| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
“It was hot the night we burned resumes…”
Search Posts
Typist.
It was cold, the night we burned Cal...
"...and when the Sentience went looking for revenge on those who had snubbed it, it did not have far to look. I guess pride goeth before erasure."
It was hot, the night the ads achieved sentience...
It was hot, the night we burned Laundry. There were vents in his financial ICE that hadn't been cleared since DOS was a pile of punch cards. Tally had some old kiddy script from the days before Neo-Sov. Softener, she called it. She was sure it could clear the cruft and give us a direct pipeline to Laundry's accounts. All of them. Not just the Barbados off-shore stuff. Even the legit cred piles in socked away in Zurich. I just wanted to see him fold.
The Monkey burned his way through the layers of MAYO, using a santa installed in a gif generating app. “Christmas time,” he muttered into the ether, as the credits racked from Vidmaster’s account into his own...
The sky was as empty as a 404 error. "I'm getting some chips installed. With salsa." It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke.
The bulkhead slid aside. Precious molecules of air hissed into the void of space. Like bits being overwritten by a magnet, I thought. Malcolm took off his helmet. His dreads drifted in zero g. "No need to worry," he said. "The Thread to Zion, we cut long ago. The righteous don't dance like no machine's puppet in the city of the Lord." Far below, the Earth glowed in a cage of invisible lines.
Whenever she had too much synthol and fumes, Tally ranted we couldn't let it stand. That we had to do something. Revenge, maybe. Justice. The Thread must've been listening. One day suits from Health & Serv grabbed her on a 72 hour custody warrant. I heard she wound up in a gated burb, jack tore out of her head and cleaned up with blood-scrubbers coursing through her veins. Shame. The Thread gets what it wants. Can't kill the Thread.
Everyone said the Thread couldn’t die. Or at least, you couldn’t kill it. Except Aggro. He claimed he knew a way past the Root ICE all the way down to the Thread’s machine code. When he turned up in a Mac City morgue, burned from brain-core to the tips of his polyweave ‘hawk we knew he’d been right.
Bleh. Can't sleep. So what am I doing? Making a McDonald's run for McNuggets and a Dr. Pepper.I don't know why, but I picture you sitting on the back of an ATV holding a bag of nuggets and a soda while Ronald McDonald chases after you pleading for you to let him have his food back. It was hot, the night we burned Clown... |