I was blog cruising the other day and stopped by Paperback Writer’s blog. While there, I read her post about going internet-less for a year and how she moderates her online time even now.
I admire her for her intestinal fortitude.
I’m not addicted to the ‘net. Nope, not me. I can get off of here any time I want. I can! Really.
Scene One:
“You ain’t gonna plug that thing in, are you? We don’t allow no surfers in here.”
“No, no, I’m not a surfer. I’m just here for a drink.”
“Yeah, right. If you just gotta surf, take it outside. Don’t want you bothering the other customers.”
Scene Two:
“Did you read where ‘net surfing has gone up to $2 a minute?”
“Yeah, I did. I keep telling myself that if it ever reached 2 bucks, I’d quit. Now that it’s here…”
“I follow you. They got a patch now. I tried the gum but didn’t like the after taste.”
Scene Three:
A dark sedan, its hubcaps reflecting the light from the only street lamp, was stopping at the corner. A back window rolled down a few inches. Snaking out from it was a stiff wire with a magnet on the end. Once secured to the roof, a faint blue glow was visible through the open window. They were sniffing for wifi. Good guys or bad guys? We didn’t know and weren’t going to take any chances. We shut the system down, sending a couple hundred ‘net junkies into shock.
Scene Four:
I saw her coming down the sidewalk. She wore jeans and a plain t-shirt. But it was neither her nor her clothing I was waiting for. It was the bag she carried. I can tell the ones that’s selling their wares. They grip that handle hard and they have a certain sway in their walk. Probably from the RF implant in one or more ears. While it allowed them to recieve signals over great distances, they hadn’t yet figured out how to fix the balance problem.
She paused at the doorway, looking around the busy street. She spotted me and froze in place. She knew I was on to her. She went through the doorway and into the darkness of the bar. I followed of course.
Just as I thought. There were little cubicles surrounding the room, each with a sliding curtain, hiding the occupant. Others were braver and stood at keyboards placed around the room. Standing gave them the chance to run. Up front a woman, I think it was a woman, was dressed in vinyl text screens and dancing around a small desk. As I watched, she picked up another flexible screen and, as she danced, she put it on her body, covering another bare spot. Debit chips flew through the air to land at her feet. The crowd loved this.
Two big men were talking to the woman I followed, and they were looking at me. I had to decide quick. Did I give in to my own desires and enter a booth to stand at a keyboard? Or did I pull out my badge and barcode gun?
This post was written ahead of time and scheduled to appear on line. If you are reading this, it worked. If you are not reading this, then this statement is gratuitous.
Now that is creative! I see a book, at least a novella, in there.
Me too, actually.
The SF I have going is similar to this concept but not close enough.
It would be fun to see how far this goes, eh?