Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts

Meta-morph


Gregor Samsa was feeling great that morning but his digital twin was dead. His smart watch was alarming for not having his vital signals got synchronized with his cloud account. He could not log into his mobile phone because his face was not recognized by the camera. Fingerprint was not working either.

He looked down from the window. The city was awake down there. People were flowing through the street in an almost perfect tempo. His smart flat was at 42nd floor. His windows cannot be opened. Central ventilation was off because his digital twin was dead. System considers the flat was empty.

He tried to remember last night. All he recalled was emptiness. He looked at the smart mirror, he was looking good but the mirror started to alarm: "vitality mismatch!".

He left the flat, the elevators didn't come. He ran to the stairs, walked down in a rush. He was starting to panic. He got to the lobby. Headed to the exit but the door didn't open. There was no manual door controllers around. He got back to lobby, touched the building kiosk for help but the system did not respond to him. He decided to get back to his flat.

Started to run up through the stairs. He was feeling perfectly light and energetic as if he was flying to floor 42.

In a sudden, his smart watch stopped alarming.
His bio-signal synchronization was done.
Emergency call was done.
System directed the ambulance.

In minutes, medical team found his body on the stairs. He was dead due to cardiac arrest.

His accounts are closed.
His digital twin is archived beside the digital twins of his family.
His followers shared their condolences on social media. People supported the shared content.

It was still the morning and, in a way, he was still feeling great.

Contagious


Early in the morning.
Hard in the mouth.
Warm on the skin.
Moist on the bed.

Skirt on the legs.
Shirt on the boobs.
Feet in the shoes.
Red on the lips.

Hours at the office
Eyes on the screens
People on the scenes
Thoughts are obscene

At last, it's about 7 P.M.
You're about to  leave the office.
Your best friend is looking for her lipstick in the depths of her bag for minutes.
She gives up and says
"Can I borrow yours if you have your lipstick with you?"

And you give her your Chanel Rouge Allure N0. 104 Passion.

She wears.
So red.
So fresh.
So deep.
So hot.
And...
So contamined by your man's HPV.

She likes you.
She likes the red look.
She's developing a tiny wart silently.

Life is contagious.
Live it.