12-19-14 Writing Warm-up
Artwork © Johnson Ting, All Rights Reserved - http://johnsonting.deviantart.com/
Story and Characters © Corey Blankenship, All Rights Reserved
Brought to you by Four Fools Press: “Crazy Good Stories”
DLOG 03-30-02-B:
Fuji, Shizuoka Prefecture
Nakano
0937 Local
A triple H. this time.
The body count rises as the System struggles to get through its own HUD clutter. You would think the Cyber Crimes units would have found a way to bypass the archaic firewall known in antiquity as bureaucracy. I mean, we’ve made the jump to biosynth, discovered cychopathy+, and ensured the survival of both our species and the synthetic one we fostered...but you can’t just delete human nature.
Not that that wasn’t tried. *Shudder*
Someone is killing our own. We’re down to three units. Three. My old partner could remember when we were in the thousands. It’s like we’re being hunted. Slowly, methodically, thoroughly.
I am now one of the last CI-BR* detectives left. The first waves died putting down a coup. A hundred in a freak accident at the training center. Another company downed in a hover-trans hop. Many left the service after the great defunding of ‘94. Now, despite the upscaling to resist some nasty psycho-war++ business, Cyber C. hasn’t been beefed.
Anywho...
This is supposed to be official. I just don’t find much care left in me for being “official” or “professional” in these things. My Supe is dead, replaced by an Interim Virtual Interface (INVI). It doesn’t even detect sarcasm. Just hums, beeps, and collates. These H.s are gettin’ pretty nasty. Heads roasted and popped like an overcooked melon. Based on the placement of the bodies, they were enjoying a collective brain-tank**...Maybe one of them thought up a Riviera cafe, a traditional lodge next to Fuji, or even a smoky pub in 1940s Oxford. Who knows. Someone slipped in and turned them into headless horsemen.
Strange thing to note:
The think-tank took place on a sidewalk next to the gardens. Commuters clogged the streets, loungers covered the greens....people everywhere. Sure, you can brain-talk anywhere, but people still get spooked by the white eyes. No sunglasses, helmets, or paper screens means we either have shameless citizens, tourists, or something else going on.
Their bio-feeds show them to be locals...
Rules out tourists.
Their latest Cloud archives reflect intense isolation and introspection in all of them...
Classic Hikikimori***.
Also, from what I could jack, these were all analysts for Shingori Security. Even with Full-Transparency clearance, their project files wouldn’t decrypt. Whatever it was these cloistered crypts had been working on, it must have been big. Big enough to drive them out of their holes into a rushed mind-meld.
And now they are dead.
Just noticed an innocuous folder titled “Food.”
Would have overlooked it, except for curiosity at what a hikikimori likes to eat. Wow, no digital-to-door gourmet service. It’s chock full of personnel profiles, case studies, and feverish, near-gibberish notes. Looks like one of them had been a huge fan of CI-BRs. Cute. Articles, posters, commendations, (outdated) training manuals, casualties...shit. There’s a paper titled Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? in here. One section includes intimate details on all current CI-BRs. Too intimate. I’m in here. We’re called, mavericks, nuisances, and traitors. It outlines our habits, hobbies, homes--Everything. Even has tactics tailored to each of our tendencies. The file..........?????????????
A triple H. this time.
The body count rises as the System struggles to get through its own HUD clutter. You would think the Cyber Crimes units would have found a way to bypass the archaic firewall known in antiquity as bureaucracy. I mean, we’ve made the jump to biosynth, discovered cychopathy+, and ensured the survival of both our species and the synthetic one we fostered...but you can’t just delete human nature.
Not that that wasn’t tried. *Shudder*
Someone is killing our own. We’re down to three units. Three. My old partner could remember when we were in the thousands. It’s like we’re being hunted. Slowly, methodically, thoroughly.
I am now one of the last CI-BR* detectives left. The first waves died putting down a coup. A hundred in a freak accident at the training center. Another company downed in a hover-trans hop. Many left the service after the great defunding of ‘94. Now, despite the upscaling to resist some nasty psycho-war++ business, Cyber C. hasn’t been beefed.
Anywho...
This is supposed to be official. I just don’t find much care left in me for being “official” or “professional” in these things. My Supe is dead, replaced by an Interim Virtual Interface (INVI). It doesn’t even detect sarcasm. Just hums, beeps, and collates. These H.s are gettin’ pretty nasty. Heads roasted and popped like an overcooked melon. Based on the placement of the bodies, they were enjoying a collective brain-tank**...Maybe one of them thought up a Riviera cafe, a traditional lodge next to Fuji, or even a smoky pub in 1940s Oxford. Who knows. Someone slipped in and turned them into headless horsemen.
Strange thing to note:
The think-tank took place on a sidewalk next to the gardens. Commuters clogged the streets, loungers covered the greens....people everywhere. Sure, you can brain-talk anywhere, but people still get spooked by the white eyes. No sunglasses, helmets, or paper screens means we either have shameless citizens, tourists, or something else going on.
Their bio-feeds show them to be locals...
Rules out tourists.
Their latest Cloud archives reflect intense isolation and introspection in all of them...
Classic Hikikimori***.
Also, from what I could jack, these were all analysts for Shingori Security. Even with Full-Transparency clearance, their project files wouldn’t decrypt. Whatever it was these cloistered crypts had been working on, it must have been big. Big enough to drive them out of their holes into a rushed mind-meld.
And now they are dead.
Just noticed an innocuous folder titled “Food.”
Would have overlooked it, except for curiosity at what a hikikimori likes to eat. Wow, no digital-to-door gourmet service. It’s chock full of personnel profiles, case studies, and feverish, near-gibberish notes. Looks like one of them had been a huge fan of CI-BRs. Cute. Articles, posters, commendations, (outdated) training manuals, casualties...shit. There’s a paper titled Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? in here. One section includes intimate details on all current CI-BRs. Too intimate. I’m in here. We’re called, mavericks, nuisances, and traitors. It outlines our habits, hobbies, homes--Everything. Even has tactics tailored to each of our tendencies. The file..........?????????????
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