“The nonthreatening big band fanfare and crescendoing tuba of a post commercial break already-in-progress There Goes the Naaaayyy-borhood segue grabbed Evan’s attention back, and he watched intently on the LC monitor as one of his favorite episodes resumed, in which Molly is most troubled about which of Roy and Mac to accompany to the homecoming dance, because, you see, Roy is ever so handsome, and so adept at patching errant internal security algorithms, but Mac is just one of those wild ones, which, try as she might, just about no girl can resist, and little Michael never can pass up the chance to make a big ol’ fool of his older sister with a well-timed bit of PLA hacking and prankstering, all of which Mr. Fredd is always sure to advise against with a spirited clomping of hooved heels on hay and sudden pressurized expulsion of lengthy nasal pathway air and according nasal chamber matter, before ultimately through the archaic viewer choice input module (statistics of which were calculated during-commercial-break) she is, Evan knew, predetermined (and subsequent alternate action pathway audio/video recordings triggered) to choose the reliable Roy, much to the glee of network sponsors.”
“Shade sat at the corner of one of the far steel tables, forkfuls of fried foods disappearing into the fabric folds of his drawn-over hood while shards of gray light dodged through the pulsing slits of the glass building’s presently retracting security shutters and danced across his glistening dessert fruit bowl; after the communal all-nighter, he’d been invited repeatedly by the executive staff to a private bruncheon in the presidential suite, but had politely declined.”
“I’m getting older,” she continued.
“Poppycock.”
Roppongi is just one of the multitude of unique concentrated downtowns spread throughout all of the massiveness of Tokyo, but the harsh dichotomy found within walking distance of its epicenter must make it one of the most fascinating. Divided into north, south, east and west quadrants by the diagonally running Roppongi Dōri and its above expressway and the equally but inversely diagonal cross street Gaien Higashi Dōri, it is the stage for some of the most luxurious leisure in the city and also for much of the deepestly depraved.
“I had to work qu – quickly, in order not to lose you… and your legs, your lower torso… you were losing blood fast… so I was forced to try an… experimental procedure.”
Hicks’ eyes grew narrow, drawing into a glower. He knew it wasn’t ever a good thing when Murdock talked about experiments. “What sort of… experimental procedure?”
“Hey, I got something!” Hudson yelled, pulling up a large sheet of collapsed roofing. The others joined him.
“Looks like a computer of some sort. An old kind. Shit they had at the turn of the century, but this one’s still running.”
“The Oracle!” Neo exclaimed, heaving the drywall off of the heavily damaged machine and away from its workstation. He had surprising strength.
“Easy big guy,” Hudson laughed, “That ain’t no Oracle. Just a piece of junk.”
A small speck appeared in the deep blue sky of the badlands, twinkling in the midst of a starry sky. It left a thin streak in its wake, somewhat like a shooting star, but moving much slower and deliberately toward the barren ground.
“Jack, how many wifebots you been with?” She stared blankly at the roof of the tent.
“Umm…” he answered nervously, “Just one. I was programmed for her.”
Trinity smiled and looked down. “Me too. I’ve only been with my husbot.” She stayed silent for a moment and then spoke again. “You ever wonder what it would be like to… to be with someone you weren’t programmed for…?” She looked up at him, eyes glistening red.
Top 10 lists and Bottom 10 lists are so played out right now, no? Isn’t there a better way to talk about movies? I demand innovation! Thus I have developed my own, way awesomer type of awards list, chock full of categories like “Shittiest CG” and “Most Fun to Watch” and “Unfunniest Comedy” which are much more intersting to talk about than simple goods and bads. Of course, as the sole developer of this new system, my opinions are final and not subject to debate. Why 9? Because it was 2009, of course!
John swung around, meeting Dr. Murdock in the eyes. He wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. “A… brain transplant?”
