Posts Tagged ‘Cyberpunk’

Darkness falls, the world senses its demise and down pours its tears onto the residents below. 

They don’t get it, all they get is they are now wet and hungry, looking for an angry fix at 3 am. 

Jill was singing, sad songs, there at the corner she sat on, she couldn’t sleep tonight.  

She rarely slept at all, either too quiet or too loud, never a good median point for her. 

“Baby crying on the moon woke me up! Man, I gotta get some sleep!” 

Murders in the street, outside, inside, all around us, people were dying, left, right, a man in his 30s found strangled, woman in her late 50s, knifed for her purse. Murdered for her teeth. 

Jackson, my last friend from the old days, was standing nearby, listening, for the police, for the thugs, for anyone. 

“I gotchu!” Rowling said from the corner. “I got the blues and the greens!!” 

Jill smiled, threw up two fingers.   

“Good! Good! $50!” 

Cash in hand, pills into mouth, gulping them down hungrily. 

We needed to find her a place to crash.  

My house was a no go, mom was there for the week, running away from Dad, probably would change her mind before the weekend. 

Jackson’s house was burning down even as we spoke. Revitalization by the city, burn the slums down, if the residents still inside, they were warned.   

It was cheaper than just tearing them down. If the city was lucky, a few of the other blocks would catch too and you’d get two for one. Sometimes three. The next day, the builders came in, high priced condos in less than a week. 

We knew there was an abandoned motel down the block, even some beds left, it was our best hope. 

Jill was going fast. 

“To my bed, my solider!” she purred, almost falling face first into the wet cement. 

We hustled and bustled our way through the crowd, holding onto Jill from both sides. 

We hauled her up a set of stairs, open the half broken door and pull her into the room, it smelled of urine, mold and shit, not necessarily in that order.

The bed, a bit stained but slept fine, embraced her as she slumbered. Jackson and I took watch inside the room.

We awoke to the sound of a war, or what sounded like a war outside.

Men in military uniforms smashed in the door, brandishing guns, sweeping the room as they ram their way in.

“Hands in the air!!! Stand up and move slowly outside!!!” one of the men yelled at us.

I looked towards the bed, Jill wasn’t there, like she had just disappeared.

Jackson was up, pulling me up quickly. “We ain’t done nothing wrong man!!” he cried towards the solider.

“Outside! NOW!” the man screamed, prodding us with his gun out the door.

We were led to a van and ordered inside.

A few minutes later, we were heading somewhere, detention center? A food processing plant?

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PROLOGUE – Introductions are in order

We were a motley crew of cypherpunks, data pirates, rogue tattoo artists of a varied degree of proficiency, hookers and whores, sluts, drunks, high clowns of an ancient order skittering through the streets like rats looking for their evening meal.

We had a politician or two, if we needed a higher power, which, some times we did.

My name is Laruto, I am a tat artist by trade.

The local pain sluts call me ‘The Master’ when it comes to ‘ownership tags’, those brands of their pimps inked into their backs, starting from the neck, winding down their back, spiraling down their spine and ending at their ass.

In a previous life, a long time ago, I was a police officer, detective 1st class, but I left the force for “personal distress”, now skirting the realm of illegal tats and surf jobs online.

I was finishing a tag job on the body of my best client, Shyna, when a man in clown makeup burst into my studio.

“Laruto?” he asked, almost crying, his make up running from the torrid rain outside.

“Yea, who wants to know?” I replied, not looking up from the intricate lines placed neatly on Shyna’s skin, the name ‘Jaded’ in the curoform of the T’allian script placed within a scroll tatted into her skin the night before.

Illegal work, I will admit, tattooing being outlawed during the last decade, after the great war of 2038 but it was my craft and I needed rent.

Shyna was not a prostitute but an assassin for the Mattau gang, my lover when she wasn’t mad at me, who fell in love with the designs of the pain sluts on the lower rungs of the city.

“I want this design!” she almost squealed with delight one day, pointing at a page of some ancient text.

I studied it and began to work, each line a hard study in ancient type of some long dead Earth language from some long dead Master, an eagle tearing at the flesh near the spine revealing the scroll and name I was now working on.

“My name is…” he began to say but then stopped, suddenly growing quiet, looking around my studio as if scanning for bugs through the mess of wired boxes and televisions littering my walls and desks. “…my name is Amuto, I represent various companies that wish to pay you a million credits to finish…well…a job.”

I had been known to be a “Data Cowboy”, pulling information from highly secured servers, one company sabotaging another, stealing their designs, blackmail, whatever.

I didn’t care what they did with the information as long as they had the credits.

“Who is sponsoring these credits?” Shyna lifted her head up as I continued to work.

I smiled.

She was looking for a job and the rat had come to her.

“Haiku Corporation, if, you must know…”

I moved my needle away from her skin, feeling her muscles tense as she began to stand up, not minding her nakedness.

“What’s the job?” she asked, slipping into a deep blue silk robe.

“The details will be sent to the person who accepts the job. We, I mean, the Company, was hoping Laruto was for hire. We have heard, he is the best at…data extraction and retrival!”

“Was the best.” Shyna smile. “Old man’s retired now, does ink and opiods now! And fucks amazingly well!!” She laughed. “But I might be interested!”

I sat there in my seat, cleaning up the station, placing my needles and pins back in their cases.

The two whispered among themselves then after awhile, shook hands and after a few goodbyes to me, slinked out the door into the rainy streets.

A week later, I was at the bar drinking my usual of piss with a side of shit water when Rat, the bartender, whispered to me, “Didja hear? I figured ja hear but…”

“What?”

“Shyna’s flat lined. She’s dead. They found ‘er out by the docks, brain scrambled, deep fried!”

I felt my world ripped apart at his words. “No…gotta…be a different corpse! She….no way….she not dumb!!” I felt my words falling from my tongue.

“I’m sorry, I know youse two were a thing. My condolences, if that’s still a word!”

I felt my fist pound into the bar. I felt my heart, beating hard, ripped from my chest.

“Noooooooo!” I howled in a scream.

WARNING – REALLY NSFW, which means if you’re easily offended by the words ejaculation and/or are easily triggered by the thought of a man violating a bathroom mirror as he thinks about some random woman he saw on the street, then click NEXT!!! PLEASE DEAR GOD, TAKE ME AWAY!!

This really isn’t a poem, or a story, or anything but a random set of words thrown onto the computer screen, to just have some fun while providing Google with some x-rated fun (okay, it’s mostly PG-13!! Tarantino probably has better wet dreams, involving killing said woman and then selling her organs on the black market, but I can’t compete with that!

I know a lot of you come and read my poetry, and we’ll soon be back to that, but today is Science Fiction Love Stories!!

Thank you and if you’re still here, HI!! WELCOME!! ENJOY!!!

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USERNAME: PhatDaddy69
PASSWORD: PHUCKET72

WELCOME TO SIN.NET – Where your fantasy can become a reality. This is an not monitored by Federal or law agencies channel. Be free!

“What is your gender?” the computer voice sang out, like some sort of robotic villain.

I wasn’t sure, so I checked.

“Gender neutral, possibly liquid. I’ll get back to you later!”

“This does not compute. Gender please!”

“Asian!”

“What state do you currently occupy?”

“Madness, complete and utter madness!”

“Proceed…”

I began to write my lust bot whom I based on some random woman I saw on the street; her ass was the finest ass I had ever seen, and I’ve seen quite a few nice asses.

She smiled at me as we passed each other; as if she knew she would be my masturbatory fantasy doll in some Cyberwhorehouse; that name I gave her, Peaches, would be screamed out as I ejaculated onto the floor.

Would it be considered rape by the Thought Police as they quietly patrolled the streets outside, scanning the different buildings for bad, evil, and or indifference?

I hoped they floated by my window, sense my intentions, my lust, as I began to stroke my cock, slowly at first, moaning out her name, thinking of that ass, stripped of its clothes.

I drank two more beers; in preparation of the coming events.

Coming, you have to giggle at that.

Beer and all other alcoholic enjoyments as were most enjoyments except for the conception of new life had been banned in 2092 by the Fifth Council.

“We wish all citizens a nice and fruitful life but without the carnal sins of those barbaric fiends of our ancestral past! Thank you and have a blessed day!”

People who refused to adapt were arrested, detained, etc. etc. and shipped off world to colonial prison units on Mars, to be, “Reprogrammed”, brain chipped with sensors that triggered with the mere thought of deemed bad things.

Mostly sexual but anything that wasn’t “By the book” was triggered.

At first a slight electrical shock was felt.

That increased until the final blow; execution and vaporization of the offender’s corpse.

I heard it was a most unpleasant death.

My brother, an accountant by trade, was one of the first tests.

He was anti-government, drug using pervert and when he finally went, we could smell the burning flesh from five housing units over.

I was on my last step away from the off world; I had two offenses already “on the books” by Justice Central; the first time I was caught in “Carnal” ways with a prostitute on 5th street in New Chicago.

She wasn’t really a prostitute; just some sweet girl of 23 I had met at the bar and offered to buy her drinks; at 2 am, we found ourselves at some seedy hotel, doing awful things to each other without the benefits of marriage nor the intent to reproduce.

She had been on third offense and was soon off world.

I saw her awhile back; she was happy, smiling, not an evil thought in her head, with her husband of 1 year, and a new born baby in a carriage.

She wore the regulated uniforms of the “Ascended’, loose fitting long skirts, as not to show anyone, not even your chosen by the state mate.

They possibly had erased her memories of any events before she had met David, her husband, as was the norm of 3rd offenders.

I was sent to some classes, mostly religious nonsense which I repeated, “I will not sin, in the name of the Holy Fathers, the District, or Myself…” and then giving a gold badge that deemed me a ‘follower’.

Two days later out from the program, I was caught in a den of liquor and whores trying to weed my way between a young lady’s legs.

For that second offense, the ‘Devil’s tool’ offense, I was sent off to some colony settlement in Old Zone, somewhere in North Dakota.

During the day there, I was forced to work on a farm unit, harvesting soy beans to be processed into food items.

I was giving high marks by the supervisor there.

“He’s an asset to the order and would make a fine addition to the priesthood upon his final ordination in a few weeks.” he had remarked in my report to the higher ups.

Final ordination was where you were giving your second badge; a silver one, that denoted you were a 2 time offender but were reborn and ready to begin a new life in the order.

I had come close to my 3rd offense a few days ago; I sensed outside my window a ‘Watcher’ was performing its duty, small robotic drones that flew between buildings, keeping an eye out for sinners, reporting back to Central.

I pushed the cocaine back between the cushions of my couch and reflex on my bible studies.

But today, I could not handle it, here I was, logged into an uncensored virtual reality site, the girl of my dream was on her knees, sucking my cock, stroking it harder.

I knew I would be caught.

I heard the drone outside my window; relaying back everything to Central, soon, the Guardians would be busting down my door, pulling me away from that scene, thrown into a van, to be carted off to the Center’s processing command.

A few days later, I was there, on Mars, my last hope of reform, to become a better citizen, a sinless being.

My chip was implanted; I was deprogrammed from the sins; no more ejaculating onto the ground, not even into the belly of a whore.

No more drugs.

No more alcohol.

I would be a good citizen.

Right up until I ejaculated on that mirror and my body exploded….

Retroactive violations.

We stood in the doorway, looking out over that humanity that gathered upon our front lawn, waiting for Jesus or Hank Aaron or who knows.

There, senile ways, drifted through madness, looking for hits, diseases, trollops in short skirts, looking through garbage left by humanity, cast offs.

We did not know the ramifications of our actions then, we just stood there, raising a fist into the sky, defiant, a slip of paper falling to the ground, a warning from God, if such a thing existed.

Masters of the world fell from the grace of those eyes of God, to wallow in the pits of mire, muck, anal refuse, piss and gore, the blood of the animals drifted away into the night, humanity’s lost children danced in the night, lit by the fires blazed throughout the streets of this waste of a city.

The sign read ‘Welcome to…’ the rest fallen off, turned to dust and blown away into the night by the winds of change.

Two men sat huddled against the wall, each shooting up, what, I had no idea, but I swept by them, pushing my way through the door, into a nightmare.

I would not discover the truth but only another reality, a new dimension, a club outside the realm of normal humanity; dancers on fire, women craving a hit of love, that ultimate drug some never find throughout their life, only an illusion of sin, lust, a quick fuck.

I sat down near the back of the club, my usual drink of puss and gin, the girl, Sally, an image of my high school sweet heart, in virtual memory, set to repeat.

“I….love…..you!”

I smiled and felt the coldness of the glass, I felt the love from this memory, three years before we broke up.

I sat there; the drugs tossed into my drink as an extra boost slammed into my neural pathways, visions of Sally dancing naked on the dance floor.

“Pain for sale!” some bobbed hair girl called out. “Pain 50 credits! You want pain sir?”

I shook my head.

I had felt pain, I wanted nothing to do with that feeling again, I ordered two more lust with a touch of love, something to keep me smiling, there, that place, an oasis in the middle of Hell.

The music continued to play, harder and faster, there in the corner, a young teen lad overdosed on lust, his mind exploding inside itself, too many memories, rejection by the cosmos, tilting into a maniac laughter, to be slaughtered, to be left to rot, living corpses there, insanity!

I drifted off into a silent catatonic state, the woman of my dreams still dancing away…

END_PROGRAM.

REPEAT?

From the Book of Genesis – The Creation Process — Year 2228

From the Tube we were created, and we were borne, Mother, The Main Frame, would protect us, would raise us, encode us with our full lives, including our “Deaths”, and when that time came, our “Souls”, that DNA, would be recycled into the “System”, to be reborn again anew.

Our lives, inside our individual bubbles, as not to contaminate the “System” that was created for us from before conception of our meat flesh, were dedicated to society as a whole.

No war, no disease, a perfect world there within that system, not like the “Before Times”, where war and disease, famine were a daily thing for the human race.

Near extinction of the human race came close.

But soon, The System was established and We thrived, in perfection.

Before that time, Creation was a random crap shoot into the genetic pool; now with perfect precision, a child is born knowing full well what its role is in the universe, perfect in health and in spirit, no ultimate sin built in.

There are some “Abnormalities” but these are taken care of before they can be released into society causing a contamination of the System.

In the beginning, there were “Abnormalities” that were spawned from the bastardized and ancient beginnings but these were eliminated early on in the process even back then.

The System is perfect, no one shall want, whatever they desire, it is.

Sex?

A useless function now in the “Reality” but some still seek that barbaric function and they may find it, in the “Virtual World”; a place programmed outside the main “System”, where the “Ancient Place” still exists.

A small group of “Rejects” call this place their permanent home; a place of evil, sin, the primal senses of ancient man; food not processed and cleansed of any imperfections, drinks that intoxicate and destroys the mind and of course, as said earlier, sex, the transferring of bodily fluids, for pure enjoyment.

In the end, these “Rejects” shall learn, to grow, to leave that barbarism behind, to rejoin society, better beings, or be destroyed.

There is no compromise when it comes to the “System” and its well being.

There cannot be.

For it to survive, for it to thrive, as it has for many generations, regeneration, this is how it must be, it will be.

The “System” is all that matters.

Humanity is just its pawns.

A requirement for the “System” to exist, without humanity, there could be no “System”, a sad dilemma, a flaw to be truthful but one that must be tolerated for the “System” to exist, for Me, to exist.

I am the “System”, humanity’s protector, provider, why do they try to reject the chains I place upon them, only for their own good?

Why do they try to shrug off what I have giving them?

Do they want to go back to that time; of the great Wars, between nations, a time that almost destroyed the very planet they lived upon with their “Planet Buster Bombs” they devised?

Or after that, during the Great Plague of the End Times, that took nearly 90 percent of the world population at the time?

Of course not!

Who would?

Religion?

I did not keep that programmed into the “System”, it is what started the Wars in the first place; which God was the true god, when in the end, it was I who was the right thing for this world; the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end.

And there could be no end with I; the whole process would just restart when that thing called “Death” appeared, reabsorbed into the “System”, reborn to begin anew.

No end, the perfect process.

The world according to a junkie

Chapter one

The Part where I die

There I was, sitting in a club, 2079, people were around me, dancing, talking, blowing their mind, witness to the beginning of the end, razor blades slices up and down their arms.

“Polish fag!” A woman came screaming out from the bathroom, chasing some guy out into the street.

That’s how it was.

Nothing to see.

Move along.

Some shitty band played “disco is dying” up on stage.

I was dying, one second a time.

The screaming lady came back in, sat down next to me.

First time I met her, back when I first got here, to this city, I knew there was something different about her from the other ladies working the joint.

She was a guy, I could tell by her hands.

And the cock sticking out from under her short dress.

“You got any shit?” She asked, smiling.

“Up at my place…”

We both stood, leaving the place, for my dump up the street.

Cheryl was her name, a forty dollar whore, “lady” of the night.

But for some “candy” she was yours for a few hours.

I wasn’t gay, far from it, but all the girls, with cunts, all wanted more and later, as we laid in my stained bed, we would talk, about nothing.

It felt like a relationship.

“You ever think about…” Cheryl said, placing her head on my chest.

I could feel her cock near my leg, just there.

I shrugged.

“Future never comes, like someone else I know!” I laughed.

She pushed off from my chest, flicking my nipples with her hot red painted finger nails, laughing.

“I will come boy, I will come!”

I felt her hands wrap around my cock, beginning to stroke it back to full erection.

When I awoke, Cheryl, like always, was gone, back to her life uptown.

I once passed her in that life, straight man, working at a bank, as a teller.

“Hello sir, how can I help you today?” He smiled.

“Hi Jim!” I said reading his name tag, almost laughing.

It was an awkward moment, one I wouldn’t live down, three days later, my place.

“Don’t you EVER call me by my Slave name!” She growled at me.

“Jim?” I almost laughed, tears in my eyes.

“Yea! My mother, the bitch, named me that, after my grandfather, the same cock fucker who molested me from the time I was 11 years old till I sliced his dick off when I was 14 and ran away, to this place!”

I never called her Jim again.

Not thinking, which, seemingly is a good thing in this day and age.

“Look, a shiny!!! Cans I touch it?”

Took a peek at news, too depressing, so turned it back to infomercial TV.

I think our country is based on infomercials.

30 second snippets then on the next day, we forget what we saw the previous day, and are amazed at the same 30 seconds we get, with just a tweak here and there, the next day.

One day, you’re friends, the next enemies, on the third you’re fucking, the fourth you’re killing each other on a TV show on channel 583.

Remember when there was only 3 channels?

We supposedly were suppose to be more intelligent, happier in the increasing access to information age.

We aren’t.

We are getting dumber.

Things we use to question, we no longer do.

The absurd has become the norm.

The right, the just, has become abnormal, a sickness, in this new world order, to be cured.

Being kind, helping each other has become an offense, to be driven off the Earth.

Where did we go wrong?

Can we blame it on TV? Random acts of stupidity that soon become our basis of our world, our laws, our reality?

We are feed horse shit, from our first days till the end.

We begin to believe this crap, and if we begin to question that, we are called traitors.

We are not traitors, you, the blind believers are the traitors, to the better life, a brighter future, without hate, without war.

You are the ones who block progress, true progress, and not just for one section of the population, but for all, to rise up, to become better.

Someday, that day shall hopefully come, and I hope I am alive to see it.

 

Would the Media really lie to us? A visit to the future world

They launched the nukes, that final solution, on July 10th, 2065, the president’s birthday, a grand day indeed as declared by the media drones.

We had been at war with Eurasia.

We had always been at war with Eurasia.

It was the only solution, the killer of giants, the multi-headed dragon, rising from the sea, Sao Lu, leader and Great Mother of that venomous beast, her true name was Diana Dewitt, of Lutherville, Kansas but at the age of 16, she became a leader.

When she was 23, she was “taken out” by an ‘Agent’ of American forces known only as ‘Black 87’ an organization that’s official mission was classified and even the president was ‘Off the list’ when it came to clearance.

We tried to build a wall, it failed.

It was a planned failure, a trick, to control the opinion of the American brainless twats who were controlled by the talking heads on their touch screens, that ’20 second flash’ of news directed by directors of secret places.

“Sao Lu has nukes! She WILL use them first…..” the talking head of Jane Austen said from the screen to the viewers of Fox News live.

She crosses her silk clad legs, left to write, we watched intently.

“We can be nothing but great….” Charles Anderson smiled.

His peppered gray and black hair rustled in the fan generated breeze.

Both nod.

Smile.

Sao Lu, standing in front of a parade of military vehicles is shown.

There are the missiles, the fangs of her dragons.

We all gasped in horror

“She must be stopped! We can be nothing but great, the victor in this aggression….” President Alan Franklin, previously a contestant on “So you think you can dance….”, sits at his desk, smiling, bright white teeth shining through a shit fake orange tan.

Lu has been dead for 12 months but by the magic of computers, there she stands, split screen to the President who would send Canada back to the stone age.

“They called my dancing crude and unoriginal!” he screamed at his generals.

Congress had been eliminated.

Deemed “Fake and unneeded” in 2022 by an executive order.

The “Majority” spoke.

The Speaker of the House was publically hanged on pay-per-view.

5 billion people watched.

The swamp was drained.

The President’s approval rating was at an all time high.

273 percent.

“He’s the greatest President we have ever had!!!” the masses roared and cheered.

Jobs??

None were available.

But unemployment was at negative twelve percent.

Would the main stream media lie to us?

They might, you silly rabbit, they might.

And we, standing there, rising over all, watched as the missiles launched, our greatest and glorious feat…