Uploaded Fairy [ Editing ]
The flavor of wearing Birkenstocks, while eating sun-dried tomatoes in a pasta-salad was a very sporadic fashion and cuisine women ate on a night’s out, if they didn’t want their severed heads rolling the pavement.
Nadine had had trouble with law enforcement from an early age, but at that point it had only been as compartmentalized as regular Militarized Police and Dream-Scanners, that acted as secret agents in your dreams. But today there were three separate divisions: SNAPS, PAGENTS, and TOMATES. SNAPS were designed to hunt women who have snapped at their husbands, PAGENTS were designed to root out women who wore bad fashion at the office or at talk shows. And finally the worst of them all TOMATES, whose named was borrowed from the Portuguese word for tomato, were designed to hunt and exterminate women who ate banned foods. It didn’t matter what the food was, as long as it was on the banned list of food items. It could be Vegan food on Monday, and Paleocene cuisine the next. Off, off with your head.
These divisions had one commonality, the use of a Guillotine Gun that was designed with an extra layer of speed to allow for fast extrajudicial decapitation compared to the older model. Which meant you could ensnare them at a further distance, reel them in, locked them onto a board, and shoot them in the back of the neck. Ordinarily women that were first timers, would be given a free pass. But if someone repeatedly ate the wrong food, or wore the wrong clog color on a Sunday, then off went their heads.
Millie could have been such a head on a stick.
But instead she rode on a TOMATES back, because she liked eating whatever she wanted simply to much, and didn’t want to lower herself to the role of other peasant girls, who only got to eat what was allowed on the non-banned foods list. But in the back of her mind, she knew that she would be hunted again. She could try to contact Nadine, but she had been trying to repair her relationship with Ellen the past few months. Even Dantino mostly spent his time watching old 90s fantasy and science fiction movies, without regard to the high value of preserved copies. So mostly Millie was left alone to fend for her own neck.
This is her necks story.
And her new 3D printed body.
“I’ve just never had a taste of proper fruit”, would be her excuse. Cops would offer a different fruit for her to try so that she would not be on the hook, but she insisted that she had never grown up eating tomatoes, bananas, and whatever fruit was currently banned. As true as this was, it wasn’t true in quiet the same way as the other girls, who grew up with normal female bodies. While the rest of them were organic in nature, she herself was that of hyper-realistic silicone, the same stuff used to fill women’s breasts when they were above a certain economic threshold. This made explaining her desire to try not foods difficult, as ordinarily robots by their design didn’t need to eat. But her software had created a mental dependence on certain flavors, perhaps a hold over to when Hemato was addicted to flavored thumb drives.
This meant finding different flavors of these on the black market, until such as time that she could become a full person in biology and status. And narrowly avoiding the march of TOMATES interrogating people in the streets of the POTATO DISTRICT, a food item that had long sense been banned do to its high carbohydrate content. And the businessmen as starchy as the very root vegetable they made illegal.
She had lost many of the friends who had obtained after she was 3D printed into meat space, and thus had few people to turn to; Nadine was fed up with her because she had briefly considered the idea of going back to Voreth’s Promise, now matter how this would be done; even if that meant destroying the very fragile body that she had obtained from being in this world. Yet she wondered, when going back, whether there would still be any of the old friends prior to becoming a “print” would still be around to give welcome hugs. She wore to Birkenstock Boston clogs, would sometimes still chocolate bars at the local flee markets, under the disguise of someone else’s credit card. This enabled to her avoid accruing huge sums of debt if one continued to use the same card over and over again. But it also meant she could not hang around in the same district for long. There were many girls that looked similar to Nadine and Ellen, but few that looked like Millie, with the exception of her sister Elena who spent her time living with Malcolm and the rebuilt Blanci. Which meant that, with the security cameras with the most up to date machine learning regimen, would make her an easy target to find by both PAGENTS and TOMATES.
But she needed to take the risk.
If she wanted to get a taste of fruit.
For organic persons, there is often an ethical question in science fiction, whether your consciousness is really your own when it comes to having an artificial consciousness replace your brain to carry out essential biological functions. It has been asked so many times that it had become almost something of a cliche. But for Millie, there was never an organic body present to conjecture about, although the question may still apply to synthetic persons, in such a period of time in which synthetic bodies are given person hood. She never considered the fact that she could carry an infinite amount of data inside her own brain, similarly to an organic one, when she used a self-adhesive bandage to wrap around thumb drives. Part of this wasn’t even about the data storage, but somewhat a taste for retro aesthetic, with thumb drives having become outdated by the turn of the twenty fifties, during the civil war between French and Japanese America. Because of this, it took unusual ways to gain enough money to purchase such expensive hardware. So hoped that some of the black market thumb drives didn’t carry anything elicit.
She imagined a guillotine gun being used on her neck, and the components of her internal game engine being used for other purposes outside of being strictly a character in the game. In this game, with no winners, she felt as if she was living on borrowed time, with her fortune easily turning on a dime, or even some bit of change that no longer is in circulation. Her own wetware was a mixture of images for Nadine’s masturbation. She imagined herself in an alien world, where Nadine would deliberate organize a rebellion, where those who fought with Nadine would be betrayed by her, and thus sent to the headman’s block; each near generation, organized from Nadine agreement with some faceless future queen, raised unaware of the false flag operation she organized in order to root out the most rebellious of society, as part of the condition for allowing her to live, and not herself be sent to have her head chopped off.
But these times were not those times, and there was no telling whether such future would come to fruition, as it seemed like Nadine had truly desired to not really want Millie’s head to be taken off her body. She imagined Nadine licking the blood of her neck, But Nadine, in reality, would hold out her hand to comfort her, as if the fear of a future subverted rebellion from her was only a dream within a dream.
It was Nadine blade, so sharpened.
It made Millie scream. Because each generation of these rebels, would be genetically related to the previous false flag resistance, that wanted to see the future queen’s head roll off her body, and onto the city street, with a jeering crowd washing their hands in her blood. From billionaires, to those in the hood.
Distant night terror screams,
But reality beamed.