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I'm really looking forward to when Octo meets Kenji again and how that all works out.
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Sep 4, 2020 19:02
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This corporate culture has a particularly horrifying aspect I like. The fact that the fruits of their 'betters' are constantly hanging above the wage-slaves, technically within reach but perpetually denied to them.
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Sep 4, 2020 20:05
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Yeah, I agree. It's like a constant reminder that you're worse than others.
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Sep 7, 2020 00:01
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Sasha, Chip, Julian and Mother Bear - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnolgy Pyramid Julie Freeman stepped out into the air and walked upon it without magic. She merely set one foot down and then the other. Then she was held up as surely as if that air was stone, only a slight shimmering of the surface and an opaqueness after a few feet of the air gave her any idea that she was walking on anything at all. A bit like clear water with some sediment at the bottom, only shinier. It gave her a sense of awe. “This is air?” she asked, quietly. No one heard her. The sound of passing people wasn’t meant for quiet utterances. The thousands of other people, coming and going through the wide, stone entrance shaped like a Jaguar’s didn’t seem to care about the fact that they walked on air. Most moved quickly and with purpose, uncaring of the air that they stood upon. Fuzzy tapped at the threshold of the air with one foot, off to the side so she wouldn’t get bounced around by foot traffic. Then, sensing there was no danger, hopped from stone to air and then back from air to stone only to hop forwards again. Kenji for his part, looked bored. A child of the ACHE, he seemed not to care that he was walking on solid air. He moved easily with the crowd, weaving through it and finding an alcove near Fuzzy, which Julie moved towards. Julian was momentarily lost, speaking to no one in particular before turning around to find Fuzzy standing, looking downwards, hopping done. So he approached and spoke over the din of moving people. “Find something interesting?” he asked. “Just the air we’re walking on,” said Julie. “Fuzzy hopped back and forth for a bit,” said Kenji. “I saw that,” said Julian, his smile only partially suppressed. “I was making sure it was safe,” said Fuzzy. “All these other people are walking on it just fine,” said Julian. “Yeah, but I had to test it,” said Fuzzy, officially, “And now I know it’s fine.” They’d made it maybe five feet into the stone mouth of the Pyramid, the jaguar’s fangs still visible from behind. The transfer to shimmering air was stark and as she looked down the corridor, it felt to Julie like all of these people were moving down sort unearthly passage to another world. She stopped and stared. “The gently caress out the way,” snapped a man as he walked past her. Julie felt a momentary prickle of shame and anger as she was jostled a bit and had to sidle along the edge of the corridor to get to the alcove with everyone else. She found them, Julian speaking to Fuzzy while Kenji sent a glare her way, though not at her. Perhaps in the direction of the man. “Check your pockets,” said Kenji. Julie’s eyes widened, but her credstick and commlink were still there. “I didn’t even think about that,” she said. He nodded. “Habit. Figured that someone wouldn’t be so bold here to pick a pocket, but you never know.” She looked down at Kenji’s own commlink, a kind of smart watch and realized that it would be a lot harder to slip off someone. Then, covertly, he pulled out his credstick and plucked at a thin wire that connected to his jeans before letting it go. It snapped right back into his pocket without making a sound. “I’ll get you set up if you want,” he said, “Since we’re probably going to be in the city more.” Julie considered and then nodded. “Yeah, thanks,” she said. Meanwhile, Julie tuned into the conversation that Fuzzy was having with Julian. “Is this really air?” asked Fuzzy, “It’s kind of...Shimmery on top.” “I’ll check to see if there’s an app that explains it,” said Julian, whose eyes unfocused, “Ah, that was quick. There we go…” He swept his eyes until he found a hanging map in AR, which everyone else could see as well. Julie had most of her AR spam filters tweaked by Sasha as a matter of course, otherwise the city would be awash in ads both commercial and political, AR graffiti both gang related and not, slogans from protesters and counter-protesters, random memes, religious iconography and calls to this or that holy place, the occasional malfunctioning tag and the sliver of AR tags that were actually useful, like stop signs and crosswalks, which were no longer physical, but digital, letting someone know that they might be able to say, cross the street. If one had no filters, they’d be nearly blind from the riot of sights and sounds. AR was impossible to live without it completely unless one lived on, say, an island. This was especially true in downtown Seattle. Here though, the AR was more scarce. A few corporate logos, the jaguar, caricatures of smiling warriors in leopard skin or eagle feather outfits, leading oncoming traffic on, like psychopomps- Waving people on their way to the afterlife. Or at least that was Julie’s first impression. She hadn’t even entered the Pyramid proper yet, still adjusting. Fuzzy was still trying to get over walking on air and honestly, so was Julie. “Ah, found it,” said Julian. He had to pause as a mother and some screaming children walked by. Then he opened his mouth and again, but someone was playing their music loudly, Julie couldn’t make out who. A string of profanity belted out, earning him glares from parents, few of the elderly and an annoyed look from one teacher, but most people ignored it. “This is graphene aerogel,” said Julian, “99.8% air by volume, 0.02% graphene, which is a kind of carbon. Seven times lighter than air, as strong as steel and it can absorb 850 times its weight in fluids. Apparently the floor has been treated to make it rigid and water repellent though.” A large, silvery drone, cylindrical in its shape and about three feet tall slowly moved through the crowd, moving silently. Julie read the AR tag above it that read, “Excuse the Mess! I’m Cleaning!” Again with a graphic of a cartoon Aztec warrior in an eagle shaped helmet, though this one pushed a broom. A few teenagers hopped onto it, laughing as they sat for a few seconds before it angrily buzzed. They ran away. She realized that she’d missed some of what Julian said, but not Kenji’s reaction. “Two percent carbon? Big deal,” he said. “Two-hundredths of a percent,” corrected Julian. Kenji shrugged. “Same difference.” Julie wondered if Kenji was actually not impressed or trying to feign it, unwilling to be wowed by the smaller arcology as a way of showing a kind of hometown pride for the ACHE. Or maybe he was just that jaded towards tech. Either way, Julian didn’t seem amused. “Let’s head in,” said Julian, deciding it wasn’t worth it, “We haven’t even made it past security yet.” Security was surprisingly easy to get past. There were guards, most of them looking attentive, a few bored, but there was no outward security security checkpoint. Knowing Blake Island though, the security was almost certainly hidden, she just didn’t know where. So she walked among the throng of people down the hallway, about fifty feet long, made of the shimmering material and emerged into an enormous open chamber, hundreds of feet high and as wide as the base of the arcology. It’s shape was informed by the stepped pyramid outside, the walls made of stone. In the middle of the chamber, dominating most of the room, were stepped pyramids, one slightly smaller than the other, made entirely of the shimmering substance, the graphene aerogel. If not for the stone of the walls, Julie would be hard pressed to see anything, as it was the only thing that gave the enormous chamber enough contrast to keep from being confusing. Awe inspiring, but confusing. “Wow,” said Fuzzy. “They just made a grocery store out of air,” said Julie, “I mean...Why?” “It’s not air,” drawled Kenji, “It’s got cabrons in it.” Fuzzy giggled. “Carbon, not cabrons,” she said, “Cabron means something else.” Kenji winked at her. “Did I stutter?” Fuzzy giggled wickedly and gave him a friendly punch in the arm. Julie looked up “cabrons” on her commlink and upon learning what it meant, rolled her eyes. Apparently the entrance they’d come through wasn’t the only public entrance. From other entrances, people streamed towards the stepped pyramids, like these new world people were going to worship at old world temples. What caught Julie’s attention were the shimmering bridges further up. Some rode in what looked like canoes through floating canals, flanked by greenery, though some walked. They all looked better dressed and all of those bridges led to the higher parts of each of the pyramids. In fact, the higher those people were, the more elaborate the ride, the more their bridges shimmered. This got Julie thinking about Julian’s talk about architecture. She briefly met eyes with someone in one of the canoes just above her, who just stared down at her before looking away. Doing the same, Julie came away with an ugly feeling. “Julian?” asked Julie. “Yes?” “I’m guessing that people looking down on us is part of the architecture?” she asked. Julian looked up and nodded. “It’s very blatant, isn’t it?” he asked. Kenji looked up and scowled. “They all look down on everyone,” he said, “At least they’re more honest about it.” “I’m not so sure,” said Julie, "I don't like it when it's enforced like this." “Something to think on,” said Julian. They continued to walk forwards with the crowd, but it was beginning to spread out as people moved between the two pyramids or just stopped to trickle towards smaller, squarish, shimmering outbuildings. Restaurants, if Julie wasn’t mistaken. Though there were a few tourist traps. “So like many of the largest corporations in the world,” began Julian, waving his arm towards the pyramids, “Aztechnology adopted a kind of cultural revivalism, the practice of adopting and co-opting dead or declining cultures. Ares Macrotechnology adopts the now defunct United states for instance, the recently abosrbed Lone Star styled themselves as culturally Texans and more specifically the Texas rangers…” “Not the baseball team, right?” joked Julie. Julian turned his head to smile and shook it. “Not quite. It was an old law enforcement agency and previous to that, a kind of militia border patrol, which has a nasty racial supremacist history to it, much like the old corp," he said, darkly, “After the fall of old Mexico during their revolution, it became Aztlan and Aztechnology is the corporate arm of that nation which is in almost all nations now. They produce most consumer goods and almost all of the world’s food.” “Does the school buy food from them?” asked Julie. “We don’t, actually,” said Julian, “In order to keep from being partisan about our purchasing, most of what we buy is locally sourced. It's not too hard for just over a hundred people and it makes things easier on us.” “You mean that corp kids will get territorial and don’t want to eat Aztechnology tacos off Ares plates,” said Kenji, “Less bickering if there’s no brand.” “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes,” said Julian, “Anyway, though most assume that those in Aztechnology calls themselves Aztecs, this isn’t the case. In Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, they actually call themselves something different. Internally, they refer to themselves as the Mexica. The Mexica were the dominant tribal ethnic group who controlled the different tribes of the Aztec empire. The Mexica were the ruling class, though that was a few years ago. Things may have changed.” “Meh-Shi-Ka?” asked Fuzzy, sounding it out, “Is that right?” “Yes, the Mexica,” said Julian, “Their empire was destroyed by Spanish conquistadors, European explorer-soldier-looters, who cast down the old Aztec Empire in the sixteenth century. This is important because the history of that culture was saved only in bits and scraps by some priests, though the language and the customs lived on in pockets of what became New Spain, which became Mexico and then Aztlan. Before the fall of Mexico, about ten percent of people spoke some dialect of Nahuatl as their sole language and that minority was empowered by the new ruling class that now leads Aztlan. Sadly, many of the people of the old Aztec empire were also killed, because that’s what empires do. In this case, empire met empire and one collapsed. So the revival is...Incomplete you might say. Culturally, historically, religiously, there were a lot of gaps to fill and...” “And I’m instantly lost,” interrupted Kenji. “You should pay more attention in class,” chastised Julian, "You never know when something might be important." “I pay attention,” said Kenji, “To, you know, stuff." “Girls aren't on the syllabus." “Crying shame." Fuzzy giggled again. Julie rolled her eyes. Julian’s eyes briefly narrowed. “Are there any people from Aztechnology on Blake Island?” asked Fuzzy. Julian opened his mouth, but Kenji spoke up first. “Nah,” said Kenji, “Not a one.” “No,” said Julian, “As Kenji said. Our tradition is shamanism and though some groups feel it’s religious, we don’t practice it as a way that most people would recognize as a religion. Stripped down to its essentials, it is a kind of reverence for spirits as our elders and to engage in ways to alter our state of consciousness to seek guidance and wisdom from those spirits. This was religious practice at one time and we do share some values with other religions, but the shamanism that we practice is not defined as religious so it does not exclude religious students.” "Thank you for that," said Julie. Julian nodded once. Fuzzy opened her mouth to say something on the subject, but was covertly elbowed in the side by Kenji. At first she scowled at him, but then smiled unconvincingly. Julie wondered what that was about and then remembered the most recent ritual and Fuzzy's total lack of guile. So he had been paying attention, Julie realized. Not to the lecture, but to Fuzzy and herself to make sure they stayed quiet. “Some take shamanism more seriously as a religious practice,” said Julian, eyeballing Fuzzy before nodded at Kenji, “But we neither encourage or discourage that. We only care that they engage with spirits and altered states of consciousness safely. On the other hand, the Mexica practice a different, complex..Religion. Though it’s different than what most Western thought would recognize as religion.” “Why?” asked Julie. Fuzzy lifted her chin slightly and sniffed the air, looking covetously at a few stands selling both traditional Mexican/Aztlan food and Tex-Mex, though the stalls and restaurants selling those were less grand and from what Julie could see in AR, higher priced. “Take the religions based off Judaism for example, the religions of the book,” began Julian, “Judaism, Christianity, Islam. They are all somewhat separate from society. Semi-integrated. They’re separate spheres from say, politics, culture and the economy, though there is some overlap. If you go back into history, that overlap was strong and today it is much weaker. However, there is no name for the Aztec religion. No separate sphere. It’s fully, one-hundred percent integrated into their society.” “I don’t understand,” said Julie. “It’s something that needs to be experienced to be fully understood,” said Julian, “But the short answer is that much of what they do is religious. It’s not separate from their life. They live their religion constantly.” He pointed to the pyramids as they kept walking. “Those two pyramids?” he said, “Those are inherently religious, even though they're stores. There is a place of honor and reverence at the top of each of those pyramids. They’re for the two main deities of the Mexica. The first, Huitzilopochtli, father of the Mexica, god of sun and war...” “That’s a serious mouthful,” said Kenji, “Can I just call him Hweetzy?” Julian sighed. “Hweetzy, their chief god,” he said, as he bit back sarcasm, “And Tlaloc, the god of rain and lightning and thunder. A fertility god. And I mention that because…” His finger climbed higher, pointing to the top of the two pyramids. “Something I just noticed,” he said, slowly, “There’s a kind of...House at the top for each of the gods. Where they are said to dwell on the earth if they so choose.” Julie squinted, trying to make out anything on the top of the stepped pyramids, made of air. Straining her eyes, she tried to see anything but failed. “I don’t see anything,” said Julie. “Me neither,” said Kenji. “I’m hungry,” sighed Fuzzy. Everyone looked to her. Julian shook his head and lowered his finger. “Right, you didn’t get anything to eat,” said Julian, and he said to himself, “Why do I expect any of you to learn anything on an empty stomach? That's my fault, I'm sorry. Let's go get something.” “Yeah, we sort of just left without thinking,” said Kenji, neutrally, “Oli made some Chinese food for us, but we dipped out too quick to eat.” Julie winced. “Oh, that’s not great,” she said, “She’s going to think that we abandoned her.” Kenji sighed. “I’ll talk to her afterwards,” he said, “When we get back of course.” “Less talking, more foooooood,” urged Fuzzy, “Foooooooood.”’ She waved her arms to get everyone’s attention. "Fooooood!" “I said we were going to get food,” said Julian. “Yessss!” she cheered. As they all began to walk towards one of the outbuildings, a restaurant made of shimmering air that Fuzzy was urging them towards, Julie stepped beside Julian. “Why are the god houses that aren't there so important?” she asked, “It seemed like you were buildings towards a point.” Julian looked at her and nodded seriously. “The last time I was here, about ten years ago, they were here, now they’re not. They might be elsewhere, hidden maybe, but I have this feeling like they’re not. I can’t put my finger on why, but it’s what my gut tells me. It’s bizarre.” “Why is it bizarre?” she asked. Julian thought about it, then shrugged. “It’s not a perfect analogy, but imagine a church with no crosses. What would that be like?” Julie’s eyebrows crept up in concern. “Oh,” said Julie, “That would be weird.” “It’s really weird,” said Julian, “This culture is a full religious revival as much as anything corporate. The holy houses of their chief gods are either gone or hidden. And let me tell you, they take religion very seriously here, even if they modified it to be more...Culturally acceptable. It’s disturbing.” Julie cast a final glance towards the flat topped pyramids before allowing herself to be led into the restaurant made of air. -- Pictured, graphene aerogel resting on a dandelion bud. Though it is far less shiny and not at all clear. But that really is 99.98% air and 0.02% graphene, which is a carbon molecule. And yes, it is tough as steel, though not as rigid as steel as it's kind of squishy. I fudged it slightly for 55 years of advancement in materials science. However, if you walked on this stuff, you would be basically walking on air.  I figured I'd flex my near future chops as we're exploring the city and especially the high tech heart of corporate power. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 06:45 on Sep 13, 2020 |
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Sep 7, 2020 03:18
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnolgy Pyramid Julie and company sat down under a shimmering “tarp”. The inside was...Like a sports bar, actually. The chairs and tables and the bar made up of normal materials, save that the shimmering air they walked on was blocked here as there was dirt on the floor which looked intentional. Perhaps it was part of the place’s rustic charm, but again, Julie wondered if some higher class restaurant would have that. Or perhaps she was overthinking things. While they looked over menus in AR and chatted, Julie cast her gaze towards the trideo tanks where sports were playing. There was no baseball, but honestly that was kind of a niche sport that was clinging to life in a way that American style football hadn’t. There was soccer of course, but the sports bar was devoted primarily to combat sports. Ones she didn't really know anything about as she really only followed baseball. Still, she knew a little bit. UCAS had a love for Urban Brawl, a kind of capture the flag game with firearms with less than lethal rounds played over abandoned urban area, though it usually didn’t end up with death. There was also Combat Biking, which was like a weird mix of motorcycle racing, old style football and again, firearms, though they were also big into hand weapons. Julie wasn’t a fan, but it was hard to grow up in the culture and not hear about Urban Brawl or Combat Biking, though the corporate kids weren't interested or at least didn't talk to her about it. Not that most of them talked to her at all. Still, she liked her sports without the guarantee of blood and chance of violent death. Aztlan had their own blood sport, called “Sangre y Acerco”, translated as “blood and steel” from a translation app on Julie’s commlink. What she saw and what Julian hadn’t, as they’d come inside on a commercial break, was a match where two heavily cybered...She had a hard time calling them people, were about to fight. This wasn’t about metatype or ableism or anti-cybernetic bias. No, the “people” had twisted their bodies into different shapes and painted themselves to look like animals. One of the competitors, “Rana Roja”, translated as “Red Frog”, had a mask over his face, but his eyes were wide set on the sides of his head and bulging out like his namesake, his mouth protruding and wider than any metahuman’s. Or at least she assumed that the fighter was a him as he only wore a loin cloth. His colors on his body were red on darker red, the colors of blood, fresh and old. He hopped forwards down a ramp, an easy ten feet, because his body was made just for that, explosive jumping power. Her eyes looked over his body as the camera moved from his face to his entire body, which was compact, exactly like frog’s, his fingers circular at the end, tipped with suction cups. Then he leapt into the air, fireworks exploding behind him before he leapt a full...Twenty? Thirty? Forty feet? Into a plain, stone pit, clinging to the side of it before crawling a few feet, then bouncing quickly from each side of the pit in a feat of acrobatic skill before somersaulting into the middle, kicking up dirt. The crowd roared. His throat, no, his neck sack bulged as he ribbited. Then in a quick flash of steel, his tongue flicked out and at its tip was a wicked looking blade. The frog man raised his arms to the crowd, webbed hands outstretched, then fell to his knees, looking like a person in an act of what Julie could only understand as religious ecstasy as his frog eyes closed, face enraptured At least so far as she could tell. The camera smash cut to the other competitor. Again masked, Julie could understand that this was...Had been maybe, a woman, but only due to a simple cloth wrapped around her body where her breasts would have been, though she didn’t seem to have any, as well as the lower loin cloth. The woman, made of gleaming, white steel, was shaped like a panther, displaying a combination of feline and feminine grace, accented by off-white striations on her steel body as she stalked forward on all fours like a great cat. This was “Pantera Blanca”, translated again by her app as “White Panther”. Her face was also masked and like Rana Roja, her face had been changed as well. Instead of a human head, her head was shaped like that of a panther. She stood on her hind legs, different than a metahuman’s. Two elbows, two knees, catlike, then they suddenly snapped forwards to become more like a human’s with a metallic whirring sound, arms shortening in the same fashion. Claws on her hands and feet flicked out before becoming a blur as she raked with her claws, back-flipped and kicked at the air with claws. As she landed, her teeth gleamed as she opened her mouth and yowled so loudly that it filled the bar, catching everyone’s attention. “Combate a muerte!” shouted the bartender. “Combate a muerte!” shouted even more people, in frenzied excitement. That was what broke the spell. Not magic, but the alien strangeness of it. Julie’s app was still running and it translated what the bartender and many of the patrons said as “Death Match.” A smash cut back to the frog man, consumed in religious ecstasy, gripping the dirt of the arena in his webbed hands and rubbing them together. Other patrons of the bar, a few, made a show of doing the same, picking up the dirt from the ground and rubbing it with their hands. On a hunch, Julie peered into the astral. She realized immediately that this had been a mistake. A wave of violence and death from the dirt floor hit her like a physical blow and she banged her elbow hard against the wooden table and gasped in pain. It ached, but she stared, feeling sucked in. “They’re...They’re going to kill each other?” she asked, quietly, “Live? On the trid? On...On just a Tuesday night?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GlhOUyy4wbs “This is a bad place,” whispered Julie, “Julian, this is a bad place and I want to leave.” Julie looked to Fuzzy, who sat next to her, mouth agape and saw the pure shock in her friends’s aura. Her eyes certainly wide, though her goggles obscured them. Kenji, who’d been in speaking to Julian, looked to Fuzzy and Julie and then back to Julian. Their teacher and guardian’s already pale skin went white and he stood up, finally noticing what this place actually was. “We’re going elsewhere,” he said, authoritatively, “Right now. Get up.” A waitress was rapidly approaching them in a simple blue and black patterned, but he shook his head at her and so she left them alone. Kenji pulled Julie up by her elbow and with effort, she was able to shut off her astral vision and she finally felt like she was able to breathe. Her vision swam for a moment before snapping back into a bright clarity. Fuzzy was rooted to the spot and she was approached by Julian. She’d taken off her goggles and the impression around them gave her features a slightly raccoon-like rings. Her eyes were indeed wide, mouth still agape. Julian had to pull her away as well. She didn’t resist and allowed herself to be moved. Then they were away. That had been a sports bar. An Aztlan sports bar. It was a place where you sat down, had a beer and watched people shaped into animals by steel and technology murder each other on a Tuesday night. Any night, really. It was their version of a metahuman cock fight. Julian was all tension and anger and concern as he spirited them away and towards what looked like a “family friendly” style restaurant. No one argued about it. No one even spoke. Julie was able to bounce back quickly, something she’d learned from her profession, but she’d definitely need to run through some sort of therapy program later and she set a reminder on her commlink for some light therapy. As they approached the second restaurant, this one two stories, Julian opened the double doors and spoke to the hostess before she could open her mouth. “What’s on the trid here?” he asked, immediately. The waitress looked taken aback. “Oh, uh, just some football, but there are more choices in AR if you wish,” said the hostess, and then fumbled as she’d been taken briefly off script, “I could find you a table near...Um...I mean, welcome to…” “It’s fine,” he said, “Something away from the trids.” There were a number of bored, screaming, crying children as well. “Something outside?” asked Kenji. “Table for...Four?” she asked. “Yes,” said Julian, “Please.” They were escorted to the second floor, whisked upwards by a platform onto a veranda with a clear view of one of the raised, but still low artificial, greenery lined streams that conveyed people riding canoes towards the stepped pyramids. It was far more peaceful, though the screaming children from downstairs could still be faintly heard. “Does this table have a privacy setting?” asked Julian. The hostess smiled and nodded. “There’s a complimentary white noise generator under the table,” she said, “I’ll give you the password.” “Don’t worry, I got it,” said Kenji. He waved his personal white noise generator, silvery and about the size of a stick of gum and put it on the wooden table. Then the noise of the world was...Not completely shut off, but it felt far more distant. “Ah, I see that you have your own,” she said. “It’s handy,” said Kenji. The waitress wore a modest floor length skirt, yellow with geometric patterns and an orange shawl with yellow fringes. No shoes though, Julie noted. And she couldn't be more than sixteen. Maybe younger. She was Julie's age. The waitress smiled and dipped her head. Inoffensively pretty with long, dark hair held in place by hair band on top, brown eyes, dark skinned. Then she pulled out her commlink into her palm, made flicking motions towards everyone at the table and menus appeared in AR. “If you need anything, just ask,” she said, “I’m here alone today, a little short staffed. Drones only I’m afraid.” “That’ll be fine,” said Julian. “Lovely,” she said. She walked away, stopped and immediately came back. She lingered, seemed to hesitate and then bit her lip. Julie wondered what she wanted, but then she spoke, words tripping out of her. “My manager wanted to let you know that we’re sorry for the slightest bit of discomfort or inconvenience, Mister Smith,” she said, anxiously, “If you wish to board a canoe, we can take you to a more appropriate place to eat befitting of your station, free of charge. As far up the steps as you wish to go, in fact.” “All the way up the steps?” asked Julian, neutrally, “That high?” She nodded seriously, waved her hand over her commlink once more and made a grasping and pulling motion. However, instead of flicking them menus this time, Julie, from her place at the table saw the floating stream that was fixed in the air bend towards them and settle inches away from the edge of the veranda. The guard rails ceased to shimmer and then seemed to melt away. Everyone facing away turned to look and then stared. “Okay, that’s kind of impressive,” admitted Kenji. Seconds later, an elaborate, shimmering canoe, different from the simple wooden ones that Julie had seen on this level, floated up and came to a stop on its own, devoid of passengers. “Yes, right this way,” she said, eagerly. She moved past them, but Julian sat and so did everyone else, following his lead. “Tell your manager that were am just fine where we are,” said Julian. The hostess hadn’t heard him. She’d moved out of the bubble of white noise. Anxiously she waited, but Julian wasn’t budging. Tentatively, she rocked back and forth on her bare feet, gestured for them to come, but Julian shook his head. Then she approached, eyes downcast, as if she'd done something wrong. “Did I displease you, Mr. Smith?" she asked. Her smile was nervous. No, Julie noticed, she looked scared. The hostess had a death grip on her commlink and was beginning to shake. “What is your name?” asked Julian. “M-My name?” asked the hostess. Her name was plain to see in AR, hovering just over her orange shawl. Julian did not look at her shawl, he looked at her face. Even when she flicked her eyes down at it, but Julian didn’t waver. “My name is Anacaona,” she said, hesitantly. Julian put on his warmest smile. “May I call you Ana?” he asked. Anacaona the hostess paused, mumbled something and then Julie further realized that she was speaking to someone. Asking for permission? Then she nodded. “Yes, of course you may,” she said, “Yes, of course you may. Of course. And if I may be so bold, I have been told that if you wish, I can accompany you up the steps and serve you there if you so choose.” There was a sudden hunger in her eyes. An eagerness and desperation that written plainly across her face. “It is a great honor,” she said. “Ana, it is assuredly a great honor,” said Julian, magnanimously, “However, I am on something of a field trip with my students. They want to see where their food comes from. I was not expecting to reach the top of the stairs today, but I suppose that we will work our way up from the bottom.” Ana blinked, looked momentarily confused and then crestfallen. She mumbled again. “Up...From...The...Bottom,” she said, as if those words were somehow alien to her, “Of course. Yes, of course. Of course. You are corrected. I mean correct! I mean! I’m so sorry! You don't need correction! I do! I'm so very sorry! Sorry!” Again, she looked terrified at the gaffe, ready to burst into tears. Julian raised his arms in a placating gesture. “No offense has been given or taken,” said Julian, “I’ll speak to your manager and smooth all of this out while everyone orders. I’m sure that since you work on this level that you might know a few things. If you wish, I can ask your manager if you can serve as a kind of tour guide if he lets you off early. Then perhaps we can go up the stairs together.” “I…” she began, hesitated, and bit her lip again, "I'm not sure..." Julian sat up and began to walk out of the bubble, an warning eye cast back to everyone else before smiling again. “I’ll just need his comm c…” Everything after that was a low murmur. Julian and Ana had left the bubble. “gently caress,” said Kenji, “Looks like Julian got made." "Got made?" asked Fuzzy. "What, you think they don't know one of maybe a few dozen with his level of power and skill in the city?" asked Kenji, "Every corp probably has a full profile on him." "Really?" "Yeah, really. We don't just get to walk in and be nobodies I guess. Not in a place obsessed with class or stations or whatever. Anyway, now that they're out of earshot, you two all right?” “Yeah,” said Fuzzy. “Good. Julie?” Julie hesitated and then nodded. “Yeah...Now,” she said. “What the gently caress happened?” he asked, “The pre-fight rattle you that much? Maybe those cyber monstrosities or whatever?” “I mean, it was shocking, but no,” she said, “I looked at the dirt. There was dirt on the floor because it was arena dirt. There was blood and death all over the astral in the dirt.” "poo poo, yeah, that'll do it," said Kenji, "It's like a mini ACHE." Julie paused, thought and nodded. "It was a lot like, yeah." “So you're okay?” asked Fuzzy. “Yeah,” she said, “I mean, there’s a little violence and blood in the proving ground dirt at the school, but that’s different. No one died there. A lot of it’s positive too. But the dirt in the sports bar? It’s just imbued with concentrated violence and death. And they were just...Using the dirt to worship. If they do that enough, even mundane people can give it power.” “Well, it’s like Julian said,” said Kenji, “Azzies mix up their religion with everything. I guess that includes blood sports on the trid.” “I thought you weren’t paying attention,” said Fuzzy. Kenji grimaced. “I’m just being an rear end,” he admitted, “I'm hungry and hungry makes me think back to being poor and feeling poor makes me feel lovely. I’ll feel better when I’ve got some food in me. I need to order something.” Fuzzy pursed her lips and nodded before setting her AR goggles back over her eyes. “I get a little afraid,” she admitted, "When I'm hungry." “I thought you were never afraid,” said Julie. “I’m afraid all the time,” said Fuzzy, “I just know how to use it.” “Burn it like fuel,” drawled Kenji. “Yep,” she said, “Ooo, mixotes. Barbecued rabbit and cactus in red sauce. That sounds amazing. Reading is the best. I just ordered it, so I'm going to read the whole menu.” “Speaking of which, I think someone switched the menus on us,” said Kenji. “Why’s that?” asked Julie. Kenji lifted his fingers and began ticking them off. “We're in a family restaurant, but there’s no kid’s menu. The left side of the menu reads like the right side of a better place. There’s an alcohol and wine list with no prices attached. Someone is buttering us up with a switched menu as an apology, but they're trying to be sneaky about it. No way does uh...Mayahuel's Friendly Eats have this kind of wine on the list. The wine moms that come to this place can't afford any of this poo poo.” Julie looked and sure enough, the name of the restaurant matched up, but the fare didn’t. She didn't know anything about the alcohol though, so she took Kenji's word for it. “Why wouldn’t there be prices attached?” asked Fuzzy, “Because it’s no charge?” “No, because when you get to the seriously high end restaurants, nothing has a price attached. You just pay and don't think about it, because if you can eat there, you don't care how much you spend,” he explained, “You just slot that ebony or ivory credstick and the nuyen rolls off.” “Ebony or...Wait, I thought they were just black,” said Julie. Kenji looked away and shrugged. “Went out on a few dates with a few interested schoolmates before I met Saanvi. I played arm candy back when I was hunting for favors and influence,” he said, nonchalantly, “So I saw a few of those. Regular black credsticks only carry so much money on them. Having those is a serious mark of distinction. You need to have a mil in the bank before they’ll give you one. Not stock, not property, straight nuyen. I remember one girl who only had platinum on this double date and one of her friends said something and they had this enormous shitfit over it. She made a big deal about her ivory credstick the next day.” "Sounds catty," said Julie. "Really on the money with that word." "What, catty?" Kenji nodded. Fuzzy looked up at Kenji from her AR menu. “Double date?” he asked, “You were dating two girls?” Kenji laughed. “What? No,” he said, “Plus I wasn’t the kind of guy that girls dated, really. I was just an ornament. Glad I’m past that phase now. I know that some girl is going to get real mad at me now that I’m dating Saanvi for real. They were getting mad that someone is hogging one of the island’s natural resources. Her words, not mine.” He put his hand up to his mouth, playing up a stage whisper. “Oh, you’re dating the help?” she said, voice lilted into the feminine, “I mean, she’s royal, but just a poor noble. They’re a cred a dozen. Not even a drop of magic in her. I hear that she’s the black sheep of the family. And somehow you’re still dating up. Way to go, Kenji.” “Someone is cranky,” said Julie, “Wait, I thought you weren’t dating Saanvi. You were doing that dating, not dating thing?” Kenji paused. “Might’ve written a quick letter,” he admitted, “Got the okay from Sasha on the trip here even though she said we didn't need it. We were supposed to do an actual double date so Fuzzy and Sasha could meet Saanvi, but someone is having gene therapy so that’s not going to happen for a while.” “Saanvi is probably jumping for joy somewhere,” said Fuzzy, happily. “I don’t think she’d jump,” said Kenji. His cheeks colored. Julie felt…Well, she thought about it, trying to figure out how she felt. She didn’t feel jealous or sad. Well, a little bit, but only because she was alone and her friends weren’t, but she was happy for Kenji. “I think she’s jumping up and down right now,” teased Julie, “She’s going to read that letter over and over...” Kenji’s face turned pinker still, threatening red. Julie cackled. “Hey Fuzzy, feel like a starter?” asked Kenji, as he changed the subject. “What starter?” “They got these honey roasted crickets smothered in chili peppers,” he said, “Bet you won’t eat them with me.” “I’ll eat anything,” said Fuzzy, “You’re on.” “Oh my gosh,” said Julie, “You don’t want to be teased about liking a girl so you’re going to eat bugs? What are you, five?” “They look good,” he lied, “Plus they’re like uh...You know, a delicacy. Says so right here on the menu. Anyway, krill is a bug. You’ve eaten krill burgers. Everyone does.” “Krill is a crustacean, that’s different,” corrected Julie, “No different than eating shrimp or lobster. You literally can’t handle your feelings for a girl and you immediately leapt to eating bugs. That is amazing.” His skin flushed though, completely called out. “I’m low on calories,” he said, “Sometimes I...No, gently caress it, I’m going to own this. I’ll get two orders.” “You’re doubling down on crickets?” asked Julie, incredulously. Fuzzy leaned over and began to laugh into her sleeve. Kenji folded his arms and lifted his chin. “gently caress yes I am,” he said, “I’ll eat crickets all day.” -- So not a CYOA exactly, but how do you think Julie is feeling right now? What takeaways does she have from interaction with Aztechnology so far? -- Julie glitches with one hit on her assensing test, but recovers with five hits on composure. She realizes that the dirt they were sitting on was death match arena dirt. This dirt is totally not blood magic, because there's no magic involved. Technically correct is the best kind of correct you see. Kenji rolls intuition + perception and succeeds on noticing the change in the menu with a 3. Kenji then fails a composure test as Julie teases him about Saanvi with 2 hits. Keep on blushing, Kenji. The dice demand it of you. He responds by wanting to eat barbecued crickets, which is real Aztec cuisine, because chili peppers go on everything. And instead of backing down, he doubles down on eating bugs instead of admitting anything, owning his decision, and he's going to have two baskets of honey barbecued chili pepper crickets of which Fuzzy may eat some. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 06:45 on Sep 13, 2020 |
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Sep 7, 2020 04:18
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I think Julie would be disgusted and creeped out by the blood sport and the excitement all the patrons had for it. And I think she's going to learn how dark and powerful religion can get.
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Sep 7, 2020 21:59
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I don't know if Julie would be that surprised about the excitement from blood sports, from what we've heard the prison where she lived was pretty brutal and maybe similar things happened there, I imagine she'd be more surprised that it was playing in such a public place. I think she'd notice more the overt mistreatment and control of people in this complex, which is a stark difference from Touristeville. Regarding her single-ness, I imagine she'd feel pressured to get a partner just to fit in with her friends. I think it's kind of strange that teenagers in stories don't have more break-ups and it tends towards 'true love', but maybe that's more interesting to read about.
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Sep 8, 2020 13:51
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Julie feels kind of gross and is looking forward to the idea of helping to create a food infrastructure that is as independent as possible from this corp. She's also going to do some independent research about vertical farms and the Aztechnolgy religion because understanding is how she deals with things that upset her.
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Sep 8, 2020 14:15
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I think that Julie is feeling gross, but doesn't realize how gross she feels until the food gets to the table and she can't even convince herself to have a bite of it. So gross that even horchata won't comfort her. She's in a place that's the anathema to her worldview. She's someone who does medical work on the needy; she's in a place where murder is sport, where even if she's not watching it one of those fighters just died on trid and the dirt will be shipped in. She's someone who does public service as a matter of lifestyle; she's in a place that's commoditized everything and in a way aimed at milking the poor. She's someone whose home is in a reputation-economy ghetto-commune; she's in a place where the rich literally look down on the poor from bridges and terraces, whether they're treated as a class who won't even be given the same menu as the poors. Kenji is hardened to matters of hierarchy. Fuzzy understands deprivation, even if she dislikes it. But for Julie, this place is pure emotional poison.
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Sep 8, 2020 16:19
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This is the kind of place that makes toxic firebringer tempting in the cause of breaking it.
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Sep 8, 2020 20:38
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnolgy Pyramid Julie walked away from the restaurant, her belly empty. Originally she’d been hungry, bordering on ravenous, but as the minutes wore on she’d been unable to take more than a bite of food or a single sip of her horchata. The knowledge that someone, somewhere had been murdered for sport and the dirt shipped into that bar had horrified her. The rigid structure of class where the wealthy looked down on the poor from their floating bridges in the sky felt like emotional poison. Ever thrifty though, she did have a takeout bag dangling from her hand. Perhaps she’d feel like food later. Still, she was curious. So she considered the bag that Kenji ate crickets from and wondered aloud. “What do those even taste like?” she asked. “Kind of like popcorn,” he said, “A little bitter at first, then some sweet and heat from the honey and chile peppers. Kind of muted though.” “Muted?” Kenji tapped the side of his nose. “What? Oh...Right, your sinuses,” she said. “Yep. If not for the magic I don’t think I’d be able to smell anything at all and taste is sort of linked to that,” he said, “I’m probably missing something about the taste. Ask Fuzzy or Julian, or maybe try one for yourself.” Anacaona, or just Ana for short, was playing impromptu tour guide as they walked towards the larger of the two stepped pyramids. The one where food was sold. She was chatting with Julian and Fuzzy while Julie and Kenji lagged behind. “I only know about the first level,” she said, “But I can show you around. Then I can accompany you up the steps, yes?” She looked like a mix between eager and frightened. This hadn’t been the first time she’d asked that either. “We would like that, yes,” said Julian. Julie felt odd, bothering Fuzzy to ask what the crickets tasted like. While she waffled, Kenji shook his bag. It even rustled like popcorn, which made Julie uncomfortable. As soon as she registered that feeling he did too and he stopped. Sometimes it was nice to have a friend who could read body language with his mix of practice and magic. “Look, I don’t want to be a pain,” said Kenji, “Just...Eat something, you know? It kind of fucks me up when I see someone pass up a meal.” “Sorry,” she said. “Not your fault,” he said, “I don’t expect you to eat crickets when you didn’t even eat your food. You get a pass on crickets.” Julie managed a smile, but it was dashed as the shadows of canoes passed overhead as they walked with the crowd, darkening the artificial light from the roof above. “Why does it gently caress you up?” she asked. Kenji’s face turned from a sympathetic smile to a flat one and his eyes briefly unfocused. He almost didn’t speak, but took a deep breath and looked away. “In the ACHE it usually meant that someone was about to die,” he said, quietly, “Unless you were really high to forget you couldn’t eat, because drugs are cheaper than food and make you feel good. Or if you’re well off, which means you’re in a gang. No one ever turns down food otherwise.” “And I’m not high or in a gang.” “No, you’re not.” “I hung out with some though. You know, in prison.” It struck her as odd, bizarre really, as she tried to convince Kenji that she had kind of, sort of been in a gang just so he’d feel better. “I was affiliated too. Not a lot of choice growing up,” he said, carefully, “But I was never in it. Neither were you. And you’re not high, so it’s loving me up. So if you could please eat something, I’d appreciate it. You don’t need a meal...Just something please.” “Couldn’t have said this at the table?” she asked. “I didn’t want to be weird about it, but now it’s more uncomfortable than it is weird. So I’m saying something a little weird now instead of being uncomfortable and weird later.” “It’s not weird,” she said, “Fine, okay. I’ll look for a snack.” Kenji smiled. “Thanks.” The group weaved their way through the foot traffic, for there were no canoes for those on this level. The poor walked. On their left was an automat, a vending machine restaurant that simply said, “Atole!” in AR, the word flanked by ears of dancing corn and chile peppers. Her tamales could kind of, sort of be eaten on the go, but she didn’t feel up to that. The small cups that people emerged from the automat with looked like it was to go food that she could choke down. “Hey, get them to stop for a minute. I’ll get whatever that.” Kenji nodded gratefully and hastened forward. Julie peeled away and walked into the automat. It wasn’t anything special. Just vending machines and a few narrow tables that discouraged people from sitting for long. It only sold atole, which she learned was a drink that was based on corn flour, cinnamon and brown sugar. Chocolate, soy milk and chile variants were optional. She wasn’t even in the mood for chocolate. Her mood was that low. As she approached one of the vending machines, which was a plain, firetruck red and not made of air at all, she slotted her credstick and options appeared in AR. Since she didn’t speak Spanish, or the Aztlan dialect at least, she had no idea what atole, chileatole or champurrado were, though she guessed that chileatole was atole with chilies in it and decided to go with the soy milk additive. To her, something spicier that it was sweet sounded good right now and she knew that she’d be walking a lot today, so eating something was advisable. In her mind, she imagined Devin giving her that advice. She didn’t want to associate a sweet taste with this place in case she made associations between sweet and Aztechnology. So she chose the “chileatole” option, nuyen rolled off her credstick, then she pocketed it and a cup dropped down and filled with piping hot chileatole. Eventually the group caught up with her, Kenji in the lead. For his sake, Julie took a sip. It was rich, sweet and spicy. He visibly relaxed and smiled gratefully at her. Fuzzy gasped. “Atole!” she cheered, “Yes!” She made a beeline for the machine closest to Julie, picked plain atole, no soy milk, no chocolate, no chiles. It poured and she bounced from foot to foot in obvious anticipation. When it was poured, she sipped and closed her eyes, her happiness obvious. Julie wished she could be that happy right now. “Oh, you know atole?” asked Ana. Fuzzy opened her eyes, turned to her and nodded. “I’d get a cup after a hunt,” she explained, “Dad made it. Corn flour is pretty cheap and we had lots of spices at home because we didn’t have many types of food, so he’d make it for me and the other hunters when we got back, even if we didn’t come back with a kill. I’ve been hunting so much and everything feels off afterwards. Now I know why. I forgot the atole.” Ana tilted her head at Fuzzy in obvious confusion. The light skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed girl had a father who gave her atole and somehow that clashed with her expectations. Then she stood up straight, as if disciplined. “I’m glad that Aztechnology is helping you make those connections,” she said, her tone somewhat stilted and awkward. “I’ll try some,” said Julian. “Yeah, sure,” said Kenji. Everyone but Ana had their own version of atole, with chocolate or not, chile or not, soy milk or not. Real milk apparently wasn’t available on this level. “I’ll get you a cup, Ana,” said Julian. At first she looked hungry for the stuff, but reluctantly shook her head. “I am not allowed to take gifts,” she said, “Corporate policy. I apologize.” Julian smiled slyly. “I assume your manager doesn’t want you to be the only one left out,” he mused theatrically, pitching his voice, “It goes against my sense of hospitality for my host not to enjoy what we’re enjoying.” Julie wondered if Julian actually had a strong sense of hospitality or not, but her gut feeling veered towards a no. Before she could contemplate that further, a cup dropped automatically from a dispenser, though no one was near it. Plain atole, like Fuzzy’s, devoid of soy milk or chocolate or chiles. The absolute minimum on the menu. Still, Ana seemed hesitant to take it. “It’s fine, have it,” said Julian. “Oh, I’m not…” she began. “I’m very sure that this won’t be debited from your account,” he said, in that stage voice once more. Julie realized that Julian was using his “teacher voice”. Though she’d never been in one of his classes, most of her teachers vaguely talked like that. The personalized voice of an educational authority figure that people learned to follow from a young age and it seemed that this included the unseen manager. Ana took the cup in her hands, hesitated and then took a sip. Cocked her head slightly and nodded graciously. “I did not expect this today, thank you very much,” she said, “Normally I only drink this on Dias de los Muertos.” “Day of the Dead,” said Fuzzy. “Yes,” said Ana, cheerfully, “It’s coming up in a few months and I’m so excited. Aztechnology goes all out. We blend it a bit together with Halloween as that is what our customers expect, but it runs for days after. Trick-or-treaters go from store to store, getting candy and learning about the products that we sell. But that’s only on Halloween. The two days after are fully dedicated to Dia de los Muertos. I had my face painted and wore a lovely dress and I learned to dance. I tried out for the Dance of the Deer, but I wasn’t chosen. I still got to dance for the children, though.” In that moment, Ana very carefully put her cup down on the floor and began to dance. She clutched at her yellow skirt, hiked it up to her ankles, showing off bare feet and moved. Ana wasn’t very graceful and she was certainly out of practice, but she seemed to enjoy herself. However, Julie felt something stir in her. She knew the steps to this dance even though she’d never learned it. Unsure of why, but feeling the need, she put down her atole next to Ana’s and began to dance alongside her, not hearing, but feeling the beat that Anacaona danced to and despite her lack of a skirt, which the song called for, Julie danced. Her steps weren’t in perfect lock step with Ana’s, but they had a feeling of rightness to them that Ana’s dance did not. “Ah, what is that?” asked Ana, “I like that. What’s that?” She pointed at the steps of Julie’s dance. Nothing too special. Dancing in place, mostly, facing forward. A dance meant to be performed next to others. She hadn’t even gotten to the twirl yet. “You mean this?” asked Julie. Julie’s feet, which had been moving quickly, slowed down and made easy to follow motions. Ana copied them, albeit clumsily. “Yes, like that,” she said, “That is different. I learned it like this.” Ana’s step was more plodding, more sliding, but basically impossible to fail in its simplicity. Little room for variation or experimentation. “I like yours better though, Julie,” said Ana, “Would you show me?” “Sure,” said Julie. The shaman in her blouse and jeans and tennis shoes. The wage in the colorful corporate peasant garb and bare feet. For a full minute, they danced the steps to a song Julie did not know the name of, but felt because she’d danced something like it before in that liminal space with the great spirit Dragonslayer. This dance and so many others. So she trusted in her feet and moved in a way that was more practiced than Ana. Then Julie remembered how everyone had danced with Dragonslayer, even Kenji, who’d been the last and held out the longest before joining to keep from being left out. However, she couldn’t remember how long they’d danced for. Just a few minutes, surely. No, more than that. An hour? Not more than an hour. Wait, no, more than an hour. Half a day? Wait, maybe days? Surely not more than a week, right? She’d only taught them the fundamentals after all. Those fundamentals had been laid down by a great spirit. But… “This dance is so much more fun,” said Ana. “It really is,” said Julie, “Now twirl.” Julie twirled, and this was meant for a certain type of dress that neither Julie nor Ana possessed. Still, Ana’s colorful skirt fluttered, yellow, corporate peasant dress moving beautifully in the light of the automat. Then she paused, no knowing what to do. “What’s next?” asked Ana, “Normally I just repeat.” Julie halted for a moment in confusion. “What? That couldn’t have been more than fifteen seconds,” said Julie, “You just do the same dance every fifteen seconds?” Ana nodded, clearly disappointed. “Most customers don’t stop for long. Show me, please? What are the next steps?” Julie nodded and showed her, just a twirl in the other direction, hands up. Ana’s laugh was full of delight. “This is an older dance, I think,” said Julie, “This step, like this. See?” “Yes, I see!” “I see,” repeated Julie, “Yes.” A few minutes passed and the impromptu lesson ended. They ended their dance and everyone clapped, including a few customers in the Atole! automat. A moment of spontaneity. Deviation from the corporate script. They picked up their drinks and Julie felt a little bit better. Not perfect, but okay. So she was able to take more than a sip of her drink this time and enjoy the sweetness of the sugar, the richness of the corn flour and soy milk, the spiciness of the chili pepper and the heat of the liquid itself. For a moment, she could forget about the corporate horror outside with its strict class structure and exploitation and enjoy herself in dance. She thought about all the dances she knew and there were so many. Then more dances came. More and more and more. Near endless movements. Julie was suddenly struck by a wave of nausea. She did not know all the dances. That was impossible. She knew what the dances descended from, the movement of ancient peoples and she could sort of intuit the new steps on the fly like variations on a theme. The original dances she knew were like great rivers, each variation like an offshoot stream, winding and blending with other rivers or more often, terminating as they were left behind in the past. The rivers, these dances, they had no name. They simply were. Ancient, primitive, ur dances. “Wow,” whispered Julie. In her mind’s eye, she tried to look back to find their sources. Where it all began. To go up the rivers. She knew it was there, but the beginnings eluded her. Too insubstantial to grasp, but not to touch. For a moment, she brushed up against the profound. Not the first dance, no, she’d gone further. It was ancient humanity’s inherent need to express itself through movement. Before language, there had been song and dance. Not a single source, but appearing independently in many places. The very nature of what it meant to be a person, connecting her to long forgotten ancestors, for that need was nestled inside of her too. “Oh wow,” she repeated. Then she was back in the “Atole!” automat. Back among the strangeness and baseness and exploitation of the Aztechnology Pyramid where everything was bizarre and horrible. So far from nature. So far from culture. A mock show of both. She drained the dregs of her chileatole and tasted exploitation. She gazed in Ana’s eyes and the young woman stood transfixed as the slave touched the profound through the conduit that was the shaman. Then Julie blinked. It was over. Ana looked away, the spell broken. Julie’s consciousness slipped from her altered state of mind and back to the earth. Back to the mundane. She’d known that this Pyramid was not a good place, but she hadn’t fully grasped it yet. But seeing those dances like great rivers had altered her perception. Allowed her to take a step back and view everything in a new way. Now she knew it in her bones. A deep knowing. For she knew the river and knew the stream that led Anacaona to that dance. The environment around it, the decisions that had shaped that dance, focus tested, corporate approved, no life, no soul, no place for individuality or the collective. Simple shuffling. There was a spike of exploitation in that river, draining it dry. This mockery of a folk dance, the life and joy and feeling sucked out of it as if by a vampire, leaving a shuffle on loop. Julie could almost feel this place continue to draw in blood like a parasite, sucking the life from the city. So of course the arcology was huge. Ticks get fat when they gorge on blood. Julie crushed the empty cup of atole in her hands.
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Sep 18, 2020 13:18
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Morning – Aztechnolgy Pyramid Ana led the way towards the greater of the two shimmering, stepped pyramids and pointed at each of them as she gave her explanation. “These two are the pyramide del sol y pyramide de la luna,” said Ana, “The pyramid of the sun and moon. The sun pyramid is where all the food goes and the moon pyramid is where all the...Other things go.” “Other things?” asked Fuzzy, “Like what?” Ana waved a hand towards the pyramid of the moon. “Oh, so much. Commlinks, clothing, medicine, tools, vehicles uh...You know, things like that. Anything that people use. We don’t make things for businesses that much, mostly people.” “That’s too bad,” said Julie, “I’m actually in the market to grow some food for a project of mine. Also possibly a dentistry drone.” Ana was silent for a moment as she listened to her unseen manager. “Aztechnology is the leading provider of the world’s consumer goods, but we have exciting opportunities for light industry and light commercial, including dentistry,” said Ana, “As for farming, we can provide whatever you need from simple, indoor plants to outdoor drone farmers to fully automated indoor factory farms. Always fresh, always tasty, always available, Aztechnology can provide what you need.” Julie’s cheek twitched. That state of altered consciousness was gone, but the effects lingered. She hated this. She hated Aztechnology. She hated their exploitation and rigid class system that they exported to the world. Hated the false, sanitized cheer injected into every one of Anacaona’s words. Hated the hoarded abundance when not a few miles away people routinely starved to death in the ACHE. This was a bad place and if she hadn’t been sent here she would leave and never come back, but only after rescuing these people setting the Pyramid on fire. She shook her head. That was a lot. Too much. It felt like Forethought whispering into her ear. That wasn’t her and so she made an effort to mentally and emotionally distance herself from the thought. That state of mind was an echo. She had a hard time defining that altered state and could no longer see the rivers. Though she could call up a dance or ten if she wanted, she couldn’t call on and understand all of them. Not like before. Even now it continued to slip away like a dream, but the knowing that she’d once understood lingered and that experience expanded her consciousness. Then Julie realized that she’d taken too long to answer and that Ana was waiting on her. She cleared her throat. “Yes, if we could pass by them, I’d appreciate that,” said Julie, politely. “Ah, so sorry, but if you want to go see the food, that’s in the sun pyramid,” said Ana, “All non-food items, including the products to make food are in the moon pyramid. We can’t see both at the same time. We can either go to one and cross over via a canoe or a bridge to the other any time you like. Once we’re past the first floor of course. There are no canoes or bridges on the first floor, obviously.” “Obviously,” echoed Julian, “Well students, this is a field trip, but I say we explore what you want. So long as we see both pyramids, either way is fine with me.” “Either or,” said Kenji, “It’s just pyramids.” “Sun,” said Julie. “Moon is where the farming stuff is?” asked Fuzzy. There was a pause and then Ana nodded. “Farming equipment is on level three of the moon pyramid,” she said, “Dentistry drones are on level four with the rest of the light commercial. We also provide permits through our public-private partnership with the city for their use.” Julie started. She hadn’t even thought about permits. On a whim, she checked the comm code of the dentist she’d met at the protest. What had been his...Ah, right, Jimmy Holcomb-Honeycutt. She vividly remembered his enthusiastic handshake. So she decided to send him a quick text. An AR text screen popped up in her view and she tapped out a message on her commlink, the autocomplete helping her do so quickly. “Hey, this is Julie from the protest. I’m curious if you want to do some consulting. I’m at the Aztechnology Pyramid and I’m considering getting a dentistry drone. I’d like your opinion. If you could get back to me sooner rather than later, I’d appreciate it as I’m looking to make a buy today. Sorry about the short notice.” She ended her text and put her commlink back in her pocket. “How many levels are there?” asked Fuzzy. “Seven levels for the sun and six for the moon,” said Ana. Fuzzy waffled, eager to look at the machines that may make food for her family, but since she was going to have to go up anyway… “Sun Pyramid,” she said, “Then we go over.” “Right this way,” said Ana. They all followed into the larger shimmering pyramid. Again the mouth of an ornamental jaguar served as an entryway, which people funneled through on their way to get food. And inside… “It’s just a grocery store,” said Kenji, “I mean, I’m not surprised. This is my lack of a surprise face.” He pointed to his face, perfectly conveying his total lack of surprise in the way only a teenager could. “I see it Kenji, thank you,” said Julian, obviously unimpressed. It was just a grocery store. An enormous one to be sure, aisles upon aisles upon aisles of groceries with trams for people to head to different sections of the enormous first floor store. There were also no cash registers, which was standard in almost every single business as money could just be wirelessly debited from your account. Employees in most stores had been cut down to the barest of necessities and often that number was zero. Instead there were weight sensors in the shopping cart along with cameras everywhere. Though this had the effect of acting as near total surveillance. The carts themselves were drones as well, not requiring someone to push them. Instead they merely followed behind someone. So without asking, a single grocery cart detached from a row of them and began following behind the group, one of the front wheels squeaking incessantly, the wheel going every which way as it moved, obviously broken. “At least that’s not new,” said Julie. Julie used to go to a local grocery store with her mom all the time on shopping trips. Meanwhile, Kenji let out a long sigh as he looked over the grocery store. Then Fuzzy and Kenji shared a look. “There’s so much food,” she said, “I’ve only been to a grocery store once.” “Same,” said Kenji, “Technically I could leave the ACHE. I passed the credit check to leave, but people from there have a certain smell and so no one gives us anything. Begging wasn’t my thing. Still, some of this is familiar.” He waved his hand down the aisle, filled with poor shoppers and their sad, trailing grocery carts. “The brands make it a little more real,” he said, “I’m recognizing a lot of these.” Kenji approached an enormous shelf. A black, dented, restocking drone rolled by, which was basically just a rolling, open container. Its mechanical arm quickly and neatly stacked box after box, row after row of snack foods faster than any metahuman could. Kenji grabbed one box, tossed it and the drone sped up a bit to intercept it. Everyone followed behind as Kenji picked food off shelves that he knew. He didn’t have to wait long between brands and within a minute, a small pile formed. “You got Froot Ringz, Cheez Snax, Soy Puffs, Toaster Toasteez, A-Bomb Burritos, H-Bomb Burritos, Myco-Wow, Krill Pow, Mr. Soy Chips, Mrs. Soy Chips…” “I don’t know any of these,” said Julian, “In fact I can’t identify a single brand. I know Nukit Burritos, but that’s it.” “Yeah, that felt familiar and I can identify some of this,” said Julie. Then she checked the price on each of the small boxes and frowned in confusion. “Am I getting this right? Is everything a single nuyen or is my commlink having trouble?” “Mine says that too,” said Julian, “The boxes look pretty small though.” “They look normal to me,” said Kenji. Fuzzy only shrugged and Ana followed just behind Kenji, moving nervously between the narrow aisles. Occasionally they’d have to stop and navigate around people. Though despite the stream of people earlier, this floor actually didn’t have many people on it which was strange until she remembered the time of the month. “That’s because it’s all hood food,” explained Kenji, “You get a lot of those off brands. I was paying attention. We came in through the south entrance and that’s the direction of the ACHE. Not far away. Wrong time of month for them though.” “Too far from the first of the month?” asked Julie. “You got it.” “What does the first of the month have to do with anything?” asked Fuzzy. The group passed by a short, light skinned, squat ork with pronounced bald spot, his skin rough looking. Julie thought he looked a lot like Pinchface, but only in the face. He was wearing disposable vending machine clothing so fresh that the creases were still on the paper thin garments. As they passed by, squirmed as she felt his eyes bore into her back. “It’s when everyone gets their government money,” said Kenji, “If you work hourly, checks usually come in on certain days, not dates. So, say, every Friday. If you’ve got a salary job, you get paid every two weeks, maybe a month on certain dates. But government checks always come on in the first. I’m betting this place is absolutely packed for the first few days.” “That is one of our peak times for this floor, yes,” said Ana, “We actually give discounts to some low income families through our buy ten, get one free program through our public-private partnership with the Seattle Metroplex Government.” Julie’s mouth firmed and she frowned. Then she felt bad. This wasn’t Ana’s fault. She was just a very small cog in a very large machine. Still, she wished that she had a face to direct that frown at. “Ah,” said Julian, “That would explain it. Ana?” “Yes?” she asked. “Is everything on this floor a nuyen?” he asked, “Or is it just this aisle?” “Ah, yes it is,” she said, “We here at Aztecnology wish to make it easier for our customers by having a one item, on nuyen policy. We…” Julie had already tuned out. She shared a look with Fuzzy, then Julian and when he stopped, Kenji. She’d seen enough and there was silent agreement that yes, they all had. Kenji took a moment, stared at the cart, manipulating it with an app and it whisked away from them, its broken front wheel squeaking and moving every which way but forward. Minutes passed as they headed for a stairway upwards and Julie hurried up next to Kenji. “You okay?” she asked. She had this feeling that something was bothering him, though he didn’t outwardly show it. Still, she’d spent enough time around him to get a feeling for it. He shrugged. “All this reminded me of how poor everyone was,” he explained, “But I’ve never seen so much of it in one place. Moms usually traded a lot of her check away for drugs. Pops sold some of the extra. Times got lean like everyone in the house but moms was SINless, you know, because they didn’t get checks on account of not being citizens or whatever. And I didn’t know where my money went, so...” “So it feels like being at home again?” she asked. Kenji didn’t respond for a few seconds and she thought that he wasn’t going to say anything, but then he shrugged. “Full shelves, small boxes,” he said, “If even one section of these aisles were at home, you’d be ghetto rich. When I went to this upscale place, I didn’t know the brands, but I sort of knew what everything was. I could sort of distance myself because this wasn’t my food. But now? There’s food everywhere and it’s getting to the point that even the ones with the SINs and their government checks start starving. And that’s if they didn’t trade their food to go get high. You had gangs that would buy up the SINs of people. You know, on the sly. That person would have the time of their lives for a while and maybe get enough money to buy it back, but it means they’re trapped. Then the money usually runs out.” “So the gangs get their checks?” asked Julie. “What? No, you don’t waste an identity on getting government checks. Or at least not as a main hustle,” said Kenji, “Plus if too many people start drawing checks from the ACHE, they get suspicious and start looking for who’s dead to cut costs. Only so much food goes in, always. No, you sell the SINs to people who want to leave who did scrape up the creds or they just hit the black market outside. It’s a hosed up system.” “Yeah,” said Julie. They didn’t say anything else. Up the stairs they went to investigate the second floor. This went much like the same, except in case of Kenji having a negative experience, Julie did. Each set of brands was set to a single floor and nowhere else. These were the ones that Julie knew. The ones that she’d seen in her home back when she’d been human and didn’t have magic. Back when she’d had a family and just wanted to graduate school and maybe become a nurse. Before her dad tried to strangle her in her hospital bed. “You all right?” asked Kenji. Julie stared down at a box of Almost Egg. It didn’t really disturb her, but her mom and dad had made a big deal that they’d been “middle class”, even if they’d quietly been lower middle class. Maybe that had been true at one point when her dad had more hours at the docks and fewer kids. Julie had spent most of her life in hand-me-down clothes eating a steady diet of soy and krill. The middle class kids didn’t only eat soy. Some ate real food. Julie didn’t eat real fruit, vegetables or meat. It was stuff like Almost Egg. “Just learning where I fall on the socio-economic ladder,” said Julie. “The what?” “Rich and poor. My family wasn’t lower-middle class. Maybe they had been, but this was the food on our shelves.” He patted her on her shoulder. “Don’t think you’re going to find your brands on the third level?” Julie shook her head. “No. They’re really big on telling people their place here. I’m not sure if the brands are architecture, but maybe where they’re put is meaningful.” “Seems like.” Kenji looked over to Julian and Fuzzy, who were talking to Ana. Julian seemed to understand that Julie needed some space and so he’d peeled Ana away from her. “My turn to ask now,” said Kenji, “You all right?” “Yeah,” said Julie, “It just kind of sucks that someone decided where I fit in here.” “Used to,” said Kenji. “No, I’m sure that they have a new place in mind for people like me.” “Is it better now that it’s higher up?” Julie’s first reaction was no, but she paused. A little part of her, that ugly part of her, had a yes socked away, waiting to get out. It did feel good to eat food that wasn’t always soy, krill and rice. To have a lovely cabin in the woods. An apartment. A place in a community that appreciated her. So she took her time to consider what she’d had growing up and what she had now. So what finally bubbled to the surface, neither a yes or a no, was something different. Something that came from her expanded mind. “I’d rather not be labeled,” she said at last, “My place is where I want to choose to be, not where I’m told.” To Julie, the answer had a simplicity and rightness to it. Kenji nodded in approval. Then Julie put the box of Almost Egg back on the shelf. The price was more than a nuyen, but more food per nuyen, she noted. Even though things were pricier here, it seemed to cost more to get food on the first level. “I don’t want to keep Fuzzy waiting,” she said, “I want to get that factory farm for her family. And that dentistry drone too.” “Know where you want to put it?” “I have an idea, but I’ll have to think about it. The big question is where to put the farm.” “Yeah, that’s a pain, but we’ll need to check it out first. It’s probably manageable.” “Probably.” She was thinking about how to feed the ACHE. No way could she fit all she needed down in Touristville. Fuzzy’s family was one thing. A few dozen people. The people of Touristville another. It was possible that she could feed both. But the ACHE was so big and she and her friends were so small. Her briefly expanded mind knew it was possible because the smaller Aztechnology Pyramid made almost all the food, though likely not in these pyramids. But still, it wasn’t something she’d be able to do alone or even with just her small group of friends. The task before her was so enormous and she and her friends were so small.
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Sep 18, 2020 13:19
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian, Song and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnology Pyramid Julie and ascended the escalator to the third level, ahead of everyone else as she wanted a little space. Looking down, she saw what she hadn’t noticed previously. Before, she could see the shapes and especially the feet of those who stood above her through the semi-translucent ceiling. Now she looked down and could see those shapes below. Not well, because there hadn’t been many people on the first level to look down at. However, now that she was above the second, she could see the people who she was above. To a certain kind of person, understanding your place in the world was comforting. Having someone to look up to comforted Julie. What angered her was that Aztechnology made a point of making sure that she didn’t have someone to look up to as much as the knowledge that there were those above her. Past the first floor, there was also the knowledge that some were below her as well. She imagined it was reassuring to someone uncomfortable with their lot in life. Julie wasn’t one of those people. She felt like she was part of the architecture now, made complicit in this rigid class structure by her mere presence and she found this deeply offensive. Now that she was away from everyone else, at least a little bit, she noticed that Julian was giving her curious looks as he stepped onto the elevator. She looked away, but then she wondered. Did he know or at least suspect what she’d seen? The dances like rivers? Yet another thing to speak to him about. Later though. The first to ascend the escalator, Julie saw even more grocery store, not that she was expecting anything else. She decided to wander a bit, but not far. Just another variation on the theme. This one finer, the boxes bigger, the aisles a little wider, the grocery cart drones and stocking drones better maintained. All that was new was that there were bulk products now. Later she would wonder if the lack of care on the first levels was somehow purposeful instead of neglectful. That was not what she noticed though. She was spending too much time looking at the store and too much time in her head and almost ran into a woman. A beautiful one, who did not at all fit into the aesthetic of this place. Not one bit. Julie stared and her mouth dropped open. Her skin was pale, her hair long, dark and tousled, as if she’d just emerged from bed. She wore a headdress of gold with red, precious stones set inside in front, feathers in the back, swept over her head. The long dress she wore was pure white save for colorful flowers set in the fabric, a heavy emphasis on the fluffy, almost cheerful yellow flowers and delicate, trumpet shaped flowers so dark purple they were almost black. Like all the women here, she was barefoot, though her feet were adorned in jewelry shaped like flowers. The obsidian jaguar pendent of Aztechnology hung about her neck. What was most striking about this woman, an elf, Julie was sure by her pointed ears, was her face paint. Starting at her nose, a yellow triangle near the tip, the same color of the yellow flowers. A black band, no, dark purple, matching her dress. Geometric patterns were set in bands above the yellow that went all the way her hairline. It accentuated her face, which was beyond beautiful, beyond convention, as she’d been sculpted and her sculptor had been killed so they might never make another like her. An odd thought that bubbled up from her. Yes, she was beautiful. Almost offensively so, a master artist’s dream of an ideal woman, an hourglass figure, leggy, with high cheekbones and dimples when she smiled, which was frequent. Every pose was a picture. Like a goddess who had just emerged from bed. And as she neared, eyes on Julie, she could smell the herbs and incense and the delicate, yet powerful smell of that woman, who stalked nearer and nearer still, dark brown eyes on Julie, cupid’s bow lips turned into a smile. Julie realized she was staring, but couldn’t stop. What struck Julie then was a weight. Not a physical one, though she wasn’t sure at first. It was the woman’s sheer presence that weighed on her and kept her from moving. Not her beauty, something more than that. Then she shook her head as if to clear the woman from her mind. It had only been a few seconds and she’d noticed so much. Perhaps her sense of time was still skewed from the ritual. “Hello Miss Freeman,” said the woman, whose voice was like the tinkling of bells, soft enough that Julie involuntarily leaned in, “It’s so lovely to meet you. May I call you Julie?” “Uh, sure,” said Julie, “That’s okay. Who are you?” She felt like an oaf, staring down at the woman who was a head and a half shorter than Julie. More criticism leapt to her mind. Oversized lummox. Rough skinned loser. Unlike normal though, she was actually okay with this both emotionally and mentally. They’d been from a different time when she was far less sure of herself, conjured as if by reflex. As if her neurons primed for self-loathing firing out of habit and then rejected by her current state of mind. Julie was herself. This woman was herself. Both of them were distinct and complex. And dangerous, Julie felt. Though she didn’t know why. “How lovely,” said the woman, “I’m Cuicatl.” “Key-cah-tel?” asked Julie, as she tried to work her mouth around her name, “Um, h-hello, I’m Julie Freeman.” Cuicatl dipped her head in a gracious nod. “Hello Miss Freeman. It is an honor to meet you. Your pronunciation is excellent. Nahuatl can be a difficult language to speak,” she said, “My name merely means Song. My friends call me that. You may as well if you like.” Then there was the sound of boots stumbling on the ground. Before Julie could answer, she saw Fuzzy trip like she had at the elevator, which Julie actually wasn’t that far away from the elevator, she noticed. Fuzzy had been caught by Julian, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her mouth eyes were wide, mouth agape as she stared at the woman. Even Kenji looked impressed and appreciative. Julian stared like the rest of them, but recovered quickly and set Fuzzy back up on her feet. Julie was still emotionally off balance as was everyone else, but she had this feeling. So she turned back around, opened her astral sight and looked at Song. The fact that she thought of her as Song and not Cuicatl didn’t occur to her, at least not yet. The subtle manipulations, the difficulty of her name to say, the strangeness of it and the ease of the name that was what her friends called her. The connection had been made. First impressions were important. “Priestess,” said Ana, “We are honored by your presence. Julie stared at Song in the astral as the priestess ignored Ana. She could see a flicker of green annoyance, ignited and extinguished in a blink, but otherwise the yellow of happiness permeated her body, easily on display. Lingering overtones of red passion, like echoes near her core and mouth. Also a green of...Fertility? That wasn’t an emotion, but Julie could swear that was what she saw. But she kept seeing more of these non-emotions writ upon the woman’s aura. Gold of wisdom. Blue of loyalty. Purple of nobility. But it was the green that drew her eye. Green stood out starkest and greatest. Fertility. Not just a physical, womanly fertility like she’d first assumed. Something else, something greater...No. Gone. Julie’s sight lessened in intensity and her mind slid away from these non-emotional, spiritual states. But there was more. Marring of the body and spirit. Slight imperfections. Julie was peering at her spirit. That connection between body and soul. It had been marred. If not for seeing Joyce’s augmentations, his...Her...Their bleeding edge tech, Julie would not have recognized it in Song. The woman was full of deltaware and if not for her altered state, even as it continued to fade, Julie felt like she could not have seen it. Song had no magic, but she had cybernetics and bioware: Her skin, her lips, her throat, her hands, her feet, her...Her… “Julie, I understand that shamans are used to living around one another and so you have different sensibilities,” said Song, “But you should know that it’s impolite to peer into the emotions of another. How else shall a person keep their secrets or their modesty? Might I request...” Julie ended her astral sight, feeling her cheeks blaze with embarrassment, though she was happy that her skin wouldn’t show that. The rest of her would, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. “I’m sorry,” said Julie, too quickly. Song smiled. It was almost painful to look at. “All is forgiven,” she said, graciously, “I wear my emotions on my sleeve anyway, as many of you are so fond of saying. That is the saying, yes? Wearing your emotions on your sleeve?” “I...Yes,” said Julie. “Ow!” yelped Fuzzy. Julie turned around once more. Fuzzy was rubbing her ear. Anger prickled on her face as she glared at Julian’s back. Then seemed to realize that she’d been staring. She briefly looked back to Song and Fuzzy’s ponytail whipped around as she made a conscious effort not to stare. Julian approached, in control of his faculties once more. “Hello there,” he said, “I take it that you’re our guide for this field trip?” Again Song smiled, open and honest. “There was a need and I decided to come,” she said, “Some of my sisters wished to come instead, but we felt like more than one of us would be too much. We came to a consensus that I was the most fit. It is not often that a group of interesting awakened graces our humble home. It should not go unremarked.” “I expected that we would be approached eventually,” said Julian. “Then all is well. May I have a moment to give Anacaona her due honors? She has done her best to treat you as honored guests despite her inexperience. This has been noticed and appreciated and so she ascends. It shall not take long, a small ritual, unless you’re in a hurry in which case it can be done later.” Julian didn’t say yes immediately, but he nodded. “Yes,” he said, “I don’t mind.” Julian nodded graciously to her, turned around and put a hand on Julie’s shoulder, pulling her with him. His eyes and posture portrayed a calm that Julie did not feel. “Remember, this is a big place,” he said, in that teacher voice of his, “Don’t get separated. It would be hard to find you if you got lost.” Julian’s meaning was clear to everyone, even Fuzzy, who wasn’t great at nuance. It would be bad to get separated. They all nodded. “How long do you think that we might get lost?” asked Kenji, casually, “This place is pretty big, even with our commlinks on.” Julian patted Julie on the shoulder “Not for long,” said Julian, “We’ll all be home before dinner, don’t worry. Still, I’d rather not have to come looking for you. It might take a while and we’re on a schedule.” Conversation over, they turned around to find Song quickly and efficiently braiding Ana’s hair into a style that pulled it upwards without piling the excess on her head. A simple braid. Then Song was done and turned the younger girl around. “No longer shall you wear your hair down,” she said, with a ritual air, “You are Mexica now. So you shall wear it up as a lady should. No longer shall you grow green peppers. You shall now grow yellow and distribute the green to your lessers as a farewell. No longer shall you toil in the shadow of the sun and the moon. You shall labor in the sun. You ascend through me and the generosity of Xochiquetzal, goddess of flowers. In your plot, you will grow a flower to honor her as your patron deity, a flower to honor Aztechnology as your patron corporation and a flower to honor me as the one who helped you ascend. These flowers shall be as precious to you as if it was your children. Do you understand?” Ana bowed her head. “Yes priestess,” said Ana, “Most precious.” Song plucked a single yellow flower from her dress and threaded the stem into Ana’s hair, leaving the bright yellow in her hair, its color perfectly complimenting her dress. “Today you shall be my attendant as we ascend the steps. Tomorrow you shall sell flowers in the name of the goddess. Continue to honor Aztechnology, your goddess and myself as your patron for these first steps by doing your utmost. Through this, you shall honor yourself.” “Yes priestess,” said Ana, “Thank you for this honor.” A single nod. Song stepped away. So many people had stared. Not just those on the impromptu “field trip”, but a pile-up of people had stopped near the escalator to witness the short ritual. The ritual was over. The spell was broken. Song stepped away and back toward her intended group and slowly, those people began to disperse. “Hello,” said Song, “Pardon my rudeness for not introducing myself before. I am Cuicatl, but if you so choose, you may call me Song instead.” Ana trailed behind Song, just the right, looking incredibly happy. Julie didn’t know what to feel. She hated this system, but now Ana had advanced into it, no longer on the bottom. “Thank you, lady Song,” began Julian. Song lifted her hand and tittered. “You pay me too much honor, master shaman,” she said, “It is just Song. I have briefly met Miss Freeman and we have exchanged names, but I am curious about the others. Would you care to make introductions?” Julie had no doubt that Song knew all their names already. “And you’re to be our guide?” asked Julian. “Yes, that is my chosen task.” Julian nodded. “I am Julian Smith, teacher at Blake Island School of Magic,” he said, “These are my students and wards, Fuzzy Smith, no relation, Kenji Nokamura and of course, Julie Freeman whom you already met.” Fuzzy jammed her fidgeting hands into her pockets and said nothing, still looking away, cheeks blazing. “Oh, just for a moment or two,” she responded, “I hope all your students aren’t so shy. I’m looking forward to meeting them. After all, young Anacaona doesn’t know the pyramid above the second level. So I shall serve as your guide and she can attend and learn by example. We can cross through the aisles, over the bridge and directly to the farming center on the third floor of the moon pyramid. If you have any questions, you need only ask.” “I think that’s a fine idea,” said Julian, “There is the matter of propriety, however. I understand that sacred companionship is a high honor in your culture, but others from my culture may misunderstand. This is a high school field trip after all. Are you currently serving as an ahuianime at the moment?” Song’s smile didn’t waver. “I understand that the vulgar and prudish and ignorant might look down at me, but they rarely do so for long. Aztechnology does not tolerate religious discrimination and I am a priestess. Ahuianime, sacred companion, is merely one of my many duties, but not one I plan to practice, for I am your guide and I take my responsibilities seriously…” “I...See…” said Julian, skeptically. The nod Song gave him was a serious one. “Those who look down on me look down on Aztechnology,” she explained, “And few look down on Aztechnology for long. We have our own public relations department just for religious matters and they make sure we do not suffer religious discrimination or persecution. As my guests, none of you shall either. That is my holy oath given to you as a priestess. No one may compel me to break it, not even the gods. In fact, it is I who will compel others to see it fulfilled.” Julian considered this for a long time, staying silent. No one said anything. Then he nodded, walked towards her and held out his arm for her to take. She did so, slender arm hooking in place in his before she demurely rested her free hand on his bicep.. The priestess all grace in white and flowers and the teacher in his tweed jacket, both anachronisms of a sort, began to stroll down the aisle of the lower-middle class grocery store, completely out of place. Ana trailed behind Song. Julie, Fuzzy and Kenji behind them as they all began to walk. “I’m so confused,” complained Fuzzy, “She’s just on his arm now?” “Yeah,” said Kenji, “He’s making sure that we’re not just following her. It’s a power thing.” “Why though?” “They sent someone high class to come meet us,” he whispered, “A serious person. Don’t mess with her.” “I wasn’t planning on it,” she sighed, “What’s an owie anime anyway?” “A ho.” Julie gasped. Fuzzy looked confused. “Kenji,” hissed Julie, “That’s awful. Don’t say that about people.” “She is though,” he whispered back, “She’s got serious ho energy. I lived around hoes my whole life. The ones I knew were all right. Some were even cool as poo poo. They’re regular people off hours and I played cards with them all the time. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Just another job. You do what you gotta do to eat. I’m just saying that I know hoes.” Then it clicked in Julie’s head. This was a different culture. Prostitutes seemed to be seen differently in this culture than in hers. “Maybe don’t call her a ho though,” whispered Julie, “What’s a ho?” whispered Fuzzy, “Is she a gardener? She doesn’t look like a gardener.” Julie and Kenji stared at Fuzzy. “Are you for real right now?” asked Kenji. Fuzzy looked confused. “What?” Julie wanted to explain, but perhaps it would be better to explain this to her later. “I’m not...Look, I’ll explain later,” he said, “She’s got be rocking…” Kenji realized something and silently swore. “Cyberware and bioware,” finished Julie, “That’s what I figured too.” Julie almost said that she was sure, but caught herself before she did. Suspecting was one thing. Confirming it was another. Unlike standard cyberware or bioware, seeing deltaware was extremely difficult to do. Best not to tip her hand at what she could do, even if she probably couldn’t repeat the process once she was thinking normally again. “She’s probably using tailored pheromones,” whispered Kenji, “So I have to turn off my kinesics. Pain in the rear end. I’m not going to be able to smell anything.” Julie furrowed her brow in confusion. She didn’t really know much about cyberware or bioware. Devin hadn’t covered that yet. Just because Song had a lot of it in her didn’t mean that Julie knew what it was. “What are fear moans?” whispered Fuzzy, “I don’t understand.” She was able to look forwards again. Kenji and Julie didn’t laugh or smile. They were too tense. “Pheromones are smells that people put out of their bodies,” whispered Julie, “They’re like chemical signals.” “Still don’t…” whispered Fuzzy. “You know how you can smell the fear on someone?” asked Kenji. Fuzzy sighed in relief. Finally something she understood. “Uh, yeah,” whispered Fuzzy. “Uh, no,” whispered Julie. “Why moans though?” “They’re called pheromones, not fear moans,” whispered Julie. “Oh.” “It’s a thing,” whispered Kenji, “They’re smells that people give off for their mood. Tailored pheromones are bioware that high end social operators use. She’s probably surrounded in a cloud of feel good smells and Julian is getting hit with them with them right now. It puts you off your game while boosting their own confidence. It’s probably why I’m making that mistake by calling her a...poo poo...poo poo poo poo poo poo. Anyway, someone operating at her level probably has them.” “So we should get him away from her,” whispered Fuzzy, “We should just get away.” “They’ll just send someone else.” “And we get away from them too.” “Someone we don’t see next time.” “I’ve got my danger sense. I can figure them out.” “Which always works on everything, right?” Fuzzy opened her mouth, then closed it. No, it didn’t. Unless she was going to be harmed, it didn’t work. “Julian probably knows this, so he’s taking the big hit so we don’t have to,” whispered Kenji, “Odds are she’s just hitting us with feel good smells, not like, arousal, because we’d be able to make an issue of that. It would be a bad look to drop that all over a high school field trip.” “That’s weird. Why would a gardener…” began Fuzzy, and she sighed, “Okay, sure. Tell me later.” “Serotonin, not oxytocin,” whispered Julie, “Skin can generate serotonin. So don’t let her touch you either.” “So that would be bad, right?” whispered Fuzzy. “Yeah, that would be bad.” “Okay. Don’t let her touch me. Good to know.” “Definitely don’t let her touch you,” whispered Kenji, “She can hit you with a whammy way faster and way harder than the airborne stuff. Look, I’m going to shut off my sense of smell, but that’s linked to my ability to read bodies. So I’m not going to be as good as I usually am. I’ll check Julian in case he says anything weird. Also, we’re probably being listened to. Just keep that under advisement.” “We are?” asked Fuzzy, “Should we be quieter?” “Won’t matter.” “Then why are we whispering at all?” asked Fuzzy, in frustration. “Can’t hurt,” whispered Kenji, but then he cleared his throat and spoke normally, “But fine. We need to follow, but as soon as we get out of the aisles we need to not be in her wake.” This was easier said than done. The aisle was long, even though it was less narrow. Still, they caught up, now next to Ana. The former hostess flashed Julie a smile that Julie didn’t feel. In fact she seemed positively giddy and full of pride. The why of why she felt that way suddenly burst forth from her lips. “I get to grow yellow peppers now,” she whispered, excitedly. “That’s...That’s great,” said Julie, “I’m really happy for you.” Ana nodded and then looked forward, quiet once more, serious in her attendance to the priestess. Meanwhile, shoppers in the seemed to move out of the way of Song and Julian without any urging. They only stared at the strange procession. A male employee who wore a button down shirt and slacks as well as a colorful conical hat and sandals bowed to the priestess, who did not respond to him. Instead she continued the conversation with Julian and only now was Julie listening. “I’m not surprised you’re so interested in our faith,” said Song, “Perhaps I can make a...How do you say...A convert out of you?” “I have an interest in your gods, yes. I’m a scholar of religions, but sadly no devotee to any one.” “Is there no place in your heart for faith?” “I think I know too many gods and they all compete for very limited real-estate,” said Julian. “How sad. I shall burn incense for you and beseech my goddess to soften your heart,” she said, hopefully. “Who knows? That may work. Speaking of gods, I’ve seen a few depictions of your gods on the walls. I enjoy the new depictions Itzpapalotl. Very stylish.” “Yes, the Obsidian Butterfly is popular,” said Song, who brightened, “Especially with our youngest. Our black butterflies...You call them bats, are very popular with a small but thriving subculture...Oh, what is it that those people call themselves? It’s on the tip of my tongue...” Kenji was about to open his mouth, but Julie elbowed him in the ribs. He twitched a few times and pinched his skin. “gently caress,” he whispered, “It’s already happening. Didn’t shut it off fast enough.” “What…” began Fuzzy. Julie was feeling it too. She knew the answer and wanted to raise her hand into the sky and answer like it was her first day at school. It was difficult, but she kept herself from doing so for long enough that Julian spoke up. “They’re called goths,” said Julian, a little loudly, “I have a few students like that.” Song turned her head back towards them and showed off a charming smile that immediately made Fuzzy turn away. “Oh? Do any of you sometimes dress all in black?” she asked, finishing with a small giggle, “Perhaps you fly by night?” Fuzzy was about to say something, but Julian cut in before she could talk. “They don’t,” he said, “But there are a few in classes of mine. There’s a dress code, but they accessorize. Speaking of the gods, I was very interested in the depiction of Xipe Totec.” Fuzzy closed her mouth and instead stared down at her steel toed black boots. The ones she’d bought for the punk concerts that she occasionally went to. Then she opened her mouth once more. “Sheepy Totec?” asked Fuzzy, “He’s a sheep god?” “Sheep aren’t native to the Americas and the Aztecs never domesticated any woolly animals on their continent, like alpacas,” said Julian, “Though one of the Salish tribes just a few years ago revived the formerly extinct wool dog through genetic engineering so they could remake their traditional blankets. Genetic material was harvested from a preserved specimen found in the Museum of Natural history. I hear there are a few hundred of them now, though at the moment they’re just clones. There’s fierce debate about whether to keep cloning them or to breed them with similar canines to create a stable breeding stock that’s close to the original.” “That’s absolutely fascinating,” said Song. “It can be,” said Julian, “If you ever want to hear old men yell at each other over tiny dogs that is. I hear that the discussions can get quite heated. Last I checked, the traditionalist, pro-clone side was winning until someone cross bred one with a Coton de Tulear. But like the name implies, it has a cottony coat instead of a woolly one. Quite the hullabaloo.” “I suppose so,” I’ll have to ask the Salish ambassador if he’s seen such a wonderful creature as the wool dog.” While Julian chatted long about nothing for reasons not yet understood by the teens, the group wandered down the long aisle of brands of cereal that none of them knew. However, bulk goods made their first appearance. Lots of bulk goods in fact. They passed thousands of twenty pound bags of cereal located below far smaller, more familiarly shaped boxes of them. From colorful cartoon characters to market to children to cereal that promised better digestive health for adults. “He has one, actually,” said Julian, “His blanket hangs on his wall in his office, stitched in the exact same way that their ancestors used to. We briefly spoke last year at a potlatch. That’s a kind of gathering where the powerful give away their possessions or destroy them to demonstrate their wealth and power, though these days it’s mostly just about giving things away. It was quite the party. A colleague of mine was asked to recite the oral history of our school since the Salish consider it their historic land despite them leasing Seattle and the surrounding areas to the UCAS. There was a call to give the land back and he asked if any of the children wished to attend. Neither side answered.” There was a slight, awkward pause. Fuzzy made a face and lifted up her hands, palm up, displaying her confusion. “Why is Julian talking about dogs and parties?” whispered Fuzzy. “He’s running down the clock so she has less time to talk to us because we’re inhaling those tailored pheromones. That way we don’t make mistakes,” whispered Kenji, “He’s usually not this boring.” “Running down...Oh, okay…That’s smart.” “He’s leaning into the boring teacher stereotype. It’s kind of impressive, actually. She doesn’t know what to do.” Then Song tilted her head, then back and then smiled once more. Julie winced. Kenji had been overheard. The tailored pheromones were putting him off his game and she elbowed him again. “Just don’t talk,” whispered Julie, urgently. Julie wasn’t sure why the pheromones weren’t working on her as well. Though maybe they were and she just didn’t understand the effects yet. Julian though, with her on his arm, was likely getting them full blast and he seemed to be standing up to it pretty well. “Of course a master shaman would be invited to all the parties,” said Song, “How impressive.” “I normally don’t go to such things,” said Julian, “Too busy teaching.” “Diligence like that is positively commendable,” she replied, “Now you were saying about the god of rebirth?” While a few people stopped to stare at the group, or more specifically at Song, others who were less attentive just moved out of her way. Not once did she need to break her straight line. “He seems larger in your depictions than in my memories,” said Julian, “I don’t remember him being so...Robust.” Song laughed and shook her head. “All of our gods of agriculture have grown a bit in size. Some of that is upwards and some is outwards, of course,” she assured him, “Xipe Totec feeds the world and so he must grow in proportion. Some plumpness in a man is a sign of good fortune.” “Sadly I am not so fortunate,” teased Julian. “Oh, but you could be,” she cooed, “Master Julian, you’re all skin and bones. I would feed you myself from my own table. I’m a very good cook.” She pressed her body a little closer to his. Not enough to be lewd, more affectionate. “I bet you are,” said Julian, “But yes, Fuzzy. Your question. Not a god of sheep. Xipe Totetc is one of the gods of agriculture. As well as goldsmiths, silversmiths, liberation, the seasons and warfare. He’s a god of life, death and rebirth, as well as plague, so people would make offerings to him to ward off disease. He feeds the world…” “My, you’re very knowledgeable,” said Song, very quickly. “...Through the flaying of his own skin,” finished Julian, “There are actually a number of flaying rituals that are associated with him.” Song didn’t quite frown at him, but she became suddenly less affectionate. This derailed what she was about to say. It was odd, Julie felt, how Song’s cheeks didn’t color in the slightest. Instead, that presence that she exuded, that subtle pressure, began to intensify. It was as if Julie was being squeezed, despite no physical, magical or technological pressure being applied. That squeezing intensified even more until it was like a weight. It made her want to move away. Made her want to please the priestess to make it stop, which Julie figured that that part at least was the tailored pheromones. “The revival of the old Aztec culture that we practice has done away with such things,” said Song, her tone pointed, “We are grateful for the wisdom of our ancestors, but not all that they did was wise. It is true that our ancestors practiced horrible things, but their mistakes were little different from what happened to those innocents accused of witchcraft in Europe and even the Americas. I am surprised at you, master Julian. I had hoped you would know better. Aztechnology only wishes to feed the world. We wish to do good. This barbarism is far behind us.” Julian didn’t seem to be bothered by the pressure. Instead he bowed his head for a moment, then reached over and patted her arm in a conciliatory fashion. “Ah, I’m sorry if I gave offense,” he said, “I was merely speaking of how he was worshipped in the past. I didn’t mean to give the impression that this was how he was worshipped today.” Her smile bloomed once again and so did her affection. “Of course,” she said, “My mistake.” “No, no,” said Julian, “I wasn’t clear enough. Perhaps you have some modern liturgy on Aztec religious practices? Something beyond the pamphlets for would be converts I mean. Something scholarly? It has been a while since I’ve studied your culture, as you can see.” Arm in arm, she tried to place an uncovered hand on Julians. Julie held her breath and then cringed as Song put her uncovered hand on top of Julian’s. He noticed seconds later, but too late and he shivered slightly. Julie wondered what consequences that mistake was going to cost. “I suppose that I can arrange that,” she said. Just like that, Julian had wasted enough time to bring them from one side of the store to the other. Julie saw the Jaguar mouth exit and the shimmering bridge beyond to the moon pyramid. She let out a sigh of relief. It was near the fruits and vegetables section, which was small since such things were expensive. Just a few tables. Ana had been quietly attending Song, which meant walking just to her right and staying silent. As they passed a tiny section for fresh fruits and vegetables, curiously, she suddenly switched from right to the left. As she moved, Julie saw her make a small, furtive gesture with one hand, eyes turned away. Julie first looked left, but then checked right as they passed a number of very cheap potatoes. Startlingly cheap actually. Apples went for five nuyen each, a pint of strawberries for twenty-five, oranges were ten a piece, but a five pound bag of potatoes was only ten nuyen and there were plenty of them. “Papa de Reyes” the sign in AR read, which Julie’s translator program read as “Potato of Kings”. As they passed it, Ana switched back to the right and looked relieved. Julie filed that away for later as she followed Julian and Song towards the bridge of air to the moon pyramid. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 10:46 on Sep 21, 2020 |
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Sep 18, 2020 13:19
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian, Song and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnology Pyramid Julie didn’t want to ride in the canoe. She really didn’t. “Come on,” said Kenji, “We’re waiting on you.” A long canoe had pulled up next to them and waited as everyone boarded as the bridge between the buildings would take a few minutes to walk, but the ride was smooth and quick. The stream ran around the watercraft, greenery flanked it. Julie looked down and saw the poor on the bottom floor, moving here and there. She didn’t just want to ride in the sky above them, but if she didn’t, she’d be not only giving Song more time to work on everyone, but it would separate her. Something she didn’t want to do. “Okay,” grumbled Julie. She boarded as everyone watched, her weight causing the boat to sink just a little more before she found a seat next to Fuzzy. Kenji sat next to Ana and Julian and Song, faced towards them, sitting next to one another. Upwind, Julie noted. Then they were off, the ride swift and smooth. “The Aztecnology Arcology, known as the Pyramid, was constructed over almost a decade,” said Song, “Beginning in 2022, its first iteration was finished in 2030. Since then, it’s gone through several remodels. The addition of the airlike material that makes up the two temples was instituted just a few years ago, in 2070. Before that, the arcology needed far more reinforcement and now there is much more space.” “So you can grow more food?” asked Julie. Julie was interested in how they did it. If she had to be here, she might as well ask. “Almost all the food in Seattle, that’s right Miss Freeman. Though most of our indoor farming and manufacturing is done underground, or so I’m told.” “You haven’t actually been there?” asked Kenji. “Oh no,” she said, “Those levels are tended to by other priestesses. I see to the needs of those above.” “How long have you been gardening?” asked Fuzzy, nearly blurting it out. Song tilted her head in confusion before Fuzzy pointed to her dress, who seemed to be able to talk to her because she was focusing on the flowers, not on the woman. “How long have I been gardening?” she asked. Fuzzy pointed to Song’s dress. “You have marigolds and morning glories on your dress,” she explained, “Did you grow them yourself?” The confusion passed and Song seemed delighted by the question. “I’ve actually been gardening since I was a little girl,” she said, “And yes, I grow these flowers myself by hand. All of my sister priestesses do as offerings to the flower goddess.” “I love flowers,” said Fuzzy, “I’ve never seen a morning glory that color before.” “Oh, you find them in Aztlan,” said Song, “These are one of a kind though. Upon her ascension, a priestess is presented with her own flowers, genetically engineered specifically for her. One for the goddess, one for Aztecnology and one for her corporate patron.” Fuzzy stared at her dress more closely. “I only see two,” said Fuzzy. “Oh I wear a third,” she said, “I rarely show it off though.” “Why?” A pause, a bashful, sidelong look to Julian and then back to Fuzzy. Julie almost rolled her eyes, but only because she wanted to see where Fuzzy was taking this. “It’s a secret. Isn’t a lady allowed her secrets?” “I like flowers, not secrets,” said Fuzzy, flatly, “I can’t press secrets.” Julie saw Song’s head move back a fraction by Fuzzy’s bluntness. The tailored pheromones were loosening tongues and causing mistakes among those present, but it only made Fuzzy more direct. At least when talking about flowers. “You know,” mused Song, “You’re the first person in quite some time who has actually been interested in my flowers. At least outside of my sisterhood. It’s refreshing.” “Why? You’re a gardener, right? Why wouldn’t people be interested in your flowers?” Song had no ready answer for this. Kenji did though. He laughed. Julie placed a hand over her mouth as she smiled, Julian was very careful to look straight ahead and Ana looked quietly terrified. The boat came to a smooth stop and people kept filing out, but Fuzzy stayed inside for a moment longer. “I want your flowers for my book,” said Fuzzy. Song leaned forward and tried to pat Fuzzy on the hand in an “indulgent” manner, but Fuzzy stood up then and moved away. Kenji was still laughing helplessly, hanging onto Julie. “I’ll send you some cuttings,” said Song. “Cool, thanks.” Julie couldn’t help it. She began giggling along with Kenji. Maybe it was the situation, maybe it was the pheromones, maybe both, but Fuzzy had stalled for more time without meaning to. Still, those pheromones were insidious. As she and Kenji ceased laughing, she felt like she was having a good time. Like she and Song were bonding. That this was a lovely trip. Once again Julian allowed Song on his arm and Ana trailed behind them as they entered into the Jaguar’s mouth entrance of the moon pyramid. Julie, Kenji and Fuzzy followed behind, while Kenji wiped away tears from laughing. “What’s so funny?” asked Fuzzy. “Tell you later,” said Kenji, all smiles. Unlike the grocery store that was the sun pyramid, the moon pyramid looked more like a modern mall or big box store, save for the glittering surfaces all around. Stores were everywhere and like most stores these days save for a few holdouts, the stores were primarily showcase rooms. Few people actually bought anything. It was easier to ship and so every single one of Aztechnology’s products could fit into a single structure. Any object that wasn’t food that people used was here. Not a lot of it, but enough to inspect it and get a feel for it. Now that there was more room, Kenji moved Julie and Fuzzy out of the wake of Song’s tailored pheromones. All of them had been hit by it, but it was something that could build up in a person, especially if touched. So they moved far away from the mall-like corridor, still walking. Julie’s window shopped and an AR ad for a dress that she lingered on showed someone who looked like her: Tall, dark skinned and prettier than she normally felt smoothing out the long dress and then walking in front of her. She saw the price tag and was interested as it was in her range and looked...Then, she noticed that the figure that looked like her wasn’t wearing any shoes, just like all the women who worked for Aztechnology. Suddenly annoyed, she pulled up her ad blocker and added that ad to her list as they left the women’s clothing store behind. “Blam,” said Julie. “Blam?” asked Kenji. “Blammed an ad,” she repeated, “Scary how good they are.” “What was it for?” asked Fuzzy. “A dress. The model looked like me, but she didn’t have any shoes on.” “I noticed that,” said Fuzzy, “Not the ad, but the lack of shoes. The men wear sandals and the women don’t wear any shoes. The people who work here, anyway.” “I really don’t like that,” said Julie, “Think it’s a choice?” “Would you wear those dorky looking vests the grocery store workers did if you had to?” asked Kenji. “No,” said Julie and Fuzzy at once. Song was talking about Aztechnology again, but none of them were listening. She hadn’t yet reestablished that weight of presence she had around her as Fuzzy had disrupted it. It was a relief, albeit a temporary one. Not gone, but diminished. “There’s your answer,” said Kenji. Julie opened her mouth, but closed it when she got a text from Jimmy. “Hey, I’m on my break or I would’ve said something sooner. Good to hear from you. The Azzies do pretty good dental drones. There’s one patterned off the Shiawase Caduceus seven, the “Cad 7”, but it’s way cheaper. The Dientes ‘75. Basically just a dentist chair with two drone arms that do the work. With the right programs it’ll do basic cleaning and anything short of heavy surgery on its own and you can get a specialist tech in to do that work. Normally it’d run you about ten grand with the top end civilian programming, but I can send you some vendor only promotions and coupons if you want. It’d shave about twenty percent off the price. Plus the ‘76’s are going to come out next month, so you might be able to negotiate for a better price.” Julie pulled out her commlink and texted him back, fingers clumsy from lack of practice. “I’d love the coupons, thanks Jimmy.” Seconds later he attached a file to their conversation. She opened it and long strings of numbers and letters were marked explanations about what they were for and how much she saved. Another text from him popped up in AR. “If you can’t get a package deal for less than seven grand, walk. You may need help setting it up for automatic work. It doesn’t come pre-assembled due to all of the delicate parts and they definitely do charge extra for that. I also got a spare control console you can use in case you do want that tech to do anything with it. It’s not fancy, but it’ll work. Anyway, if you need that done, I’ll get it running for you free of charge. You did me a real favor. I figure that I can do one back.” Julie felt her heart lift in a way that wasn’t at all artificial. She exchanged a few texts about materials, but what she knew was that her community was going to feel just a bit better in the near future with cleaner teeth. “This is great,” she said. “What’s great?” asked Kenji. “Oh, this dentist thing I’m trying to set up,” she said, “This guy I met, Jimmy, he gave me a bunch of coupons. Twenty percent off on the drones and he says if I don’t get thirty percent, I shouldn’t buy it.” “Good discount,” said Fuzzy, “Which means you can get an even better one.” “I love haggling over poo poo,” said Kenji. “Yeeeeep,” giggled Fuzzy, “Like my dad’s truck?” “That wasn’t haggling. That was a straight up robbery.” Fuzzy giggled evilly and nodded. “Plus he’s going to give me a uh...Control console?” she asked. Kenji whistled. “He’s giving you an RCC?” he asked. “Seems like,” said Julie. “What’s an RCC?” asked Fuzzy. “Rigger control console,” said Kenji, “Rigger is an older name for drone pilot, so an RCC is a remote control for drones. Even the cheapest ones are a little over a grand. That’s a serious solid.” “He offered to set up the drone too. He’s really nice.” Kenji gave her a look. “Is this guy sweet on you, Julie?” he asked. “What? No, I don’t think so,” said Julie, “I met his family. You know, his wife and kids?” “You mean…” began Kenji. Fuzzy dug Kenji in the ribs and he winced, instantly shutting up. Julie had told the story of what happened at the protest during the ritual and that wasn’t something to be spoken of when they were likely being watched. “Hey, what’s that for?” asked Kenji. Fuzzy looked away, satisfied. Kenji sighed. He actually wasn’t going to say anything and Fuzzy had been overzealous. “Well, if you take him up on it, I suggest bringing some people you trust and inviting his family,” said Kenji, “Since you just met him a little bit ago, right?” “Seems a little paranoid,” she said. Kenji waved his hand dismissively. “If he’s a creep, he’ll likely find a way to weasel out of it. If he’s cool, then you’re making nice with someone generous who likes you. Now how much are you sending him as a thank you?” “Uhhh…” began Julie, “He said he’d do it for free.” Kenji made a face. “Julie, if he likes you enough to do all that, then you make sure to cement that relationship,” he explained, “So you made a good first impression. That’s great. Now keep making a good impression. Treat your people right. Be the first person they think of when opportunity knocks. Even if you don’t buy the thing, you send along some creds so he texts you next time you ask. If you do, you send more.” Fuzzy nodded along. “I...Okay, how much?” asked Julie. “Depends,” said Kenji, “This dentist. Is he running tech in his head or is he a real deal guy with an expensive education?” Julie thought about it. About the real fruit she shared with them and how they hadn’t eaten it in a while. How there wasn’t any fresh fruit or veggies on the first or second floor of the sun pyramid grocery store and the produce section on level three was small despite the enormity of the level. “A tech,” she said. “A hundred if it doesn’t pan out. Three-hundred if it does,” explained Kenji, snapping it off fast and easy, “Air taxi fare over to your place so he doesn’t get stuck in traffic from the protests. A nice dinner for you, your people and his entire family. Real rear end food. No soy or krill on the table. You’re bringing in a dentist drone for all of T-Ville, right?” “Uh...Right,” she said. “So get the best cook down there to whip you up a meal for six with that real rear end food and bring enough to get enough ingredients for that cook to throw together a real rear end meal too. Maybe enough for him to bring some home for his or her family. poo poo, get Oli to do it if she’s not busy.” “We sort of left her,” she said, “She made that Chinese food with that cooking wine, remember?” Kenji smiled knowingly. “Get her to give it to Chip because he’ll fawn over her food and he’ll eat it all slow like he normally does and that’ll make her happy, especially if she can do that whole chicken noodle soup when you’re sick thing,” he explained, “Then say that you’ve got a business meeting and she’s the best cook you know and that you need her. She likes being needed. Give her enough money to get what she likes. Take food home for the family. Oli is happy. You meet your contact, he sets up your drone, gets paid and has a fantastic meal with his family. He and his family are happy and if you make a decent guy’s family happy, that’s double happy. You get Touristville hooked up with clean teeth. They’re happy. And when everyone is happy, you’re happy.” Julie was quickly becoming convinced, but still, the price. “This sounds expensive,” she said, “I mean, yeah, I get paying him, but real food is expensive. Five nuyen for an apple. One apple. And you want a real meal for six?” Fuzzy pursed her lips, no longer nodding along, but not shaking her head either. “Seven at least,” he said, “Oli eats too. Maybe some for her folks too. Look, you’ve got money. You don’t just sit on it. You make that money work for you. It’s like the tides. Money flows out, opportunity flows in, over and over. You make those opportunities into money and that money flows back out again to become even more opportunities. Only an idiot pinches creds until all those electronic ones and zeroes pop out. That’s for small people and those people stay small. There’s a hard limit on the people who only think about themselves.” Then he held up a finger. “But if you get in good with people and they become your people and you become their people, then you’re thinking bigger. They bring the opportunities to you. Information to you. Do the things you can’t at four in the morning when everything is on fire and they’re bringing the water. Sometimes without you even asking. So yeah, it’s expensive. So what? He’s bringing his best because you asked. You bring yours.” “Lecture much?” asked Julie. She smiled, not meaning it. He laughed. “Psh. This is easy stuff,” he said, “Appreciate your people and they’ll appreciate you. Enrich your people and the good ones enrich you back. It’s not rocket surgery.” “I’m really not good at this,” said Fuzzy, “I pinch creds.” “Too used to it?” he asked. “Yeeeeah,” she said, “Also I’m not the best with people.” “Neither am I,” said Julie. Kenji shrugged. “The difference here is that you’re not holding yourself responsible for Touristville like Julie does. So you don’t have to be good at talking to people. Julie on the other hand doesn’t have that much of a choice.” Julie sighed. “Yeah, I guess so,” said Fuzzy, “All of that sounds really complicated. I just want to eat the food.” “Either of you want to come?” asked Julie. “Got surgery,” said Kenji, “I’ll be back tonight, but I’m probably going to be useless.” “I want to visit Sasha,” said Fuzzy. “Same deal,” said Kenji, “She might be good tomorrow, but she’s not going to be conscious for the first few hours while they work on her. Then she’s going to spend a lot of extra time in VR because there’s nothing else to do other than look out of her fish bowl.” “Maaaaan,” sighed Fuzzy. “Good food though,” said Kenji. This mollified Fuzzy, but only slightly. “I guess I can come,” she said, “Eat your food.” “Thanks,” said Julie, with a smirk, “That’s the most important part. The eating.” “Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” Then Kenji lifted his chin towards Julian. “Also, you should probably ask Julian about setting this up. It’s probably a good idea to make him happy too by running it by him first just in case. Remember we got that CPS thing happening tomorrow. You know, the visit to make sure we’re not getting abused or whatever? I don’t want to be a downer, but it’s better not to gently caress this up at the last minute.” Anxiety flared in Julie’s stomach. Fuzzy squirmed and her hands began to fidget. “Gee, thanks,” grumbled Julie, “I’d almost forgotten.” “Don’t worry about it,” said Kenji, “It’ll be okay.” “You don’t know that.” He looked at her and gave her a knowing smile. “Maybe I do.”
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Sep 18, 2020 13:21
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I have some more updates, but they're not edited yet and I'm tired. I'm trying to hit the next major decision, which should be coming up soon.
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Sep 18, 2020 13:22
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Dance zen was a cool moment. Do they all know all the dances now? If so, that's a pretty neat skill, and an extremely fitting gift from the god of parties. When Song stopped Julie dead in her tracks I actually wondered at first if it was going to be the woman that Dragon had been channeling. Instead she's an impossibly beautiful social manipulator who exudes sex so hard it shows up in the astral. Impressive. Also kudos on making the "I'll tell you later" backfire so spectacularly. I love our flower-pressing reformed barbarian girl.
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Sep 19, 2020 02:38
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Dr Subterfuge posted:Dance zen was a cool moment. Do they all know all the dances now? If so, that's a pretty neat skill, and an extremely fitting gift from the god of parties. They basically know the sources of all dance and can intuit the sources of new ones, but have very little practice at them. None of the five can dance well because they have no practice beyond some instruction, but the fundamentals are solid. quote:When Song stopped Julie dead in her tracks I actually wondered at first if it was going to be the woman that Dragon had been channeling. Instead she's an impossibly beautiful social manipulator who exudes sex so hard it shows up in the astral. Impressive. Everyone shows up in the astral. Song is mundane magically. Julie was coming off that mind expanding experience of dance and got a real deep dive on who Song is and then saw that she's just riddled with deltaware, which is the top of the line, bleeding edge cyberware. I rolled a 5 on 6 dice with astral perception, so Julie got a serious look. At the moment, Song isn't exuding sex really hard. Just good feelings through crazy amounts of serotonin which Song exude like a cloud. Everyone feels great and so they're making mistakes and most people don't really question when they're feeling good, so it's an odd way to go about manipulating people. Oxytocin, which is strongly associated with sex, is not making an appearance at the moment. quote:Also kudos on making the "I'll tell you later" backfire so spectacularly. I love our flower-pressing reformed barbarian girl. I love misunderstanding, which I used to employ all the time as a romance writer. Fuzzy is fun to have as a kind of foil to all of the intrigue and bizarre nature of what's basically a corporate cult. She cuts through bullshit pretty effectively. That exchange was going to be extended social combat, but I spent Fuzzy's last edge for the day and rolled 8 v 5, Fuzzy rolling high, Song rolling low and Fuzzy shut Song down before she could get started. Dealing with Song has primarily been about stalling for time, because they need to explore, but Song creates problems for them the longer that they're there. So Fuzzy is extremely obtuse, is flower motivated and of course Song is a gardener to Fuzzy because she has flowers on her and smells like flowers and worships a literal goddess of flowers and those are one of a kind flowers so Fuzzy wants those flowers. Explaining what a "sacred companion" is to Fuzzy on what's been framed as a school field trip is beyond awkward and Song decides not to press because it's not worth the trouble. I really want to lean into both the alien and alienating nature of Aztechnology while they're exploring it because they're a revivalist corporate/religious culture and they're weird as gently caress even before you scratch the surface.
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Sep 19, 2020 03:43
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Kenji's treading a dangerous line here. He's basically showing off all his competence in earshot of the inevitable Aztechnology listeners. Granted, this field trip was always going to be dangerous. They're 4 powerful awakened all in one group walking into a lion's den. If I remember correctly, the kids are magic 6/5/5 currently? Is that kind of thing visible, if say, an Aztech looks at them in the astral? Or are they just going to show as 'powerful'. That was a huge chunk of writing, good to read. I like how being deliberately boring is being used as a social positioning move. Being brusque is its own kind of move, good ole Fuzzy protecting the herd.... by coming in straight from left field to just completely throw any social planning out the window.
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Sep 19, 2020 06:48
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Keldulas posted:Kenji's treading a dangerous line here. He's basically showing off all his competence in earshot of the inevitable Aztechnology listeners. Kenji isn't doing that hot on his rolls. Everyone is definitely listening and he's feeling good enough that he's letting stuff slip. quote:Granted, this field trip was always going to be dangerous. They're 4 powerful awakened all in one group walking into a lion's den. If I remember correctly, the kids are magic 6/5/5 currently? Is that kind of thing visible, if say, an Aztech looks at them in the astral? Or are they just going to show as 'powerful'. Julie is at 6, Fuzzy is at 5, Kenji is at 4. That's going to drop to 3 for Kenji's bioware implant as that cuts into his essence so he doesn't get horribly sick from having craters where his sinuses are. I'll invest some karma so he can shoot back up to 4 and Fuzzy, Julie, Kenji and Sasha are all going to get some metamagic, which are basically enhancements or new skills. Chip also has I think 13 points karma that he can spend. 10 for taking the geas, which is to never talk about Julie seeing the future and 3 from just being the Touristville spirit. I decided because a few people asked that Chip should get a little bit of karma, but he gathers it extremely slowly. We'll talk about powers for Chip later. There's a metamagic skill that gives extra jumping power and part of me really wants to give Fuzzy what is essentially a video game style double jump. That is the wisdom that she has brought back. A video game double jump.  And I'm considering dropping movement based powers on her. Julie can levitate, but it's fairly slow slow. Chip moves fast. Fuzzy also has her shapeshifting spell, so I'm not sure if movement is the way to go. Though I kind of think that Fuzzy the shapeshifted brown bear doing a double jump would be not only hilarious, but Shadowrun as gently caress. I'll kick those decisions to the thread pretty soon with some ideas about options for development as we haven't done that in a bit. What's interesting about Kenji is that he largely doesn't use his innate magic of being an adept. So his voice, his ability to change his face, skin color and hair as well as his enhanced sense of smell are all largely ignored or used for cosmetic purposes. He really only uses his kinesics power with any frequency. However, the ritual is probably the biggest piece of magic that was cast in any book and he led it. He's going to pick up another one to animate what are essentially golems so they can pick up trash so he can make both Dragonslayer and Mr. Peters happy, because Kenji is definitely going to double dip for goodies. Also he talks to Dog, which is more interacting with magic rather than casting magic. His adept powers are fairly incidental to his character. quote:That was a huge chunk of writing, good to read. I like how being deliberately boring is being used as a social positioning move. I've been doing a lot of reading on the Salish tribes and I really like the wool dog, which is a real thing before it went extinct. And I couldn't fit it into the book because I felt it was boring, so I literally leaned into that feeling. So when Fuzzy asks, "Why is Julian talking about boring stuff?" the answer is because Julian is invoking boredom to stall. He's leaning into being an anachronistic teacher with his tweed jacket, taking his kids on a physical field trip instead of a virtual one and so he gets to play the boring teacher because that's the role he's adopted. Back at the end of book three when he was negotiating with that corporate lawyer for what would make things right after Minuet shot at everyone, including Marco who poo poo hit but did basically no damage to, later on, the corporate negotiator used tailored pheromones on Julian because she underestimated him. The sex pheromones this time. Once he figured that out he just absolutely dumpstered her and got whatever he wanted. It's uh...Having mixed results this time. quote:Being brusque is its own kind of move, good ole Fuzzy protecting the herd.... by coming in straight from left field to just completely throw any social planning out the window. Good rolls from Fuzzy. So Song is actually a better negotiator than Julian. He rolls 16 while she's rolling 20, but she's actually rolling lower because she's alone, a 17 if I recall from the negative maluses of them all being clued in to what she's doing. Tough crowd penalty, basically. 20 dice makes her a serious, top tier operator. Not the best of the best, but certainly the best that can be called up on short notice. I like having Fuzzy, Kenji and Julie hover as excellent for a street campaign of Shadowrun, but they'd struggle for a runner campaign, which is basically being a professional mercenary in Shadowrun terms. They're not statted out to be professionals and even now they still have some holes in their character sheets. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 08:51 on Sep 19, 2020 |
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Sep 19, 2020 08:21
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Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian, Song, Ana and Mazatal - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Early Evening – Aztechnology Pyramid “This looks kind of like a beehive,” said Julie. “Yes miss, the plant factory looks a lot like that,” said Mazatal, “They’re all hexagons that are stacked on one another. They’re a lot like honeycombs.” They were inside “Chinampas Azteca” garden center, which was not only full of tools and seeds and pots and trees and the like, but at the highest end, what Aztechnology itself used. Their plant factories. This was all explained by a man whose vest sported an AR tag that read, “Hi, my name is Mazatal”. He was a plain looking, dark haired, dark eyed, light skinned human man in his mid-thirties. He wore green vest over a white shirt, black slacks, green gloves, sandals and a colorful conical hat. Kenji wasn’t really interested in the technicalities of farming. Fuzzy was staying close by, but looking at the fish that swam in the watery spaces between the hexagonal structure of the plant factory. Julian and Song had split apart and she seemed to be conversing with someone through AR. Ana attended to Song, hanging back, quietly observing. This left Julian with Julie. “Like honeycombs, but longer...Longer,” said Julie, thoughtfully, “Way longer. Than a honeycomb that is. Taller too of course.” “We just call them combs. These are three feet tall, three feet wide and five feet long,” he said, “We can make them to any specification of course, but these are standard. They’re very easy to carry as they’re collapsible.” Julie stared at the drone hive farm made of enormous honeycomb-like structures. She had so many questions. She’d looked over several options, some small, some large, but the “Chinampas” All in One Garden was the most productive for her needs and could theoretically scale as high as it could be stacked. It looked nothing like her conception of a farm, which was flat ground that plants grew from. She knew that much. Mazatal, shorter than her by a few inches, was twisting and turning a smaller, AR model of the real life farm that they stood next to in order to illustrate. “This seems...” said Julie, her tone uncomfortable, “Not natural.” Julian cleared his throat. “There’s nothing natural about farming,” he said, “Nature doesn’t make farms. People do. You’re just used to your food growing uniformly. It’s extremely rare when nature actually does that. Ecosystems are not a monoculture. Not a single organism. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a system. Systems have parts.” Julie was mildly annoyed, but kept a lid on it. So she focused on another question she had. “Why now grow in squares?” she asked Mazatal, “Or triangles?” “The hexagon is the best tradeoff when you want the best mix of surface area and stability,” he said, “It’s why bees create their combs in that shape. The most ah...Bang for your nuyen, you might say. A square is more difficult to stack upwards because the weight of all the squares above presses downwards and any failure at the bottom causes the top to fail as well. So you can only stack those so high. Triangles on the other hand are an extremely stable shape, but you get far less surface area to grow with. Hexagons are the best tradeoff for growing area and stability. Vertical farming is, well, vertifical. Hexagons scale the best.” “This feels like a geometry lesson,” said Julie. Mazatal smiled obsequiously. “My apologies miss,” he said. “No, that’s fine,” said Julie, “I just haven’t taken geometry since the eighth grade is all.” “Looks like you’re getting a refresher course,” said Julian. “Yeah,” she said, distractedly, “But this is more productive than your regular farm, right?” “Oh yes,” said Mazal, his smile bright, “Traditional farming is only done on one plane. From the ground up. They wouldn’t exist without government subsidies. People like having them around because they’re familiar. However, our farms grow not only upwards, but in many directions. We grow produce on the ceiling of our combs, so just doing this once doubles the acreage. Then you start thinking vertically, growing on the walls.” “You can do that?” asked Julie. “Oh yes, Aztechnology seeds have been engineered to grow in almost any dimension,” he said, “Vertically, both sides, up and down. Horizontally, both sides, left and right. And finally, diagonally, both sides there as well. So instead of growing on a single plane like traditional farming, which is from the ground up, you can grow in twelve directions, meaning both sides of the hexagon. Traditional farming just can’t compare.” He made a cutting and pulling motion with his fingers, taking out a cross section of one of the “combs” in AR. The semi-translucent six sided hexagon began to grow grass on all sides, on the inside and outside, so there were twelve sides all covered in the grass. Then he pushed with his finger and the cross section found a place back in the long comb. Then he pressed his hands together and then slowly pulled them apart, making the AR structure move outwards horizontally, hexagons and grass both expanding. In the corner there was a counter that read “average people fed per month” and upwards was what made that number go up the fastest. “Wait, that’s just,” said Julie, who paused to read the data in AR, “Thirty feet tall and it feeds three-hundred people a month? Not very wide either. Not that much bigger than a basketball court. Am I reading this right?” “Three-hundred and thirty-three,” he said, “But yes, you’re correct. Averaging in a mix of standard sized adults. Adding in larger metatypes such as trolls skews the number, but children eat less. If gauging for average adults only it can feed just over three-hundred people a month. That’s just our basic model. No bees, no fish, no data, no custom lighting or gas mixtures, no custom seeds, just the farm, standard seeds, standard lighting and the drone. If you’re space conscious and many of our customers are, you can get it as high as five-hundred a month and have several harvests of honey and fish a year, boosting the numbers even further, though those don’t have a monthly growing cycle.” “All your food grows in a month?” asked Julian. “Much of it does,” he said, “Some less, some more. We use genetic engineering and a special mixture of gas and light most suited to the plants in order to assure the best growth. Our short corn, corn stalks that are only a foot tall, take about forty days to grow. Soybeans take three weeks. Radishes less than two. Just as for instance. And since you don’t have to worry about the weather, you can grow all year. Any plant, all year round. You can easily have dozens of harvests a year where traditional farming is lucky to get three in a good year for most crops.” “Not a lot of those lately,” mused Julian. Mazal made a noncommittal noise, his smile anxious. “What are these fish?” asked Julie. Again Mazal brightened, happy to launch himself into his area of expertise again. “So there is some excess space between the combs,” he explained, “Where the root systems are located. Though this limits the vertical part of vertical farming, you can stack it fairly high. The combs can be connected so the space between the combs can be filled with water and host aquatic animals for aquaponics. We have a number of suitable species of fish, molluscs and other aquatic invertebrates either for consumption or as decoration. I myself have a few of these stacked in my apartment.” “What kind of fish?” asked Julie. Mazatal blinked, unused to anyone asking. “I keep koi fish.” “And you keep one of these at home?” “I have four in my apartment. It’s a little cramped, but it doubles as an aquarium.” “That’s nice,” said Julie, “So you don’t grow on the steps of the Pyramid?” His smile faltered for a moment, but then it was plastered back on again. “Oh, I do,” he said, “Everyone does?” “What kind of food do you grow?” Again his smile faltered, clearly off script and not used to being asked about himself. “I grow limes and help others with their trees,” he said, “I saved up and bought the arborist software.” “Knowledge hardwires?” asked Julie. “Oh no,” he said, puffing up proudly, “I learned the old fashioned way. Some tutorial software and time on my breaks, after work and maybe skipping a little sleep. But who doesn’t, am I right? I help everyone else on my side with their trees.” “Angling for a promotion?” asked Julian. Mazal’s shy was shy. Then he looked over with a mix of hope and fear at Song and Ana before looking back to Julian. “Am I that obvious, sir?” he asked. Julian paused to think, then shook his head. “No, not that obvious,” he said, “It’s good that you help. You’ll get there someday.” Julie wasn’t so sure about that. He seemed to be too nice for this place. Still, she had a few more questions before she came to the dreaded talk about price. “Are those bees?” asked Julie. Mazatal nodded happily. “Yes,” said Mazatal, “Originally we used drone pollinators, but those can be very expensive in terms of manufacturing and electricity. It’s easier to use bees. The honey that they make is also of a better quality than robotic pollinators, though Aztechnology is working on that.” “I’m seeing a few hives,” she said, “Do you need more than one?” “It depends on the size of your farm, but normally you need quite a few hives, but normally they’re restricted to certain parts of the farm each day The mixture of gas and light varies from comb to comb,” he said, “If you’ll look here…” He moved his hands again, rotating the AR structure once more,, zooming in on what looked like an airlock. “Every comb, the hexagonal farming platform that is, has a certain gas mixture, light wavelength and water nutrients mixture. A little more carbon dioxide here, a little less there, trace gasses. What works for one plant doesn’t work for them all. So one plant grows better under light that is say, purple. Another red. By creating an airtight comb, you can grow multiple types of fruits and vegetables at peak efficiency. When a comb needs to be pollinated, regular oxygen and light levels are restored and they go do their thing. When they’re done, the drone herds them back into the hive.” “A drone bee herder?” asked Julian, skeptically. “One of its many tasks, yes,” said Mazatal, “It’s so everything can grow at peak efficiency.” “And no pesticides, of course,” said Julian. “Not a bit, sir, no. If managed correctly, pesticides will never touch your food because there will be no pests. No pests, no pesticides. Everything is sealed or capped as we call it here, since these are combs after all.” He gave both a small laugh and a small smile before going back to his work. “The only drone that we, our bee herder, one of its many jobs, is the Aztechnology Atocatl, the amphibious spider drone,” said Mazatal, “It exterminates any pest that might make its way in, makes repairs to any micro-fractures, replaces lights, distributes food to the fish, transports aquatic wildlife, plants seeds, harvests the food and yes, it herds bees. All of this in a drone that’s about the size of your hand.” Julie looked to the AR diagram to watch the silvery spider drone move. A single spider drone moved through the long combs, their slender legs moving through the plants, barely disturbing them as it went about its business. “Just one,” asked Julie. “One is all you need,” said Mazatal, “A single drone can work four of these facilities, actually, but the entire setup isn’t feasible without the drone. You have to exclude people from the hands-on process of farming. Making space for people means less space for plants. Far less.” “That seems a little sad, doesn’t it?” asked Julie. “Oh, you’re not totally excluded,” said Mazatal, “You can control the drones manually. It can be fun. Jump directly into the drone and be one with nature.” Julie felt dubious about that claim. If farming wasn’t natural, this certainly wasn’t. Plus she really didn’t want to be a spider. “I take it you like doing that?” asked Julian. Mazal looked bashful, but he nodded. “I know that farming can seem dull to some, but I find it very relaxing,” he said, “When I harvest my limes, I use a spider drone to test my limes for ripeness before I pick them.” “A drone the size of your hand can’t pick many limes though, can it?” asked Julie. “Quite a few, actually,” he said, “Five times its body weight. It’s extremely strong and quick. If you path it right you can pick an entire lime tree in under a minute. They’re extremely quick, extremely precise. They have to be, though I work even faster than the best pilot program on the market. Speed of thought and all that.. Anyway, enough about me. Did you have any other questions?” “Price,” said Julie. Julian didn’t look thrilled, but he was following the advice of Dragonslayer, at least in theory. The money from the bounty from Pinchface’s capture was open to her. Fuzzy buying a new truck for her dad and then fixing his old one had temporarily closed that money to everyone else as Julian held it in trust for them. “Ah, well Aztechnology has a number of wonderful options,” he said, launching into a well practiced spiel, “You’re interested in this model, yes?” Julie looked to Julian and reluctantly, he nodded. “Yes,” said Julie. “Very well then,” he said, “The basic package for the full facility and drone is fifty-five thousand nuyen.” Julie cringed. That was so much money. Just under a third from her portion of Pinchface’s capture. The ACHE had a hundred and fifty-thousand people in it. Not only was this a serious cost in terms of nuyen, but she wasn’t sure where to put it. While it wasn’t a full traditional farm and land was too scarce for that, she had no idea where she was going to park a three story, basketball court sized building full of stacks of artifical honeycombs. “One second,” said Julie, “I’m going to do a little math.” She pulled out her commlink and crunched the numbers. Not including drones, seeds, power, water, labor or anything like that, she needed four-hundred and fifty basic packages or three-hundred of the fully upgraded courts to keep the ACHE from starving and rioting. So not only was this a money problem, but it was a problem with space. She had no idea where she’d put that many farms. Before negotiating for a better price, that was sixteen and a half million for the basic package. “How much is the deluxe package?” asked Julie. “Ah, well this includes the upgraded software for the Atocatl spider drone, basic RCC to pilot that drone as it still requires some oversight, Aztechnology brand seeds, a yearly tech support plan, upgraded lighting, special gas mixtures, the bees and the baby aquatic life meaning the fish, molluscs and invertebrates, which also depends on what kind of fish you want to get…” “Ballpark estimate,” said Julie, as she grew increasingly desperate, “Please.” “Do you plan on having this in a building or floating it?” he asked. That gave Julie pause. “They can float?” she asked. “Oh yes, definitely,” he said, “The platform that would hold it up is basically a raft. It would need to be tugged, though we can do that for a nominal fee. This is Chinampas after all. Those were the ancient Aztec floating farms. Floating farms are very popular as real estate in the metroplex is at a premium and floating property is not. If you want our off grid option, solar cells could be installed for an additional cost and would keep the platform running at night, even on overcast days. Far cheaper than buying electricity, though there is a small initial investment.” Floating these things would definitely solve the space problem, though she had no idea where she’d float them. Touristville could probably fit a few of them down there, maybe half a dozen, but the clearance was only about ten feet and space would need to be dug out. “How much for the um...Chinampa?” asked Julie. “Do you have anyone who can pilot the spider bot or has knowledge of botany?” asked Mazatal. “No…” sighed Julie. “Tutor software or cybernetics for botany and drone piloting?” “So that’s...Slower knowledge or instant knowledge?” “That’s correct.” “How fast is the tutoring software?” asked Julie. “You could learn the basics in a week,” he said, “Enough to master this system would take two months.” Julie had a feeling like she could shorten that with magic, but it was still a long time. Multiple people could learn while a single person with cybernetics could start immediately. At least after surgery, but it would just be one person who had the skills. “Tutoring software,” she said. “A far more economical option, very wise. You’d have a slightly smaller yield until you reached mastery, but not an enormous one. Maybe ten to twenty percent,” he explained, “Okay, all tallied. Your ah...Ballpark estimate would be let’s see...Fish, bees, raft, seeds, gasses, solar panels and batteries, Atocatl spider drone, upgraded software for it, data plan for the most up to date growing mixtures of light and air, tech support and the facility itself would be seventy-eight thousand, two-hundred nuyen. The tutorsoft would be six-thousand for both.” Julie again crunched the numbers on her commlink. It came to twenty-three million, forty-six thousand nuyen. Far more expensive, but easier to find space for. Odds are she’d need to talk to Sasha, who’d offered her accounting help and some experts to shave off space. “The inside option?” asked Julie. “Seventy-three thousand.” She didn’t even want to guess about the power requirements for the inside. That was for another time. It was hard not to dwell on the weight of all of this money, this space, the people as they starved and the enormity of the task that had been handed to her with her very limited resources. Pinchface’s bounty had seemed like so much. Now it barely scratched the surface of the problem. The only reason it didn’t crush her spirit was because she was good at shelving her problems. She would allow herself to cry later. It seemed to Julie that she needed to keep this close to her to learn how it worked. She needed to know as much as possible about what wasn’t in the manual, what wasn’t obvious, to experiment with both inside and outside versions to figure out what worked best for her needs. That meant two though, one floating and one not. Get the basic ones? Get the deluxe? Fish and bees swirled through her head and she hadn’t even looked at the dentistry drone yet. She looked to Julian for help. She felt bad, because he’d been hit with the brunt of Song’s tailored pheromones and she’d leaned on him so much already. Intuiting what she wanted, he gave her a weary smile. “You’re going to ask me if you can dock this at the school, aren’t you?” he asked. “Am I that obvious?” she asked. “No, not that obvious.” Julie even felt worse. That was the lie that he’d fed Mazatal about becoming management. She knew that now. “School project?” she asked, “Learn about where our food comes from?” She was grasping for straws and she knew it, but Julian didn’t put up any resistance. After all, he was trusting her as well as Kenji and Fuzzy for what to do next. They’d spoken to Dragonslayer. He hadn’t. They’d moved fast enough that he was still partially in the dark. He nodded once. “I’ll talk to Mother Bear and Mr. Peters,” he said, “You may have to do some favors.” “Okay,” she said. “More favors,” he warned, “Mr. Peters still expects you to bind two water spirits for the environmental cleanup plan that you promised this school year for his money to get Oli into the school. He’s going to want to do an environmental impact assay on your floating farm on the local ecosystem around the docks. One of those docks will also have to be taken out. If you want him to rush, he’s going to have to put some projects on hold. It’ll be a big favor. That’s if he and Mother Bear agree. Do you understand?” Julie nodded again, more hesitantly this time. She was making so much more work for him when he was already so tired. “I understand,” she said, “I’ll do it. It’ll be for a good cause, right?” “Of course,” he said, “I’ll make some calls and we can go upstairs to look at your dentistry drone when I’m done, okay?” Julie was taking an enormous step. This was a huge amount of money to spend. More than she’d spent on anything by far in her entire life. She’d spent a good chunk on the food for Touristville on Sundays. Real food in their bellies, but she wondered if it would’ve been smarter to buy the farm instead of the food. Probably. Mazatal cleared his throat. “If funds are an issue, perhaps I could talk to you about our Aztechnology credit program?” “We need to think about this,” said Julian. Julie, Fuzzy, Kenji, Julian, Song and Ana - Tuesday, August 20th, 2075 – Evening – Aztechnology Pyramid “Yes, you can have dinner,” said Julian, “If you ask Devin first. I want him to be there. Though I’m a little dubious about all of this real food. That gets expensive.” They were on the fourth floor, looking at the dentistry drones that Jimmy suggested, which was about as interesting an environment as one would expect. Just a number of commercial drones for the medical industry, this one tucked in the back of a shop. “I wanted to make a good impression,” she said, “I’m going to need some help with the Touristville dentist drone and I need a specialist on hand that I can ask questions when I need them.” “You could just hire out for that you know.” “I guess, but I want more than just tech support. I figure tonight might be a good night to talk about what’s possible with more than one drone.” Buying this was far easier since she knew exactly what she wanted and it was far, far cheaper than the farm. They’d wrapped up the conversation in fifteen minutes and between Julian and Kenji, they’d lowered the cost to six-thousand nuyen, including a 3D printer for low cost new teeth, a permit to use both, upgraded software for the drone, spare parts, the works. Jimmy had been right. They’d been desperate to offload it. With Jimmy’s knowledge, they knew enough to make the saleswoman buckle and they’d managed a deep discount and tons of swag, even if they hadn’t paid for it yet. “Wine and dine him then, hmm?” asked Julian. Julie raised an eyebrow. “I should bring wine?” Some alcohol sounded like the just the thing to take the edge off, but Julian gave her the side-eye. His willingness to go along with her had limits and she had reached it. “No wine then,” she said, quickly. Julie had sent a message that she wanted to talk to Oli to the school. Communication on the island wasn’t exactly instant. Meanwhile, Song had hung back. She’d spoken about the fourth level, which was full of mid grade consumer products, but it hadn’t been interesting. Instead, Julie realized that Song was watching everyone and saying little. Ana as her attendant said nothing and stood awkwardly by, eyes downcast. “Go for the sparkling grape juice,” he said, “When you’re older you can wine and dine people. Let’s work on dining first. From what you told me, they’ll be pleased with real food. Even so, I expect you to stick to a budget.” “How big?” she asked. “You have enough experimentation with being an adult,” he said, “Strike a balance between generosity and frugality. Impress me.” “On short notice?” she asked. “Yes,” he said, “I expect you to impress me on short notice.” Julie sighed heavily. Even more pressure weighed on her, but Julian put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mind you doing right by your community,” said Julian, “I’m just asking you to think about how to accomplish more with less. That’s all. I know that you can strike a balance.” Julie nodded. Julian hesitated and lowered his voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m very proud of you. I can tell that you’re doing your best.” Something inside of Julie felt sudden relief, like water in the desert. It was what she needed at that moment. Of course there had been too much water so it began to mist at her eyes as she overflowed with the stuff. Though she didn’t want to, she shelved that emotion for later before she started crying on the show floor. “Thank you,” she said, roughly, “I’m...Just going to text him now. I’m waiting for Oli to text back.” “You might want to do a few courses,” he said, “From what I hear, Touristville is having a slow few days due to the protests. You could ask some of the cooks if they’ll donate their time and skill.” “That’s a good idea, thank you.” “You’re welcome. Now go ahead,” he said, “And at the risk of seeming overprotective and paranoid, have you run a background check on him?” That hadn’t occurred to Julie. They seemed so nice. “No,” she admitted, “They were good people.” “Probably, most people are,” he said, “Just keep in mind that just because someone is protesting that it doesn’t make them automatically good. Listen to Devin and to Fuzzy and especially yourself if you feel like something is wrong. If it feels wrong, it is wrong.” Julie excused herself, not knowing how to feel, but trusting that Julian might be right. Still, she figured that everything should be okay. She only nodded and excused herself, feeling emotionally raw. Then she pulled up her texts, saw nothing new from Oli, then pulled up her conversation with Jimmy and began texting. “Hey Jimmy, this is Julie. I’m wiring some money as a thank you,” she texted. She sent three-hundred nuyen as an attachment at Kenji’s suggestion and kept texting. “I got a deep discount on the drone with your help. Forty percent and with a bunch of gear and a license. Normal warranty though. Still, thank you very much.” To her surprise, she got a text back from him almost immediately. “Hey, I just got off work. That’s great. Glad to help. As for the creds, you don’t have to.” A pause, another text from him. “You did me enough of a solid.” She wasn’t sure, but taking the money back felt weird, so she didn’t pull the funds back. Instead she continued texting as she’d already been composing her response. “I was wondering if you might come by tonight to my place to put the drone together. I’m having dinner with friends. Real food, like the fruit from the protest. A whole meal. You and your family are welcome to come. I’ll bring the drone and we can talk about opportunities. Also, I don’t know if the protests are blocking you off, but between that and the gang war, I think it’s best to stay off the streets. I can wire you extra for air taxi fare.” Then she added, answering his previous statement. “You saved me 4k. You more than earned that.” A few seconds later, the creds were accepted. Then he texted back. “I don’t mind a drive. Don’t want to put you out.” Julie responded. “I’d feel better if you took an air taxi.” At this point she wasn’t sure if she was throwing around too much money. It was somewhat uncomfortable, especially as she remembered starting her freshman year with a credstick with single digits on the readout. So poor she had to walk to prison to visit Big Rita. There was a name. She wondered how her old cellmate was doing. She’d promised to come by and check on her, but it hadn’t happened yet. Jimmy texted her back. “I checked with Georgia. She says yes. How should we dress?” “Comfortably,” responded Julie, “Come as you are. I live near the Big Rhino in Downtown Seattle. That’s the closest entrance to where I live.” A pause. Julie saw that he was texting, erasing, texting again, erasing again and then finally. “You live in the Ork Underground?” Julie held her breath and quickly texted back. “Yes, technically. I live in Touristville. It’s not connected to the rest of the Underground. It’s nice there. Very safe.” “I mean, I’m human. Georgia is an elf. So are my kids. Is that going to have a problem?” he responded. “No, it won’t be. I’ll make sure of it. Anyone who has a problem with you or your family has a problem with me, but it shouldn’t come to that. Touristville is accepting and my friends are good people. Otherwise we’d have no tourists. Just bring your appetites.” She wired a hundred for air taxi fare. “For the air taxi. Dinner will probably start around in around two hours. Sorry if it’s a little late.” “We’ll be there.” Then she texted Devin. “Hey Devin, I’m putting together a dinner tonight. It’s about the dentist drone. I think I’m bringing it in and I’m trying to put my best foot forward for a dental tech who did me a huge favor. Sorry about the short notice. Real food on the table though for you and your family if you can help me put this together. Hopefully I’m bringing in a friend who’s literally a wiz in the kitchen.” She didn’t get a response back, so she walked back to find Julian standing next to Fuzzy, who was clumsily poking at her commlink with one finger. Kenji had joined them as well. “At the moment it’s Holcomb-Honeycutt family and me,” said Julie, “I’m hoping to get Oli and Devin in on it. What about you three? Julian? Fuzzy? Kenji?” Fuzzy paused, finger poised and looked up. “I heard my name,” said Fuzzy. “Dinner.” Fuzzy gave her the thumb’s up. “That’s great,” said Fuzzy, “Where are we going?” “My apartment. I don’t know who’s cooking what yet.” “I just hope there’s lots of it.” Julie shook her head and smiled. “I’ll just be getting surgery,” drawled Kenji, “Don’t mind me.” “Don’t worry, we won’t,” teased Fuzzy. “Leftovers?” Fuzzy shot him an incredulous look. “With me around?” Kenji laughed and shook his head. “Forgot who I was talking to.” “Careful about that.” They had a laugh and went back to looking at the fish. Kenji stared off into space as he fooled around with his commlink, currently in AR mode. “And I’ll be taking Kenji to the hospital,” said Julian, “You on the other hand have yourself and Fuzzy and a single family or a maybe a dozen people or more, am I right?” “Sounds about right, yeah,” said Julie. “Maybe slow roll out the cuisine,” said Julian, “Small plates.” Fuzzy gasped, suddenly horrified. “No, big plates!” She raised her hands into the air, gesticulating wildly. “You can’t put lots of food on small plates,” she said, emphatically, “You put lots of food on big plates. Unless you have lots of small plates, that might be okay, but big plates are better.” “Small plates is a kind of style of eating, Fuzzy,” said Julian, patiently, “It allows you to taste more types of food.” “Is there less food on those plates?” she asked, slowly, “Because they’re small?” Julian sighed. “Yes.” “Okay, I have a suggestion for a new style,” she said, “Take all of that food that’s really tasty, then make more of it than can fit on a small plate and put them on big plates instead. I mean, who wants just a little bit of tasty food when you could have lots of it?” Kenji was silently shaking with laughter. Julie hid her smile with her hand. “This entirely new style of cooking sounds amazing,” said Julian, his tone deadpan, “It’s brilliant.” Fuzzy smiled. “Thank you.” “I think that’s called family style,” said Julian. Fuzzy folded her arms. “Big plates.” Kenji kept cracking up and Julie had a moment of silent mirth, eyes closed. After this moment passed, in stepped Song. “I see that you’re considering making some very big purchases today,” said Song, “Very ambitious.” Everyone looked towards her. Behind her, Ana shrank back a few more steps, hands folded, eyes downcast, standing to Song’s left. “Yeah,” said Julie, “I was thinking about bringing this home.” “And the farm as well. That’s very ambitious. I’ve spoken to my superior and we would like to make a gift of this to you.” Julie raised an eyebrow and looked back to everyone else. “A gift?” asked Julie, warily. “Yes,” said Song, “A gift. If you’d like, we can send them this home with you as a gift. Fully upgraded of course.” Again Julie was confused. “This is expensive,” she said, “Why would you do that?” Song tilted her head first in confusion, then she smiled. “It’s because you seem interested in our corporation and so we in turn are interested in you,” she said, “It’s rare to see a physical field trip anymore. I’m told that most students these days take virtual field trips. Such a rare event by such special people should be remarked upon. So we would like to give this to you as a sort of gift basket.” “You want to give us a farm?” said Fuzzy, her confusion obvious. “Yes. The dentistry drone as well,” she said, “A small gift from us to you.” “We not even finished you know,” sassed Kenji. Song’s mouth opened into an O and she put her hand up to her mouth to cover it. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “You’re right. I was just so excited because I just got the good news. Did you have other purchases you wished to make from the floors above? As an apology, I can send you home with whatever you else were planning to purchase today. Free of charge, of course.” Behind Song, Ana’s eyes bugged out. The girl who’d been hosting a restaurant outside of the pyramids all by herself, who’d only now been allowed to grow yellow peppers, was witnessing more money than she’d make, possibly ever, being casually thrown around as a present. She briefly stared up at everyone, eyes wide and envious before shoving her gaze down at the ground again. Julie felt awful about that. Julie looked to Julian and she wasn’t alone. Fuzzy and Kenji were looking to him as well. He smiled and it was obviously strained and conflicted. “I think it should be up to them to decide,” he said. That presence from Song was reestablished, the sheer weight of it hard to be near. Julie wanted to shake her head to clear it, but was fearful that she’d give the wrong impression. It was what she wanted. More than what she wanted. She could go up the floors and name what she wanted and if their promise was true, she’d just get it. Were there strings attached? Of course there were strings attached. How could there not be? But Julie couldn’t see them and as she looked to Kenji for help, he just shrugged at her, giving her nothing either. Fuzzy just looked dumbfounded. There was so much wealth on demand and the offer of more for free. Julie’s mind flooded with possibilities. Not one, but two farms, one inside, one floating to test them out in the real world. Not just full of food, but fish and honey, likely fully stocked and fully upgraded they could provide food for a thousand people. Five...No, ten dental drones to open up her dental service immediately and serve not only Touristville, but far beyond that. Thousands of people could be helped. Maybe tens of thousands. What she realized then was the unspoken offer. It was a shopping spree. To head upwards, to see the finest things that Aztechnology had to offer and take it home because she asked for it. This other part of her knew that this was a bad place. They produced almost all the food right here in the Pyramid and they allowed the people of the ACHE to starve month after month, doing nothing. The inside of this place was horribly, rigidly authoritarian. Dragonslayer had sent her here for a reason and this probably wasn’t to enjoy a shopping spree. She was conflicted. Yes, she could afford the dental drone with ease and they hadn’t even begun to negotiate for the plant factories yet. Odds were that if she bargained hard, she could walk out with both. It would probably clear her out, but she could do it. But her resources weren’t unlimited. If she could see the hidden strings, the hooks, maybe she would feel more secure, but she didn’t have a ready answer. CYOA Time Aztechnology wants to send a “gift basket” home with the teens. It begins with a fully upgraded farm and a dental drone. But what’s unspoken is what else is on offer, which is basically a shopping spree. They can get whatever they want. Point to something on sale and it’s theirs. Hell, point to something that’s not on sale and it’s probably theirs too. Don't worry about "anything in reason". Go nuts. Here are the options: 1. Take the gift basket. One drone, one farm. 2. Go on a shopping spree. 3. Reject the corporate largess. Buy the needed gear from here. 4. Reject the corporate largess. Buy the needed gear elsewhere. 5. Something else? All rolls are hidden until the decision is made. All the teens failed to see what, if any hooks exist in taking the shopping spree or even the the "gift basket". Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 00:24 on Sep 23, 2020 |
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Sep 22, 2020 03:18
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The fully upgraded peak efficiency version locks them in with the corp paying service fees. That seems like extremely not what they want to do.
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Sep 22, 2020 03:59
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Dr Subterfuge posted:The fully upgraded peak efficiency version locks them in with the corp paying service fees. That seems like extremely not what they want to do. Yep, it's more expensive, but also more productive. Seattle has a serious premium on space. Either you pay a shitload of money for that space or you're out in the barrens and your property is always at risk of being taken or destroyed by gangs.
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Sep 22, 2020 04:12
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The Ache has space, they just need to find buy-in. They can dig out more of the Underground for farms. And I think transporting one of these to Diego is actually the plan? Or do the Scoobies need a more subtle version of vertical farm for that to work?
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Sep 22, 2020 04:20
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Dr Subterfuge posted:The Ache has space, they just need to find buy-in. They can dig out more of the Underground for farms. And I think transporting one of these to Diego is actually the plan? Or do the Scoobies need a more subtle version of vertical farm for that to work? The food goes to Diego, not the farm. The land that Diego lives on and Fuzzy used to live on is basically worthless, which is hands down the best defense for being there. The second best defense is that there's an awakened caster there who recently sicced a horde of rats on them and then burned and entire gang to death, so that's really scary. And lastly, they have clear sight-lines in every direction from their elevated position. Everything they get is foraged from elsewhere and they don't have a lot, so it's not worth the trouble of taking what little they have for the extreme amount of effort it takes to get it. If suddenly something was there worth taking, people would start making bids for it and the buy in is violence. It's not viable to put it out there at the moment without a lot more people to defend it. Big Dredge, the gang leader that Diego killed was killed for giving him the "generous" offer of taking half of his stuff and requiring "half a whore", meaning the execution of the runaway sex slave in Diego's care. He made a play on Diego because he fixed up the clubhouse and took in the ex-sex slave. Big Dredge died largely because he telegraphed what he was going to do because he was full of hubris and very stupid. He Diego time. Time is a wizard's best ally which is a trope from basically all fantasy lit. Diego reminded everyone not to gently caress with the crazy wizard and his kids because he'll swarm you with rats to eat you alive, blow you up with frag rats and burn you to death with fire elementals. So that bought him a few more years of people not loving with what little he has. A reputation of strength and fear buy safety. So imagine what happens if you put down something that's can produce food for several hundred people in one place and the amount of trouble that would cause. He'd probably have to go through that process a few more times and there's no guarantee that he'd win and winning or losing is about life and death. Diego lives on the edge of a failed state and the only rule of law is the might that you yourself can cobble together. All else is second to that. The Underground has problems because there is still a limited amount of space there. Dig too far out and you hit the rest of the Ork Underground which is basically an enormous slum. Dig too far down and you get the same, because there are levels to the slum. So they can dig into what space is immediately around them, but they'll eventually run out of space there too. There's also a finite amount of labor to manually dig out what they have which takes time and their time scale isn't years to slowly implement this. It's just a few months. There's also the problem with power. I doubt their grid is set up to provide power for hundreds of farms. You can't just get solar if you're underground. Floating the farms could work, but there's the problem of where you float them if you even get them. And they'd also be out in the open. You could do homesteading, Jag's idea, which is to convince people to host these farms on their land and cobble together food, but that requires a movement and the teens are not tapped into that and they may or may not be able to create one. They don't have the awareness to create mass action just yet. The ACHE is this tightly bound knot of misery. Drowning people will drown their rescuers in the attempt to save them and that's a real risk here. Even if you got the materials, you have a shitload of poverty to deal with. They have to make sure that whoever has these means of production don't get murdered in the process of making food for everyone. This also means getting people those means of production who would actually share that food instead of hoard it. As I posted a few updates back, food is how gangs show off their power. So attempting to feed everyone would undercut the power of some local gangs and they won't like that one bit. And the powers that be are purposefully starving the people of the ACHE. It's a conscious policy decision. Undercutting that policy would likely create a reactionary backlash of some sort. It's a huge mess and the social problems are pretty brutal because there's not enough resources and everyone wants some. If the resources were unlimited, this would probably solve a lot of problems, but they're not unlimited and so people are fighting to stay alive. And this is despite the ability to make food basically unlimited, or at least common. The tech exists. In fact the tech is surprisingly excellent for what you get if you don't take land and power into account. You don't need enormous old style farms, just basketball court sized buildings which can be stacked high and can even float. But the money and the will isn't there to make it happen and there are a whole bunch of counterweights to keep food from becoming more available so people don't starve, much less decomodified. At the moment, that's not on the table. They're just beginning. What they're being offered is basically is a gift basket that consists of a dentistry drone and a farm as well as a shopping spree, though that's unstated. As is the why of why it is happening and what that means if they take it or not. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 05:16 on Sep 22, 2020 |
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Sep 22, 2020 04:36
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Speaking of huge messes, you mischievous writer you dropping this huge mess on our feet. This is a really good Aztechnology trap, cause it's extremely difficult to say no. Hell, saying no is if anything going to attract more attention I feel. There's hooks in literally every option here, it's just whether or not it's straight up negative attention by refusing or the creation of expectations by accepting. I feel like the option with accepting the "gift basket" to be the best balance. A shopping spree I feel is going to put way too many expectations, and it's much easier for Aztechnology to slip in "something extra" into a shopping spree. But refusing is slapping their hands, which I feel is only going to piss them off. Plus they don't exactly have infinite money, either. There's going to be hook or attention in every option, but I think accepting the gift basket graciously will have the easiest to manage time of it.
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Sep 22, 2020 05:25
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Keldulas posted:Speaking of huge messes, you mischievous writer you dropping this huge mess on our feet.  quote:This is a really good Aztechnology trap, cause it's extremely difficult to say no. Hell, saying no is if anything going to attract more attention I feel. There's hooks in literally every option here, it's just whether or not it's straight up negative attention by refusing or the creation of expectations by accepting. I think that at some point it's also culturally expected. Socialism is basically denied to the poor, but once you hit a certain level of wealth or power or influence or desirable talent you start getting corporate welfare. Wealthy people get tons of free poo poo all the time. I imagine that to not give the "gift basket" would be construed as an insult, especially for teens that lived among the corporate elite for so long. Fuzzy has gotten a gift basket before in what was basically free stock from Ares back during the party in book four. Sasha got that too and an enormous "gift basket" which contained tens of thousands of nuyen worth of stuff and to top it all off included a no poo poo trip to space for two to basically enhance the prestige of everyone in Ares. All of their corporate elite can go take a jaunt in space as a vacation and the reason Sasha couldn't go is because her condition would kill or severely injure her. Aztechnology is obsessed with social station. If you're at the bottom, that poo poo sucks and if you're in the middle you can content yourself with that because many people do. If you're at the top though? It's pretty sweet if you can ignore the violence and deprivation and degradation done to others. There needs to be a ruling class for capitalism to function and there needs to be people who serve them to keep the system going. The millionaires employed by billionaires. This "gift basket" is a lovely reminder of what it means to be in or at least identified as noticed and appreciated by the ruling class. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 10:27 on Sep 22, 2020 |
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Sep 22, 2020 05:44
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Actually, the gangs already have the power in the ACHE and that's probably never going to change. So Clever gets himself a coalition of sorts at the highest levels of the ACHE for the farms. The gangs distribute the goods while the trustees work the farms. If you get gangers like Clever, who arent sadistic fucke, you could get a decent system going.
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Sep 22, 2020 06:57
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The kids should go on a little spree. Focus on getting good commlinks, and some nice tech for Sasha to beef up her computer, enough to help with her being eyes in the sky during the riots, and to help monitor and protect touristville. That being said, Sasha would need to sweep all tech gifted to the kids to make sure the azzies aren't spying on them. Fuzzy should look for body armor for the kids for "larping". It's an apocalypse scenario, so gas masks/respirators are needed to fill out the "look".
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Sep 22, 2020 10:46
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I think accepting the gift but not going on a spree is probably the option that's best here, to avoid insulting a very powerful Megacorp while also not entangling the gang further than necessary with them.
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Sep 22, 2020 12:55
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Kenji's got his sinuses turned off to ward off the tailored pheromones, right? What's his opinion on the gift?
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Sep 22, 2020 13:03
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Gwyneth Palpate posted:Kenji's got his sinuses turned off to ward off the tailored pheromones, right? What's his opinion on the gift? Kenji has never really had to deal with direct corporate largess before. He's dealt with getting good poo poo from gangs before and presents from rich girls, but this isn't a one to one transference. When the thing with Minuet went down, he specifically got out of there so Ares wouldn't notice him and took nothing in order to keep scrutiny off him. Fuzzy has gotten that corporate welfare exactly one time, which she turned around and sold once Sasha's family got the boot from Ares and she also asked Julian to negotiate for Minuet's teeth to put in her Spearknife.  Julie has also never dealt with this directly either. So what gifts mean from the corps isn't exactly something that they understand. Julian definitely has an idea of what this means, but isn't interfering because he doesn't know what lesson Dragonslayer is trying to impart. At the moment he's here as a guide, not someone who is going to make decisions for them. Julian and Mother Bear's decision to appeal to forces greater and wiser than them has upset the normal order of things and so Julian is holding his tongue. Not doing so may disrupt the reason that they're being sent. Basically someone is waiting for somebody to say something and the group is going to go along with that and that means making decisions. This is outside of their frame of reference, with Kenji maybe knowing what this means, but nope. Failure. They all failed their rolls. If they'd succeeded on their rolls I would have imparted more info. So at the moment this is a decision made blind. If Sasha was here, she'd be able to tell everyone what this meant, or at least what she suspected it meant, but she's currently getting drugged up for surgery and then she'll be dropped in a tank for a few weeks. She'll be around, just not physically present. Ice Phisherman fucked around with this message at 13:46 on Sep 22, 2020 |
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Sep 22, 2020 13:42
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Shopping spree for ACHE put their money where their mouth is, twenty farms on the ACHE roof. Let the tenants figure out how to run/distribute/defend the food. Chaos until the dust settles.
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Sep 22, 2020 14:47
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Our protagonists are extremely gifted free agents in world where everyone else is tied in to a hierarchy. This came up a bit before with Ares trying to hook Fuzzy through Sasha. Accepting a shopping spree ties them to a Corp that promotes blood sports (and possibly blood magic). Hell no. The only question is if rejecting all gifts creates bigger issues. We know some of the stuff here is “tainted” so could well be a ticking time bomb. But accepting it is expected. What would Dragonslayer do?
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Sep 22, 2020 17:04
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Dragonslayer would take all the freebies available then use them to tear this place down.
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Sep 22, 2020 17:19
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Toughy posted:Dragonslayer would take all the freebies available then use them to tear this place down. The capitalists will sell us the rope with which we will hang them with. Or, in this case, gift it to us
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Sep 22, 2020 18:09
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I say go on the spree. I mean, why not? If they slip something in like Keldulas suggested, I'm sure someone would notice it, and Julian would make sure it's all safe. I think the worst that could happen is that they, or the school, get associated with Aztechnology which isn't the worst thing in the world, considering every legal citizen seems to be associated with a corp of some sort. Perhaps they'll be so inundated with ads that they'll become hypnotised and won't be able to bring themselves to buy from anywhere but Aztechnology ever again, I don't know. I am almost positive that there will be a terrible downside to this decision, but given the information that we have, it seems good!
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Sep 22, 2020 18:15
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Even if there aren't technobabble booby traps in the stuff they buy, going on a shopping spree now means having to find places for all the farms and defend them from unwanted attention. The kids can't do that on their own and don't have anyone lined up to help them, so they do the safe thing and take the gift. Spurning it makes them even more interesting than going a shopping spree, as it will (incorrectly) suggest they already have serious backing and beg for even more investigation. This is something none of them want, especially Kenji.
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Sep 22, 2020 19:15
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Dr Subterfuge posted:Even if there aren't technobabble booby traps in the stuff they buy, going on a shopping spree now means having to find places for all the farms and defend them from unwanted attention. The kids can't do that on their own and don't have anyone lined up to help them, so they do the safe thing and take the gift. Spurning it makes them even more interesting than going a shopping spree, as it will (incorrectly) suggest they already have serious backing and beg for even more investigation. This is something none of them want, especially Kenji. Yeah, it really is damned if you do, damned if you don't. I don't see a way of not accepting the gifts, so if we have access to a spree my thought is for the kids to maximize items that 1) help either the ACHE or Touristville to protect their new assets and 2) minimizes chances for them or others to get hurt during the impending riots. If they can park the farm at the school, delivery drones would be a necessity. Surveillance tech for Sasha, medcarts or kits for Julie, stuff like that. Obviously Julian wouldn't let the kids get weapons, but I could see Fuzzy snagging up armor for everybody, and since she is a Larper and has made her own armor before she should be able to find stuff that protects against projectiles and chemical warfare. Granted this would be really loving odd "purchases" for a group of teens on a field trip, but it's odd enough that they were looking at dentistry machines and floating farms. Going to be really weird consequences for aztechnology farms being parked right by the school too
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Sep 22, 2020 21:12
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Politely take the gift but hell no to the shopping spree. They're trying to feel them out for employment so the best thing to do is take the gift cuz they'll be suspicious not to but don't go on the whole shopping spree cuz that's almost signing up for them. Remember that this has to stay a secret this has to just look like a hobby. Because it's a fine line between being a customer and a competitor, we don't want Aztech to be sending shadowrun teams to blow up the stuff they just bought from them.
steelninja fucked around with this message at 21:42 on Sep 22, 2020 |
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Sep 22, 2020 21:40
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Because if they find out about Dragon slayer or the mission they're going to view feeding the Acne as a personal attack on their profits and will be out for blood. The more I think about it it's pretty much impossible to buy as many farms as they will need from them because money/suspicion. If only they had a way to make cheap knockoff versions of the farms and maybe Kenji could get a team together to steal a case or two of the little spider drones they seem like the most important part of the farm.
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Sep 22, 2020 21:53
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