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CP2020: J is for Jovian A Cyberpunk play-by-post administered by Baelfyre.

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Old 06-25-2009, 07:39 AM
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Baelfyre Baelfyre is offline
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Default Bronze Dreams

Bronze was having the best day of his life. Sixteen, and he'd just signed a major record deal. Even if some of the songs weren't hits, Network 54 paid him a salary on contract for twenty years. For a twenty hour work week!

Plus, they'd provided the twins as a perk. Dark haired, violet eyed beauties with hot little bodies and hot little brains to go with them. There'd been nothing left of him in the morning but a smile. Marissa and Larissa.

He pulled into the new club Marissa had picked out. "The Ice Chest" is a pretty odd name, though. But Marissa said it was kept by the Network for the really elite clients. The ones that made the music.

He walked in the double doors with a beauty on either arm, and felt stings in both hands. Marissa smiled, and said "You were lots of fun, hunkboy. But the 75k bonus for bringing you here will be lots more fun."

His vision fades.

He wakes up with the pain. It's purple at first, then it turns sour. Cold welling through his body. "All right, we've got the primary probes in. Let's sew him up, and let the probes spawn the seconday spyderwires through the brain. Good work."

Bronze thinks, but his thoughts are sucked away as fast as he can think them. The the spiders start eating their way down into his brain, and start sucking out his dreams. His words. Everything.

A feminine voice "Mr. Bannister, we've done everything we can with this one. His output has dropped almost 90%. There is some kind of essential core to this one, and we aren't touching it. I don't know why, but it needs further research."

A male voice "Can't this wait? I've a party tonight; I simply can't be dealing with trivial little details like a worn out corpsicle."

"The point is, sir, that I don't think he's worn out. I think he's somehow managing to keep things back. While he's not important, finding out how he can resist the process could help us in the future with other resources. "

"All right. But make damn sure you terminate him at the first sign of trouble."

A time passes.

A young woman comes into the room. She is blonde and blue eyed, and quite buxom. Sexual heat seem to radiate off her voluptuous form. She's wearing a little black dress and high heels.

Bronze is not really sure how he's seeing her, since he's in a coldsleep coffin. But this is the best dream he's had in a long time.

"Hello kid, I'm Celeste. I just want to take a quick look at you..." she says. She runs her hand over the coffin, and she says "Well, not precisely my child. But you've definitely got some of my genes in there. Enough so that I have an ethical obligation to help you."

"I'm not going to be able to do much tonight except get you able to run in a week or so. It will be somewhat disorienting. Make sure not to show any physical signs of movement during that time."

Then she says "RFN Captain Celeste Dubois clearance codes (What seems to pass into his mind at this point is half a dozen hypercubes of data. Deploy and activate full neural net on defense and stealth modes TL17 variant. Initiate rebuild to genetic map of host body. Build a fully augmented muscular, skeletal, digestive, and neural systems in the subject TL13 variant using any and all local materials, without regard for local safety. Then deactivate.

Bronzes body would have itched if it's neural connections weren't so messed up. But all he felt was a nice, soothing massage as his body and brain were repaired and augmented.
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Old 06-27-2009, 06:13 AM
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Slowly, then. A mirror-self forms inside his own mind. A mirror self perhaps a bit more complete than the original right now.

The skein of neurons ripped asunder in his brain begin to knit together, permeated by nanoscale wires. Information passes. Time passes. Consciousness begins to reform.

"Hello, me. Time to blow this popstand." forms in perfect clarity inside the burnt landscape of Bronze's skull.
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Old 07-01-2009, 09:54 AM
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Bronze admired the lavender popcicles forming in ever expanding waves as sensations that would be called itches burble throughout his wastescape one could call a mind. then he realised it was from a mirrored perspective concave? convex? probably just a conman he mentally muttered

Bronze has a feeling that he would be behind what he called "The Wall". Not the Pink Floyd thing either but an internal wall no one ever gets past, the core of self built out of concepts on the order of infinty and then retreated behind by his humanity. no girl, no music, no cut and paste of the human soul, no external influence had ever gotten behind.

Yet he could feel the mind-girl-charm and as he watched the river of mindwater, the churing flow of thoughts he realised that his creativity, though mostly dammed behind the wall, could be and darn well would be more damaging than let free. He hoped the charm was right.

Bronze began to climb the mirror with the aid of the fuzzy tree and sowing needles stuck in the glass. Bronze wondered if this counted as movement.
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Old 07-28-2009, 05:32 AM
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"It does," Bronze said to himself. "Moving is a state of consciousness where your perceptions change. Well, that's part of moving for a living creature."

Up he goes, climbing the ladder to the end of the rabbit hole.

The Jabberwock is coming.
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Old 07-29-2009, 01:12 PM
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Bronze Smiles as the fun of hunting a jabberwock for hundreds of hummings was always considered a way to wind down from the more vicious hunts.

Speaking to no one he muttered to himself "all wight you wascally wabbit"

and Continued climbing the ladder ready to peek his head out of the opening and see what lies in wait on the other side.
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Old 11-25-2009, 01:31 AM
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"Whack"
Bronze Smacks his head on the frosted glass ceiling just in front of his head.
Rubbing the sore spot Bronze notes the frost appears to be on the inside and begins to wipe away the frost revealing a view he did not expect....
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