~*Yes I know the artist has named a character after herself, but actually
it's the other way around. I had Remora way before I had her name. Lol*~
(--Ch2, A Father's Theory--) (--Year 3040--) (--Remora *Hack--) ____________________________________________________________________________ _______
Remora had fallen to sleep with her headphones on again, her mixer playing the same baseline over and over. She was slumped over the desk, one hand around a Kinetic Cola and the other clutching a pencil. She hadn't changed out of her street clothes, and seemed about to slump off her stool any moment.
She is the first and foremost Government-opposing *Hack in all of New Tokyo. There wasn't an "elite" to be found for miles, and she had the entire run of Chofu/Fuchu/Mitaka/Koganei square. The entire run. There wasn't a Beater, a Dancer, a Rapper, or a Scripter that could -or would- challenge her, not a Seller that could speed-talk her out of business. The world was in order. Music was nearly nonexistent, books were regulated by the government and no household owned more than one, dancing was illegal, and there were no malls anywhere to be found.
Welcome to 3040, a Government-owned planet where everything anyone does is videotaped, recorded, or -at least- watched. No privacy exists anywhere, and people are 'happy'. There is no crime, there are no jobs, for money has been done away with. All work is done by automated machines, and the Government and the Clergy tell you it works. It doesn't. The hackers knew this, and the hackers didn't like it. Believe you this, if the hackers didn't like something in a world of automatons, they would eventually get it changed. Enter alarm clock in.
5. 4. 3. 2. 1. #BRIIIIING!!!#
Remora *Hack woke from her precarious position upon the stool, and slid off. Her half-empty soda can came away from the s.t.i.c.k.y. desk with a loud slurping noise, dousing the 19-year old girl in carbonated sugar. She yelled in surprise, her headphone's volume control having struck the desk and turned the sound all the way up. As she yanked them off and slammed them on the desk, she discovered the page-and-a-half of soda-ruined song sheet.
"Aww.. Man."
She was late for school, but it didn't matter anymore. Her dad supported the hackers, because he enjoyed being able to use an imagination once in a while. She slapped a InvisiSkin patch (to cover those unsightly blemishes, use InvisiSkin!) over her left forearm's *Hack tattoo, the only way to recognize another hacker. She grabbed a few Sun-Glare torchlightes, and packed her music stuff into a backpack before setting out for the old Microsoft building. Strangely enough, though toothbrushes had gotten better, backpacks remained the same shape. Some things just didn't change, she guessed. They just got bigger.
(--Ch2, A Father's Theory--) (--Year 3040--) (--Remora *Hack--) ____________________________________________________________________________ _______
Remora had fallen to sleep with her headphones on again, her mixer playing the same baseline over and over. She was slumped over the desk, one hand around a Kinetic Cola and the other clutching a pencil. She hadn't changed out of her street clothes, and seemed about to slump off her stool any moment.
She is the first and foremost Government-opposing *Hack in all of New Tokyo. There wasn't an "elite" to be found for miles, and she had the entire run of Chofu/Fuchu/Mitaka/Koganei square. The entire run. There wasn't a Beater, a Dancer, a Rapper, or a Scripter that could -or would- challenge her, not a Seller that could speed-talk her out of business. The world was in order. Music was nearly nonexistent, books were regulated by the government and no household owned more than one, dancing was illegal, and there were no malls anywhere to be found.
Welcome to 3040, a Government-owned planet where everything anyone does is videotaped, recorded, or -at least- watched. No privacy exists anywhere, and people are 'happy'. There is no crime, there are no jobs, for money has been done away with. All work is done by automated machines, and the Government and the Clergy tell you it works. It doesn't. The hackers knew this, and the hackers didn't like it. Believe you this, if the hackers didn't like something in a world of automatons, they would eventually get it changed. Enter alarm clock in.
5. 4. 3. 2. 1. #BRIIIIING!!!#
Remora *Hack woke from her precarious position upon the stool, and slid off. Her half-empty soda can came away from the s.t.i.c.k.y. desk with a loud slurping noise, dousing the 19-year old girl in carbonated sugar. She yelled in surprise, her headphone's volume control having struck the desk and turned the sound all the way up. As she yanked them off and slammed them on the desk, she discovered the page-and-a-half of soda-ruined song sheet.
"Aww.. Man."
She was late for school, but it didn't matter anymore. Her dad supported the hackers, because he enjoyed being able to use an imagination once in a while. She slapped a InvisiSkin patch (to cover those unsightly blemishes, use InvisiSkin!) over her left forearm's *Hack tattoo, the only way to recognize another hacker. She grabbed a few Sun-Glare torchlightes, and packed her music stuff into a backpack before setting out for the old Microsoft building. Strangely enough, though toothbrushes had gotten better, backpacks remained the same shape. Some things just didn't change, she guessed. They just got bigger.