Max: Life At Low G, cont
Or read the whole thing (so far) here.
It went on for months. Every so often we would be sent a new packet with new applications to be sent in. Cassie paid our rent and other expenses. She also kept us on a short lease. Keeping Andy occupied was not that hard. Me, I had another itch to scratch. But I was forbidden to do any system cracking, even recreational cracking was denied me.
"We are three unemployed roomies looking for entry level work," Cassie explained. "No doubt we are under their scrutiny and we can't afford to do anything that will tip them off."
Eventually, all three of us were called in for interviews. As no one is allowed on Incremetech's ground without being thoroughly vetted, we were told we would be transported from our apartment to an undisclosed, secure location. We were to wear clothing with no pockets and brinng no electronic devices with us. Three days later, our transport arrived. It was an computer driven hover with no windows. Oddly, it was neon green. I expected it to be black.
We sat for hours, making the sort of small talk three roomies with no ulterior motives make. We talked about how it was past time we got jobs, how our savings were dried up, how neat it would be to work for Incremetech.
Finally, the hover stopped and the door opened. Three large, rather frighting and well armed men were there to greet us.
"Come this way," one of them said.
"So, are you in security?" Andy asked as we followed them.
"Small talk is a potential security breach," one of the replied. That rather put an end to the conversation.
Finally, we came to an open door. One of the guards pointed into the room. The three of us went in. There was a vid screen on one wall. Three chairs sat facing it. Taking the hint, we all sat down. We hardly even noticed when the door slid shut behind us.
The screen lit up. It was satellite footage of a building on fire. It took me a moment to realize that it was our apartment complex.
"What the hell?" Cassie said first.
"That footage is several hours old," a disembodied voice came from the screen. "We only transmit data physically. It is slow but secure. I can assure you your building has been quite destroyed, along with everything you own."
"What the fuck is going on here?" Andy yelled at the screen. The screen responded by going blank.
"Hey? Hello? What the fuck?" Andy continued along those lines until he realized the screen was not going to respond.
"It looks like we screwed up," Cassie calmly offered.
"Screwed up? What the fuck? What is going to happen now."
"I don't know," she replied.
It finally dawned on me that my comp was in our now immolated apartment. I don't remember too much of what happened for a couple of hours after I realized that.
It went on for months. Every so often we would be sent a new packet with new applications to be sent in. Cassie paid our rent and other expenses. She also kept us on a short lease. Keeping Andy occupied was not that hard. Me, I had another itch to scratch. But I was forbidden to do any system cracking, even recreational cracking was denied me.
"We are three unemployed roomies looking for entry level work," Cassie explained. "No doubt we are under their scrutiny and we can't afford to do anything that will tip them off."
Eventually, all three of us were called in for interviews. As no one is allowed on Incremetech's ground without being thoroughly vetted, we were told we would be transported from our apartment to an undisclosed, secure location. We were to wear clothing with no pockets and brinng no electronic devices with us. Three days later, our transport arrived. It was an computer driven hover with no windows. Oddly, it was neon green. I expected it to be black.
We sat for hours, making the sort of small talk three roomies with no ulterior motives make. We talked about how it was past time we got jobs, how our savings were dried up, how neat it would be to work for Incremetech.
Finally, the hover stopped and the door opened. Three large, rather frighting and well armed men were there to greet us.
"Come this way," one of them said.
"So, are you in security?" Andy asked as we followed them.
"Small talk is a potential security breach," one of the replied. That rather put an end to the conversation.
Finally, we came to an open door. One of the guards pointed into the room. The three of us went in. There was a vid screen on one wall. Three chairs sat facing it. Taking the hint, we all sat down. We hardly even noticed when the door slid shut behind us.
The screen lit up. It was satellite footage of a building on fire. It took me a moment to realize that it was our apartment complex.
"What the hell?" Cassie said first.
"That footage is several hours old," a disembodied voice came from the screen. "We only transmit data physically. It is slow but secure. I can assure you your building has been quite destroyed, along with everything you own."
"What the fuck is going on here?" Andy yelled at the screen. The screen responded by going blank.
"Hey? Hello? What the fuck?" Andy continued along those lines until he realized the screen was not going to respond.
"It looks like we screwed up," Cassie calmly offered.
"Screwed up? What the fuck? What is going to happen now."
"I don't know," she replied.
It finally dawned on me that my comp was in our now immolated apartment. I don't remember too much of what happened for a couple of hours after I realized that.
posted by Max Dobberstein at 12/03/2006 09:29:00 PM
5 Comments:
By the time I'm three-quarters through the writing of a novel, I've necessarily lost anything like perspective, and must rely on feedback from trusted daily readers to know whether or not I've completely driven the thing off the road.
-William Gibson
William Gibson has daily readers. You have Me and Laura and I don't read us daily.
I have been wondering if I should really finish this thing, given all the other shit going on.
If I can't even get a "You suck" or even a "Meh", I think I have my answer.
And yes I am being pissy and childish. I'm mentally ill so it's allowed.
Excuses!
I think it's going well myself. I'm a little disappointed that there hasn't been any described sex scenes lately, and that they can't seem to get a break, but all in all, I'm interested. I have a hard time commenting on a story until I've read the whole thing. I wanna know how it ends first.
Your public has spoken. Work it until it is at an end, let us see the full work. We'll judge it then. You don't get the breaks of a Gibson until you pay your dues, kid! :)
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