Finer Print
The details of Merida’s apartment rushed past around her in a blur of action: a shoe rack towards which she kicked her heels, a hat rack on which her skirt landed, a small table for keys, photos, and now a shirt and business jacket thrown unceremoniously across them as the nearly nude form of Merida rushed past. The simple cut of her black lingerie only served to emphasise the generousness of her curves, the fullness of her breasts and the long curve of her hips, the pale skin shining slightly with her growing anticipation.
She was heading towards the centre of her apartment, the plastiglass walls turning an opaque white as she gestured at them, then deepening to grey as she motioned for the lights to dim. There was no-one here but her, but even in an empty apartment she still felt the need for privacy, safety. That was why she stopped at one dimly lit wall before the main bedroom, a holographic orange panel lighting up just before her fingers reached out to it, quickly flurrying through series of pressed movements and orange flashes until the small screen contained only the words:
"Engage privacy mode: Yes, No." She tapped yes, and though she heard no change, she knew she was now completely cut off from the outside world - no comm lines, no security calls, no emergency services bio-monitoring, nothing - not a single data line in or out of her dimmed apartment, just her, and her burning desire. Her smile was almost giddy, as she swiped across the control screen to her inbox, where one special, blue-lit message blinked. She pressed it:
"Print Your Dreams," the slogan barely having a chance to appear before it was tapped past, the message opening to "Congratulations, and thank you - Your advanced order of -" the already read message stammering past as she impatiently tapped at the screen, right up to "for your expert review." Then: "Bioprinter administrator access detected. Bioprint loading: 100%. Run bioprint: Yes. No."
She bit her lip: this was it. She pressed ‘Yes’.
Blue light blasted past her, reforging the apartment around her in deep black shadows and stark blue light. It was coming from the one room whose plastiglass walls remained transparent - the large, round room right next to her main bedroom - her biolab, its centre now glowing almost solid blue light.
As her eyes adjusted, she could see the light shrinking in, contracting from a uniform pillar into a smaller, less uniform shape, about three feet high and squatting in the centre of the room. Though ‘squatting’ may not have been the right word, for there were no legs -as much as she could make out from the solid blue silhouette she could see no appendages of any kind, just a three foot tall shape, tapering towards the top, rounded at both ends.
That was it.
She tried not to give in to the disappointment welling within her: even at this early stage of the print, all the former CompileCo’s tentacle monsters she’d printed had looked much more interesting: a floating sphere surrounded by ribbons of appendages, a fleshy chair whose simple and comfortable shape belied the voice-losing fun she’d had with it, and last time a wide, raised slab that, when fully printed, had revealed itself to be a flesh-edged tub of opaque liquid, the merest touch of which sent shivers up her spine, even before she discovered all that was lurking below the surface.
Gods, she was having difficulty standing just thinking about it. But this? A squat three feet of what she assumed would be flesh - no visible appendages, no baths of liquid, just - just nothing?
Fighting the growing disappointment within her, she approached the bioprint chamber, extending a hand until her active console displayed itself on the chamber’s wall, the CompileCo message still open on the pressed ‘Yes’. Wanting answers, she tapped again:
"Thank you for beginning pre-printing of your TM-609, The Mobius, the latest and greatest in CompileCo’s -" an impatient tap later "- This latest and greatest model was constructed by our premier team of - Showcasing the very latest in our patented and extremely effective bioneuro - The side-effects of these drugs may include but are not limited to - People with a heart complications or a family history of insanity -" tap tap tap, the unimportant disclaimers of the message flashing past as Merida furiously sought any sign that this tentacle monster wouldn’t be a gigantic let-down, until she found herself tapping a screen that would not let her skip: "Customers with third party ‘Privacy Mode’ programs are advised to enable emergency services monitoring before using "The Mobius".
Seriously? She frowned bitterly at the display, wondering when the devil-may-care, in-on-the-joke CompileCo had gone all babysitter? And of all the stupid things to insist upon - she could imagine it now, her bio-readings spiking, her apartment registering a potential heart attack, only to have the ambulance show up to find her right in the middle of - actually no, she couldn’t imagine. She wasn’t going to imagine what it would do to her reputation, her career, her entire life. And she wasn’t going to risk all of that just in case this disappointing three feet pillar of boredom was more too much for her.
For her, or rather for Edo Rex, famous Compile Co tentacle monster reviewer, already mentally drafting the most derisive turns of phrases to describe what she was now expecting to be CompileCo’s first major flop. Laughing inside, she re-read the annoying message: "Customers with third party ‘Privacy Mode’ -" whatever, she skimmed to the end "- Confirm privacy mode disengaged: Yes. No." She pressed 'Yes', and the biolab exploded crimson.
No comments:
Post a Comment