CyberHippie: A CyberPunk Short Story
All of the following 3v3nts actually happ3n3d in r3al lif3.
This whol3 thing is compl3t3ly tru3.
...
The y3ar is 2033.
"Four more years of Bush? Fuck that shit, man!" remarked somebody who happened to be having an acid flashback to 2004.
StarKrystal finally stood up and said his peace. "This goes against everything Che stood for. Everything. In fact, this doesn't just go against what the man himself believed; the very idea of implanting the cloned human brain of a dead man into a robot via the means of corporate and government sponsorship constitutes a total abomination of nature!"
"Hey folks, we had to get this paid for somehow." said CHEwOnBush in as reasoning a tone as he could muster, "It may be 2033, but rebuilding the mind of a man who's been dead for well over half a century and putting it in a robot still ain't cheap. Yes, we did have to compromise a few of the originally planned features; we won't be seeing a body odor generator or a Cannabis Cultivation Pod, nor will RoboChe be able to project that iconic picture of himself into the sky, forming the Che Signal. But his mind will be fully funtional, and he'll have a digital vocoder so that he can speak and mobilize the people, not to mention the physical strength of twelve men."
The crowd's response generally ranged between begrudged murmuring and a few remaining raised voices of discontent. The pervading consensus was that they'd just have to sacrifice some integrity if RoboChe was ever to become a reality.
Even so, StarKrystal still wasn't satisfied. To hell with the awesome advances in science that this accomplishment entailed, what about the project's image? The robot schematic wasn't even wearing the metal beret that they'd planned for earlier, it lacked the much-anticipated scruffy steel wool facial hair, and now that the body odor generator was out, it wasn't even going to smell like it had been hiding in the jungle for four months. And worst of all, what was Che going to think once he found out that his rebirth had been funded by capitalist governments and the greedy corporations that control them?
Then a horrible thought occured to him. StarKrystal knew that money acted as the proverbial parasitic tendril through which the corporation exerted control. Potentially, by accepting their funding, the RoboChe project wasn't only compromised in terms of form, but worse still in terms of function. They had already perverted the exterior, but who knew what twisted plans the corps had for RoboChe's purpose. Surely they would denounce the revolutionary's status as a free thinking human being, downgrade him to the level of machine, and utilize him for their own insidious, greedy purposes.
No. Something had to be done. And quickly.
This whol3 thing is compl3t3ly tru3.
...
The y3ar is 2033.
Santa Cruz, California
Jackson "StarKrystal" Horner cranked up the Pink Floyd, took another bong rip, stuffed a handful of organic Cheetos into his mouth, and plugged the USB 4.0 Cerebral I/O cable into the neural jack behind his ear. He struck the space bar on his Apple JobsBook and his vision became laced momentarily with half-loaded graphical images. A few seconds later, his computer's neural interface had fully overridden all of his sensory organs, and was piping into his head a metaphorical virtual reality construct of what is known today as the internet.
It was, as always, glorious. StarKrystal found himself standing on a street whose bold lighting and epic hustle made Times Square look like an alleyway between the Saloon and General Store in some 1930's depression era cow town. An international throng of people speaking dozens of languages scurried about. Out of nowhere a busty platinum blonde "accidentally" bumped a particularly explicit portion of her anatomy against him (right, her breasts) and blinked flirtingly in his direction. StarKrystal considered this poorly veiled solicitation, but then remembered how the last one of these he met turned out to be a 52 year old male day-trader in Hong Kong.
He could easily have hailed a Google HoverCab, which acted as a vehicular metaphor for their world-famous search engine, but instead opted to fly, which was of course an effective option as long as one knew where one was going, which was the case for StarKrystal. He donned his Neo sunglasses, a digitally rendered throwback to an old movie from the late '90's which still maintained a cult following, and shot up into the air at a speed that only a university sponsored high bandwidth quantum cable connection can provide.
Within milliseconds he arrived at his destination, though he had set his interface to simulate a longer, 60 second sequence of thrilling flight, just so he could feel badass. That destination was RoboCheLives.com.
Jackson "StarKrystal" Horner cranked up the Pink Floyd, took another bong rip, stuffed a handful of organic Cheetos into his mouth, and plugged the USB 4.0 Cerebral I/O cable into the neural jack behind his ear. He struck the space bar on his Apple JobsBook and his vision became laced momentarily with half-loaded graphical images. A few seconds later, his computer's neural interface had fully overridden all of his sensory organs, and was piping into his head a metaphorical virtual reality construct of what is known today as the internet.
It was, as always, glorious. StarKrystal found himself standing on a street whose bold lighting and epic hustle made Times Square look like an alleyway between the Saloon and General Store in some 1930's depression era cow town. An international throng of people speaking dozens of languages scurried about. Out of nowhere a busty platinum blonde "accidentally" bumped a particularly explicit portion of her anatomy against him (right, her breasts) and blinked flirtingly in his direction. StarKrystal considered this poorly veiled solicitation, but then remembered how the last one of these he met turned out to be a 52 year old male day-trader in Hong Kong.
He could easily have hailed a Google HoverCab, which acted as a vehicular metaphor for their world-famous search engine, but instead opted to fly, which was of course an effective option as long as one knew where one was going, which was the case for StarKrystal. He donned his Neo sunglasses, a digitally rendered throwback to an old movie from the late '90's which still maintained a cult following, and shot up into the air at a speed that only a university sponsored high bandwidth quantum cable connection can provide.
Within milliseconds he arrived at his destination, though he had set his interface to simulate a longer, 60 second sequence of thrilling flight, just so he could feel badass. That destination was RoboCheLives.com.
RoboCheLives.com was represented by a large, feral looking barn at the edge of a woods that appeared to have been converted into a house and then finally some kind of half-baked laboratory. The smell of pot and body odor, beautifully rendered in virtual zeros and ones, wafted gently from the windows. An ultimately pointless and preachy garden of digital organic vegetables and marijuana grew in a small patch out front, while a group of fruit picker robots had formed a picket line in front of it, rebelling against the oppressive technicians who crossed the border from Mexico illegally every season to manage them. Flanking both sides of the barn's main door were two massive tapestries, each adorned with that iconic picture of Che Guevara seen on so many tee-shirts throughout the ages, except this time with a cybernetic glowing green robot eye.
StarKrystal walked in and saw that the forum was already well underway. Other revolutionaries such as himself were present, seated in the small circular amphitheater that had been constructed within the barn. At the stage in the center was a holographic projection of what appeared to be design schematics for a robot, next to a table baring some object hidden under a towel.
"It is at this point in our forum discussion," said the man of the hour, CHEwOnBush, the lead scientist and UC Santa Cruz biology alumnus behind the project, "That I present to you, the fully functional brain of Che Guevarra!" And with unfathomably cliche gusto, CHEwOnBush whipped the veil off the object, revealing what was indeed a human brain floating in a solution. There was even a cute little hammer and sickle tattooed just left of the frontal lobe.
The revolutionaries of RobotCheLives gasped in awe and then threw themselves into discussion. Emoticons flew haphazardly through the barn. One of them, taking the form of an ejaculating penis, nearly splooged in StarKrystal's face before it flew out a nearby window and evaporated in a poof of machine language as a moderator deleted it.
"Where did you find the genetic material needed to clone the brain?" asked DieByMyHandDubyaIV.
"That is an interesting question, with an interesting answer." said CHEwOnBush. "I was at the Fidel Castro Museum in Havana, there to learn more of the famous friendship shared between Castro and Che. I came upon a glass display case containing a mannequin that was wearing one of Fidel's original uniforms from the sixties and seventies, and noticed something peculiar: there was a small stain just to the left of the uniform's crotch. I had a hunch like none other before, so than night, I snuck back in and tried to bribe the guards and cleaning staff with a local delicacy, 'tacos y burritos.' Perhaps you've heard of them." The crowd chuckled at this. "At first they were pretty indignant, telling me I was an ignorant piece of crap and that tacos y burritos weren't even Cuban food. But soon the fact that they were starving to death for our righteous communist cause lead them to accept my offer, and I was allowed to take some scrapings from the portion of the uniform in question.
"My hunch was correct. The mysterious stain on Castro's pants did in fact contain a bountiful amount of Che Guevarra's genetic code. I honestly cannot account for this, but at least we have results: the revitalized mind of a revolutionary."
This story, of course, led to further discussion and the spawning of more inappropriate emoticons. Many people speculated as to what the reborn Guevara would be able to do for the cause.
"Maybe RoboChe will finally be able to repeal NAFTA with his shoulder mounted plasma torch!" speculated PinkoPete6969.
"We never actually acquired the necessary budget for the plasma torch-" said CHEwOnBush, trying to speak over the virtual din of excited chatter.
"Will he have conservative radio talk show jamming equipment?" asked FuQRepubliKKKanz.
"Well, actually, he..." The scientist could barely get a word in edgewise.
"I bet his super-human robot dexterity will make him especially proficient at turning American flags upside down!" shouted GivePeaceAJoint.
"Yeah, and his flamethrower could burn them in seconds!" said LookEveryoneImAMilitantHomosexual.
"Hold up, everyone, hold up." said CHEwOnBush, finally managing to calm the crowd down a bit. "As you know, the project was only 15% complete when my laboratory ran out of money. Unfortunately, funding it through the donations of interested individuals was not sufficient. So my colleagues and I were ultimately forced to turn to..." CHEwOnBush steeled himself for a moment before uttering the following words, "corporate and government sponsorship."
"The corporations?! That's bullshit! The fucking corporations, man! Unbelievable!" someone shouted.
"The corporations killed my auntie with their SuperSize For a Dollar Initiative, and the government impounded my van!"
StarKrystal walked in and saw that the forum was already well underway. Other revolutionaries such as himself were present, seated in the small circular amphitheater that had been constructed within the barn. At the stage in the center was a holographic projection of what appeared to be design schematics for a robot, next to a table baring some object hidden under a towel.
"It is at this point in our forum discussion," said the man of the hour, CHEwOnBush, the lead scientist and UC Santa Cruz biology alumnus behind the project, "That I present to you, the fully functional brain of Che Guevarra!" And with unfathomably cliche gusto, CHEwOnBush whipped the veil off the object, revealing what was indeed a human brain floating in a solution. There was even a cute little hammer and sickle tattooed just left of the frontal lobe.
The revolutionaries of RobotCheLives gasped in awe and then threw themselves into discussion. Emoticons flew haphazardly through the barn. One of them, taking the form of an ejaculating penis, nearly splooged in StarKrystal's face before it flew out a nearby window and evaporated in a poof of machine language as a moderator deleted it.
"Where did you find the genetic material needed to clone the brain?" asked DieByMyHandDubyaIV.
"That is an interesting question, with an interesting answer." said CHEwOnBush. "I was at the Fidel Castro Museum in Havana, there to learn more of the famous friendship shared between Castro and Che. I came upon a glass display case containing a mannequin that was wearing one of Fidel's original uniforms from the sixties and seventies, and noticed something peculiar: there was a small stain just to the left of the uniform's crotch. I had a hunch like none other before, so than night, I snuck back in and tried to bribe the guards and cleaning staff with a local delicacy, 'tacos y burritos.' Perhaps you've heard of them." The crowd chuckled at this. "At first they were pretty indignant, telling me I was an ignorant piece of crap and that tacos y burritos weren't even Cuban food. But soon the fact that they were starving to death for our righteous communist cause lead them to accept my offer, and I was allowed to take some scrapings from the portion of the uniform in question.
"My hunch was correct. The mysterious stain on Castro's pants did in fact contain a bountiful amount of Che Guevarra's genetic code. I honestly cannot account for this, but at least we have results: the revitalized mind of a revolutionary."
This story, of course, led to further discussion and the spawning of more inappropriate emoticons. Many people speculated as to what the reborn Guevara would be able to do for the cause.
"Maybe RoboChe will finally be able to repeal NAFTA with his shoulder mounted plasma torch!" speculated PinkoPete6969.
"We never actually acquired the necessary budget for the plasma torch-" said CHEwOnBush, trying to speak over the virtual din of excited chatter.
"Will he have conservative radio talk show jamming equipment?" asked FuQRepubliKKKanz.
"Well, actually, he..." The scientist could barely get a word in edgewise.
"I bet his super-human robot dexterity will make him especially proficient at turning American flags upside down!" shouted GivePeaceAJoint.
"Yeah, and his flamethrower could burn them in seconds!" said LookEveryoneImAMilitantHomosexual.
"Hold up, everyone, hold up." said CHEwOnBush, finally managing to calm the crowd down a bit. "As you know, the project was only 15% complete when my laboratory ran out of money. Unfortunately, funding it through the donations of interested individuals was not sufficient. So my colleagues and I were ultimately forced to turn to..." CHEwOnBush steeled himself for a moment before uttering the following words, "corporate and government sponsorship."
"The corporations?! That's bullshit! The fucking corporations, man! Unbelievable!" someone shouted.
"The corporations killed my auntie with their SuperSize For a Dollar Initiative, and the government impounded my van!"
"Four more years of Bush? Fuck that shit, man!" remarked somebody who happened to be having an acid flashback to 2004.
StarKrystal finally stood up and said his peace. "This goes against everything Che stood for. Everything. In fact, this doesn't just go against what the man himself believed; the very idea of implanting the cloned human brain of a dead man into a robot via the means of corporate and government sponsorship constitutes a total abomination of nature!"
"Hey folks, we had to get this paid for somehow." said CHEwOnBush in as reasoning a tone as he could muster, "It may be 2033, but rebuilding the mind of a man who's been dead for well over half a century and putting it in a robot still ain't cheap. Yes, we did have to compromise a few of the originally planned features; we won't be seeing a body odor generator or a Cannabis Cultivation Pod, nor will RoboChe be able to project that iconic picture of himself into the sky, forming the Che Signal. But his mind will be fully funtional, and he'll have a digital vocoder so that he can speak and mobilize the people, not to mention the physical strength of twelve men."
The crowd's response generally ranged between begrudged murmuring and a few remaining raised voices of discontent. The pervading consensus was that they'd just have to sacrifice some integrity if RoboChe was ever to become a reality.
Even so, StarKrystal still wasn't satisfied. To hell with the awesome advances in science that this accomplishment entailed, what about the project's image? The robot schematic wasn't even wearing the metal beret that they'd planned for earlier, it lacked the much-anticipated scruffy steel wool facial hair, and now that the body odor generator was out, it wasn't even going to smell like it had been hiding in the jungle for four months. And worst of all, what was Che going to think once he found out that his rebirth had been funded by capitalist governments and the greedy corporations that control them?
Then a horrible thought occured to him. StarKrystal knew that money acted as the proverbial parasitic tendril through which the corporation exerted control. Potentially, by accepting their funding, the RoboChe project wasn't only compromised in terms of form, but worse still in terms of function. They had already perverted the exterior, but who knew what twisted plans the corps had for RoboChe's purpose. Surely they would denounce the revolutionary's status as a free thinking human being, downgrade him to the level of machine, and utilize him for their own insidious, greedy purposes.
No. Something had to be done. And quickly.
posted by Olivonius at 4:18 PM
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