skonen_blades: (hamused)
The majority of earth voted against winter this year.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t happen that often. There are still countries on Earth for whom snow is a novelty and there are those who like the seasons to change.

But this year, no winter. The vote pinged us, time zone by time zone, around the planet. We mentally filled out the ballot box in the corner of our vision and sent it back to the main computer.

It’s hard to remember a time where computers were external and even the implants had to be installed physically. Now with the biosoft rewriting the DNA, we’re ‘born soft’, as they used to say. Worldwide, we’re all linked together in our minds.

The weather satellites were a necessary revolution after the planet nearly cooked from our fuel consumption. We crowdsource everything now. There’s still an economy but local power centers and governments don’t differ from each other that wildly anymore. Earth is a country now, not a kaleidoscope of fractured cultures.

Our translators make it possible for us all to speak to each other which we do often. We debate but we rarely war. The collective IQ of the planet has risen to a nice, high average and we’ve realized the profit in peace.

We’re more like a collection of around five thousand cities connected like Christmas lights sprinkled around the globe.

We stabilized the population and we’re all born with a baseline gradient of information that trickles in. We have the wisdom of generations at our fingertips and it cannot be removed or taken away.

That was the failsafe of the architects who instilled the change in us. It was a turbulent time of near-extinction as we understand it. Wholesale slaughter had not yet begun but we were dying by the thousands. Mostly preventable disasters were occurring more and more frequently because of greed, divisiveness, and secretive governments.

A unity was needed. And those Helsinki seven delivered.

Now we are all knowledge-rich and connected through maturity. It’s truly a new age.

It’s called the Anthropocene.



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skonen_blades: (thatsmell)
I could tell from the way she softly clicked her teeth together twice while keeping her mouth closed, flicked her eyes to the top left and grunted once subvocally that she'd just adjusted me to be more handsome. She would probably pass it off as checking her messages if I confronted her.

She had this annoying habit all through dinner of either blinking or darting her eyes to one side after making a point or a joke. I knew she was sending images, links, and videos to my eyes to assist the conversation. I saw nothing. I’d never had the work done.

She sat in front of me, mildly pretty in a way I could adjust to gorgeous if I had the right hardware in my head, humming and twitching like someone with mild tourette’s syndrome. She seemed to pick up about halfway through the date that I wasn’t just being stoic or ignoring her on purpose. The expression on her face took on a feeling of revulsion and then polite smiles as the rest of our night progressed. It didn’t last much longer. Her tics didn’t stop, they only slowed down to motions that indicated to me that she was talking to other people and staying current on the feeds. I found it rude but no doubt she found it rude that I couldn’t join in.

I still had my communicator tablet iLife screen in my pocket. I’d check my traffic after the date ended like I was raised to do. It was only polite. I wasn’t raised in the city like she was. I tried to pay for dinner but she said she’d already taken care of it. The date ended.

I looked at my phone after a polite peck on the cheek goodbye from her. I saw that as she had sat down at the beginning, she had friended me on FB3, added me on Starcrossed, met me on Saw-u, hailed me on Communicator, knocked on me through FrontDoor, rated me on Datemate, invited me on Contact, opened to me on NiceOne, queried me on AskMe and sent me virtual flowers and a kiss through Sendlove.com. Our conversation had been webcast.

Only eighty hits so far and none since the beginning of dessert. Sad.

As she left the restaurant, I watched her requests get withdrawn. I was blocked, ignored, shunted, slammed, hung up on, darkened, erased, blinded, stealthed, closed and deleted. Her profiles disappeared off my networks. The invitations faded. The flowers and a kiss evaporated. I wouldn’t even be able to call her now.

Blogged, vlogged and flogged.

The comments on the webcast weren't flattering. She rated me two stars out of ten. The top tweet said that she was being generous.

I have to get implants.





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skonen_blades: (borg)
I blinked twice to fast-forward the counter-person to 'ticket purchase' but nothing happened. She stood there behind the counter, asking me again if I had packed my bags myself. I blinked twice again. Nothing. I sighed. They were using real people.

That’s how much of a backwater dive this planet was. I couldn’t wait to leave. Real people? That wasn’t even retro anymore. It was almost slave labor.

“Yes, I packed my bags myself.” I answered.

“Passport, please.” She said.

I mentally shunted my passport over to her computer. I didn’t get the okay in my peripheral vision. Her system must be slow. We looked at each other with an expectant pause.

“Sir?” she asked, hand out. She was growing impatient.

Oh no, I thought. Seriously? Totally analogue. She was expecting actual physical paper printed in some sort of booklet. I had read about it. It might have been in the package I received for my Earth tour but I must have assumed it was a receipt or something.

“I don’t have it.” I said, lamely.

“Well, sir, you won’t be able to leave the spaceport without it.” She replied smugly. I got the feeling that every time this happened, she chalked a point to herself and the other luddites who believed in an old way of operation. Ignorant tourists like me must make their days a happy place.

Some planets had themselves a belief that cranial implant software was evil and led to a lack of privacy. I could see where they were coming from in some ways. I mean, that’s why I was here. I wanted an offline vacation package.

“Take a seat over there, please.” She said, pointing to a bench with six other pale men sitting on it. Bewildered and lost, they stared at their dead feeds for information. There was a public terminal inset into the wall with ‘email’ that would let me access the UniNet but it would take days for my peers to respond to my requests in that way.

It was going to be a long wait.

Stupid backwater planet. I’m never coming back here.




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