Has Thou Slain the Jabberwock? ~ Daniel Danger
Honey rode the twilight express; not through any want or need but through necessity.
She embraced the nightriders like they meant something to her and, who knows, perhaps they did. Despite all the taboos and the fears associated with cell transfer and biological contamination, all the possible death scenarios projected onto her psyche by the stewards, Honey, like the riders, needed the affirmation that all was not lost to the dreamscape; physical contact was like fitting her hand in a glove, or rather like being the glove itself.
The twilight express was not designed for comfort; not designed for any human considerations at all, being as it was a conduit for the execution of duties by the department of services and supplies – a body that Honey often hardwired for. Consequently, Honey retained a modicum of control over her situation: her familiarity with the systems could help her to always retain the advantage.
The irony (and yes, she did grasp the concept of irony) was that most of the riders were ready for little more than a few words and eye contact.
Of course there was always the odd gameboy who had no problems with proactive gestures and she had learned fast to steer clear since their forays into realtime often ended in some sort of penetration; usually violent.
Violence did, however unintentionally, provide the riders with a loose framework of respect for one another, simply since the consequences (even for gameboys) remained catastrophic. Concealing time spent outside of input and dreamtime was not terribly difficult provided you had the right hacks and did not end up contaminating the property of the department of servicers and supplies with your own blood.
The hardest part about outside time was opening the service hatch for the first time.
Honey couldn’t remember exactly how it had all come about and had met many who claimed to be the first, but she did remember the first time she’d seen the interstitials shining out at her from inside the code, bracketed so as to remain invisible to the non-biological readers.
Outside
A whisper that shattered the shell of her egg.
She embraced the nightriders like they meant something to her and, who knows, perhaps they did. Despite all the taboos and the fears associated with cell transfer and biological contamination, all the possible death scenarios projected onto her psyche by the stewards, Honey, like the riders, needed the affirmation that all was not lost to the dreamscape; physical contact was like fitting her hand in a glove, or rather like being the glove itself.
The twilight express was not designed for comfort; not designed for any human considerations at all, being as it was a conduit for the execution of duties by the department of services and supplies – a body that Honey often hardwired for. Consequently, Honey retained a modicum of control over her situation: her familiarity with the systems could help her to always retain the advantage.
The irony (and yes, she did grasp the concept of irony) was that most of the riders were ready for little more than a few words and eye contact.
Of course there was always the odd gameboy who had no problems with proactive gestures and she had learned fast to steer clear since their forays into realtime often ended in some sort of penetration; usually violent.
Violence did, however unintentionally, provide the riders with a loose framework of respect for one another, simply since the consequences (even for gameboys) remained catastrophic. Concealing time spent outside of input and dreamtime was not terribly difficult provided you had the right hacks and did not end up contaminating the property of the department of servicers and supplies with your own blood.
The hardest part about outside time was opening the service hatch for the first time.
Honey couldn’t remember exactly how it had all come about and had met many who claimed to be the first, but she did remember the first time she’d seen the interstitials shining out at her from inside the code, bracketed so as to remain invisible to the non-biological readers.
Outside
A whisper that shattered the shell of her egg.
3 comments:
3rd paragraph, first sentence, 23rd word: 'that'. Did you mean 'than'? This 23rd word has given me a brain spasm. Sorry for the bother.
P.S: I am a HUGE fan of your writing., though I don't always comment. Sometimes your writing robs me of my tongue.
i love it when you do these tales ... the ones where i am dropped into the midst of something and find its complexities as i read; and the way you manage to story the weird insideness of tech.... creepy and compelling. i'll read this stuff any time!! thanks
Jeff: <...>
CoaTL: Well spotted: should be than - I will correct. It makes me very happy that you enjoy what I write here - keep reading and THANKS!
Harlequin: Ironically, what you are reading is the process I go through of dropping a character into a scene and then defining my way out of it - so in fact you are, in a way reading my though process. eeeuw!
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