This choice: You hit the bar, drunk first and fun later • Go Back...Chapter #7You hit the bar, drunk first and fun later by: Mr. George   Waking in your room, the black-out curtains a necessity in this gaudy metropolis. Getting dressed, you head downstairs, the siren call of the casino, and the chance to get rich quick with your new technique making you almost jittery. The gambling floor is a cacophony of competing machines, and games, all screaming for your attention.
Stepping out of the elevator feels like descending into madness. Two tuxedo clad heavies pass in front of you. Standing almost 7' feet tall they loom over you. It's hard to see the more human scale figure being physically carried between them. He pleads for mercy, for a second chance, for more time, for anything... promises everything, to avoid his fate.
Taking a second look, you see the pulsing red flash coming from his wrist. His digital wallet embedded in his flesh, screaming out that he has no money at all. There an air or anticipation, even excitement from everyone else to this scene. No-one else seems chilled or chastened by this possibility, so you find yourself drawn along.
He's sobbing incoherently, as he's dragged up to a podium. A clear, circular chamber is the obvious destination, he's thrown inside, and the door shimmers and disappears the walls of the chamber once again solid and unbreachable. He beats on the clear plexiglass, glancing at the floor, and still talking.
His lips are moving but no sounds emerge. Belatedly you recognise it as a nanite chamber. He's about to be transformed from a dead-beat into a productive member of society. A grey cloud appears around his feet. The panic and desperation clear on his features, as he futilely beats at his feet and ankles. In a rush, he's obscured, and consumed by the nanites. Even his outline blurring and vanishing as his very existence is re-written. The heat from the chamber like a brief look into an oven. Their waste heat warming the surroundings. Eerily, silent, they retreat back into their storage in the podium. In the place of the pleading man....   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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