Monday, July 10, 2006


Political status: soft anarchy.
The WoB (War on Beauty) was the second great ideological war of the human race - or whatever came after it. Just like the first great ideological war of the human race, it didn't dare call itself by its own name: in fact, it was not over aestethical standards we were fighting about. It was about the prevailing of a technology over another. Would a being be better-looking whether he looked more like a human being (bipeds, five senses, fingers, conscience and such), or if he could better adapt into a specific environment (another word for work)? What was to be better anyway? (Just when you believed metaphysics were dead...)
A consensus was reached when everybody had gotten some tech into their bodies - even if it was mere better hearing. Some consciences, by their own will, would not feel the ("primary", they'd say) sex drive. Among those who did feel it, by their own will or by lack of divisa, it would be the human represented by its most failing aspect (cellulitis became a fetish and were reinduced into the genome) or antinomic machines.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

2. Shibboleth

The story begins with Isabel Vinola lowering her black case in her compartiment. Next thing, she runs her hands through her hair several times, front to back.
She had come from somewhere delicious. People never fundraised for anything, never said hi, not even looked at each other; one would say that they were even taking turns to go out onto the street, so that they wouldn’t offend each other by their mutual presence. Each minding their own business, not caring for others'.
Now there she was, Isabel Vinola, with her knuckles cold and songless name. She’d have to live with undelicious people for a while.

Saturday, June 10, 2006


One of 471 several-sized teams Torrid Inc. and Sidero VVA sent beyond moonlands:
Isabel Vinola, corporate engineer
Michæl Nygaard, system engineer IV
Delfina Dainesi, pilot

The mission was arid. A bunch of geological data had to be collected, organized and processed. This team I've just described was in charge of overseeing and reporting on the work done by geological teams II, which in turn constructed the raw data collected by geological teams I. I hope you understand why I'm not going to dwelve further in this matter.

Thursday, June 01, 2006


Ina went by eating a mango, disheveled like a wild girl, spreading that smell all over the place. She waited for someone to ask where she’d got that thing, but no one did. All she obtained was a bunch of dirty looks by the way the fruit was being wallowed into.

Saturday, May 20, 2006


Nygaaard on their lodging:
- I know there are cameras. If you wanted to worry over that, you should've been interesting the first three days.
This quote was highlighted in a very important o-view sitio and got them a very high audience for almost three full hours, when people realized they were not interesting actually.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006


The holovideo percolated through the net under the tag ‘babysonfire’. It opened in Puerto Gris: a boy thrown out of a ship into the sea. He climbed over to the low docks coughing then ran shiveringly into a corner, escaping wind and mining robots with carts. Dry now, he loitered through the concrete departments talking to cameras. He was to loiter for five days with no sign of a human presence - until he crushed an ad-bot that got into his way and got arrested. He'd escape, this time to highlands. He took cover in an enormous manor, abandoned with employees inside. He’d pinch the French maid robots' asses as they slided by with their trays. He'd cheat the eyecheck and use the home system as he pleased. He'd start to take and deliver illicit orders.

Ina was moved.
- Was that your childhood?
- No – said Nygaard - but sure looks like it.

Thursday, April 20, 2006


Ina to Isabel:
- If only you could be Isabella – I-sa-bel-la Vi-no-la… much more musical.
Surprisingly to Michæl, Isabella agrees with eyes very huge and humid.

Monday, April 10, 2006

9. Day they found out Delphina’s hair was (originally) orange

Nygaard was bored and pulled her hair.
Ina: Ay!
An auburn string stayed in his hand. He stroked it, considering keeping it. Under a closer check, he noticed the short orange end which ended into a bulb.
He waited till Ina was snoring. Vinola asked if it was some kind of lulling caress.
Nygaard: Hija de Puta.
Vinola: What?
Nygaard: HdP inc.
Vinola: What?
Nygaard: She’s transgenic.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

10. (miss former instant celeb)

Michæl e Isabel researched Ina online and came up with the following holovid:

An excerpt displayed Ina’s brain scan during the interview. Then they’d dissected her emotions live. What was she afraid of. Where she was lying. Why.
“She wants to make us laugh, that’s sexual frustration!” “No way; that’s codependence!”. Most of the times the experts would agree over a diagnosis; sometimes, they’d beat each other up, literally.

Monday, March 20, 2006

11. tell me

Nygaard: Tell me.
Delphina: You wouldn’t understand. And I don’t know how to explain.
Nygaard: Then, show me.
Ina looks up.
- I’ll think about it.

Friday, March 10, 2006

12. Ina's story

...the rebeliant rich girl, Monica, and the day she climbed that building (she wanted an experience more than deranging) she did came back deranged. The huge building into whose insides no one knew what was going on was a company, acted like one – it had "officers" going out and in, though with an enigmatic grin over their faces. Once in a while they picked, through an agency, lowlifes like Ina to go inside; and giggling Monica volunteered herself to go out of shallowness. When she was returned, some days later, to the cemented parking lot, she had been reconditioned. She covered her skin all over with black fabric, for she thought herself as indecent, and sealed the world outside. Her daddy threw a tantrum – against Ina who didn’t protect her protegée.

Friday, March 03, 2006

13. Ina's story - II

What they’d done to Monica was interlacing her perceptions. Lasagna tasted like green soup, profiteroles like canned beans. She lost much weight by replacing full meals by coconut water, which at least tasted like coconut water (the slight flavor of nausea after a morning of insolation).

Monday, February 20, 2006


Suddenly Nygaard feels deeply cut in his psyche. Turns to Miss there-holding-his-hand. Ina’s crying. Wildly.
- Can’t focus on what your doing – says Nygaard dryly, disconnecting and wiping off his tears as he passed by Isabel.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006


Vinola: Yes you were. That day I walked in on you.
Nygaard: It was sharing.
Vinola: Liar.
Nygaard: She said she wouldn’t know how to tell that story. I said: show me. And she: did.
Vinola: I wonder if she'd tell me?
Nygaard: Sure. Told me.
Nygaard thinks a moment then outstretches his hand.

Friday, January 20, 2006


Vinola: So?
Nygaard: So what?
Vinola: Won’t you start connex...
Isabel shuts up, having stared into Nygaard's eyes. Hesitates, then removes her hand off his. Gets up, running hands over hair.
Vinola: Better ask her.
Nygaard: Your call. She is going to cry, you know. Should you wish to comfort her, don’t be shy. Promise not to go near her place the next 15 minutes.

Saturday, December 31, 2005


3 seconds were just about enough. Isabel stopped on her tracks, head low, then turned. Pushed Michæl into the bed and sat over him.
- You’re gonna get it so you'll stop being an asshole.
- Oh, come on – he said, glad'n'hot.
Her progress based itself on analyzed reflexes, and it abode by stages: her top, then his, then his bottom, then hers. Then she flitted out, all-fresh, absolutely unflappable, uncrooked her crooks and silently left. Army training. He was a "crisis" and she had just got him under control. He laid there, thinking: fuck. He felt his own temples. Still an asshole. Romantic no more.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Saturday, December 10, 2005


"Awake?", Michæl asked Ina.
"Yup", the answer.
Michæl: "Such a great number they did on Vinola. She’s so unplugged."
Ina: "So?"
Michæl: "Nevermind."

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

20. meanwhile somewhere

They were freaking out because of an ad. So it went:
"Status symbol, buy it". (With a little pointing arrow.)
Bitching would come in like torrents, from every division. Obviously it was one of the damned Jack Jesus interventions. And oh, when would it end. Not that they interferred on Torrid's own ads: no, Jack Jesus was much more sophisticated than this. His interventions came up as advertising by a different corporation, but with a concept and visual identity as unique and powerful as Torrid's. Said corporation was never identified - nor Torrid, that leaded this "humbleness" fad, or "to remain anonimous in its uniqueness" fad.
Anyway: people paid attention to that infamous ad. And by doing that, they wouldn't see Torrid's. Even because those, subliminally, deconstructed Torrid's ads. God!

Friday, November 25, 2005

21. why Vinola can't read

Vinola with hands over ebook – always hands, never eyes. Ina thinks she can’t read; Michæl checks with Vinola herself.
Vinola: "Reading is same but sluggish."
Michæl: "Little letters under your eyes, that’s diff’rent baby."
Michæl invokes Ina:
"Please, do tell her..."
Ina shrugs.

Sunday, November 20, 2005


- You’re moving out to Go-land.
Ina, Nygaard e Vinola:
- Okay.

Thursday, November 10, 2005


All check’d into a Go-land hotel.
Artificial breeze floated ethereally all manes, hesitating its intensity and way for better results.
They weren't staying in the night district, of course. They were staying in the business section, awaiting further instructions. Because there weren't any geological teams to oversee, not there anyway. Of course, there was the extra divisa dripping into their accounts everyday for they being "dislocated off their primary functions", but Michæl soon started to feel suspicious about that rapid removal. Sniffing here and there, he smoked it out: there was a rumour about Torrid's intranet being contaminated by that terrorist guy, the Liquidator. Every team in the East had been removed and scattered away. The non-contaminated teams, naturally.
- The rest should be all in Kaapor's little white room. - said Michæl, mentioning the most popular urban legend about Torrid.
- That's bullshit - said Ina.
Michæl: Says someone who've been formatted since early infancy.
Isabel: To be raised by a company means it's your family. I don't, I won't speak against my family.
Michæl: There you go, reciting droney slogans already.
Ina: What about ex-sex industry workers, do you harbor prejudice against'em too?
Michæl: Ina, please stay out of this. What I mean is, Torrid only adopted war orphans on bulk to get a bulk tax discount. That's already non-selflessness enough to me. Now who knows what they've done to your minds on top of that? Brainwashing, hypnopedia, cult psychology...
Isabel: A little bit of everything. And food, and clothes, and education too. And politeness too, something I feel you strongly lack.
Ina (clapping hands together): Oooh!
Isabel: You know what your problem is? Jealousy. You never passed Torrid's test and they threw you out on the streets...
Michæl loses his tongue for a second. He glares at Isabel, who stares at him back coldly.
Michæl: You mean, the intelligence test to sort out what little children were worthier to be saved? The one which if you failed at was plainly dumped out? That's definitive proof that Torrid has a fine mission! And, yes, you mut be oh so very special to be selected. I'm not, maybe I was not a very proactive child... or maybe I wouldn't show that much talent to crush other people.
Ina looks at Isabel, that by her turn looks at him apparenting no remorse. Ina feels sorry for him and touches Michæl's arm; he shakes her away and leaves the community room.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


Isabel Vinola had never seen anything like it. Delphina Dainesi had never seen such an authenthically old place. Michæl was the only one who could review it more accurately:

In there was like old times. The lino was partly reddish and tableless along the piano.
It was a dance floor for twos.
The lighting was stupid when they sat. Light came in from daylight, from the winter garden. There was a garden.

The lawyer went straight to the point:
- Jack Jesus wants to meet ya – broad gesture: Y’all.

They got out of the chat with a Verisim media.

Monday, October 10, 2005

25. meanwhile somewhere

A long creature has a child by the hand. That last is nine and female.
As they stop, they drop the handshake. They start browsing.
Then, more handgrasping.
They stop again. Do you want a swimsuit? Ya.
He lets her go so she can pick out.
Some ladies buzz over and about him. See, he’s thin, long dark hair; his goatee is thin and black; he’s wearing something long and supersoft. He stares away with no pose. It is worry.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

26. meanwhile somewhere (else)

As he left the teletransportation room, Landau stole a glance of his failed retransmissions - a pile of mangled legs, all with identical orange pantaloons, in a corner. To him that always has seemed, and would seem, a waste.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Thursday, September 01, 2005

29. sermon on the mount

Now. Force your convictions to change now. Push out your ego like a zit.
You didn’t do it, right? Very good, that’s precisely it. But be watchful so you can do that someday, on the fly, just as you're called. Go and serve away like the most dedicated servant, do not refuse joining in. When they need you the most, refuse yourself. Don’t act like the true friend that you are not. In the final hour, be ungrateful. Be lazy. Be avaricious. Turn your back. Give them the short end of the stick. Refuse money. Carry a cianurete capsule between your teeth. Doom yourself. Destroy yourself. Don’t take a deep interest for your "own" interests, they do not belong to you anymore, they ain't useful anymore, surviving in itself is not useful. Hell, not even you belong to you anymore. Take a deep interest for the next step. Take an interest for the ends. Life is not now – so buy on credit.

Saturday, August 20, 2005


Michæl's enlightment made him a bore. He cracked codes by their form. Not knowing the language. Barely had he seen it and just knew what was it about. He saw auras. He would open an ebook randomly, take a deep breath and utter:
- Less linking words.
And close it. One day, he wrote back to a writer who had asked for his advice:
"You can’t write something down with the secret ingredient missing and hope people won't notice. They do. They let you get away with it once, for they know sometimes you need the divisa, but you can’t forget the thing twice, that’s unforgivable. In this scenario, you better start networking."

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


Michæl was reading a nouveau roman taking place in Alpha Centauri when it came in an unsolicited original. They always did, but this one was by Oona Nani. Oona Nani was sending him ebooks. Oona Nani was important.
She sells shells. Michæl had an anaphylactic shock just as he read the title. He was found on the floor, shaking.
When he could speak again, he asked them to please put that ebook away from him. He needed a breath. Wow.
Isabel: You bullshitter.
Ina: Go to hell.

Monday, August 01, 2005


Truth is, both girls were also thoroughly changed. Isabel now was going out for dance every night in the streets of Go-land – if anyone asked, she wouldn’t be able to specify where she went. She would stop here and there, demonstrating amazing vigor and virtuosism. What was that? It was ballet, jazz, bellydancing, aikido. So the rumor about the blonde girl who danced like a goddess spread – and the rumor about DJs that, if there at all, got pissed off by the mesmerized circle who formed around her. And about some that went missing after talking to her, or trying to.
At Ina’s room, a queue enlarged. No one knew what was going on inside; but people would leave that room healed. Out of physical, mental and spiritual diseases. They said she could understand and talk to babies. Babies, who cried out loud, at least before they got into that damn room, made Michæl lock himself up in the cargo compartiment to resume his work. Indeed, they were all working like never before, but nothing related to the interests of Sidero VVA nor Torrid Inc.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

34. fun house / i don't feel like dancing

The boîte thunders as the emoticons and such are traded by – that being all the music there is, the stereo having been disconnected very long ago.
There was no alcohol being served and there were about seven in the evening. Yet, tweens streamed in, virtually twiddling each other in VeriSim chat rooms. You could get your own booth to dream away in.
There had been a long court battle to allow under-13's to access VeriSim technologies; in the end, the lawyers obtained only the tweens' access to zeroed environments. No ads. Actually, no furniture, no ceiling, no floor, no nothing. Stimulus to creativity was employed as an excuse, of course.
- There is a educational link we should consider...
Out of nothing nerd kids would make their own RPGs - of vampires, of knights, of... Out of nothing dandies would make kingdoms with statutes, titles and distinctions. Cosplayers would create extravagant environments, clogged with blinking colors. Debbies would inter themselves into sororities and luxury spas. And in all of them dirtness was a leitmotif.
- No, no, we only share the means. Parents should be able to.. - so on, so on.
Afraid to lose their dairy cow, the companies behind the technology paid for the first onomatopaic boîtes. The onno are surrounded with care. No adult or adult stuff enters, under no circumstances. Cyber waiters, all of them. Cherry juice in the bar: a hit.
Therefore, as much as it can be made out of that cacophony, there's a sweeping amazement when three adults materialize into the virtual lobby wearing the sleeky brown-and-red uniform of Wind Co.
The debbies have a pledger disconnect to see what's going on; the dandies send a valet. The valet comes back first.
- They have a tween's body and an old person's mind, Sir.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

35. Something is rotten in the Torrid Culture

After liquidating its rotten assets, Torrid Inc. laid back on its chair. "Very well", it thought, "now let's focus on what's important".
It called itself onto meeting and cut straight to the chase.
"Someone's contaminating Torrid Culture".
"Some of our human assets have been willing even to return their consignated livewares so they could leave Torrid immediately. We must block this hemorrage, for - as if it weren't enough - its source seems to be contagious. The contaminated VeriSim has started to spread out over the colonies; that's the place it's been undully posted on our intranet from. Some of our assets have watched it before it could be removed. Landau has watched said VS and, even though he was wearing neural blockage, he almost gave in. Its growth has not been exponential thanks to damage containment, but we must smoke out its source before the losses get astronomical. Legal is already bugging Sidero about partial confidentiality breaking of the VeriSim patent as for PoliTrust Pact v.36.7c – having reported back an unpleasant lack of cooperation".
"Oh, and Landau is already all over it".

Thursday, June 09, 2005

36. ant trail

Stupid Torrid!, mentally raged Landau . It had erase, along with every contaminated employee, any chance he had to get to the root of the problem. That would've been too simple. No, he had to ask for clearance so he could contaminate another one – a nutritionist, the less qualified one off the most tasteless project, the Quantic Mixer. Suddenly epiphanic, the guy dropped out in the middle of a job, stalked into his Human Asset Department and showed remarkable stubborness over the idea of ripping out every consignated implant on his body right there and then, besides paying up a 2% fee over the total sum of the project contract for quitting with no cause and no prior notice – which really meant to owe his very pantaloons to the end of his sorry life. Landau kept listening for more.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

37. legal dept.

After Mr. Flavius' and Mrs. Tonia Geller's death at the ill-fated PortaFry's demonstration, Wind Co. was transferred to their sole heiress, Miss M&M Geller.
That's when things become fudgy. Ms. M&M was 19 years old, of full age; but due to the unruliness of her mental capacity, she had had a guardian prearranged – Mr. Jürgen T. Rex, that, as found later, was nothing but an illegal entity created from semantical patching - one of this fads which end up impairing so many families ("at least families with bad legal counseling", a junior lawyer added with a chuckle). That being the case, the spoil would be redistributed to Wind Co.'s lesser shareholders ponderately, and everything was running well along these lines, until a Death Reconsideration Injunction on Ms. Geller's death came up off an obscure colonial court. That froze up the proceedings. The Guru Inc. vs. Down jurisprudence tells us this is utterly feasible – the shareholder's conscience verified as perfectly preserved in "cryogenic, metamorphic, nanoeletronic means or in any other way that is invented later", in a moment preceding his or her death, is entitled to his or her same identity post obitum falsificandi, and full entitlement to everything the said person is entitled to.
What can you make out of such a situation? Can't you see, my dear colleagues?
The crazy bitch is not alone.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

38. cherchez la femme

Everything rested on Landau's shoulders. It had been too easy until now. The resigned nutritionist had run to Wind Co. offering himself to go to the tacky-named colony, the only one Wind had got - and enjoying full acceptance of his proposal. It wasn't really hard to see where the contaminated VeriSim came from. There were too many questions welling up out of that discovery.
The holder of the main VeriSim patent was Sidero VVA. How could insignificant Wind had given such technologic leap by leaning onto other people's technology? With own Sidero's help, of course... Both, Wind e Sidero, had sewn up some kind of arrangement in order to defeat Torrid Inc.
So Landau figured out a plan that could never have come from M&M's mind, even if she was completely cured.
Perhaps the mysterious kingmaker under Wind's illicit dealings - like unblocking of security and vigilance devices - could be M&M's mentor.That made sense. Through his or her help, M&M had faken her own death, then had zombied back through one of the many ways available. While "dead", M&M could handle Torrid's disintegration plan with no attention over herself.
He had to find her and find out who was she with.
But where could M&M be? She could have assumed any form. She could be in a data bank, in a cryolab or inside a hollow molar...

Sunday, January 09, 2005

39. roundup

- Daddy, oh daddy.
- I have my daughter here and she looks like a hippie.
- I'm happy now, daddy.
- The girl's been brainwashed. I need the best deprogrammer you have. The most experient one. Yes, the Juruá-Purus guy. What? Shut up, I'll pay what divisa you ask, just get him here right now.

The solution they found was to make a kind of deprogramming camp. In the middle of the rainforest, Alfredo Kaapor, the deprogrammer, visibly nervous, was trying to coach the tweens to the middle of the clearing. And a visibly nervous person in the middle of the woods sweats like a pig. Kaapor felt sorry his body heat regulator was getting fixed and noticed, not without concern, that those spoiled little tweens, whose entire life had been spent inside a techno, man made cocoon, which probably had no idea what meant a cow, were home at the forest, not minding the mosquitoes at all.
He started the "I want to hear you" banter with a calculated soothing voice.
"What have you got to tell me?"
"I'm a listener..."
"I'm not here to give you rules."
"But I would like to know your encounter's story."
"You must have seen something intense, impressive back there."
"I get interested by the nature of this for I'm a researcher, I'm all about new ideas, new cultures."
Scaringly enough, the self-centered kidlets did not give in to the ego massage. No one said a word. They just stopped laughing together and looked at him with a serious expression. One of the straightest blondiest girls came close to him and offered him a VeriSim media.
- Oh... thank you. - and he thanked her with a Japanese bow, a thing which he knew was fashionable.
And then she said:
- Watch it.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

40. meanwhile somewhere

Our man has finally done something to prove himself worthy of the divisa he's getting and gave us a valuable information. Apparently, our "prophet" has been traveling around with a girl, code name M&M, which is said to be his lover. I think our Capone is going down for paedophilia.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

41.the girl who fell in love with an angle

Since the day M&M saw a sighing moustached middle-ager leaning over the counter of his intelligent fabric shop, with his two twin elbows amounting to 30º each, she could never bring herself to forget it. The angle. She could measure them up easily since she had an optimeter implanted. And she fell in love with the 30-degrees one. You could see why, said the mysterios stranger to her. He got into a lengthy mathematical explanation, talking to M&M about the implications of her disjointed personality, two consciences, three personalities, two by thirty is sixty, three by thirty is ninety, three by two by thirty is one hundred and eighty. That did not impress her at all; she didn't even remember to ask him how the heck did he know so much about her. But she did go with him when he put his hand over the bar, very casually. It was a six-fingered hand whose thin fingers divided the 180º arch into five slices of 30º. "I have thirty-three fingers", he added, "but for everyday dealings I only use twelve". She didn't say a word: she took his hand and went away with him.

Saturday, October 09, 2004


A few seconds after engaging into the VeriSim visualizer's net, the Juruá-Purus deprogrammer saw himself at the base of a hill. Slowly with the joy of saints, his tween clients walked towards the top. At the top, there was a skinny, tall being, with a long raincoat and dozens of rootlike fingers at the tip of his arm. By his side there sat a pale, thin woman about thirty years old.
Kaapor turned on the tagging feature. Over the raincoat guy, there came up a "Jack Jesus" tag. Over the girl by his side, "M&M Geller". By then, Kaapor hears behind his shoulder:
- You fucking paedo! What do you think you'll do to our kids?
A tie-wearing parent, red with anger, was showing into the meadow under the hill, leading a multitude of indignant parents who moved forward as well as they could, which was in slow-motion.
Jack Jesus' reply was shaking his long mane and say, with an all-pervading voice:
- Have you never heard about "let the little children come to me", dirty-minded ones?

Thursday, September 09, 2004

43. smart move!

Landau had seen the resigning guy run to Jack Jesus' feet and kiss them. The terrorist had made M&M's little clone into a pet: there she was, by his side, awaiting legal age so she could marry him, who would then gain control over Sidero VVA. Which meant that Jack Jesus was Wind's actual controller.
Landau took the pictures. Torrid explained the facts to Sidero VVA's minor shareholders, who were the ones to tell the press about it: soon pictures of Jack Jesus, true controller of Wind Co., at last found out, holding hands with a kid clone of M&M, Sidero's heiress, were out in every scandal sitio.

Monday, August 09, 2004


Torrid was really glad at the results. That was best than it could ever hope. At the net's darkest spots, there was even a VeriSim proving clone-kid's and the terrorist's fleshly involvement.
Landau felt a shift in the net's weight. Many people flowing unto a one destination. It was another celebrity headline:
"He's healed me and I'm back".
M&M Geller, heiress to Sidero VVA, was publicly taking her post back.
Landau felt the flux was converging into that and dozens of other similar headlines, not only in celebrity sitios but also in economy ones. He ran over the first lines of M&M's interview:

- So you didn't die? Where have you been all these years?
- No, I did die! But like I said in my communication, this man is a miracle-worker. I was revived and healed by him. Now I'm merely nine in this body, but my legal age is 29. That being my self-image, that's how I look at the VeriSim.

As usual in every Sidero communication, as a way of valuing their own technology, M&M did not put out a holovideo to personally announce her coming back, but a VeriSim instead. By the end of the headline, the link shouted out: Only believe what you see? Access M&M's VeriSim .
Of course, every replication of the headline also presented M&M's VeriSim at its end.
That's when Landau understood. He made a quick decision. He shut in his neural inhibitor and clicked the link to M&M's "communication".

Thursday, July 15, 2004


Behind the indignant parents, Kaapor saw other indignant people coming up, and behind those more people, and more people, and even more people - some happy, others not knowing where they were - until the meadow held an uncountable crowd. For some reason, adult people who got to the base could not go up the hill.
Jack Jesus announced that was good enough. And he called:
- Come on, children, give me a hand.
The children (and the very few adults that got to the hill) closed their eyes and concentrated. Jack Jesus' fingers got longer and disapperared into the soil.
And on the hands of every person who was in that field, strangely, a glass of water appeared.

Friday, July 09, 2004

46. Liquidator

I came to make you write a lot, a lot, and not necessarily about myself. At the begginning what was it? The Word. I made you speak how? In tongues. And I told you all to spread what? The Godspell. Monks copied for me. At the light of the press, don't you forget, the book was about me. Some centuries later, someone comes, gets it all digital, and everyone starts writing for the enemy. That's just great. Everything gets spreaded, nothing concentrates; and, the worse, no one writes worthy stuff.
But fear not; I'm back so I can liquidate this. By the way, call me Liquidator. Drink the glass of water and shun away this heavy burden. Come with me. I have something greater. Drink the glass of water.

Tuesday, June 08, 2004


And then he said The Word. All I can tell is that it started with xcschaval and swelled ethereally and ended in frica-frica-fricatives. And by that ending everyone was already quivering all nice over.

Sunday, May 09, 2004

48. a drop in the ocean

poured out and pouring still, one and many, scattering about everything, freed from the old containers, the senses meet, merge and leave each others be. A floating homogeneity and its convections, no longer convictions, ah, now it's all life, quivering, revolving, encompassing, overflowing and quiet again. Quivering, overflowing and quiet again. Again. Ag

Monday, July 09, 2001

Friday, December 01, 2000


No, no, it is no legend. Not all of it. That the Japanese put a tiny nuclear reactor as her heart, that part is true. The name she received was Da-n-ge-ro-su Ha-a-to (ダンゲロス ハート) which I think it was their way to say Dangerous Heart. So Dani was but the first; then they made two and three, all Brazilian with big eyes and thick lips. Now, they said first Dani's reactor had a glitch. That if they made the girl come strongly enough, they would see a meltdown. Such a hit she was in the black market, huh? All clients would spend time and effort to make Dani come like crazy. Like if they weren't the ones paying for her services. Stupid, 'cause if they made it happen, they were going to be dead, but that was precisely the thrill, I guess. Well, anyway that was a myth. My theory is, her owners threw in this hoax to pump up their merchandise.
Anyway, someday Dani heard about it. First she got very upset. She thought she was most wanted between the three girls for her prettiness, attractiveness or bedskillness. Then she got scared it could be true. Finally, she volunteered herself to another experiment they had been wanting to try – she would come out of it with an animal tissue heart. She had been a guinea pig before, it worked out alright, no prob doing it again, right? Wrong. She died.

Tuesday, July 11, 2000

b) Professional dreamers:

VeriSim was first employed in games like Destroyer and Reality (on which the dying individual could witness, as he floated away, the languid eyes of the murderer, who lowered the dead avatar's pants and spat, unbuckling his own belt). Soon companies began to notice VS's potential to institutional ad making. At first it was simple: child, women and menwear all walking down the ideal catwalk. Then, some anonymous visionaire had the great idea (and the mental capacity to duly perform it) of offering a cocktail as a closure to the show.
"Hmm. And what’s the flavor on the purple one?"
"Excuse me."
When they put in a restroom (not every blue or purple flavor, blatant code for "nonexistent in nature", was flattering to every stomach), cocktails were a definite hit. It wasn’t long before they added smells and some kinds of touch, like wind in several different intensities. Master Ishii Tooru was able to guide fragrances through the wind into nostrils – and let the client look for the source of that perfume in the middle of a cold thick wood.
It is to Mrs. Berenice dos Santos (a.k.a. 'Dona Nice da Feijoada'), though, to whom we owe most of the VS's present perfection. Hired due to the appetizing smell of her cooking mind, one day she shyly asked to help mindshaping the movement section. Like that, oh-so-shyly, she introduced flight, teletransport and thousand of other transports, including impossible ones, besides perfecting the taste of hot cocoa which, before her, had never been beyond mediocre.
The present trend was mixing multiple locomotion to sudden thrills. Solid walls to be crossed and sandstorms approaching were a prelude to products being presented. Clients would get specially receptive.

Sunday, July 09, 2000

c) Directives

-- Torrid Inc.'s Team

Isabel Vinola

Adopted by Torrid Inc., she was raised inside HR facilities to be a corporate engineer. And so she is.

Michæl Nygaard

Untutored orphan, after enjoying the opportunity to see the best and the worse in the world, Michæl settled down. Nowadays, he picks the buttons.

Delphina Dainesi (Ina)

This improved clone of 'Dangerous Heart' (Dani) had changed her name and relinquished her old occupation after a tragic event. She implanted know-how and started over as a Sidero VVA pilot.

-- Other People:

M&M Geller

Daughter of Sidero VVA's owners, has an acute schizophrenic condition. Her legal guardian tutor was a software complex that, later on, was declared illegal. She was presumed dead. But turns out alive and, with a new guardian, files a claim to get back her major share in her parent's company.


Spy working for Torrid Inc. Has no licence to kill; but he has one to beam himself around.

Jack Jesus

Jack Jesus is the self-intitled Liquidator (Society's). You know: it is not working right anymore (also according to him). Irresponsible terrorist? Brilliantly nihilistic character? Or something else entirely? Please read the story to make up your mind about him.

Alfredo Kaapor

Shaman-descending pro deprogrammer. He's the best in what he does. He lives in his Indian reserve surrounded by money-acquired comfort.


Libertine pamper princess who's rented a sex worker experience. Dani (today's Delphina Dainesi) was her chaperone. It ended badly.

-- Corporate entities:

Torrid Inc.

Virtual systems, computers, information. Apple + Google, for short.
It hates its own name, but too late for change, then it pretends to be proud about it. It was born to be great, it was no coincidence, but they had hired too-edgy marketing professionals in the early beginning.

Sidero VVA

Transportation (including teletransportation, which is restricted to very specific uses) and, partially, genetic engineering. Today it's managed by a council after, ten years ago, its heiress, M&M Geller, was alienated of her material possessions for being alienated - and shortly after, she passed away under poorly explained circumstances (presumed suicide).

Wind Co.

The smallest of the Three Big Ones. It's chiefly involved with genetic research, and it's said to take many shady commissions. Its slogan: go figure the future.

For the divisa they move around, those entities are collectively known as Three Big Ones. They have many covenants and cooperation pacts signed between themselves.