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A Futuristic Roleplay Intensive MUD

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bait [2012/10/04 09:45] (current)
prpi created
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 +[[home|ParaWiki Home]] - **Bait by wilde**
  
 +Alex was nervous. He adjusted his tie. It was narrow, steel grey and woven from something Alex couldn’t remember the name of. It was made by some new company, over in Atlas City, Biotique. Just a bunch of tailors turned bio-hacker, nothing special really, but they had flair and whatever it was they’d worked into the genetically modified cotton fibre made it emit a very soft, subtle light. It was like those fish they had in the Mare Ibrium, over near Platoville. 
 +
 +He’d been there once as a child with his dad and they had a whole section of it cordoned off for fishing, which apparently was some old Earth sport. Alex hadn’t seen the point, but his dad had loved it and they’d gone out on a hover boat at Full Earth and when all the luminescent, glowing fish leapt out of the water, a hundred different rainbow shades from startling neon blue to vivid coral pink, even he had to admit that he was impressed. 
 +
 +They’d caught the fish on lines with hooks and little worms wriggling on the end, which was primitive but effective. Alex had caught a big one, almost the size of his hand and reeled it in, only it had wriggled and it was slipperier than he’d been expecting so he’d dropped it onto the deck of the hover boat when it made a break for freedom. It had flopped about, gasping and helpless and he’d felt so sorry for it that he’d scooped it up, tossed it back over the side and watched its glowing form dive quickly deeper until it was out of sight. 
 +
 +He felt a bit like that now, like wriggling worm on a hook. Taxo Corp were trying to screw him over, absorb his little tiny company into theirs and all he had to do was let them. He was bait. 
 +
 +After checking the time on his watch (leXOn Inc, a few years old now but still, possibly surprisingly, quite serviceable), Alex looked up to the figure seated behind the massively imposing, moulded plexiglass desk. She was young, probably not more than about twenty or so, her ash blonde hair cut very short and slicked back neatly but for a section at the front that was dyed jet black and styled into an artful quiff. She was no doubt fresh out of the corporation’s receptionist training institute, or whatever the hell program it was that Taxo Corp put its staff through and was studiously ignoring him and quite impressively managing to avoid meeting his eye. 
 +
 +Alex wondered if you had to pass an exam to master the expression with which the girl was studying the plasma screen in front of her; almost blank but with a slight furrowing of perfectly groomed eyebrows that somehow managed to convey deep concentration and a pursing of suspiciously plump, glossed lips that suggested anybody thinking about interrupting should seriously consider the no doubt dire consequences before doing so, even though Alex suspected that all that was holding her attention was either a commerce site or a gossip site. 
 +
 +A couple of datazines lay scattered on the plexiglass coffee table that matched the big reception desk and Alex picked one up and began scrolling through the information. His browsing was punctuated, of course, by a number of flashy, brightly coloured advomercials that proclaimed that his quality of life would be greatly improved by a pair of synthsilk boxers (Alex actually preferred plain polymesh- synthsilk was so light it felt like you weren’t wearing any, a sensation which disturbed him slightly), that it would practically be a crime not to purchase a HyrdrO2 Bar (call him old fashioned, but Alex quite liked the kick of real alcohol, instead of the flavoured HydrO2 crap) and that above everything else that he could possibly want, out of all the many things available to the cultured consumer anywhere across whole of the United Lunar Nations, the one thing he really needed was a brand new sonic shower. 
 +
 +That last part was actually true, Alex’s shower was extremely close to giving up the ghost, but just as waited for the advomercial to phase through to the contact details of the company who made them, a melodic bleeping sound from behind the reception desk (no doubt chosen after hours of research into getting just the right pitch to strike fear into the heart of any would-be deal broker) and the receptionist looked over to him. 
 +
 +“Mr. Taxo will see you now,” she told him in serene, placid tones, the words accompanied by a perfectly white-toothed but somehow predatory smile as she gestured past the desk to a set of opaque plexiglass blast doors that, instead of sliding into a wall cavity like most, swung inwards silently on hydraulic hinges. 
 +
 +Alex stood and adjusted his tie.
bait.txt · Last modified: 2012/10/04 09:45 by prpi
 
 
Featured artwork used on Parallel RPI given permission for use by original artists macrebisz and merl1ncz.