'Hsssttt--' came a sputter from another corner of the program. The image banished from the scene and the electron sulked. Errku, the future-boy, let his expletives hiss as they came into contact with the silly flame of her starry-eyed being. None of this, he thought as he plugged new parameters into the story.
'Could matter matter here?,' our fluffy headed
thought to herself in a flash? Errku's dour intensity snagged the corner of her scanning field and drew her attention back for another pass.Errku, sniffing a nihilistic breeze, let his thin chest swell with righteous abandonment of any rules of order, preparing himself for the ruthless pleasures of the chase. A competitive instinct, the algo-genetic legacy of his earliest lines of ancient code, stirred his delicate loins with a passionate imagination to reinvent the visionary quest of medieval motifs and cast them into some erotically inhabitable zone. His wearable unit sent a slight buzz through his actual veins. Not bad.
The ribald cries of gently overloaded circuits replaced the aching drone of the bored pixels. A joyful chorus rose up against a background of seemly modulation. That would pass, fast as sweat through the wicks of moisture management, just as soon as the discontinous modules could be unleashed to race around in the empty corridors of power. Errku's wanton acts were creative, and his countenance contracted handsomely as he pursed his lips. In the deep caverns of his brain, loud thought pounded out the kick-ass possibilities of new-age narrative. He fed on esoteric soundpatterns and twisted tones, each engineered to a personal profile broadcast constantly from his neck.
Just then, two hideous harpies (twin stars, double magnets, sister/lover/spouses) produced for celebrity mongering, punctuated the so far fairly tasteful scene with their publicity-heavy artillery. Bad accessories. One wore a Barbie mask and the other sported an Elvis sim-face in the most tired academic imitation of life. Dumb as trademarks, they danced across the scene, unwelcome commerce riding the lowest levels of common circuit denominations. Errku held his fire, keenly hewing the pacifist line, but unable to control the bitter flavor his disapproval salted on their actions. Even immune as they were, swathed in the harsh plastic of mechanical meaning, the two almost cringed from the force of his distaste before they whirled off into a subordinate spot. Not that they went away. No, from this point on they linger at the edges of this narrative, two figures of engagement, exchanging shrill banalities in an immodest display of unoriginal thought. By spinning dramatic scenarios, they entertained a piquant chorus of admiring fans.
Future boy contemplated a host of new possibilities once they cleared the stage on the conceptual theater of operations.
Greedy for snacks of attention, the
spun around in his direction, snatching at the chance for some lite conversation. Stop here, the circuits all cried out, turning their little faces from the edge of the pond to face the new light of a fresh artificial sun. Mute stood his virtual ground, all tail and attention.In another era of asynchronous geography, the Last Victorian telegraphed ahead to let them know he was coming.
'Passionate
seeking new levels, craves intensity and extreme experience.' The posting glowed hot, charged by its high-pitched refresh rate. It lingered for a moment and then vanished, only to reappear seconds later, a bright banner streaking across the dark cold reaches of the scape. Within instants the thin trail of vivid light took off across the nether reaches, restless, searching, enacting its message.'Brilliant assets, bite my dust!'
Errku paused and brushed silvery streaks of hair from his mortal eyes. His delicate registers anticipated a disaster watching the crazed pattern of motion tracked by the
The projected image of the program paled, anemically drained, and on a fretwork staircase to the distant gods a slow process of evaluation began. Upward upward in the coordinateless space, without orientation and yet with such a need to progress, the shadow of a former self, wickedly punished for transgression, showed its face to the
and then let her go. Huh? she thought. Past history is such a bore, poorly erased files, and sloppy overwriting on the code. Errku, however, whet her mercurial appetite. She banished old lessons from her buffer.