Bullshit & Ignorance

A (very) Short Story

I am a huge fan of the Cyberpunk genre. I was bored, so I wrote a short story.

Best Dressed

Christian Miller was full of promise. A bright, rising star in the corporate world. He came from a family who ensured he had everything a young man could want or need to get the very best start in life.

His transition from corporate academy, to University and into full time employment, albeit in a junior position with GenX (The leading light in functional and fashionable personal protection devices) was as smooth as they come. His subsequent assent up the corporate ladder, was recognised by his peers as one of the fastest, yet most deserved in the corporation’s history.

With a rise through the corporate ranks came money and with it, influence. Young Christian found himself the centre of attention everywhere he went. People latched onto him and hung on his every word. Popularity comes easily to those with money and influence.

This is where Christian’s story takes a familiar turn. A turn readily associated with musicians and actors. The parties were always wild, the drink and drugs were plentiful. Christian took every precaution to ensure he was always the best dressed person in the room. His suits were personally designed for him by top fashion houses and he was sure to have only the latest and greatest in accessories.

He carried a gun, of course. Everyone who was anyone did these days. Like everything else that Christian owned, it was a highly valuable, and extremely fashionable item. He snubbed his own corporation’s wares, they were fine for street fashion but Christian knew he was better than that. His own weapon was from a private designer. It was more than a weapon, it was a work of art.

With his gun tucked inside his jacket, a wad of cash and the encouragement of his friends, Christian thought nothing of venturing out of the warehouse party he was attending. It was on the riverfront – edgy, cool place for a party everyone thought. You could see the combat zones from there.

He wanted to score a little something extra for him and his friends and hell, he’d be safe. No one was going to screw with someone as rich and powerful as him. Besides, he was armed.

Christian Miller was full of promise. Now he was full of holes. His blood soaking into the silk of his very expensive suit. No one sent the Smiley Sharks the memo about not harming rich and powerful corporate executives.

The Smiley Sharks with their gang leathers had seemed likely folk to ask about acquiring some party prescriptions. However, the negotiations went a little differently than Christian expected; offer was usually met with counter offer that’s true, but “How about you just give us all your cash and fuck off before we kill you?” wasn’t quite the counter offer he expected.

He’d pulled out his gun. That Antoine DeLaney, one-of-a-kind with all it’s highly impressive etching. They’d laughed. That wasn’t quite the response he’d expected either. It also jammed, when he pulled the trigger, expecting to wipe the smiles of their faces.

That night, Christian Miller got a lesson in why GenX was the choice of the masses. Moments after the ill fated decision to try and shoot a booster ganger in the face; a variety of GenX’s best selling weapons appeared in their hands and sprayed the street behind Christian with promise.

At least he was the best dressed corpse in the gutter that night.

Comments (0) | Cyberpunk — King[Fu] @ 07:38 on January 13, 2011

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