slipping into velcro


It's a war world.
Mort, a fubar world of progress.  
A corporation run it, SLA industries.
It's only progress is toward its own inevitable annihilation.
I hate the place.

Its more interesting denizens are a mix of; aliens (reptile people and giant cat-people), pet monsters (military government cloned fighting machines), drug-soldiers (armoured humans on a cocktail of stims, some of who are psychotically psychic), and corporate spooks. 


It is like this because unimaginable nightmare creatures are crawling out of the sewers, scaling the fortress walls surrounding and supposedly protecting its mainstream population of consumer tv-zombies where mutant human stock hide in rotting cells to gratuitously watch live-streamed hyper-violence on tv as it comes closer to their acid-rain degraded, torn flypost patched street each day.


There are really only two choices of career for a girl like me; join the corps or spread your legs. I'm pro-life and the urge to get offworld was stronger than the urge to protect this deadbeat planet and the inertia of its doomed inhabitants. 

My flatmate Raz took the other choice and she's dead now, killed in action. That was my final straw but coincidentally selling her stuff was exactly enough for the one-way ticket to the stars. 




They call me velcro, some say its on account of my texture, some because my personality. I would say I am not nostalgic, as I find my feet more I'm turning my eye to the future. But I carry a momento, it symbolises a lot to me. Who I was, how it made me into who I am. My lucky scrap of rubber. It's a fetish. This one isn't glossy like the pvc you see in the market, it's worn and faded, used, battered, has scars, is cracked; experienced. I carry it everywhere. It's a little piece of home. When I find some chain I will wear it as a pendant, right now it stays in a safe place next to my skin. It's a comfort, a reminder, a self-identity when so much of my life including where I came from is lost. 



I ended up for now InSilico, a gutter-rat living from day to day; stealing and hooking to get by, gradually learning how to survive there. It's easier than Mort.
Not everything is so crappy.






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