![]() 79 to be precise – about an incident at a Chinese bot factory in Shanghai. ![]() “Well boss, I came across a strange report on one of the Pacific fringe channels – no. ![]() Another of her little jokes: she knew me too well. “I bid you greetings, my liege! I hope I am not interrupting…”Īnna’s image morphed into a surreally beautiful Asian woman with long dark straight hair and thick retro glasses, her form poured into a black office dress. As she bowed, she swirled her comically huge felt hat in front of her. It was Anna dressed as a Renaissance courtier – I sometimes regretted that I had added a humour morph module to her core personality traits. The screen flickered to neutral blue, and then re-awoke. They were all very happy with their great accomplishment. He leaned over to kiss first the tall thin blonde, then the curvaceous black woman. Green indicator lights blinked to life on the column as EM waves connected the human race just a bit more to each other than they already were. He seemed almost nervous as he pressed a ceremonial red button that turned the transmitter on. The warm summer sun glistened on his bald head, oddly sweaty for such a composed fellow. Bell smiled the trademark smile I had seen a thousand times, and then frowned as he watched the ribbon disappear. The Amazons clapped enthusiastically, their long hair waving back and forth in the wind. The summer winds blew it off into the distance over the lake. 42 open!”īell cut a ceremonial red ribbon with a tiny laser pen. “On this propitious day, July 14, 2189, I declare Uplink Station No. Two statuesque women stood at his side – probably bots, but I was too tired and too tipsy to tell. ![]() He promised access to the net that was a whole millisecond faster. And besides, they’re a write off – that’s why they’re called Wastelands.Ĭloser to home came a report of Sky President Packard Bell dedicating a new uplink station on Toronto Island. She was babbling on about how the employment rate in the Mississippi Wastelands had risen to 60%, “a high for our century.” But the Wastelands were far away. The movie dissolved into a floating 3D image of a virtual newscaster with perfect multiethnic features. I picked up my scotch: “Here’s to you Marlowe.” He was a better man than me, even if Chandler and Faulkner dreamed him up. Bogie stood frozen in time, a glass of booze in his hand and a smirk on his face. ![]() My mind jumped forward two hundred years.ĭown by the lake I could see willow trees swaying in the breeze as red and yellow cars hummed by the road in front of my house. Gone were the thunder and animal sounds, replaced by the barely audible noise of hundreds of soft machines. My room filled with sunlight as the crystalline structure of my windows reverted to plain glass. A wolf bayed plaintively, hungry for a fresh kill. I felt a big sleep crawling over my eyes.Ī crack of thunder came from some imagined distance. The room was bathed in blue light, reflecting on the ice cube in my scotch as a swirled it around the glass. In black and white and two dimensions, just like old movies were meant to be watched. Rain splattered violently against the windows of my living room as Bogie and Bacall exchanged quips on the wall screen. It is an undisputed fact that people do bad things.īut at least where I live, they haven’t been doing enough of them lately, so for the time being I was sitting at home slumped on my couch. COBALT BLUE: A Future Noir By Douglas Mann, 2019 CHAPTER ONE. ![]()
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