Showing posts with label protection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label protection. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Microstory 2647: Something to Punch

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1
Mandica starts looking for something to punch. She has only lifted heavy things so far, but she is starting to get a sense of how strong she has become. There are a ton of objects here for testing purposes, but she’s eying something in particular. It’s the concrete ruins of a building. Has it always been like this, or did they construct a building in the beginning of a simulation, and visitors have been smashing it apart all these years? After everything here has been destroyed, will they build it back up, or find a new spot for newbies. “Follow me.” She leads Elysia and Reagan that way, and approaches the corner. She pulls her arm back and—
“Stop!” Elysia demands.
Mandica built up too much momentum from preparing to strike the ruins. She’s still not used to her muscle weight gain, and ends up tripping and bashing her head against it. A huge chunk of concrete breaks off of the wall, and falls the rest of the way to the ground with her. Fortunately, it doesn’t hurt in the least. But it still freaks her out, because it’s not normal, and doesn’t feel right. Even a pillow fight can cause dizziness. “What? What’s the problem?” she asks.
Elysia steps closer, and takes Mandica’s hands. She rubs Mandica’s finger in her own. It’s almost sensual, but also clinical. “Soft, just like mine were.” She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls out two black gloves. They’re either the gloves she wore when she was the Ravensgate Rescuer, or an extra pair. “Here, try these.”
“I’m not becoming you,” Mandica starts to explain. “I just need to understand how my body works now. I want data to help me find a way to reverse it, or if not, go against my convictions, and transfer to a new body; one that’s more like I was before.”
“Do whatever you want,” Elysia says, “but look at my hands. They’re nice, right? Sexy. I didn’t wear those because I wanted to cover more skin. They were necessary. You are profoundly strong now. Most transhumans don’t make their bodies this powerful because it’s excessive, and comes with some downsides. Plus, with backup streaming, they tend not to worry about dying, just about dying permanently. You can still break, and if you punch that wall without protection, it could shatter your phalanges. The suit did not only represent my mystique as a raven symbol. It served a mechanical purpose.”
Mandica nods. “Okay. Thank you.” She puts the gloves on, and punches through the building like it’s butter. She can feel a ripple of energy as the force is distributed across the gloves. She must say, even though she never wanted any of this, it feels pretty good. It’s not like she thought transhumans were crazy by pursuing all of these enhancements. She always recognized and appreciated the appeal, and she never judged anyone for doing it. Her reasons for staying human were personal. But now that a different way of life has been thrust upon her, she’s questioning her whole philosophy. She’s trying not to show it, but she is scared to death...pun extremely intended.
As Mandica is brushing the concrete dust off of her fancy new gloves, she hears a crack behind her. More cracks as she’s turning back around. The building is wobbling, and with little further warning, begins to topple over. Mandica can only save one of them. She tackles Elysia to the ground, and spreads her arms like she’s trying to deter a bear, taking every hit of debris for Elysia. While it’s happening Elysia is just smiling up at her, not scared at all. When it’s over, they stand to see Reagan still alive too, balancing his sonic weapon against his knee, and pointing it towards the sky.
Mandica notices that Elysia is still smiling at her. “What? Why aren’t you mad? I screwed up, and could have gotten you killed. You’re in your regular body. That would have been the end of it. You shouldn’t even be here.”
Elysia laughs heartily. “You think I came here unstreaming? Sister, I’m always backed up.” Her eyes dart to the side. “That makes it sound like I’m constipated. But it sounds like you have a lot to learn about our subspecies. We don’t go anywhere without an exit strategy. I have no fewer than three backup bodies at all times, and a dozen more virtual partitions just in case, in addition to an airgapped duplicate that I update periodically as a failsafe. She won’t really be me, but she’ll think she is.”
Reagan nods. “Same. That’s standard procedure.”
“Oh. I guess I never really looked into how the system works,” Mandica admits. “It’s never mattered before. I suppose it still doesn’t. I remain just one person, and I can obviously still die.” She gestures towards Elysia.
Elysia frowns, and looks over at Reagan for a second. “My skin was hardened. I mean, it was soft, but hardened against attack.” She’s upset and confused. “That sword should never have been able to pierce my skin. It hasn’t before. I kind of feel like it was a different sword than the one she used a couple months ago? But still, I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to investigate. Morgana may have come across something that bioscience is not prepared for. I suggest you stay the hell away from her.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mandica says. “I wanted answers, and I think I got all the ones I’m going to get. She wants to hurt me. She hopefully thinks she did.” She looks around at the handful of other people training. Some of them are still watching the three of them and whispering to each other. Knocking down a building facade must not be that common. “Though, she probably doesn’t. So I’m still in danger, but I will not be seeking her out. She knew that I was vulnerable. She knew that I could die, and she took my eyes anyway. I don’t care what she has to say anymore.”
“I think that’s the right attitude,” Elysia decides.
“Me too,” Reagan agrees.
“But just the same,” Elysia goes on. “I would like you to see something in my car. You don’t have to make any sort of commitment, but I want you to know your options.” They walk back to the dirt parking lot where cars are parked in random configurations. Elysia pops the trunk. Sitting there front and center, folded all nice and pretty, is her Ravensgate Rescuer outfit. “It’s up to you, but you’re not that much smaller than me, and I know a good tailor who can take it in. I think you would look good in it.”
“You actually do want me to become you,” Mandica says.
“The Rescuer isn’t a symbol of hope, nor a brooding nightmare for underworlders. She’s just a first responder. She helps you out of jams, or stops you if you’re the one causing the jams. Anyone with power can, and should, use it. That’s the point of my character’s persona. You’re not a sunny optimist, and that’s not what this role calls for. It just needs someone who wants to help; who wants to fight every day.”
“I know the bots have some worldview-protecting programming, but even they’re not gonna be fooled by this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m black.”
Elysia laughs. “You wouldn’t be the first super-successor. No one will bat an eye. You’ll still be someone new. Just think about it, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll consider it,” Mandica relents.

Monday, December 22, 2025

Microstory 2566: Police Chief

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3.1
I was in charge when a suspect made an attempt on Mr. Landis Tipton’s life, but I was not allowed to make an arrest. Despite the fact that the crime happened in my jurisdiction, I was overruled by men in black who called it a national security threat. I guess I can see where they’re coming from. Mr. Tipton is a national treasure, and not just in the sense that a lot of people love him. He’s a wildly important asset that is making major changes to the dynamics of the world, almost single-handedly. He’s not just talking about fixing our problems, he’s actually taking action, and I admire him for that. The Foundation and the station have a really good relationship. We provide protection, in addition to the private security that they employ. They handle all of their internal stuff, and we take care of the outside. When you pull into the campgrounds, there will always be at least one patrol car there. My officers won’t check you in, or help security confiscate items that go against policy, but we’ll do what police do when called to action. I like to keep a uniformed presence within the campground too, but we can’t always spare the manpower for that. There’s always something to do, and something to worry about. My people consider it an honor, and most don’t find it boring. There’s a lot of people around, which means a lot of activity, and unlike with some of these rich schmoes who simply have enough pull to request protection, they typically actually want to protect this guy. I really wish I could have interrogated that suspect. We could have learned if he’s working with anyone else, or gotten an idea of whether there are more out there with his same motivations. Maybe he posts on a message board, or something. We don’t know. We don’t know anything. Neither does the public, and I don’t think that’s right. Here we have a direct threat to my community, and I’m not even allowed to report it. That’s not how we do things. Transparency is key to maintaining a healthy and prosperous civilization. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it. When people with those credentials tell me what to do, I have to do it. I will never know who this would-be assassin was, or why he wanted the healer dead, but I’ll keep doing my job, and keeping my city safe. Mr. Tipton can perform miracles, but he can’t stop violence. They’ll always need people like me.

Thursday, November 6, 2025

Microstory 2534: Phlebotomist

Generated by Google Gemini Pro text-to-video AI software, powered by Veo 3
People call me Landis’ personal phlebotomist, and it’s true that I’m the only one who performs that task, but the truth is that I do it for the whole staff, and even some of the patients. There are two other phlebotomists that are there to help me with other patients. People think that working for the Foundation means that you can’t get sick. They think that if something happens, he can just heal them up real quick, and then return to his normal work. He probably would do that, but we can’t have our workers getting sick just because they have that safety net. Our health insurance company, and other regulatory bodies, would lose their minds if they found out that we were being careless with our health and safety protocols. They really don’t care what it is we do here. Sick people don’t just frequent our building. That’s literally the whole reason that we exist, and like any normal medical facility, we’re expected to take precautions. I test the staff’s blood regularly, screening them for ever transmissible disease that they may have come in contact with during their work. That’s in addition to the masking, social distancing, and cleaning that we perform to prevent the spread. Landis could have operated out of a tent in the middle of a field like those lunatic religious liars, but he chose the hotel so people could keep their distances from each other. Seriously, it was part of his initial pitch. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I mean, what’s the incubation period of a given disease, and will his breath heal it if one patient contracted something from another just five minutes ago? They didn’t know the answer to that question before. Now, after research, we know that whatever is in Landis’ breath stays in the target’s body for about a week, but we still take measures to prevent that from happening. It would be irrational not to, particularly because we don’t offer second healings. Back to what I was saying, I do draw his blood too. I do it every day, and send it off to the researchers. It was very important to him that he hire someone to do this job in house instead of relying on a contractor. It’s not like it inherently prevents mishandling of his sample, but just in general, he prefers to be the one to pay his staff. We do have a couple of contract workers, and for legal reasons, they’re not allowed to live on-site. I don’t know whether that bothers them or not, but I’m glad that I get to stay here. Room service, house-keeping. It’s like I’m on vacation all the time. You can’t beat this lifestyle. It’s not why I got certified, but I don’t hate it.