RANDOM CYBERPUNK STORY 89,787: WORLD WAR XXX IN THE CIRCUS WHICH IS THE INTERNET!

We were drinking gasoline from dirty cups, cheap metal, found out on the desert floor, someplace USA, when the thought hit us.

What were we doing there, someplace, nowhere, Colony Zero, population us?

We weren't sure.

Kilo was a dancer I met in Las Vegas.  She was playing a slot machine in some lowlife casino owned by Harrah's illegitimate cousin Morley's Casino and Whore Houses.

I wasn't playing, just working a con to get some money to get a bus ticket out of there.

We found ourselves sitting near the edge of a pool at some abandoned hotel in New Mexico, a tourist trap that had no tourists.

The sign still was blinking neon red; Hotel America One, see us on Facebook.

What was Facebook? Where was America?  

The old men of the past stood guard outside Cleveland, two to a row of a million rows, guarding the last hope of society, something called Indiogent.

World War Ten was still raging over in Europe, or, what was left of Europe.  

"Hard ons!" Kilo said as she skimmed the blackish water with her finger tips, making love to the scene, and we were somewhere else entirely.

She was back home in Texas.  Out on the range, riding a horse with no name.  I was dead, buried in a box, ten feet under the streets of LA.

No one seemed to care that there was a over sized lizard mashing down the boulevard and neither did I.

I was dead.

James Rolling, 29, lost and presumed dead.  Actor, singer, writer, a guy who knew no enemies, no strangers.

The articles ran for weeks.  There was a war going on someplace, always a war going on someplace, and there I was on the front cover of the Times, The Weekly, the Reader, the Google.

Where was I?

I was in the desert drinking gasoline from a dirty cup with a dancer from Las Vegas.  She was her own celebrity.

"I consumed the best of the best and vomited shit for babies!" she said once, stoned out on something, the gasoline wasn't helping and she was tripping out past the cosmos.

"Virtual sex in a game.....what a concept.......fuck me brother Tom!"

Who was Brother Tom?

Some low life car dealer back east.  His profile was corrupted, on purpose, I would assume but his profile that could be read said something about Maryland and consuming raisins through his ass.

I never could get into those games, my virtual self was more into selling black market cyber babies to virtual couples who couldn't replicate without the help of people like me.

With half of the movie industry killed off by the first atomic war, I had to do something to make a buck, two bucks if I wanted to eat something more than saw dust on a shit cracker.

Morley Safe-R was online, selling his crack for $1.98 unless the price went up in New York.  

New York, the city but not the state, was declared Safe from Spammers before the 2nd atomic war, before the lights of Broadway were shut down due to lack of interest.

But somehow, the spammers always got in.  I wasn't a spammer, I was a Black Market Advertiser with a legit product to sell, though the product was declared illegitimate by the  Chicago Nine,; politicians and cops who got bored with trying to crackdown on illegal MP3s and software and went after folks like Black Nine and his gang of 'marketers.

Duluth became a hub of activity online.  If you needed anything, you went to Duluth.

"Sex and candy?" I heard Kilo say, lost in the game, but still listening to me ramble on.

I nodded.  Sex, candy, drugs, rock and roll; Elvis was alive and well in London as well as 10,000 other ports in the World Wide Web.

He was a stock broker in Canada, last of his breed, an honest trader.

Ludes was a commodity now, openly traded as Sears and Ford were back in the day, before the Meltdown.

"Twenty seven fifty for three bags? CRAZY!"

Bored housewives were a commodity too.  A hundred bags and a belt made from the hide of a radioactive lizard from Tokyo could get you fifty bored housewives and a guy named Steve who was an auto dealer from Cleveland.

Why Steve?

He was popular or something.

So there I was, someplace USA, outside, reality, last of the big spenders, drinking gasoline from a dirty cup, lost in time and space, travelling in a broken down Cadillac, pink, the license plate read Jack 4 U, which I had stolen from a pawn shop just outside of Reno.

I left my body in San Francisco, my soul was carved up and sold off to Mexico and Canada and the rest, was travelling in a suit case to San Antonio.

What was left?

87 cents and a map of Salt Lake City, Utah....

  

Views: 478

Comment by Arthur James on May 20, 2013 at 6:38am

` Tink. Great Idea!

You wrote this:

`'

.. 'work with coc . . .

`

[Con C.?] Get a Hound!

Drink Calming Goat Milk.

Get some bum's money.

`

Get a Bus to Roam, Italy.

Roam the streets and paw?

No paw woman with hands.

Grab a Black Barn Pitchfork.

I lend you a Civil War Sword.

A Handle has George's Bust.

Honest. It's G. Washington.

`

Walk ` round Roam with it.

Cops interviewed me today.

Two Nice Police Officer here.

They Talk to Goofy Insane.

`

Rent a 'Sleep Inn & Suites.

No let anyone say to You:

`

... he said to me this:

`

I've a bullet for you.

`

huh?

`

The Inn Manager Heard it.

`

They called the First Responders.

I be calm. I sniff Thyme Herbs.

I swear it's Extra Insane Here.

The guy who has the bullet?

He be Here one long week.

O!

O!

O!

Ugh. I cover my Own Back.

Ho, boy! I Yodel` Shoo!

Tink. I dream Life a Dream.

`

I best behave. I go to Farm.

I come Back with Pitchfork.

I'll Hope to Update Story.

It's a Real Life Dream.

Comment by Arthur James on May 20, 2013 at 6:40am

`

Oops . . 

`

not coc

I meant:

`

Con

`

No dull moments.

Merrily Merrrily

Merrily Merriy

Life is but a

Wild Dream.

Comment by Arthur James on May 20, 2013 at 12:44pm

`

Tink. No worry. The Gut who had a bullet for me?

Cps met him. He was Crazy. His Wife Ran Off.

Maybe he thought I was the fool who woo her?

`

He showed Two Police Officers a hidden knife.

He was to stay Here one more week. Bye Bah.

The Police Took him away. Wild World We Get.

I've  met with Kind Clean Up Fire Great Crew.

If we meet Horror and Disgust - Anticipate:

`

Beauty, Bravery, a sense of Justice on Earth,

and a Unity that isn't able to be articulated.

It's an Experience. It's to sense Awe. Good.

Wonder. . . I took a Ten Minute nap. Bless.

I haven't sat on the Exercise Bike. It Busy

Comment by Tinkerertink69 on May 24, 2013 at 3:26am

It's all good!! :D

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