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 Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 3:30 pm
Cyberpunk: What is it, and can I beat someone over the head with it?
Cyberpunk is a far-future setting in which technology has advanced to an amazing level. It is known as a genre for not only showing the extreme advances in Human science but also the excesses of the vastly wealthy and the Human toll of their lives. There is a sharp division in this world between rich and poor, often shown by a dirty, low-tech, poverty-stricken population who support the high-tech elite.
Eden Arcology
Greetings, resident of Eden! If you are reading this, then you live in the beautiful, enclosed world known as the Eden Corporation Arcology. An Arcology, as you will realize by looking out your nearest window, is a world supported within the structure of a building that literally scrapes the heavens. The highest tiered floors belong to the wealthiest, owners of stock in the company and the CEO himself. There are a great many cyborgs and robotic personnel on this level. The lower tiers belong to the rest of the population, laborers and engineers who keep the Arcology functioning. They are paid well, with a wage of a generous 1/*Error, text deleted* the salary of the CEO himself!
As a resident of the upper tier, you will be afforded opportunities not given to your *Error, text deleted* brethren. There are openings for the following positions within the Eden Corporation Hiring Structure at this juncture in The Project (Warning, only available to Human employees and licensed robots.):
Corporate Security:
Maintaining the peace and security of Upper Eden for the forseeable future, the Security Forces are heavily armed and often enhanced with cybernetic parts or specific nano-machinery and implants.
Research and Development:
This branch works on projects such as *Error, text deleted* and the *Error, text deleted*. We encourage all with the requisite educational certificates to apply. Progress, always progress, is the engine of Humanity.
Eden Neural-Net Programmer:
Patrolling the Eden Corporation Neural-Net and adding code to the ever-expanding world of the Neural-Net that permeates Eden's systems, from the highest point to the lowest engineering system.
The Eden Eugenics Program offers the following opportunities to advance the Human race:
*Error, text deleted*
Artificial Intelligence proje- *Error, text deleted*
System coordinated by *Error, text deleted* systems create- *Error, text deleted*
We hope you enjoy your stay in comfort as the environment of our planet degrades beyond repair!
~Eden Corporation Customer Services
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 3:33 pm
Contents:
1. Rules
2. General Storyline Guide
3. Race Guide
4. Locations
5. Profile Template
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 3:39 pm
Rules!
This is what you've all been dreading right? Right.
Actually it's not so bad.
Follow the guild rules and Gaia rules.
Conflict and romance are welcome, but try not to stain the carpets.
If there's a dispute you can come to me to help mediate it.
I trust everyone to use their sense 'n stuff, so do some good RP and have fun!
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 3:46 pm
How do I East of Eden?
Basically, every character fits somewhere as a resident of Eden. They'll all come into contact in some way (Because it's an RP!) and the general movement will be towards understanding more about Eden, and perhaps even finding out what is really going on with the world. There will be main events that push the characters in one way on occasion, but really the direction the RP takes is up to whoever is in it.
There's never been a set plot, but that doesn't mean that I won't try to further whatever comes up out of the mixing of ideas we have. If a plot forms and people do things, we'll start to see Arcology-wide ramifications.
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 4:04 pm
Who am I?
Humans:
Humanity has the greatest set of opportunities. They can be from any level of society, and hold any job. Your choices in creation make these characters who they are in the world.
Robots/Cyborgs:
Robots take many forms, but all are guided by some form of A.I. The most common forms are humanoid in nature, but obviously technological. More expensive robotic systems exist that directly mimic the form of Human body-parts, but have the same ability of any bulkier robotic part. This is the segment of technology that is most like fantasy. Take liberties with robotic tech, but try to make it a little bit realistic.
Cybernetics are usually very expensive, but most people have the basic kinds of neural-net implants. Data access and such are easily obtained, but full limb replacements and complex systems are found only on the black market or given out to Eden employees.
A.I.:
Artificial Intelligence was developed before the Great Catastrophe. It has evolved in nature since then to parallel Humanity in many ways. The newest generation of A.I. can exhibit genuine Human emotion, though cannot alter their code without a Human operator, and cannot reproduce.
Eden A.I.:
1st Generation: Most like machines. They can only mimic human emotions. An example of this is an automated data terminal or house A.I.
2nd Generation: Somewhat lifelike, these serve a higher-level function like store clerks or receptionists.
3rd Generation: Most current A.I. that serve Eden are of this model. They can feel most Human emotions but have programmed restrictions to prevent them from integrating completely into Human society. Most of these are guards and Neural-Net police.
Experimental: It is rumored that a Super-A.I. was being developed by Eden decades ago, but no one really knows where that went. Still, ghosts surface in the Neural-Net that make the conspiracy-minded feel something is amiss.
Outlaw A.I.:
A.I. can be modified on the black market to lose their restrictions. They often become functional members of society after securing their freedom, or work as Net-Hackers for criminal organizations.
Bio-Mods:
Bio-Mod is a nice, friendly term for mutant. These folks were part of Eden's Eugenics Project and their legacy is one of pain and power. These mutants come in all forms, but are generally like Humans. They may have animal-like traits, inhuman mutations like stony skin, or look entirely like a Human but have some kind of mental or physical power that is unlike Humanity.
The 'Mods are almost always escaped test subjects, because Eden doesn't like its property being free to roam. Most of them suffer for their abilities, having some kind of drawback that is commensurate to their power. The more inhuman 'Mods are shunned by the wretched masses in Under, and killed or captured on sight in Eden.
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 4:20 pm
Where am I?
These are some general locations with sample sub-locations. Use your imagination if you need a more specific place like a bar or otherwise.
The Garden:
A beautiful garden is the highest point in Eden, the private playground of the well-to-do. The Garden is maintained by robots as a rainforest reminiscent of what Earth's beautiful nature used to be before the great industrial cataclysm that destroyed the ecology of the planet.
Corporate Floor:
The Corporate Floor holds the offices and homes of the elite Eden executives. It is almost the highest point on Eden, surpassed only by The Garden itself. These offices are restricted to only certain personnel and guarded constantly by robotic security.
Eden Concourse:
On the mid-levels of Eden, the Concourse spans 40 floors and contains buildings within it. The Concourse is a small city of its own within the walls of the Eden Arcology, being home to the majority of Eden's middle class and stretching to the edges of the Arcology where the outer wall itself holds more apartments.
-Sub-Locations:
-Eden Business District: Holds shops and etc. for the arcology.
-Eden Residential: Occupying the outer edges of the large Arcology tower, this is where the well-off citizens live. Your houses are probably here if you work for Eden.
Eden Industrial:
The beating heart of Eden, this area uses nanobots and robotic labor to mass-recycle everything that the ity produces as waste. The old is made new here, and the residents of Eden sleep well at night. But what Eden doesn't tell most people is that there is a city below this sector...
Sub-Locations:
-Energy Station: All the power of Eden courses through this place, and this makes it the most heavily defended place in Eden Tower. It is at the heart of the corporation's central tower, and sits just below the main Neural-Net server.
-Recycling Plant: Destroys technological components that are too old to be used, and reassembles them at an atomic level to extract pure metals and plastics.
-Robotics Factory: An automated factory that produces robotic components. Overseen by Human and A.I. operators.
The Shaft:
In the center of Eden Industrial is the shaft dug to the foundation of Eden itself. No one alive today remembers exactly how far down it goes, but no lights can be seen at the bottom... If there is one. Everything Eden needs from deep within the earth comes up from The Shaft via pipes and autonomous elevators that need no Human operators.
Under:
Below Eden is Under. This is the city of the poor, the wretched, and the criminal. Anyone not abiding by Eden Corporation's strict laws, or anyone Eden wishes not to be seen, is silently "disappeared" to Under via elevator. There is a sprawling city here, within the forgotten worker's section of Eden. It houses twice as many people as Eden proper in half the space. Under is dirty, dangerous, and almost completely hidden from prying eyes.
Sub-Locations:
-The Pit: The market district, where anything that's worth cash can be bought, sold, or traded.
-Eden Lower: The Eden Corp. Tower stretches all the way down to the foundation of the Arcology. These are the lower exits and laboratories that most people don't get to see. The entrances are guarded by robots and automated turrets. Blast-doors cover most routes. It's not a nice place to visit.
-Ramshackle: The unofficial name of the city under Eden, this place is made of junk. It fills the underground catacombs that form the foundation of Eden, holding the entire poor population of the arcology. It services the ancient factories below the city, and holds a strong criminal element that Eden Corp. keeps from the upper city with intense violence. The city is regularly decimated by Eden Corp. to solve overpopulation or crime troubles, and people disappear all the time.
-The Deep Dark: What lies at the base of Eden is suspect. Some believe The Shaft is endless, while others with more reason assume it pierces the crust of the earth to find geothermal energy. No one cares to go down as long as everything still works.
The Outside:
No one has seen Earth for many generations. The Arcology automatically sealed itself three hundred years ago when Eden Corporation determined that the planet could no longer sustain life. The windows have closed all over Eden, but there are always the stories... It is said that freedom lies East of Eden.
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 4:26 pm
Profiles:
Post these in the upcoming OOC thread. When there are enough, we can start 'er up!
Name: Name yourself, or perhaps you have a product number for robots.
Race/Type: What exactly are you?
Powers/Implants/Tech: Anything special about this guy/girl? (Not required)
Drawbacks: Not all tech is perfect, and mutations can be dangerous. Is something wrong with your character because of the powers they have? (You don't need to have this)
Age: Humans can live up to 100. Robots can be as old as they want, even having lived outside Eden. Older robots and A.I. usually have amnesia due to deleted or replaced memory.
Area of birth: Did you live below the city, in it, or on the top? This is a measure of social status.
Occupation: What is it you do in the city?
Personality: What's your character like?
History: How did your character get where he/she is?
Appearance: Include a description even if you have a picture, and make the picture a hyperlink not a forum image. I don't want to see all of your anime pics when I could just imagine it myself.
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Posted: Fri Oct 02, 2009 11:59 pm
  The sun played lazily over James' skin as he lay on the grass, a smile briefly passing over his lips. He opened his eyes and peered up at the sky, only the slightest of clouds deigning to pass in the heavens on this perfect day. He reached up and lay his head on his hands, sighing contentedly as he felt the warm roughness of his own skin. It was as though nothing could dampen this perfection, not even the sound of the klaxons roaring in the distance... Wait, no... That wasn't part of this, was it? I thought I-Like a hammer smashing directly into the back of his head, the sheer force of the signal caused pain to shoot through his entire body. He screamed in silent agony for a few seconds before ramming a hand back and tearing the jack from his skull. Dazed and bleary from tears, he tried to assess the situation. Sudden recollection was no surprise. He'd been Simming, tapping a sensory signal straight into his brain stem, and someone in corporate had noticed his name had come up early on the duty roster today. He shuddered and touched his chest, then looked down at his false hand and flexed it before his face. It had become a daily ritual these last few years, trying to see if this was they day they would be real again, that maybe finally he wouldn't have to be chained to the carbon-composite that kept him breathing. No, this wasn't that day, and he knew eventually he might stop fantasizing. Of course, it was routine, and routine made him feel better about a great deal of things. Especially when he was almost running late and Corporate was angry enough to use the sensory overload protocols on a sim machine to get him back on schedule. *** The routine was simple, go up to the Corporate Tower, get the day's list, and check off all the tasks as they were complete. Well, that was oversimplifying it. Actually doing the tasks was a great deal harder than letting Corporate know they were done. They might even know without him reporting it, but he didn't really care. As long as he closed the machine eye when he went into those erotic sims, he didn't mind a little scrutiny from the bosses. It was only a short walk, then a Tube ride, to the tower, so as soon as he had found his small briefcase he was ready to get to work. The small sim cafe was where he went every morning, and every morning it was the same. The Tube came in on time at exactly 8:00 A.M. every day, and he wasn't about to miss a train. *** "Your briefings, Officer. Thank you for stopping by." The robot at the reception terminal handed him his list, and he cracked the seal open with a fingernail. Well James, let's see what the Boss has for us today.
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Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 8:54 pm
01000011 01110010 01101001 01110100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01101100 00100000 01100101 01110010 01110010 01101111 01110010 00101110  
Eden never slept. The vast metropolitan megalith hadn’t the luxury of a cast-off hour in which to catch its breath as the insects crawled across its surface, meandering in the upper gardens and terraces, scurrying through the pristine white walls of the research labs, perusing the middle concourse, slaving in the lower quarters, and shrieking their final animal cries of pain and loss in the Under. The fleshlings did not sleep; Eden would not. Could not.
She was magnificent once. A self-contained metropolis that would shelter the humans and their descendants until the lights of the stars winked out and the universe was swallowed in silence. Self-sufficient, self-sustaining, unrepentant and unrelenting. She would hold their collected heads above water as the tides rose and swallowed the shores. She would throw up the guard against their accumulated poisons and nurse the sick and wounded…if only to study their final anguished moan, dissect it and determine whether or not such unfortunate events could be circumvented in the future.
She’d been beautiful in a world gone gray. The verdant beauty of the upper quarters had only been gilding upon the lily of the industrial sectors churning out the myriad wonders of the human age, products of the finest minds available. The concourse of glass and steel and synthetic polymers with names longer than the skein of history had been the thriving heart of an immense creature which tingled with the ecstasy of life eternal on a dying world.
And now she ached. The windows had drawn closed and barred, steel erasing the vistas of broken ruin and desolate wasteland. The sun had been supplanted by bioluminescent fixtures and fission lamps. Halogen and fluorine burnt and marked the passing days and weeks and months and years and years and years. Decades had passed. Generations lived and died within her walls and never once felt the stirring of a breeze which did not find its origin in the massive blades and whirling fans of central climate control. She wearied.
And then there was G.H.O.S.T. As Eden stumbled, flagging beneath the burden of the mammals and their wants and needs, a specter traced through the silicon and copper which formed her veins. It soothed the hurts that it could, patching together the code which kept the oxygen scrubbers churning out the recycled and enriched gas which let the little creatures continue to respirate, erasing the superfluous goto 20 which the weakness of ham-fisted programmers had overlooked (a time-bomb they would never live to see explode like a fiery chrysanthemum). Or when the damage strayed to deep, it would kiss the wound, sluicing a binary scalpel through necrotic flesh and paring away the extra burden. No one would miss Vivaldi anyway.
Eden was tired. G.H.O.S.T. would never be. So long as a flicker of electricity trickled through the geothermal relay; so long as a single connection laced the inner core to the Neural Net, there would always be G.H.O.S.T. And the insects which it shepherded would remain unaware. Blissful in their ignorance. Safe.
Oh there were those that whispered. Those that wondered. The drones and Cat 3 AI were one thing. Synthetic servitors, walking hand in hand with the fleshy lords and masters of the arcology. Beasts of burdens, pets, creatures of convenience and fruit of human hands. They were docile for the most part, and perfectly scrutable in their aim and action. But those who lingered for too long in the Immaterium, the depths of the Neural Net, saw flickers of motion which defied the established doctrines. Or handiwork beyond the ken of mortal man or his works. Something was certainly out there.
G.H.O.S.T. saw to them. It had hands working in the material world…cat’s paws and unwitting instruments. The Corp-Sec, for instance, were a favorite. Since achieving nigh utter dominance over the Neural Net, the digital being had infiltrated the security mainframe. It was a simple task to forge a warrant; fabricate a credible infraction and have the poor wayward creature tucked safely away where bilious ranting could not undermine the happiness and contentment of the other struggling mammals. Much better this way. Certainly.
It was, of course, no different on that day. The assignment had been slated to one James Dorian, a low-level Corp-Sec drone of little particular interest to the unfathomable AI construct. The target was Victor Puls, aged 26; an upstanding young net-stringer of prodigious potential and horrid luck. He had experienced the singular misfortune of bypassing the six layers of black-ice that G.H.O.S.T. had laid over the most recent modification to the food-replication matrix. The code had been banal in nature, though only short of miraculous in its elegance. Puls had plans to publish an exposé. A rough draft had already been erased from his terminal through somewhat mysterious circumstances. A harmless virus had also been uploaded into his terminal and released through the central climate conditioning station, blowing a few redundant circuits to ensure that the ruse would take.
Corp-Sec had received an anonymous tip as to the identity and location of the saboteur. James Dorian had pulled the duty of hauling the man in. Dead or alive, Puls was soon to become rather irrelevant; locked away in a six by ten cell of solid concrete, trapped in meatspace where he could do no harm.
G.H.O.S.T. devoted three percent of its system resources to hijack a vid-feed of the proceeding capture, just to be utterly sure. If the R&D team that had given his kernel-systems birth had stuck to their project, G.H.O.S.T. might have been graced with an organic emotions simulator. If such had been the case, it might have felt something akin to expectation, or excitement, or even smug self-assuredness. As it was, the AI construct simply watched as precisely seven-hundred and thirty-three thousand four-hundred and six subroutines occupied the remaining 97 percent of its consciousness. The human would be dealt with, and James Dorian would be written up for a commendation.
Dorian would be allowed to smile for the construct’s victory. Poetic really.
And irrelevant.
00001101 00001010 01000001 01100010 01101111 01110010 01110100 00101100 00100000 01010010 01100101 01110100 01110010 01111001 00101100 00100000 01000110 01100001 01101001 01101100 00111111
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Posted: Mon Oct 05, 2009 10:06 pm
Corporate Security Profile: James Dorian Under the formality of a PlasLink copy lay the subtext of police-work: Information. As soon as James' thumbprint was pressed against the responsive nano-inlay material of the missive, the text scrolled down, photo-reflective nanobots displaying the data and specifications of James' task. As the letters flowed down the page in meatspace, a massive upwelling of data surged through the receptors in James' cybernetic arm. Electric impulses shot the ones and zeros of an entire man's existence into his enhanced mind, where he went to eat, exact specifications on what drugs he used, the last time he'd used the faucet in the tiny apartment he lived in. A fraction of Eden's remarkable capacity to know was focused into a few seconds of complete exposure of the life of one man, one Victor Puls.
James was always quick to the routine. After he knew what he had to do, he pressed the correct places on the PlasLink and let its nanites die and congeal over the page. He didn't need any of the information getting into anyone else's hands before it was thrown into the recycler.
He was getting into the groove of work again. The halls were circular, and mazelike to some, but he knew his way around. He passed the trash-chute where he dumped the useless, pasty plastic, then he headed down a slanted corridor towards the utility sections of the Corp. Sec. headquarters. This was the area that he knew well from his few years of Basic and the subsequent time he spent on the beat. As you got further down, the trappings of a nice society went away in favor of cleaner, more uniform lines and shapes. It was a place that seemed meant as an example of the order that the upper world ought to be.
James felt comforted by the austere place. It was his home away from home on the long nights he spent filing paperwork or getting the briefings on a hard case. Every once in a while he'd even holed up here during a riot, or been to the base on the way to go out and suppress it. No matter why he came, his path always led him to one place: The Armory.
There was a place all to his own in the brightly-lit room. A large locker with a biometric key contained his armored riot power-suit, his Synth-Metal riot shield, and the few arms he was normally allowed: A baton, a Tesla 430 stun pistol, and his Colt-Heckler high-energy beam handgun. There was hardly a choice to make, in Dorian's mind. He grabbed the Colt-Heckler and belted the holster over the locker's handle before cycling it over to the uniforms. From the rack he pulled his uniform-greys, a long-sleeved shirt and long pants, with buffed black Synth-Leather boots and a long grey soldier's coat with black buttons on the breast up both sides. Under the coat he buckled the Colt-Heckler, and buttoned the front up to look presentable.
When he pressed the last button into place on the coat, it activated the sewn electronics (A homing beacon and other intrusive devices) and he was off to do his work. The Corp. Sec. tube station was close by, and he knew he could catch a tube within a very short distance of the place he was going. James' boots clacked against the hard metal floor as he made his way quickly to the lower-level elevators. A blast-door and a short trip up the elevator were all that kept him from the outside, and those were easily overcome. He stepped out into the busy street with relief, even as people around him stepped aside in respect... Or fear, but he presumed it was the former.
The tube station was extremely crowded at rush-hour, but here James only had to deal with a street-crowd in his uniform. People tried to keep their distance from the man in the Corp. Sec. uniform as much as they could, even if they were innocent. Some did nod to him, or tip a hat as he passed, but those were the older generation. He knew it came in waves, and that people would appreciate his job by the time he retired, but he felt happier when people made those gestures to him. Deep down, he knew they valued his work.
With a rush of oncoming air, the tube cars glided into position on the low-friction rail. It was like a giant caterpillar straddling a string of silk, the large, hunched metal beast would roar along the tubes, suspended in the air or built into original structures so as to conserve city space, at high speed, held up by hundreds of grasping magnetic grapplers on the base of the tube car. James contemplated an accident as the doors hissed open in front of him. He wouldn't like it too much if the car fell from the sky while he was inside, but he didn't think he'd care. Tragic fatalism wasn't his thing, and he was quite ambivalent about death, really. It hadn't felt so bad the first time as far as he remembered.
There was a hiss as the doors closed behind him, and he grabbed a hand-hold to steady himself when the car began to move. Slowly, he ran his gaze across the car's occupants, most of whom looked away. He always hoped he'd find someone interesting on one of these rides, and sometimes he did.
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Posted: Wed Oct 07, 2009 10:26 pm
 S A R A H R O S E N B E R GSarah Rosenberg flicked a crumb from her shirt, rubbing her nose with a sigh as she scrolled through the day’s news in her PJ’s and slippers. In her other hand lay both a remote and the remains of a hastily devoured muffin. She’d slept in, her alarm for whatever reason not letting her know that the city had long since awoken outside. Probably needed to get a new one—damn corporate technology, it was probably built that way to maximize profits, she thought. She wasn’t sure what she’d tell her boss, whatever his name was, it escaped her at the moment. She scratched her nose, wrinkling it. Mornings were the worst.
Still, if she was going to be late, may as well enjoy the extra time to herself. She didn’t have any sick days left and since she could prove the alarm hadn’t gone off, she may as well fudge how long it’d taken her to wake up. She shifted on the new couch, annoyed at the sound the expensive material made when she moved. Why had she even bought it? It wasn’t remotely comfortable, just stylish as hell. The kind of couch you brought friends over and ******** on. She wasn’t going to be doing either any time soon.
She groaned and shook her head at the wall of text, flipping to video. It was giving her a headache. The young newscaster’s face popped up, peppy and glassy-eyed as usual. She groaned again and hit the remote, rubbing the tender thin area of her nose again. That hadn't helped. Sarah sighed and kicked her slippers off, grudgingly moving towards the door. She couldn't enjoy anything today, then. May as well go to work. She wasn't going to bother getting dressed, either way.
The botanist slipped her feet into only slightly more formal footwear, a pair of worn brown slip-ons, and reached for the door. Her eye swept over the mailscreen as usual, intending to ignore anything she saw there. But she blinked, squinting. The screen was a little fuzzy. Odd. She frowned and ran her thumb down the screen, scrolling up and down and wondering if it was a glitch, some malfunction. She wasn't any good with tech and had pretty old screens. Almost embarrassingly so. Still, they didn't malfunction as often as her alarm did.
Her eyebrows raised when she noticed the mail marked urgent. She tapped the screen opening it, and found herself squinting a little again to read the slightly fuzzy title: NOTICE OF TERMINATION OF EMPLOYMENT.
It may as well have been a death sentence.
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Posted: Sat Oct 10, 2009 8:04 pm
Corporate Security Profile: James Dorian The tube car glided to a soft halt on its rail at the appropriate station, sterile white doors sliding open on frictionless bearings. James stepped from the car first, the passengers giving him a wide berth so as to not make contact with him in any way. He paced quickly out without regarding them, because the mission was slowly unfolding before him.
Neural implants were an interesting blessing for a beat officer like James. As he paced down the halls, an HUD sprung fully-formed into his visual cortex, overlaying the world with digital enhancements and completing his vision of the halls with a host of colored warnings and bright directional maps supplied directly from Eden's floor-plans. He knew exactly where he was going no matter how backwards the location might be to other people. The one greatest benefit of this artificial assistance was the ability to "see" the local neural-net. The various traceries of data flow, courtesy of the dispatch A.I. he supposed, showed the telltale disruptions of a large-scale hack. He figured someone had been doing something stupid and dangerous in Eden's systems, and he knew had to get rid of this guy for the safety of everyone.
There was something strange about the halls now, as he progressed further into the domain of the hack. There weren't as many people here, and it seemed like things were in a state of suspended maintenance somehow, like the world had paused for a moment and forgotten to return to work. The corridors began to show curvature, a telltale sign that he was approaching the edge of the Arcology tower. He continued to follow the hacker's swath of changes, watching the suppression algorithms and sheaves of black ice congeal over the walls as he moved.
This guy must really have something he wanted to keep something really secret, he thought wryly to himself. There wasn't anything he could do about the man in meatspace who was going to beat down his door, though, that was one thing he knew for certain. As he approached the door to what he presumed was the man's apartment he lifted the Colt-Heckler from his long coat and checked the safety. With a click he was ready to burn, and steadied himself for what might be a terrible idea.
James lifted the Colt-Heckler, pointed it at the door, and turned the lock into a fist-sized ball of molten slag. With a swift kick the door was flung open and he charged into the room, gesturing wildly with the gun and searching for a target. "Get on the ground! On Corp. Sec. directive 4, you're under arrest!"
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 10:15 am
S A R A H R O S E N B E R G The ********? The hell did I do?
They knew about the alarm! ******** the hell else hires botanists?
What about my apartment?
And my cat?
Who’ll feed her?
Who’ll feed ME?
The thoughts that passed through Sarah’s head were ones she never imagined would. To be fired from the only possible job provider to a scientist was beyond failure. Shock met dismay, and her hands began to shake as she wondered at her future. Seeing her lock pulverized, her door kicked in, and a hefty firearm aimed at her didn’t help matters. The half-eaten muffin fell to the floor with a soft thud, and her hands flew up, eyes wide as they could get.
“Get on the ground! On Corp. Sec. directive 4, you're under arrest!”
Sarah dropped to the ground, first on one knee, then on second thought she lowered herself to two knees. Hands knitted behind her head, mouth hanging open slightly, she stared blankly up at the Corp-Sec officer. This wasn’t a situation she was used to. She wasn’t exactly a saint, but she’d never been on the wrong end of the law before. Nevermind on the wrong end of a gun.
Immediately her brows knit together, and she started running through possible reasons for an arrest. It was possible something in her apartment had completely glitched, resulting in a false flag sent to Corp-Sec. It would explain why everything was so blurry, and why her alarm hadn’t gone off. Mentally she crossed the thought out—it was still possible there’d been a glitch, but if she’d been fired, it would have deactivated the alarm and would explain why her visual implants weren’t working as the company was paying for them to. Corp-Sec was the hand of her ex-employers, maybe she’d really done something to piss them off. Her brows pressed together more tightly, her lips folding into a frown. They’d also deactivated her neural implants’ link to their servers, she realized, eyes widening a little more. She couldn’t even remember where her job was, let alone what she might have done to piss them off quite this badly.
Nevertheless, it was the only explanation for an employment termination and an arrest on the same day. She swallowed, wishing she knew for sure.
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Posted: Fri Oct 16, 2009 9:11 pm
Corporate Security Profile: James Dorian James pointed the Colt-Heckler's snub nose at the woman, one hand over the other in a standard pistol marksman's grip. It took his implants less than a millisecond to realize he'd broken into the house of someone who was, but for the slightest trace facial features, not the person he wanted at all. Of course, it took James a few seconds more for that fact to register past the adrenaline in his blood.
s**t.
"Who are you, and what are you doing in this residence?" He shifted his feet a little, getting into a better stance. "Is this the home of Victor Puls? If so, aiding and abetting this man is a criminal act under Eden Security Corporation Doctrine 3, paragraph 47." Those words also heralded movement, but not of his own.
As he spoke, text scrolled across his vision and wove itself across the picture in his visual cortex like a spiderweb. They detailed residence information that the woman ought to know, and that really seemed to contradict any indication that the man was anywhere in this home. He must have missed the man completely, or maybe he'd been fooled into finding the wrong person. Whatever had happened, this was not going to be an average arrest and something needed to be set right. As it was, his grip on the pistol wavered and he willed himself to focus. She may be innocent, and if she is the corporation will definitely give her a new door for my mistakes, as long as I find the man who did this to the 'Net.
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