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Album: Bellum II Artist: Aquilus Genre: Black Metal Origin: Melbourne Australia Listen to: Into the Earth This album pairs well with Absinthe
I heard something new. It wasn’t initially a pleasant sound, but it also wasn’t unpleasant. The air was humid and the cleaver barked out when I pressed down. Instead of appreciating the moment I jumped back and checked the console to see the stream of my always-on driver I installed last night. Good. I was a bit nervous after I got into it with a Cyphan on Enquant, but I think I have proof now. I can taste it. “When you’re a spy…” The taglines of the classics are filling my ad space. Does it know? Did I fuck up? Or am I just being paranoid? Meatmoving off the clock is always suspicious. Installing third party divers is an order of magnitude more risky. You can claim ignorance, once. After that, you are a sanctuary to the Qualiasts. I take the cowards route and return to my normal path. “Fiber makes the world go round” is the saying. At least that is what we tell ourselves. Most Fibermen thrive in the wilderness where the uplink is too slow for full connection. Walking down these ancient access tunnels is always a guilty pleasure, but I’ve been enjoying it too long. I jump back. Fibermen love bragging about who is older. “I remember when you had to plug the receiver into your headport!” Everyone laughs. Another old chimes in, “Remember when you had to look at what you were recording?” Cred is assigned. Merriment is felt. I’m not like them. I became a Fiberman because it gives access to the few places where our darkest perversions can be experienced and not recorded. Judgment requires a judge. All these ancient Jeers haven’t yet realized how much freedom they have. They are so dumb. Finally, a service order comes in that gives me an excuse for the meet. It’s the perfect spot, deep and old enough that only gigahertz connections are available. As I work on stripping the line, a voice chimes in. “I got your message. Ready to trade?” “Yes.” His mouth locks with mine. Encoded in molecules secreted into my saliva is the physical recording of that sound that I was able to block the training uplink from accessing. We transfer the contraband. Something new. Something not yet included in the matrices that encapsulate reality. My pirate always-on driver is able to process his physical data. But before I can appreciate it, I instinctively jump back. Of course, the olds would be viewing the ancient cam feeds. The local stream is filled with jokes and questions. I can’t, I won’t, let this ruin it. It’s hard, but I jump forward and load the new experience.
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