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#Post#: 14448--------------------------------------------------
2084 (Storytelling)
By: Nikola Date: April 16, 2019, 7:20 am
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Try as she might, Irena could not get her head around the fact
that the office had one of those hideous, shape-changing Chinese
glitter clocks. They were trendy back in the 2050s. "This place
is so run-down," she thought.
She reorganised her papers one last time and put them back in
the folder. A green light flashed briefly, indicating that all
important documents were in place. Funny how people had
developed the finest technology only to go back to paper because
it became the only way of protecting sensitive data. She sighed.
"Sorry I kept you waiting so long," said Boris.
"Not to worry."
"You were right, the President is not very concerned. In fact he
doesn't feel any measures need to be taken at this moment in
time."
"But…"
"He is happy to continue funding the research, provided SHL
doesn't know about it."
"There's certainly no risk of that."
"No need to be sarcastic. Sarcasm is the tool of a broken
spirit, Comrade."
"Right. The true hero is one who conquers his own anger and
hatred."
"Excellent. Is that Karl Marx?"
"Not quite. I will see myself out."
The elevator took her to the ground floor where she rested the
back of her hand against the scanner until it recognised the
chip under her skin. She then entered a 14-digit code to open
the vault-style security door and once it closed behind her, she
moved the old dusty curtain out of her way. She was inside the
Happy Dough sandwich shop.
The guy at the counter handed her a six-inch sandwich in a
bio-degradable plastic bag, she nodded her head and left.
The taxi was waiting outside. She opened the door and was about
to take a step back, startled by what she saw, but got dragged
inside the vehicle. She heard a click as the door locked. The
car started moving, driving by itself.
"I knew I shouldn't take Uber."
"Yeah, how are they even still around? Anyway, I should probably
introduce myself."
"I know who you are. Neal C, the last person I should be talking
to."
"You're well informed. So what have you been up to, Irena?"
"I just got myself a sandwich from Happy Dough's."
"Yeah? What's in it?" Asked Neal and snatched the bag off her.
"Vegan patty."
He tore the paper wrapper off and checked.
"Incorrect. It's meatballs, actually. They probably got it
wrong. Unless, of course, it's not a real shop and you don't
give a damn about what's in it," he said and took a bite. "So
what were you doing there?"
"That's none of your business. Let me out."
"I know it was about SHL."
"And by SHL you mean…?"
"A computer program that is effectively running the country."
"Don't be ridiculous. That's all far-right propaganda."
"What does it do, then?"
"It provides guidance, it analyses data and predicts, it's a
magnificent tool. The country, however, is run by the President.
They teach that in elementary school."
"Everyone knows Radcliffe is a total pushover, just like his
dad. A Brit and a wizard, come on. Look, I know you have
considerable doubts about the whole thing."
"I do?"
"They're not taking you seriously."
"I'm just doing my job."
"They want to introduce German as the official language.
German!"
"That's a hoax. Now seriously, let me out, Neal. I can't help
you in any way. And wipe that tomato sauce off your shirt."
#Post#: 14449--------------------------------------------------
Re: 2084 (Storytelling)
By: Alharacas Date: April 16, 2019, 8:17 am
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Neal pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket, but made no
move to dab at the spot on his shirt. Instead, he squinted at
Irena's face and held out the small white squares to her.
"You've got a little blob of lipstick on your front teeth, hon."
After Irena had taken a discreet swipe at her mouth, Neal took a
casual look at his antique looking, reconfigured
Jaeger-LeCoultre. He smiled.
"Don't you find it funny how governments are always the last
ones to adapt to modern technology? I mean, my great-grandfather
used to tell my mother how police stations had barely progressed
beyond manual typewriters in 2000."
The entity currently calling herself Irena didn't even try to
hide her boredom.
"And these days", Neal continued animatedly, "what's called our
government is still relying on sub-derma chips for security. So
last century, don't you think...", he checked his watch again,
"... IP18-45? But do let's stay with Irena, by all means. So
much less of a mouthful. Even though I must say I'd be
interested to know whether the real Irena is in on it. Or, if
she isn't, what you've done with her."
IP18-45, trained to maintain a poker face unless normal human
reactions were deemed advantageous, smiled thinly. The supposed
lipstick on her front teeth had thrown her determining algorithm
for a loop. The woman she was supposed to be would automatically
have wiped her teeth, anything else would have outed her as a
cyborg just as surely as the instant DNA-recognizing tissue
which had sent her ID to Neal's watch. 'They shouldn't have let
perma-makeup go out of fashion again' she grumbled internally,
then pushed away the irrelevant thought.
"Depends on what you mean when you say 'the real Irena'", she
said somewhat enigmatically.
#Post#: 14455--------------------------------------------------
Re: 2084 (Storytelling)
By: NealC Date: April 16, 2019, 11:31 am
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Oh God, it's starting again...
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