We've got some very creative people here. Make me feel life in the dome in 150 words or less.
Please make sure -not- to include any IC references that could be used in -any- way.
Just thought I'd spit something out as I was feeling kind of bored. �Anywho, here ya go:
I hate the rain. �Back in Neo York when I used to be on the force the rain seemed to keep alot of people in. �But here in the Dome criminals don't seem to care about getting wet.. �It makes things more miserable for us. The WJF Enforcer II. �It has alot of options, including 7mm rifle rounds and handy smoke grenades to clear out RED-level riots. �But my personal favorite is�the 13mm pistol round. �I've put many a hole in the heads of gangers and street samurai with this sleek piece of equipment. �Though I've had plenty of close calls. Sometimes I question the assignments I've been given. �But only silently, to myself. �I'm not paid to think. �I'm paid to Judge. �If my superiors want someone brought in for questioning, I do it. �If they want someone Judged, I do it. �You've heard of shoot first, ask questions later? �I just shoot.
Dunno how many words that is.. Meh. Too lazy to count. ;)
Didn't count words.
Was bored at work, just like :aikao:
Those people who live down there, they're not even animals. �They disgust me, and most of the decent people here as well. �Drug addicted, inbreeding, filthy things that don't contribute to anything but the crime, birth and death rate.
Of course I work for a corporation, ZMI to be exact, and why wouldn't I? �Do you really think that I'm the type to walk through those litter filled streets, stepping over the homeless and the dead?
I have power, and influence, and a budget, and I wield them to suit my whim. �What do I care if more things need to die down there to feed the corpse disposal furnaces so my division can increase thier energy usage. �We need that power to build weapons damn it!
– Overheard as one side of a cell phone call
Revolt my brothers! �Corporate tyranny must come to an end! �All your lives your corporate masters have continually opressed you. �They've denied you a humane ration of edible food, they've denied you clean water to drink and air to breathe, while they sit in thier luxury high rises eating hand fed beef, drinking fine wines and bottled water with ionic air cleaners implanted into thier very lungs!
-- Excerpt from a flyer adding tho the litter on the streets of Trashtown.
I've got to be crazy. �Am I this desperate for money that I'd risk my life working for TERRA? �The worst of the worst, Trashtown, Red Sector, the Mix - that's our beat. �Junkies, and murders, and cyber-psychotics, petty criminals and pimps, firearms dealers and boostergangs, organized crime and organized dissent. �And no real help comming.
I've used three clones just this month. �After I pay for them, there ain't much left to feed the family with. �Two steps forward, one and a half steps back. �WJF doesn't want this job, I don't care what they say. �They can come down here wearing all the armor they want, carrying all the weapons they want, and they still couldn't clean this place up.
I'm done caring. �I'm done trying. �Someone wants to slip me some chyen, I'll be more than happy to look the other way.
-- Thoughts of TERRA Agent Mitchell Bandano moments before he was killed, permenantly.
We seek peace and harmony with our neighbors. �Our business is small. �We can not afford to move to a better area of the city so we strive to make a difference in our community. �We are not violent people. �We have no ties to organized crime of any type. �We do not understand why these false accusations are being brought against us.
-- Translated from Chineese by an interpreter during the questioning of a Trashtown resident by a WJF official.
So I'm sitting there in the bar, minding my own business when in comes these two .. whatever, in this sleek black and chrome lookin body armor, helmets and all. �They look the place over and grab a guy hinding over in the corner. �I didn't even see him, it's like they had some x-ray vision shit in thier helmets or somethin'. �They drag him out and maybe I shouldn't be that nosey, but I follow 'em out.
I didn't catch the first part of what it said, I really don't know if they were men or women, but the last part I'll never forget. �"... guilty for a third offense offence of posession of a firearm without a valid permit." �And then they shot him dead right there on the street!
I sold all three of my pieces by the time I went to sleep that night.
-- Anonymous Red Sector resident.
Yo man, score some V? �C'mere baby, Lubosh'll hook you up. �I'll take care of you real good. �C'mon baby, come join the Arteries. �We 'da gang gonna run red someday real soon. �Them Sinners gang up north ain't shit. �Bunch of pussy ass bitches if you ask me, they don't dare go south of Fuller, they know what'll happen if they do. �Yeah, just a few more people to join, just a bit more spare change to collect, a few more taxes. �C'mon baby, join the Arts, Lubosh'll take care of you ... What? �You like girls? �Yo! �Where'd Rolanda go? �Ro?
-- Local ganger on a recruiting drive
I am no one. �I don't exist. �I like it that way. �I slip through the shadows, most people blissfully unaware that I even exist. �I watch, and I listen. �I never sell what I hear. �Information is much more valuable that money. �Money may make the difference between sleeping in a luxury suite one week and on the streets the next, but who cares. �I've done both. �Makes no matter to me as long as I'm still alive. �That's the key here, most people seem to miss. �We're never going to be rich like the corporate types, so why bother trying. �Stay alive, put aside a few chyen for a rainy day, stay alive. �That's the priority. �TERRA's no help, at least they can be bought. �The judges, bunch of corrupt power trippers. �So what. �Makes no matter. �Stay alive, keep your head down, stay out of sight. �They can't kill what they don't know about. �Get thin, be a ghost, bend light around you and be invisible, make sure someone else gets the blame.
-- Anonymous
Some punk slashes up his girlfriend because he has nothing better to do. Another one kills some fellow in an alley for the price of a drink or a night's rent in some two-bit cube flophouse.
The ones who think they have nothing to lose. They laugh as they steal, rape, torture, kill.
Then there are the others. The ones who don't give a toss about themselves or other people, they think they can do whatever they like because they have a bloody bank account. All the ones who think they're above the Law, or outside it, or beyond it.
They know that all the Law is good for, on paper, is to keep good people in line. And they all laugh, they think they're laughing at the Law. But when comes the time to pay for their sins they cry foul, they lie, they plead.
I am the Law, and they don't laugh at me."
I've always enjoyed watching. Kneeling up here, on the edge, always on the edge. Everyone below me is just another pawn to manipulate, pulling thier strings to do my will, my bidding. I'm in control. I am the puppetmaster. The thrill of the chase, the slight recoil as my trusty H&K sends yet another slug into someone who stood against me. Then, disappearing into the mix. A phantom to all, an enigma, a mystery. Ah the memories. In this city, friends don't stay friends for long. They're just like everyone else, wanting to get on the bandwagon, vying for a piece of the power I have built for myself. Well, they will pay; they always do. I didn't think it would end like this. I didn't think I'd be forced into exile so soon by the ones I brought to the top. I still have much I can do, much that I will do. But perhaps, perhaps that will have to wait. Perhaps these fools will see that they -need- me. Or perhaps, they'll all just fade away. You'll see Withmore, in the end, you'll see. Remember, I'm always watching. This city -is- mine, and it always will be.
(Edited by Lucifer at 8:05 pm on Oct. 23, 2003)
Three weeks. Three bloody weeks and I've nothing to show for it. I imagined I'd sweep this city into a frenzy within a week; I'll be lucky to make a name for myself in a year. The death is astounding; the situation down here nothing like what I'd read. I'd heard it was bad, but nothing could prepare me for this. I met a guy today. He called himself Turbo. He seemed like a nice guy, offered to lend me some quick C to go backup my clone. In mid-sentence a bullet ripped through the back of his head, splattering my face with blood. The man who shot him calmly walked up, removed Turbo's gun from his jacket and tossed the corpse into the street. "He was going to kill you. Watch your back." was all the man said before he disappeared into the mix. Heh, Just another day in Withmore.
(Edited by Lucifer at 7:54 pm on Oct. 23, 2003)
–The final entry in the personal journel of an NLM reporter, found dead in his apartment of an apparent suicide. The story in question was never found.
"Look pal, I've got people lining up to be enigmatic to me." --A stressed out runner trying to extract information from his fixer
"Quick, hand me a grenade!" ... "AND the pin!" --A runner to his new partner
"Roger that, Ops. I know unicorns arn't real." --A Judge, stunned from having taken a bullet to his helmet
"Gaurenteed in 30 minutes, or somebody's dead." --Advertisement campaign for a courier service
"That? A vacuum cleaner attachment." --A ripper-doc's reply to a paitents question about his surgical tools
"Shoot the hostage so the bitch can't blackmail me any more." --A Judge caught on tape durring a hostage crisis
"Tell you what... so it's fair I'll wait here while you go get more of your buddies." --Street sam after having kicked the shit out of a mouthy ganger
"There is a thin line between stupidity and bravery. You are that line."
*BEEP* *BEEP* "Oh shit...." --Demolitions expert's last words
"Yet another disarming blow!" --Street sam after having cut off some fraggers left arm
-Kevlar
"Gun… what gun?" - Last words before a Judgement.
"Damn… you stink..." - Mr. Bruce
"Yea… I got da bastard... nearly took me head off... but I got 'em... damn sewer rats..." - Anonymous Mixer
"Oh… its only a fleshwound... wrap this old t-shirt around it and it'll be fine... call me tommorrow." - Doctor on Red to a patient with a gunshot wound
"Take one of these tonight… and thirty of these tommorrow. If you're still alive, come back and see me." - Gang initiation
"Vanilla Silk… Vanilla Silk... the hell's the matter with you boy?! Bartender... get this bastard three shots of vodka, on me..." -Overheard at the Black Drome Bar
"I swear… one second he was there... the next, he wasn't... guy came outah nowhere, blew that ganger's head off... and vanished..." - Response by a witness to a street murder
"I never thought I'd see someone dodge a bullet… let alone twenty of 'em... -Overheard in the WJF Locker Room
"I swear… I swear I didn't know she was your sister!" -Pimp to a ganger, just before a gunshot
"Comon man… I only nabbed a few smokes... you don't need to shoot me f--...." - Pickpocket's last words.
And another archtype:
I've seen more poor bastards since I've been runnin' this place than the morgue. Eeveryday someone new crawls their ass in here askin' for a break, well, its my job to give it to 'em. If it was up to me, I'd just kill each and everyone of 'em. Some make it a week, if they're lucky,the real lucky ones might make it longer than that. The few exceptional ones somehow crawl their ass out of the gutter and become part of the mix, thats where I started. Shit. Musta' been years ago, I can't remember anymore. I learned the hard way, a man's word dun mean shit down here. Only thing that anyone takes seriously is made of metal. Since I learned that, no one has fucked with me. I just whip out my shottie and they cower in fear. Just last week, some fucktard waltz' in and demands my wallet. Before the kid could even get close enough, I had the barrel of my gun shoved so hard into his crotch his balls must still be bruised. Needless to say, I haven't seen him since. It's the way of life down here; shoot or be shot. Kill or be killed. I'm just doing my part to give these worthless slobs a chance. They may not remember me, but I'll know that when that rare one makes it to the top, I had some part in it.
(Edited by Lucifer at 7:58 pm on Oct. 23, 2003)
Keep it up!
Don't stifle your creativity by -just- dealing with archtypes.
Write the story that's in you.
If for -no- other reason, than because it -is- in you and needs to get out.
�It�s not as if the bitch even knew what hit �er. Bet she was lookin� to score some Fix. They all come down here to score. S�all in good fun baby. All in good fun. It wasn�t like she didn�t deserve it, ya know? I�ve seen �er down here before, even tried been� friendly. Even tried talkin� to �er. She looked at me like me skin was crawlin�, tellin� me to buzz off in that snippy little tone of them who�ve got�s vacation insurance. S�all the invitation I needs. Lousy score man, but I�m not a monster, ya know? Dumped �er in front of the clinic.�
Downs another bottle of piss warm beer.
�I mean she coulda just crawled on in. Not like I was standin� �that- hard on her fingers.�
- The drunk talking in the Drome.
It�s like this you see, I drive; you pay. 750 per bullet hole, and five fifty for every dent but I won�t do any hit and runs. It�s a flat rate to get you where you need to go, unless of course you need to get to Blue, that will cost you triple. But I�ll get you there, I�ve been doing this for 2 years and I�ve yet to let a costumer down. You hold on tight and strap yourself in, just don�t touch that grate in front of you, 7000 volts, fry you up like a baby rat. I�ll tell you, it�s a damned bitch to clean off the seats.
- The speech of a grinning taxi driver
It pains me a great deal to have to do this to your family Mr. J.. May I offer your wife some sedatives? She seems regrettably agitated. No? Suit yourself. I have been briefly SICed that they seem to make the long drop much more pleasant. Like flying, and then you�ll wake up Mrs. J., fresh as a dewy eyed doe.
Please calm down sir. As you know, its just business. I�m convinced that you will never again be late with your payments. Don�t be crude Mr. J., breaking legs would leave you crippled and a crippled work force serves us no purpose. This is much more civilized, don�t you agree?
Benson, please restrain our friend here, before he injures himself.
- Just another day at the office for the loan shark�s right hand man
A pretty face asked me for a glass of wine last night. Had the soft glow of a new arrival, eyes wide and fresh. All polite and warm smiles, perfect teeth. Didn�t seem like a Mix girl. I just assumed she hadn�t run the gauntlet. This lucky lamb had avoided our wolves. Till Frankie came over and placed that thick arm of his around those lithe shoulders. I�d seen this ritual too many times. I�d watch the swarm form and center on their target, never striking till they where well outside my doors. I remember that there was a baby pink shawl draped around her body, clean and warm looking, she was holding it closed, tight and it seemed to rile the boys up like an old style matadors flag.
I don�t think I�ll ever figure out how she hid a fuckin� Kat under there though. We found Frankie�s arm up in the rafters. It�s just a damned pity about all the blood on that nice shawl.
- Even bartenders need a drink.
This is good shit man; it�s good shit, none of that shit shit that you�re always pushing on me. Tonight we gonna escape this city like never before!
- Last words before the junkies accidental OD
�While we understand that citizens from Red have been seen strolling around Gold, please refrain from using them as target practice as well as limit your usage of words such as "like," "hunting," "fish," and �barrel� over the WJF frequencies.�
- Scrawled memo from above stuck to a top ranking Judge�s locker
Bright red graffiti on Fuller � �Sinners RUL-�
Painted right under in the same paint � �bitch is dead! ARTS R-�
Still in red, in much neater lettering �� �WJF- Stamps out graffiti�
TIME FOR KEREOKEE!…... don't ask. it's been a long day.
(Edited by Bias at 7:06 pm on Oct. 23, 2003)
I had to go back, didn't I? I had to go for the wallet. If 3000c was pocket change, how much would that guy have in his wallet?!
I traced back my route, looking for the man. I'd been following him all day; waiting, watching. THERE! There he was!
Lowering the hood, walking up to him. There was the bump, aha. I've got something. My hand grapsed the small item, but was it a wallet? Suddenly, my entire body spasmed. Fuck, a shock card. I'm dead.
Now I'm awake again, and two TERRA agents are dragging me down the street, muttering about stupid theives. There's the Judge. Mother of God, it was a corpie wasn't it?! I already have a record. Shit, he's getting his gun… No time to run, not even to screa---
(Edited by Lucifer at 10:25 pm on Oct. 23, 2003)
You guys are outstanding!
I want to use a lot of this on the homepage!
Now we just need some graphics to accompany each peice. A thief, a bartender, a Judge, a reporter … a scummy bastard from red.
Do I hunt thru Google?
I hope someone wants to help with the graphics as much as you guys have helped with the writings. This is sooooo cooool!
"Before I even entered the dome, I got my first taste of the mix. �People begging for food and stealing from sleepers. �That didn't impress me though, I'd seen much worse. �It was the bodies that stuck in my memory. �Naked, rotting, stinking mounds of flesh, atrracting flys by the hundreds. �Maybe it was because I hadn't entered the city yet. �Yeah, thats it. �I got in line quickly, not wanting to become a corpse myself. �I waited in line, for what seemed like hours, before finaly comming to the front. �The next thing I remembed was waking up inside the dome, with voices in my head. �I was wrong to think that life inside of the dome, wouldn't resemble what I had witnessed outside. � If anything, it looked worse. �As I looked around, I saw a tall dark haired man watching me struggle to my feet. �He nodded when I caught his eye, and walked over to me.
'Just arrived have you? �Here to see the sites or too make this great city your home?', �he said in a pleasent voice. �
'Home, I guess.', I replied dusting myself off. �He adjusted his suit, and fixed a grin on his face when I said this. �Just as I was wondering who this guy was, he answered the question for me.
'I'm from the WWC, the Withmore Welcoming Commitee. �I'm here to show new arivals around.', he said, still smiling.
'I can show you where you can sleep safe, eat, and work.' He said this, while motioning for me to follow him. �As we walked he pointed out the various places and people it was good for me to know about, or avoid. �We started south down a street he didn't give me a name for, and walked a few blocks before he stopped. �He pointed to an alley to our left and said,
'Down here..', he began as we walked through the lip of the alley.
'…is where you can sleep...'. �I wasn't prepared for what happened next. �His voice turned into a growl as he stuck me with a sryinge full of a clear liquid. �
'..Permenetly.'. �My legs went weak, and I fell to my knees. �I tried to speak, but no sound came out. �My vision was starting to blur. �I was fighting against the blackness that was taking over my vision. �I fell forward and tried to put my hands out to break my fall, but they wouldn't move. �I hit the ground and a horible smell of decaying flesh, and dirt filled my nostrals. �Before I sliped into darkness I saw another man step out of the shadows. �He was carrying a bag. �Just before everything went black I saw him taking what looked like shoddy medical equipment out of out. �Then there was nothing. �I woke to find myself on my back, with my head pounding. �When I opened my eyes I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun. �Fear gripped me, as the man holding the shotgun, the WWC employee, spoke.
'It's nothing personal, you know. �The judges caught on to my last SIC implant, so I had to go hunting for another. �But I can't get one from just anyone... I don't want to get scanned, and show up with a record, do I?', he grinned.
'But your..WWC...whats SIC?'. I managed to say.
'There is no WWC..and I'm sorry...but I can't let you go running around.. who knows who you might tell.' He grinned again. �I didn't hear the sound of the gun going off, and I didn't feel the bullet tear through my skull, there was only blackness." - A now dead immigrant.
(Edited by Nemisis at 1:28 am on Oct. 24, 2003)
If the story, or stories that need telling are that long, then by all means, let it out.
This thread is for short, �powerful, attention grabbing, intriguring, mysterious, compelling peices.
They will be the first thing a new visitor sees when they look at the sindome.org web site.
They will be (in many cases) what the visitor will use to decide whether or not to stay, or go.
Everyone is doing a great job at writing content that will make people want to stay, and read on.
Keep it up!
Population - 66,379,821 � � By Sector - Red: 44,474,480 (67%) Gold: 13,275,964 (20%) Green: 7,301,780 (11%) �Blue: 1,327,596 (2%)
Unemployment Rate - 79.886% �Median Salary (employed only) - 624,000 C per year �Average Salary 832,000 C per year.
Birth Mortality (Red Sector) 1 in 79. �Birth Mortality (all others) 1 in 66,208
Average life expectancy (born in Withmore) - resident of Red Sector: �30.2 years �Average life expectancy (born in Withmore) - resident of all other districts: 103.6 years.
Average length of life after immigration - Resident of Red Sector: .8 years �Average length of life after immigration - Resident of all other sectors: 71.2 years
Violent Crime Rate - Red Sector: 1 in 1.063 �Gold Sector: 1 in 24,799 �Green Sector: 1 in 4,274,990 �Blue Sector: No reported violent crimes
-- Selected statistics from the confidential Withmore 2088 Census
Population - 66,379,821 � � By Sector - Red: 44,474,480 (67%) Gold: 13,275,964 (20%) Green: 7,301,780 (11%) �Blue: 1,327,596 (2%)
Unemployment Rate - 8.86% �Median Salary (all wage earners) - 924,000 C per year �Average Salary (all wage earners) 1,232,000 C per year.
Birth Mortality 1 in 129,712
Average life expectancy (born in Withmore) 103.6 years.
Average length of life after immigration - 71.2 years
Violent Crime Rate (all sectors except Blue) - 1 in 124,074
-- Selected statistics from the publicly released Withmore 2088 Census
Corporate Council votes itself another well-deserved raise
Red Sector murder rate at all time high
ZMI announces new product line - local manufacturing to begin shortly
74 Dead, 248 injured in Red Sector food riots
Free concert in Bansporo park draws two million
Withmore Justice Force adds 800 new positions
Plan to restrict travel between Red Sector and all others under review
Prison overcrowding continues to be a problem for inmates - no remedy planned
Red Sector citizens complain about minor Secure Identification Network problems
TERRA asks for the ability to use 'advanced techniques' in dealing with growing Red Sector crime
-- Selected Withmore Globe article headlines
Looking to spice up your life? �Stressful job leaving you needing to blow off some steam? �Why settle for virtual reality vacations when you can have the real thing! �Adventure Travel is now offering all inclusive, action-adventure vacations to Withmore City's notorious Red Sector! �Your vacation will begin at the immigration gate where you will be processed just like any other potential citizen. �After a few routine questions are answered you'll be free to roam the streets of Withmore's dangerous and exciting Red Sector, known to the locals as the Mix, or Trashtown. �Language chips are available for a specialized local dialect spoke there. �As a precaution, we reccomend adding our unlimited clone and update package to this vacation as Red Sector is and highly violent area.
-- Excerpt from Adventure Travel's fall travel brochure.
Luc's Thought - http://www.gamersrest.com/gr/cplogobig.jpg (Someone has this one for a avatar, I believe... fits Luc perfectly.)
- http://members.iinet.net.au/~pweeks/solo.gif
- http://www.shockproductions.com/FutureShock/media/BladeRunner.jpg
Reporter/Corpie - http://www.scifi.com/sfw/issue263/letters2.jpg
Shottie guy - http://www.eyeballkid.co.za/spooky.jpg
Oh Shit! - http://www.fantascienza.com/edf/files/cyberpunk95/BLADE07.JPG
Judges/Badasses (A lot of pics) - http://frontendchaos.home.mindspring.com/pictures.htm
Team of People - http://www.the11thhour.com/archives/032000/tvreviews/images/xf_firstperson3.jpg
Guy with Sword (Is that Mulder?) - http://www.the11thhour.com/archives/032000/tvreviews/images/xf_firstperson1.jpg
Corpie - http://www.ciphergoth.org/paul/bond.jpg
Theif - http://media.urova.fi/~juhuhtal/rkk/enders/johnny.jpg
Female Theif/Corpie - http://www.e-zone.pl/na/src/cyber/ghost2.jpg
Mixer (Sweet Background) - http://www.adeptsys.com/shadowrun/datahaven/images/nightcity256.gif
Ganger - http://www.lacripta.it/images/disegni/cyb01.jpg
All the time I have in class... teacher keeps walking over. Hehehehehehe. Some may not be the greatest, but hey, I got some up for ya.
(If others want to help me out... yea...0
But no, no. It's all a lie, just like the rest of this wretched city. I see the truth, I see what they don't see. Their arrogance will be their downfall. For when they least expect it, I'll be there; waiting to take the reigns of power.
They'll let me in, they'll believe my lies. They'll trust me, they'll love me. And I will earn it and respect it every step of the way. But then, then that time will come. It always does. And at that moment, the tables will turn and I, not them, -I- will be on top.
-I- will rule this city with an iron fist. Judges will bow to me. The council will do my bidding. The mix will flow at my command, move at my issue. None will stand against me, I will be. No. I -am- a God. Let them try and stop me.
Just give me some time. Just give me a chance. Just get me the hell out of this cell.
- Diary Entry dated 11/2086 from a resident of Withmore's Psych-Ward.(Edited by Lucifer at 10:20 am on Nov. 6, 2003)
Regardless. My life has been filled with such choices. This city makes it impossible to live without life and death choices on a daily basis. The lives of others constantly fall into my hands, rely on -my- decisions, -my- actions.
I've fallen short of my expectations one too many times. Bumped into the wrong guy on the street just one too many times.
Like I said before, every decisions has a consequence; every action a reaction. Now, now it seems that my past is coming back to haunt me. I can't stop it now, what's done is done. What will be done, will be done.
I don't have to wait long, I know they're coming. Those bastard Judges. They'll calmly knock on my door before busting it down. I doubt that they'll even bother with formalities, they'll just waltz in and blow my bloody head off.
Ah. There's that knock. It's only a matter of time now.
I apoligize for not having the time to put another couple of these up on the homepage, I hope to put some up later in the month and make them rotate in some manner (doubt that you'll be able to refresh the page and get a different one) that isn't stressful on the server.
She loved coming down here; the feeling of the mud and wet sand they seemed to use on the ground just above sewer level always depressed soothingly under her torn sneakers. She sat down at the usual spot, looking up at the sleek metallic system that ran the city's mag-lev grid. She turned up the volume on her music player, LCD equalizer on the outside bouncing with the rhythm of the latest death-trance they were playing at Carnal. She loved the music...it made her feel like she was at a party, even if she was alone. She held her breath, and smiled jadedly as it finally came past--the polished body flying past at an ungodly speed, briefly showing the huddled faces of those as disillusioned as she, and a few ganger bomb tags along the side. She sighed again, the feeling that she just witnessed art that only she was privy to observe. She slowly got up and walked away.
-A corpie teen girl, seeking the only beauty she knows or needs
God, she loves this. Soft classical music filling the penthouse, the quiet collection of polite laughter pitching up and down on occasion, and the constant murmur of small talk. She lived for this. Her flowing blue silk dress wrapped about her seductively as she meandered around the party, offering broad smiles and passing comments to the guests as she went. She brought the crystalline glass to her purple lips and drank the wine that was being served, and as she looked out of the large observation window that looked out onto BLUE sector, she wondered to herself, "I hear down on GREEN they don't even 24-hour pampering and massage services at each apartment. How -do- those people find life bearable?" -A corpie woman, hosting a small party
Definitely not 150 words but I felt like writing and my brain just did it's thing until I got too tired. Heh, it's wierd...but you didn't want to read it straight stream-of-conciousness, trust me. I scare myself on occasion when I do that. Besides, that ego-trip mess up there is bad enough!
� Finding stolen goods the nice and easy way.
The sky flickers, and the song on the vid blimps had played itself out long before she was born. Oldies of a yesteryear that never could have happened. She stands on the street corner in a bright red parka, in her ear the sound recorder picks up the sobs of a child lost in the crowd. Her vat grown eyes blink only once obscuring the camera for a microsecond. The traffic flows in front of her. A sea of lights softly pulses the comet trails within her appropriated vision. She's fixating on the painted white lines, rubbed out, set into oil stained blacktop. Luxury sedans blow smoothly past, fluttering her clothing with their machine made wind. The light turns green and she lets the tides carry her across the intersection. There's safety in numbers no matter the zone. She has no destination, she has no purpose. She flows through the streets with a sense of detachment, hanging on to nothing. She's a recorder, watching forever in case something happens in just the right place and at just the right time.
- a minute in the life of a human camera.
man, i need to work on that word limit.
(Edited by Bias at 9:33 pm on Jan. 2, 2004)
(Edited by Xeethot at 1:48 pm on June 14, 2004)
I had to pick one without mention of a dildo for the homepage. We get filtered on enough anti-porn software.
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It's a tricky business, lots of people come and go. Some just want a drink, others want information and there's the ones that are looking for a prey. Either be it for a pickpocket, a mugging or even assassination. I've seen it all, people get killed for whatever reason. A pack of fancy smokes, a debt, showing to have more money than the next one, even for being drunk or talking to the wrong person. I just pour the drinks, try not to eavesdrop, take a message for someone else. They know the rules : No shit in here, take it outside.
-- Rychek, bartender of The Drome
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I work on the business of personal entertainment, you might say. People want to feel good they find one of my guys. I make entertainment on little pills for one to take. Some of them will take you to places you never dreamed of, others will make you relax. That's one side of the biz. The other lies on enchancement pills, the ones that make people stronger, faster, ready for the kill. And I make the best of them, one hundred per cent pure. There's no mixed down, thinned stuff here, I look at it as an work of art.
