip side it was a bit exhausting. It was tough for the company too because they could not have business centers here. Customers had to be located outside of the states in order to hook up with the service. This was good for me because all of my business was done either over the phone or through the computer. I did not have to report to anyone’s office or do any of that kind of crap that I had grown to hate.
Five years later I found myself living as a kind of celebrity outside of the US, but with almost total anonymity inside its borders. On one hand I loved it, while on the other, I could have done with a little attention.
Looking at my watch I realized that I had forgotten something pretty important to the job. A hand full of pills had been mailed to me that I was supposed to take as part of the job. Mostly, this was requested by the company as an experiential stimulant for the customer. I had a tendency to be cool under pressure. Frankly, I had grown bored under pressure and stimulants were frequently needed to get my blood up for the event.
I took the pills out of my coat pocket and nonchalantly emptied them into my hand. I didn’t want my lovely bartender seeing me take drugs, although she might have liked that. I almost felt like asking her if she did, because I saw several tablets that were unknown to me. I shoved aside the beer and ordered a glass of water. I wasn’t about to take unknown stuff with alcohol and end up in a coma or puking on my expensive shoes.
On that note, the barroom fun was over and I bid my farewell to what’s her name behind the bar. She gave me a nervously uncomfortable smile and said goodbye. I’m sure that the combination of my thoughtful silence and not finishing my drink was all quite puzzling to her and was either mysterious or just plain weird. I would have to make it a point to not come in for awhile.
Quickly, I was out the door and found myself running up the stairs of the train station that loomed over the restaurant. I heard the horn of the train making its way toward the station.
Within about a minute, I was seated on the train headed for center city. It had hard seats but was quiet and thankfully there wasn’t any kind of wackiness going on in the car. It was just normal looking people and one young lady with exquisite bone structure that I couldn’t help looking at. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t usually sexually attracted to most women, yet I thought that a girl like that was just beautiful. Long black hair, high cheek bones, a firm jaw, and a perfectly chiseled nose. I wanted to ask her how she got like that. I could tell that she was poor by her clothes, so it had to be the product of nature that I was looking at. She noticed my stare, so I broke off my visual admiration.
I was starting to get annoyed at myself. I knew what to say to these girls but just wouldn’t say it. Once this girl got off of the train that would be it. I would never see her again and probably beat myself up over it for months.
Still I wasn’t going to go for it. That made me think about what we would do together if we did go out and what if I didn’t really like her that much anyway? Now that would be a disappointment. What would my mom think about my life if she could see it? Would she like what I did and the reasons why I had to do it.
She died from cancer shortly before they started to be able to cure it fairly well. I always found that to be an irony that was almost cosmic. I was seeing her face and then I was seeing the face of I guy that I was paid to fight. He got a stupid surprised expression on his face just after I hit him really hard. I could tell that he didn’t expect it. The second punch made him look like he was going to cry. I thought that that looked silly and almost laughed during the fight. Then I wondered if I was humiliating him and started feeling like I was going to started crying myself. What would mom think of that I wonder? What would she think of the time I had anal sex with a hooker because I was frustrated to think that porno actors had all the fun. When I was a kid I stole money off of the girl that I had been dating and what if somehow my dead mom knew all this stuff now and…
Wow! The stimulants were taking effect in a bad way! I was becoming manic, so I struggled hard to stop thinking and to enjoy the chemical energy that I was feeling. Goddamnit, they must have given me some pretty potent stuff. My swimming head made me wish that I had drank a little more of that beer.
When the train finally hit suburban station I carefully walked, although I felt like running, to the nearest hotdog vendor, this time a real human, and with shaking hands I purchased two plain ones. Low blood sugar I explained to a somewhat fearful looking sausage salesman.
I had to dilute those drugs a bit or go crazy. I didn’t really give a shit about my client’s experience if they were going to put me through this. I spotted a pub back in the station and I planned on going back for a whiskey and a beer. I still had time.
Feeling a little better after the drinks, but still wired like a freak, I hit the streets. I decided to take the scenic route up Walnut Street toward my destination on Rittenhouse Square. Walnut was packed with people. In this part of town people looked a lot more healthy. The mostly young professionals and art types that hung around and worked in this area were usually both attractive and doing pretty well in life. You could bet that most of these folks had implants that their parents had judiciously purchased for them.
Just the type of people that I usually hated, so why was I getting an almost uncontrollable erection looking at the perfect little blonde headed my way? I was barely even looking at her. I quickly assessed the feelings that I was experiencing and understood that I must have taken some kind of sexual enhancement in the pills that I swallowed. Well, I had taken these before and knew how to handle it.
The trick was to absolutely not think about sex in any way at all. With my racing thoughts this would be tough, but I had done it before. Concentrate on something else like the clothes in the windows of the shops. After a few tense moments of trying to not be tense I could feel the erection going down and was more than a little relieved. These drugs made it difficult to eliminate an erection once it got started. In the middle of the street obvious sexual excitement didn’t have any benefits that I could think of. Well, there were a few parts of town, but I wasn’t into that.
About ten blocks later of psychotically energetic walking, and generous helpings of the cool February air, I reached the Hotel Roseau. I had never been in the place but its exterior was equipped with late ninetieth century architectural details, currently dead ivy, and doorman dressed as footmen from the colonial period. I could not imagine having that job. The wig alone would make me want to kill people. However, the kind of people that did like this stuff were the thoughtless or those that enjoyed the idea that people were waiting on them slavishly. Guys dressed up in silly costumes made them feel like royalty.
With a courteous nod to the poor costumed wretches I slipped through the brass revolving door and hit the lobby. It looked as I expected it to, but a little nicer. Overstuffed black leather chairs, love seats, and sofas were everywhere; it was the kind with brass rivets in it that made a quilting effect. Anytime that I had seen this design in furniture stores it was massively expensive. When I finally made enough cash I would at least get one or two pieces. The cathedral ceiling was supported by columns of beautiful iron red and pink marble with lines of white in it. The stuff looked like Jupiter and was unlike any marble that I had ever seen before. The same stone lined the walls and I guess acted to protect them from damage. The exposed section of wall was painted a darker tan color and was decorated with what I assumed were art deco sculpture. It was a relaxing almost womb-like space. I still had time and wanted nothing more than to sit in one of those seats and just read a good book.
Well, I didn’t have a good book, so I decided to sit in a seat and play with my phone. I felt a little nervous about hanging out in the lobby, but that was just paranoia because I assumed that I was here for some illegal or possibly immoral purpose. I looked perfectly respectable though and tried to dismiss the thought. Plus, if I thought too much about the immoral part I might get an erection again.
Before I could get too deep into the phone play I got that familiar tingly sensation in the back of my skull. Along with the implant a nerve stimulator was installed that sends tickly sensations to the back of my scalp when something is going on with it. One tingle means that I should contact the center; two tingles means that a user will be on in five minute; three tingles means that the user is live and four means that the connection is broken. This time I got one tingle.
I switched my phone to send and noticed that I had received a text message. The message read: Please go to the lobby of the hotel and find the manager. He should be a man named Kline. Once you locate the manager tell him that you are Peterson (not my real name) and would like him to retrieve your package from the safe. This package will be a small leather pouch. It will have clips that can attach to your belt. Please do this in the men’s room, as the pouch contains a surprise that no one should see. THIS ESPECIALLY MEANS YOU. If you look it will ruin your user’s surprise. Additionally, please fix the pouch on your belt so that it is hidden by your coat. Do not take your coat off once you have reached your destination. After you have completed this then go to room 2200 once you have received the go live signal. Have Fun!
It was my bet that the pouch either contained drugs or some kind of sex toy. That was the usual mode of operation. This was pretty standard stuff and lots of drugs were still illegal, so I almost mindlessly did what I was told. There was a bar tucked away in the corner of the lobby and I ducked into its men’s room and fixed the leather pouch on my belt. It contained some kind of hard rod that was either an injector or a rather inadequate dildo. I would not use IV drugs, so someone was going to be disappointed if they wanted that, but we would see.
Still feeling very energetic from the speed, I zipped out of the bathroom but caught myself just shy of the entrance to the lobby. Coming through the front doors of the place were several people that I immediately recognized, but had not seen in quite awhile. Three women and three men entered in a fashion that made them appear to be dates, but I recognized them to be fellow employees. Two of the men had been in a mountain climbing experience with me and the other a soccer sports event. Two of the women I had actually slept with in a gambling fantasy while the third I severely disliked. Everyone was decked out in the finest eveningwear.
She was about 5’ 9†and from what I could tell had incredibly dense musculature. Her face was sharp and angular and I thought a bit severe. Maybe it was the case that through conditioning I grew to associate it with getting my ass kicked. We had been in a gladiator style sporting event were I narrowly escaped getting knocked unconscious by her and a biking event where I assume that she took revenge on me for the contest that I gave her in the arena. The biking was cross country and she hid behind a tree, hit me with and steel club, and proceeded to stomp me with her practically steel thighs. On top of it all she won the race. It didn’t take too much to keep me away from her after that.
After these people disappeared into the elevator I observed from the relative anonymity of the darkened bar many of the other guests arriving. I recognized quite a few as people like myself and started to think that maybe I going to an all user party. This had orgy written all over it.
The tingles on the back of my head told me that my user would soon be tuned into my implant. So I left the hotel and sprinted down the street a bit. I wanted to make sure that the user could see the place for the first time.
Some more tingles told me that the user had arrived. I always tended to feel a bit of trouble with concentration when this happened. It was like getting up and doing something in the middle of the night. You were there but some other part of your mind was really calling the shots.
In much the same way as a drunk I fought to stay in control of my body and walked into the hotel as if it was for the very first time. I looked around and drank in the scenery and tried to get excited about it again. Feeling good, I made a direct line for the elevators and hit the button for the top floor.
Between the drugs and the presence of the user I was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. My user was doing a pretty good job steering me around though and soon I was sauntering out of the elevator like a secret agent that had lost his secret. Obvious but still cool.
I was impressed. The elevator emptied out directly into a giant penthouse ballroom. I had always felt deprived having known about these elite exiting options but never had the chance to actually use one. The penthouse was invariably for the rich and their friends. Frankly, I was not for having a quiet automatic entrance way into my apartment, especially in my neighborhood, but I would take it if someone gave it to me.
I could feel some tingles of pleasure from my user as we both took in the ballroom. A plush burgundy carpet lined the floors and was a rich compliment to the burnished gold metal that lined the walls. The metal was stamped with more of the art deco designs that I saw in the lobby and was all geometric sun rays and plants. Even the support pillars in the room were sheathed in the beautifully designed metal. The opulent design was complimented by the simple tarnished brass square shapes of the pressed plates that tiled the ceiling. At the other end of the room a very substantial bar awaited that was fully stocked with booze and what appeared to be a rather nice assortment of young ladies.
I had a terrible desire for a 12 year old scotch on the rocks and concentrated heavily on this in the hope of getting my user’s approval. My involuntary movement toward the majestic wooden structure and the unique looking blonde with the Kirk Douglas dimple told me that the user liked my train of thought.
As I sauntered across the floor I estimated that there were about two-hundred people packing the place all speaking and drinking very animatedly. Many were gathered around a central table. Had the orgy begun so soon? I couldn’t tell, so I moved a bit closer to check out the scene.
The only skin that was visible was on the backs of the immaculately dressed women sitting around the table. They and their male counterparts appeared to be holding some kind of playing cards and were all staring intently at the shifting, twinkling, and apparently speaking brown and sometimes gray volcano shaped object that dominated the center of the table. There was little talking amongst this group and the tension appeared to be quite thick. The scene provided a bit of relief for me as it became clear that this was yet another gambling fantasy.
I still wasn’t ruling the orgy thing out.
At the bar, I ordered up a Johnny Walker Black Label on the rocks, making it a triple, in the attempt to limit the seemingly ever increasing effects of the speed and the reassertion of the sex drugs. Since I was being asserted upon, I decided to assert myself a bit on one of the bar patrons.
“Hey there brother,†I said to an Asian man standing next to me. He had large sensitive eyes and sculpted features. “I guess I’m behind the times a bit but what are those guys doing over at that table? I couldn’t quite get a good view.â€
His eyes blinked a few too many times and I knew that his user was speaking for him. “ Wow, I’m glad that you asked me and not someone a little more pretentious.†He laughed a little condescendingly. “That game is the hottest thing to hit the professional class since polo or something.†I made impressed grunts and urged him to continue. “ It’s called Chaos Cartel. The deal is that there are no rules to the game and that’s why all the people with vocational implants like it. They can’t cheat, so to speak, and become an instant expert.â€
“Hmm…I could have made that one up. That’s like the friggin’ emperor’s new clothes. What will rich people think of next.â€
“ No, no you don’t get it my friend. You need to read a little more.†He said with genuine surprise at what I’m sure he considered my stupidity. “In the hub on the table is an AI that makes up new rules based on a variety of factors having to do with the players and other environmental factors. This means that the person has to react immediately to whatever the AI comes up with.â€
“It sounds like almost everyone can just start playing.†I stated, actually intrigued by the sound of it all.
“Yes, almost, however the player has to understand how to use the cards that they get in their hand. The cards can, if properly played, affect various changes that are observed on the hub. So, that’s as tough as it gets in theory.â€
“Fascinating, but what is the object of that and what does one win or loose.â€
“The game is like a war with the cards representing warriors, weapons, skills, or natural forces. The hub creates scenarios and symbols that one must be able to interact with in the right sequence in order to make a winning move. Supposedly, there are no two games that are the same because the AI is creative enough to never ask the same question twice. To answer your question about winning, there can be a wide range of choices. You can just play for the satisfaction of winning or the AI will scan your personal profile and choose what you will win or loose from other players.†Explained the man, with an intense and greedy fascination. I pegged this guy as a person that enjoyed cheap power and thought that winning a game equaled power. Petty and silly.
I could feel waves of excitement coursing through me at the thought of playing the game. This had to be coming from the user because I hated games. Give me the excitement of an extreme sport or being beaten up by a girl in the woods over some anal retentive board game any day and I would be happy. A quick glance to the table showed me that several of the players cards began to glow and then it looked like they had to do shots. Insufferable.
Despite my feelings, I would have to get into the game for the sake of the user. It was his dollar and if this was his version of fun then so be it. I was still thinking that there had to be some twist. My hope was that I could zone out to the maximum degree and just let him play.
I gently broke away from the eager power freak and began a relaxed walk, with Scotch in hand, across the floor toward a group of happy looking folks whose bodies I recognized. When I approached the group I realized that the people were totally consumed by their users and did not recognize me at all.
“What do you guys think of the party?†I asked innocently.
“Well, it’s ok,†Stated a lovely little Italian woman that I knew to be a dancer. “But, I just don’t like this carpet and art deco is out.†She related, informing me of information that I did not ask.
“Yes, well art deco hasn’t been in for like two-hundred years. You know, the place is a historic building and this is probably the original décor, so it needs to be appreciated for what it is. This kind of stuff was very chic at the time. Not that I say chic a lot, but that’s what it was.â€
“Well I don’t like the way that they did it. I have a design download and I can see that the whole thing is not symmetrical.†Chimed in another young lady whose body I had accompanied on an extreme mountain climbing trip. Humorously, as she went to sip her drink it almost hit her in the face. “This body is too muscular. What do you think? I don’t like it.â€
“Too much for you to handle?†I said lasciviously. I could tell that she didn’t get it. “I like having a muscular body, it makes me feel energetic.
“Hmm…it’s ok, but in real life I’m more svelte than this and I like the way my clothes hang.†Said, an unrecognized man, who I was a little suspicious of after the use of the word svelte. “I guess the body will come in handy later.†Mysterious. “have you tried the hors d’oeuvres? They’re greasy. I hope that this body doesn’t get an upset stomach.â€
Everyone agreed that they were greasy. I hadn’t tried one but found myself wanting one, or many, just because they didn’t like them. I wanted to stuff my face with dripping greasy hors d’oeuvres and laugh while spewing chunks.
That was the speed talking.
Anyway, this kind of complaining about minutia and focus on perfection continued seemingly on and on. I was wishing that my user would assert himself and take over the conversation.
I assumed that he liked these people. I could tell that they were implanted “professionals†that probably lived very comfortable and protected lives. People like this never had significant problems, so then the quality of one’s buttons and minute home décor issues became the major issues of one’s life. I had been in stores where rich aggressive looking blondes angrily searched for that perfect napkin set or whateverthehell. Crazy.
While the ladies prattled on about how the light inappropriately bounced off of the walls and how that did, or would, affect their greasy stomachs I began to notice a strange emotional note in the background of my mind. I was irritated by these people but had a feeling of happiness coming from what I assumed was my user. I guessed that he was letting me retain control for the purpose of sharing his dislike of these folks and was enjoying my reaction. I couldn’t know, but that was my best guess.
Wanting to put a definition on my role here I began to try a subtle exploration of just what we were doing. The statement about needing these bodies later piqued my interest and I think that my user wanted me to know. My little group was only too eager to tell me all about themselves and I quickly found out that everyone at the party was employed at the same company. I told them that I didn’t get the memo about the party and they actually believed it.
The story went a little like this, the company decided to have a masquerade party using my firm’s human interface models. Apparently, there was a lot of tension and competition going on in the office and the party was designed to give everyone the chance to anonymously interact with each other. You could either say what you really wanted to or try to get to know everyone again for the first time. It wasn’t such a bad idea, but so far not too many people seemed to be talking. More alcohol and drugs would help that in a few hours. Right now it was mostly chit chat and people watching the big game.
Unfortunately, I got nothing but looks when I brought up the subject of why we would need these kind of bodies. The one woman snidely suggested that if I had missed that memo then I needed to go back to the office. I laughed it off and chalked it up to more of their critical bullshit.
Across the room I saw the compact iron body of the woman that had beaten me up. I needed to catch her name one day so that I could stop referring to her like that. She had some tall drink in hand and what appeared to be a doughnut, which I thought unlikely. Whatever it was, she was munching and sipping away while talking in the most animated and pleasant way that I could imagine. Clearly, she was under total control of her user. I can’t say that I wasn’t happy about that.
My user gave me the feeling that he found the woman very interesting. His influence was keeping my head turned in her direction and then I found myself consumed by the desire to walk over toward the game table. I interrupted this urge with one to get another Scotch. If he was going to fool around then so was I.
I could feel a little frustration coming from him in the back of my mind, but then it quieted down a bit as I approached the table. The players bet, argued, gesticulated wildly, gesticulated minimally, laughed, grimaced, looked confused, appeared elated, schemed, and I think won and definitely lost. As promised, I could see no rhyme or reason to what they were doing other than it gave the appearance of being another exercise in meaningless perfectionism. Exacting but pointless behavior being the main goal.
I hated games.
Over time, I found myself edging through the crowd toward that dreaded woman again. I got the feeling that it would be a long night of spending time with this person. I would have to see if I could get intimate contact with her excluded from my contract in the future. Meanwhile, I was quite happy that my user had provided the sexual stimulants since I had no such clause.
The user for the first time took near total control of my body as he began to talk to the shockingly sweet and happy face that I associated with an inhuman fighting machine. Mercifully, when one of us is in this state it’s as if you are stuck in a state between waking and dreaming. You can watch and hear the scene going on, but it’s not like you are fully aware of its reality. So, much of what the user is doing is lost on you unless it is something very shocking or surprising.
From what I could gather the user was just chatting her up with what sounded like some fairly amusing dialogue. Internally, I was a bit grossed out at the tone of my own voice making sounds of interest at this woman. Externally, I was going on about what a double edged sword it was meeting such a wonderful woman, but not being able to actually know her real identity. There was a lot more coy banter that the woman seemed to really enjoy. Then my user changed his tone a little and started to question the woman’s importance to the corporation. There was teasing about being a receptionist and whatnot. She looked a bit angry but in a challenged sort of way that many women seemed to find enjoyable. My user was quite an operator. Although I was impressed, I wished that he would have operated on the redhead across the room.
My female nemesis was actually starting to look attractive for a change. But, I was worried that my dislike for her would ruin any erection that would be necessary for the inevitable and impending orgy. Surprisingly, I began to find it necessary to work on some inventive way to suppress yet another potentially embarrassing and premature boner. I was shocked at the power of modern medicine.
I was almost completely retracted from the forefront of my mind as I heard my own voice challenging the woman to a round of the game that seemed to be a central theme of the party. She took the challenge with completely natural excitement and I could tell that she looked forward to having a go at beating my user. As long she didn’t literally beat me I was cool.
I told her to set up our spot in the next round and that I had to hit the bathroom. To my knowledge, I did not have to go to the bathroom nor did I need to wash my hands or anything else. Well, a trip to the bathroom could only be a diversion.
When I got there it was a dark green marble affair that was cool, relaxing, and in my semi-controlled haze it was even more so. I had always loved bathrooms.
Obliviously, my hand reached down into the pouch that was on my belt. I felt a cold hard thing and a thin hard thing. Fingers that weren’t mine pinched out the thin thing, snapped them open, and then placed what turned out to be glasses on my face.
I looked into one of the many mirrors that hung over the bathroom’s multiple sinks and regarded my sunglasses clad self. I thought it a bit of a corny touch to walk back out to the party with purposely cool dark shades on, but hey if that was part of his fantasy then who am I to say.
I smiled a smile at myself that I did not control, thought I looked nice, and then went back out to the party. I was immediately shocked to see that my dark glasses weren’t exactly glasses at all. Over the heads of everyone in the room hung groups of green letters that I soon recognized as names. Like I said, I knew a couple of people in there and it wasn’t their names that I read. It had to be the names of all of the users that were currently downloaded. I didn’t know that it was possible but the glasses must be decoding information from the encrypted download signals.
There was Rebecca Bauman, Dave Schweitzer, and Michael Roman. The shallow perfectionists were Patty Montage, Lorrie Johnson, Alex Kellijien, and Sherri Laster. Great, it was a high-tech party favor designed to ruin a bizarre costume party.
I saw my nemesis, now with the unlikely name of Tina Schwartz, excitedly waving me over to the game table. I felt waves of self-satisfied excitement wash over me that were not my own. She was speaking to a little, a creepy little, man dressed in a deep wine colored velvet suit with matching silk shirt and tie. The fellow had a long thin pale face with high quizzical eyebrows and appeared to be wearing a lipstick that went well with his suit. His hair was a black curling affair that was very short on the sides. I was reminded of whipped toping. From a distance his giddy manner and flamboyant gestures set him apart from the crowd, and the fact that a name did not float above his head. That meant that he was whomever he said that he was, basically.
I pulled up by Tina and extended a hand to the little man. He took it in a limp half handshake and introduced himself as: Mr. Billy, Game Master.
“Was that game master, did you say?†I added taking back the reins of internal control for a bit a sarcasm.
This brought forth a quick little explosion of excitement from the man causing him to jump back rapidly clapping his unusually long slender hands together. He then shook his finger at me and called me a naughty boy. To this I agreed jokingly. He then dramatically stood at attention and gave me a less than subtle head to toe once over. When the orgy started I would have to keep an eye on him.
Desiring to keep my time limited with this person, I quickly hustled him into explaining his role to me so that Tina and I could get to the game. My user seemed not to mind my move, as I could feel a certain anxiety from him to get back to Ms. Schwartz. I had been here for a couple of hours already and whatever the object of this job was it seemed like a distant goal.
The Game Master informed me that he was both a keeper of the cards and AI monitor. He explained that he provides every player with a randomized deck of cards and playing pieces that can be used to act on or against the requests of the AI. The cards were interactive with the AI and would light up and create effects if the AI or other players guessed which ones were in your hand. The rules and interactions kept coming and I zoned out hoping that my user would pick up the rest of it all.
After awhile I heard my voice saying good-bye to the little man as he lavishly gesticulated toward the table and our game equipment. As he bowed and scuttled backward; I noticed that he too had something, maybe a pouch, on his hip. Curious. Maybe everyone had one.
Casually, in control again, I picked up my cards, box of pieces, and Tina’s gear. Before I could even lift them a few inches she snatched them out of my hand with lightning speed. I could feel a great surge of anger that was not mine cause me to whip around and confront her now sinister smiling face. “No cheating,†she told me in such a way that I could not discern her true meaning. Whatever, it didn’t matter, her actions indicated those of the corporate control freak that she and everybody here undoubtedly was. Hate ’em, and I was started to get the feeling that my user did too.
We joined the table that now held about twenty different players and was ringed with just about everyone from the party. The players all looked with a mixture of anxiety and anger in our direction. It was like they were all loosing the game and worried that somehow we would win it. Why play a game that makes you feel like a looser?
The spectators were either boozy or looking at Tina and I with askance and expressions that implied that we were ridiculously vain for even trying such an intellectually superior venture. Ethnically influenced, was it Indian, electronic music started pumping an exciting beat.
We took our seats and I made sure that I said a confident and pleasant hello to everyone at the table. I wanted to be a polite rebel in front of this rude self-conscious lot. The weird glances were interrupted by a voice coming from the brown/green/blue lump in the middle of the table. “Welcome guys,†said the lump in a very pleasant professorial kind of English accent. “In case you haven’t been following the game, I represent a world and even a universe!†It continued, as the lump somehow shifted through a myriad of landscapes representing mountains, valleys, oceans, and even stellar locations. It was almost worth putting up with the boredom just to see that. I was fascinated with whatever material the thing was made out of.
“Personally, I don’t like to explain much about the intentions of my game, so let’s just jump in, shall we. Ok, then, what will it be fish or foul?†The machine said very energetically.
Stumped by the statement, Tina and I just sat there staring.
“You there! The male in the gray suit! Weren’t you paying attention? You do have to pay attention to play this game you know? Why did you even show up I wonder. Fish or foul. Fish---or bloody foul!†The crowd laughed at the machine’s comic chastisement. They loved it. The AI knew how to play the room.
“ Fish?†I stammered like an idiot.
“…and you young lady,†the machine purred.
“Well, if he’s taking fish then I’m taking foul!†Remarked Tina with a dramatic thumb thrust to her chest. The crowd cheered at her pointlessly assertive retort.
I was getting worn out and planned to strive to let my user take over like never before. I just wanted to check the game out a bit though before I drifted off. After a few minutes I guessed that the game strategy had something to do with evolution and I assume genetic selection. The AI represented nature and maybe god. He tried to kill you or help you based on a set of rules that only he understood. At this point I was a fish and that meant that this was going to be one long game.
It was my guess that most of the implanted professionals here had never read anything about evolution and if they had it was probable that they had never given it much thought. That was my experience with people that had not been educated in the traditional sense. So, the game must have been extremely weird and incomprehensible to them.
Looking at their eager, greedy, nervous, hopeful faces made me decide to not try and personally win. One could win by sleeping through something and that was what I decided to do.
About an hour and fifteen minutes passed before I was roused out of my withdrawn state by a surge of very strong positive emotion. Thrilled excitement and the feeling of triumph washed over me. I focused a bit on the table and saw that my fish piece had transformed into a large colony of small lizard creatures that dominated what looked like a whole continent. I was happy for my user; he seemed to be winning.
It was a half hour later now and I found myself in the bathroom again splashing my face and washing down more drugs with a large glass of some dark beer. They looked like more stimulants. I was hoping that I wouldn’t experience an amphetamine psychosis, but there was little that I could do about it once they were down the hatch. I was getting paid handsomely and this couldn’t last much longer.
It did, and this time I was getting still more feelings of intense happiness and energy mixed with a bit of twisted glee. Now, I saw millions of some kind of flightless bird creature that was running around eating all the other players’ pieces. This looked like an evolutionary dead end to me though. Dangerous animals tended not to evolve too much, however, I was holding two cards with brains on them. Maybe they would help. I hadn’t been following the rules that closely though.
It was around 11PM when I awoke again to find that my user’s pieces had morphed into a kind of humanoid creature that appeared to have formed some kind of small civilization. Many of the other lugubrious looking players were still playing in the insect or small animal realm. From what I knew they could still win though. Tina, the object of my affection, was playing some kind of predatory quadruped. It looked like we were direct competitors for nutritional resources. I had no idea if any betting was going on and I had the taste of cheese in my mouth.
Whoops! It was 1AM and I was feeling rather shocked and angry. The amphetamines were not helping this at all. I could feel someone at my shoulder and glanced behind me to see the little Game Master with a smirk on his face leering at me. I checked the board to see what was wetting his appetite for drama. Somehow a giant lightning storm hung over the entire game striking and killing my cities everywhere. Black scorched craters doted the land. Tina’s predators had somehow mutated to about the size of elephants and were chowing down on my humanoids everywhere. Their guns weren’t helping much and my user was entertaining the idea of flipping the table. Weirdly, he seemed to be generating some feelings of lust-disgust for Tina and her rapacious creations. This was all too stupid and pointless for me and I strained my powers of apathy to achieve release.
It was 3AM and I was watching the game board with deflated spirits. Tina’s giant creatures had somehow created a technologically advanced civilization filled with spaceships and other unknown devices. A quick review of the other players indicated that their pieces were either wiped out or totally controlled by the predatory creatures. Meanwhile, a small group of my beings huddled under an Earthen mound while a group of Tina’s hunters closed in for the kill. They came in fast and the AI treated us to a morphed close-up of my guys shrieking in a final bloodbath. The AI then announced in a deep god-like voice that another species had left the Earth.
Freaky game.
A calm hit me; my user was pleasantly exhausted from the marathon game. I was really surprised that he took it so well. The speed was making me feel a bit dizzy and wondered if I was even capable of feeling sad or disappointed at this point and I felt a smile plastered on my face that I could not get rid of. I must say that I kind of enjoyed that.
I turned with slightly hateful admiration and drank in the jolly face of my nemesis and boss. Tina was my user’s boss. I could feel it. His thoughts were strong in my head and I think that she was the CEO of the company or something like that. I had a powerful desire to fuck her; a no-nonsense erection straining against my pants. I had a little revulsion though, as I just couldn’t get past my dislike for the woman’s face and I thought that wanting to do your female boss was a bit corny. None of these thoughts challenged the erection very much though.
My user went to work and leaned intimately toward Tina telling her everything that she wanted to hear about herself. She was hanging on every well thought out word and even the crowd watching the game seemed to quiet down a bit as if they were straining to hear the titillating details of what was being said.
My right hand very smoothly moved down to the now warm supple leather pouch on my belt. I silently popped the catch, reached in, and withdrew the now hot long metal object that I had initially felt in there.
I sat back grinning again and said with a sneering voice, “Ya’know Tina, you’re just such an asshole. I don’t usually call women that, but you just can’t stop can you? And you know what you’re doing don’t you. It’s all about you winning the game all the time about everything.†My hand brought into view what looked like a high end electronic parmesan cheese grater. It was a stubby black metal tube complete with a chrome perforated nozzle where the cheese should come out. My hand was firmly on the grip with a finger on the trigger and I was wondering what cheese had to do with the situation.
Tina looked quite surprised, one hand clinched the table and the other went to her breast. Her eyebrows sympathetically curled up in the middle and her mouth dropped open and she stammered, “ How do you know my name…you aren’t supposed to…where did you get that…â€
My cheese grater squirted something out with a quiet but surprisingly sizzling little squirting noise. The grater sent a pleasant vibration through my hand that almost felt like a massage. Simultaneously, I heard a noise that sounded like two bricks being scraped together. It was a sound that gave me the chills like from someone ripping up Styrofoam.
When I shook off the creeps, I noticed that Tina was missing the top part of her head. Blue crystalline infused bone showed through her ruined scalp and then in a flash the hole and her entire face was covered in a flood of surprisingly beautiful red blood. The surrealism of the moment made it all rather impersonal.
I would imagine that her implant allowed her to say her last words, “ That’s not fair…we were supposed…to…wait.†Then she hit the floor stiff like an iron statue.
The room erupted in screams and gasps; they were seemingly launched back as if I was a human explosion.
Like a puppet I was jerked to my feet, flinging my chair violently backward. I was grinning and laughing and shouting at the people. My voice exclaimed that this time I would be the winner and that we would see how spilled guts went with the décor!
The AI in the middle of the table told me in a very authoritative manner that I had gone crazy and was a sore looser. I told him that he had no idea how sore that I was and squirted my cheese grater right at him. The middle of the game continent exploded and raw chunks of the wooden table showed right through. Surprisingly, the AI yelped turned into a large ball and attempted to roll away. A few more shots and I felt satisfaction when it let out a scream before it collapsed into dust. Was it a trick and would it reform to recognize me?
My thoughts were interrupted by the word naughty, a deafening crack in my ear, and a searing pain in my left shoulder. A glance to my left witnessed what looked like a brown rattail slipping away. I recognized the voice of the silly whipped topping headed effeminate little man.
Not wanting to take my eyes off of the crowd, like an old west trick shooter, I poked the gun under my left armpit and squeezed off a few shots right through my suit jacket without even looking. I heard a shocked exclamation and a thud on the floor. With speed driven energy I leap backward to get a better view of the kill. It was the little man with a rather inappropriate whip in his hand and an even more inappropriate giant hole in his narrow little chest. His face looked quite calm and innocent.
I smiled and said to Jenny Alexander, green letters printed above her head, “Do you remember all the times that you confronted me about my commas and obsessed about font size.†She looked puzzled and only marginally aware of what was in store for her. The crimson drink that she held spilled across her chest as a salvo entered her lung. She had a horrified expression as she stupidly thought that grenadine was her own blood. A ridiculous burp brought forth a spatter that made the drink pale in its wake. Two snap shots took her knees right out from under her and removed her from my sight.
Mary Francis from human resources always had an answer for everything. This occasion proved to be no different. “This is morally wrong she exclaimed! You are obviously cheating!†Caught in the middle of the floor she had no answer ready after I adjusted the nozzle on the cheeser and let loose a shot that took her head clean off and sent it rocketing down a buffet table splashing through Swedish meatballs and finding a home amongst the crudités.
I could swear that it was about to speak but I blasted it again. Both it and the projectile smashed into Harry Hussein who was posing as a waiter. I heard a loud snap and saw the smashed head along with what I assumed to be Harry’s blood stuck to the wall. Unseen behind the table he flopped on the floor like a jellyfish and I guessed that I took out his spine. He worked in the electronics department and I never had much of a beef with him.
Then Jerry Glansky a former military man and sports hero foolishly picked up a three foot metal ashtray and began quietly charging toward my position. His body was that of a very fit, if somewhat slender, man that specialized in auto racing adventure. I fully dilated the holes on the grater and sent a spray of tiny silver streaks in his direction that vaporized the meat from his blue bones. Still intact legs and head ran themselves into the floor.
Feeling invincible, I shot the switch board lady right in the balls. I had always suspected that she was a bit masculine and I pondered the expression on her face wondering what she thought about having balls now.
My reverie was interrupted by the hot slippery touch of a bullet zipping past my forehead. Behind one of the metal clad pillars my assailant slipped. At this angle I couldn’t see the person’s name but it hardly mattered as my fully dilated cheeser tore the pillar apart sending all kinds of shrapnel into the source of my discomfort.
People screamed and dove to the floor that provided little cover. A few well placed shots turned the floor into a bit of a mess.
A bunch of wise guys in the back of the room had produced a variety of weapons. I soon saw everyone struggling to pull their shit out. A bullet cut through the shoulder of my suit and I saw a guy getting a tiny machinegun out of a shoulder holster. He and a group of others screamed as they were peppered by hundreds of my little friends.
Wildly, Norma Phillips discharged her own tiny chrome plated machine pistol. Bullets danced across the floor, and so did I, avoiding a shower of randomly placed slugs. At the same time, Reggie Matte jumped out from behind a table with two heavy automatics in his hands. He proved that he couldn’t shoot well with either hand and actually caught Norma with some cross fire. She staggered a bit and her shots danced across the ceiling. Reggie looked apologetic as I removed his head. Norma got hers next and the body landed in a spilled puddle of chicken with lemon sauce.
More bullets were sent my way but by now gun fighting had erupted in the back of the room and I felt a little less threatened. This was a short-lived emotion though as heavy projectiles of some sort shattered the surface of the stone base on the now formerly beautiful bar just a few feet behind me. The shooter’s poor aim got worse as two of the barmaids, neither of which had letters over their head, huddled together right where the next shots landed. They went down with childlike squeals of pain.
Heroically defending the innocent, I squeezed off several shots from my silent device that produced a variety of screams from the crowd. More bullets than I expected answered me back. So, I darted back to the game table, caught my shoe on the little man’s arm and briefly tripped on his whip. With all of the strength of one arm I flipped the round table on its side to use as a barrier. This was not such a great plan as it was a bit too tall to see over.
Bullets now began rattling into the table as people realized that I could not fire over the thing. I’m sure that in a second or two at least some people would start advancing on me. So, I just stuck my gun over the top and around the corners and began firing. This helped a little but the bullets kept coming and their force was making the table roll a bit. I really knew that I was in a bad spot when the guy with the heavy weapon started up again and blasted holes right through the table. Thankfully, he guessed my location wrong every time. Nut.
Looking to retreat I spun around and made a sprint towards the bar. As I vaulted the thing I hear some exclamations and felt a hot bullet dig its way across my back. The impact cause me to loose my dexterity and so I landed hard on the bodies of the two shot up bartenders. The impact made something come out of the one’s mouth. It smelled like soup. They looked maimed but maybe still alive. I had what was probably a flesh wound, but it burned like hell and I think the speed made it feel worse.
I heard more bullets hit the table; splintering sounds filled the air and I thought the thing was coming apart. They caught on and I heard shouts that he was behind the bar. I was!
I noticed that I had more company than the dying girls though. At the other end there was this little girl bartender curled up in the fetal position staring at me with scraggly blonde hair and dripping mascara. I pointed the cheeser at her and it looked like she was going to have a psychotic break. I didn’t know her and didn’t give a shit, so I just smiled and waved the gun away. I was only going after my comrades today.
The rain of bullets that hit the bar and the windows behind it made it pretty clear that they were after me as well. The rain seemed to go on forever and things turned ugly as the bulletproof windows sent ricocheting bullets bouncing around behind the bar. Glasses and bottles of booze exploded everywhere. A good idea dawned on me, so I grabbed a bottle of vodka, tore a strip off of one of the girl’s shirts,