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minimalist // photographer // musician // artist // writer


  • Beneath Neon Skies :: sS.02 :: Electroshock Weaponry

    There was sand in her eyes even when she stood before the deposit box. The notice had been brief, and colorful. A nice bit of ultra-sweet neon writing in a plain black email, official business from the committee in charge of citizen cooperation. She’d much rather sleep the entire day, but a citizen of the Growth couldn’t just ignore an official notice. So, she dragged herself into the mailroom and opened her box.

    For that day, Ava would be a member of the Enforcement. In the box lay her green armband and matching stun-glove. She grabbed the band, fastened it about her upper arm, and paired it to her Aarm. Then she slipped her fingers into the glove, and powered it on. She brushed her hand against the metal of the box. Nothing. She clenched her fist and repeated the movement. A burst of sparks trailed her motion, illuminating the arc her flesh flowed through the air.

    For that day, Ava would enforce peace. Or, something like it. It was up to her, after all, wasn’t it? Yes, there were laws to uphold and policies to maintain. But the way she did so was in her hands. Her sparkling, stunning hands.

    She closed the box shut, and left the mailroom with a light spring in her step. For that day, Ava was powerful.

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  • Some Themes Present in Neon Skies

    1. biological hackery (why recreate the brain when you have the brain?)
    2. mass drivers for people (because transportation can be overhauled)
    3. suffusion of electricity (breathing in that clean, clean energy)
    4. pervasiveness of biological/technological implants (harder, better, faster… yeah)
    5. ubiquitous psychotherapy (no stigmas since everyone’s on something) and healthcare
    6. overlays on reality (Dennou Coil, squared)
    7. radical transparency (no need to be private, citizen, but that’s okay because there’s no point)
    8. the clashing of privacy and publicity (cooking lunch, making the bed, and telling everyone)
    9. everyone has grey morality/ethical breakdown (not just the Big Four)
    10. naming trends (Matther is an older guy born during the typo trend)
    11. sliding slang (lots of lovely dialect diabolism)
    12. soft mods (think of MDMA or ethanol, but somewhat permanent)
    13. unconventional solidarity (culture is not always defined by geographic location)
    14. spell check, spell check, spell check!

    More to come as I write more short stories in the mythos. I just wanted to lay these out to keep a sort of running tally on how objects will interact. For example, Nask works as a digital plumber. The data pipes are not just virtual connections; some are organic. Shiannon is a drug dealer. She’s also employed by the state. Matther is a veterinarian and doctor. He also cures computer viruses; the professions are not dissimilar in the world of Neon Skies.

    In many ways, it’s a sort of imagining of an ideal world… something like a utopia, but not immediately presented as such, and something like a reinvention of contemporary fiction. That is, I won’t be referencing past works much and I won’t try to adhere to genre conventions. This should result in something new brought to the table. At worst, it will read like a strange version of current life. At best, some of the themes presented will pop up in reality. That’d be cool. But that’s not the intent.

    I mentioned before that I considered making music to go along with the chapters. I’m still on the fence about that. I will continue to make artwork based on the series, though. It’s multimedia fiction. Almost like a franchise, but I’m making all the forms of entertainment. So yeah, I’m going to incorporate video and photography into this project as well.

    And, as mentioned, I’m going to stop focusing on one long story and break it down into digestible bites, not very related with each other, but within the mythos and reusing characters. Imagine something like Seinfeld or Lucky Star, but mainly sci-fi, totally cyberpunk, with a larger range of characters.

    The Growth is an imperfect city that wants to be better. Everyone has a story to tell.

    Lastly, different stories may read differently. There are so many approaches to writing that I plan to explore. This should be okay. This kills the boredom.

    I think that’s it for now. Happy reading!


  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 2.02 :: Depth

    Cora had slept through the journey to Matther’s clinic. She woke briefly when they patched in the intravenous nutrition, and stayed lucid long enough to notice Sarah was still around, but she fell back to sleep once she was swaddled in the warmth of a soft cot and thick blankets.

    Sarah pulled up a chair to wait. There were a lot of questions that she wanted to ask. Until Cora rested enough, Sarah read a book. Two, in fact, in that time. One was a brief overview of fiber optic communication. The other was an urban fantasy in space. Neither seemed very memorable.

    Sarah had just powered down the screen when Cora opened her eyes. She flinched. “Hello, Cora.”

    “Hello, um….”

    “Sarah.”

    “Hello, Sarah.” Cora spoke slowly; she was tired, not under sedation. “Where am I?”

    “You’re at a clinic that a friend of mine runs.”

    “You didn’t kill me.”

    “I know. I couldn’t. Sorry.”

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: sS.01 :: Boots

    He doesn’t know how long he’s run; how far. It must have been days. He’s in a tree now, eyes fixed on its base. If he cocks his head the right way, he can hear the rustle of the grass below. He can hear the clink of those boots every time the owner takes a step. In the forest, there are no echoes. The foliage absorbs the sound.

    Clink. Rustle. He slowly turns to the side. She sees him. And she’s tapping her foot, impatient. “Get out of the tree, K21.”

    “Or what?”

    “What do you think?”

    He hesitates. He doesn’t know how to answer that. He hasn’t been programmed to. “I.. I don’t think.”

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 2.01 :: Frequency

    He heard the echo of the sandstorm before it arrived. Felt the vibration through his boots as her car pulled up. The windshield darkened as she exited her vehicle, and her boots kicked up broken glassphalt. 

    Nask felt the humidity in the air, temporarily increased by the warmth of her car. He tasted the tang of the smoke and oil in the air, washing over everything with the recent rain. Inhaled the scent of danger and confidence that Ava carried with her as she walked. Pushed all safety behind with the realization that she was approaching with his first mission with the FilterNines. His first foray into truly illegal work. He swallowed. Dry.

    “So, Nask,” she began. “Did you miss me?”

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.07 :: Ice

    “Take the promotion,” Child said, a forkful of salad inching toward her lips. “It’s not like you want to be here, anyway.”

    “What? I mean, I do want to be here. I just don’t like it. There’s the floor overseer, for one thing, and all the dust does nothing for my lungs. But…”

    “But…” prompted Child.

    “But I like the degree of freedom, which, if I became the new overseer, would increase further. In any other place, I wouldn’t be able to work on pet projects parallel to my jobs. I couldn’t just get up and go for a walk when I need to. And I probably wouldn’t be able to talk to people like you.”

    “I’m not a person.”

    “Close enough.”

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.06 :: Dust

    The band watched him. When he first packed it into his bag. When he took the bag on the N train to his workplace. When he set the bag on his desk. It watched him. Nask. The kid under a new assignment. Another assignment.

    If he put on the wide, blue armband, everyone would know his assignment, wouldn’t they? Or at least, they would know his assigners. That’s what worried him about the whole thing, that people knew. It was dangerous work. Subversive work. Another form of work that he should’ve said no to. Should have.

    He put it on.

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.05 :: Ichor

    Blood. Blood everywhere. The walls were painted in it, the floor drenched. Sarah gaped at the sight. Stepping lightly, to avoid the feel of coagulation on her soles, she hit the switch on the wall. The room brightened, reflected red. It was terrible.

    She spun to her left, looking for the source of the red, and spied it. Or, them. Broken cylinders, about twelve feet tall, ten feet across, and drained to the bottom of the cracks which rent them open. She stepped over broken glass to examine one, to shine her light into the fluids, and her heart sank. There was a body inside. Undoubtedly, there was on in each of the others.

    Sarah knew this place, once. Didn’t want to, though. Not then. Not ever. Those memories were locked safely away.

    Whirled to her right, towards the door ajar. The hallway beyond was dark, without the flicker of a lamp. She gripped her light tighter, then took a few snapshots. Avaleon had asked her about the building a few times, and Sarah always tried to avoid it. Now that she fell into it, she may as well do some reconnaissance. That was her job, after all. She signed into the area, and her Aarm began to record her eyes and mouth.

    “Time: 2315. Place: Namba Genetic Industries, abandoned building three, floor four, room…” She quickly called up a previously stashed map of the building from her Aarm. “Room 423. Setting denotes an accident and abandonment. One casualty.” She steeled herself for her next task; reached into her pack, donned a glove. She slowly plunged her hand into the thick liquid and wrapped her fingers around an arm of the body within. She lifted. It rose. Turned. She saw a face. She gagged. It was a clone; even though it was dead, the liquid, it — it preserved it, down to the expression it wore when it died. An expression of ignorant blankness.

    Poor girl. She must have never known the outside world.

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.04 :: Shadow

    How did Sarah get there? She couldn’t exactly remember. At least she wore her poncho, her main barrier against the steady rain. Good, she thought. The sunlight must be waiting for me. The shadow sure isn’t.

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.03 :: Stars

    The meeting afterward had been brief. Matther had Nask formally sign a contract, Ava explained a few things, and then she was dropped him at his flat, with a new blue band wrapped securely around his left upper arm. Ava mentioned that he probably shouldn’t wear it at work.

    “As if you needed to say that.”

    “Sometimes, the smartest people make the dumbest decisions.” She smiled, then gave him a little shove, as if she had known him for years. “Go on inside, get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow, when you get off work. Oh, and before you ask: yes, we know what time you’ll be done for the day. We’re cool like that.” She grinned, slid back into her car, and soon faded from sight, the echo of her sandstorm pedestrian system leaving with her.

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.02 :: Smog

    Ava’s kiss carried a virus. Not anything like the common cold or influenza, but a digital virus, that leapt from her lips to his. He knew it should be outrageous, like something out of science fiction, but he could already feel it worming its way into his personal network of data, squirming around and changing things. Making his glasses show him things. Making his Aarm pulsate with activity. Making him look at the city lights under the thick haze of smog and, see them whirl around, and making him vomit again. not from the caffeine, but from the nausea at seeing everything at once.

    She didn’t kiss him that time. Instead, she passed him a water bottle and a mint. “Relax; It’ll wear off when the virus fully takes over.”

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: 1.01 :: Rain

    It didn’t fall in sheets, like the day before. It fell in blankets, drenching the upper streets with water and soaking any of those who happened to be out to the core.

    Avaleon was one of those. She gripped the umbrella in her left hand, right arm floating freely at her side, ready for a handshake or a hamstringing. That’s what the knife on her belt was for. Or at least, she told herself so; she had never been good with violence. It always brought a tear to her eye, even when her life was at stake. She couldn’t even crush a wasp because of the crunch it shouted. Hence, she was really hoping anyone she came across was friendly.

    It was good, then, that the walk to her dealer’s flat was clear. It was probably that rain. It had a way of washing the people away.

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  • Beneath Neon Skies :: Prologue

    Back when CamelCase was a trend, or, thirty years ago, a barely legal conglomerate announced itself. Comprising it were four of the top hardware and software manufacturers north of the equator, hailing from major nations. These four had a pure vision: they wanted to crush the problems with the world and equalize everyone.

    The Big Four, as they were called, started small, by extending help to any country that asked. They began by creating automated building units to manage public infrastructure, so that they could also focus on other issues. That went well. Once the project was underway, they tried for mandatory implants of identification chips for all citizens. That didn’t go nearly as well. In the beginning, they were fought, but the Four simply pulled their improvements from a country that disagreed and focused their work elsewhere. Without their help, smaller countries suffered as before.

    However, one of these nations changed their mind, and agreed to the implants. And there were no adverse effects; all was well. Soon, more agreed, and the chain reaction started. The favor was turning to the Big Four day by day.

    That was only their second project. Next, they pushed for a new type of civil rule, where corporations and governments existed separately, but ruled together as one unit. That idea was met much more vehemently, and the backlash nearly dissolved the Four. However, they opted for full-disclosure of their governmental model. To cut the story short, they started small yet again, and formed a sort of partnership with the same small nation that accepted the implants.

    The citizens of that nation weren’t happy with the agreement their rulers struck… at first. Soon, though, seeing as they now would have to fight against the very entity that guaranteed their survival, they learned to live with the change.

    Seeing the ease in which that happened, the Four made a few more changes.

    Military. Gone. That funding was devoted to cybernetics. A result was an increase in quality of prosthetics, which lead to strides in biomimetics and related fields.

    Space endeavours. Gone. With that funding, remarkably improvements were made in human-computer interaction. An eventual result was the invention of direct interfaces to the mind. Now, even as the Four were hated by many, the same many couldn’t ignore a technological leap like that. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be a part of the nation ruled by the Four, if only to have access to that level of technology. But, the Four continued to work on their small country.

    The entire project, Big Four with populace and all, became known as the System.

    And then, the Four crushed the last vestiges of division between a government and a corporation and created a better, more efficient model, marked by their own rule. They streamlined the resulting effects to generate even more revenue. And with that last bit, they created a few new things. Like the Enforcement, their police system.

    And that’s where we meet the FilterNines — those who fought the enforcement and all that backed them.

    The Enforcement was based in a certain major city. The city, or, the Growth, as it was called, was still incomplete at the time of our story, and therefore, a misshapen mass of buildings run awry. The newer areas seemed as gleaming utopias, while most of the older areas were already condemned. Some sections hadn’t felt the effects of the Growth; fewer hadn’t been transformed.

    As an example, consider the northwest district. At the lowest levels, where new skyscrapers blocked the sun and crowded the mind like canyons, little light reached the earth. Hence, weeds weren’t too much of a problem. It wasn’t until one reached, say, the tenth story, that flora started to flourish, and the twentieth before people were able to have productive gardens.

    Although, few people cultivated any. Acid rain was still a big problem. Although the causes were being tackled, it still wasn’t suitable for drinking. And so, singing in the rain was akin to voluntarily burning your throat. It wasn’t worth it, and everyone knew it.

    That didn’t deter the city from patrolling the streets and bridges; if anything, it encouraged it. Since people went indoors during the rains, the city could send out more patrols without causing congestion. It was good that the streets were less crowded. Only the hardiest of civilians would walk about in the rain. That included the FilterNines.

    And so, in the rain, our story begins.

    ::read forward?