neosapienooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #1

JANUARY TEST DRIVE

1: SPRAWLING WASTELAND, GLOWING IN THE DARK

No sunlight reaches the Underground, but there is rain: grey, oily droplets that slowly trickle down from the city above, seeping through layers of concrete until they drip from broken light fixtures onto the aptly named black markets below. The glow of neon signs keeps the shadows at bay, just barely. What was once a system of utility tunnels and basement bunkers is now a warren of tiny shops offering reprogrammed ID chips and back-alley cybernetic upgrades, where hitmen and slave traders operate with lawless impunity. But someone is always watching... the eyes of Yakashbah, graffitied in bioluminescent paint, stare unblinking from the walls.

People come to this place for only two reasons: they're either looking for something, or they're trying not to be found. Whatever your reason, the Underground welcomes you.

2: A MIND OF DARKNESS, A HEART OF LIGHT

Outside of manicured parks and glass-enclosed vertical farms, green space is rare in New Gate City, so the elites flaunt their wealth in private rooftop gardens. Fragrant, exotic flowers bloom amidst strings of lanterns, and real grass - an extravagant luxury - carpets the ground beneath partygoers' feet as they sip champagne and admire the dark cityscape below. Tonight, one of the Douman Zaibatsu's myriad charity organizations hosts its annual fundraising gala... but this year, the special guests attract even more attention than the celebrities and fashionistas in attendance. Representatives from the Neo Sapien Organization have been invited to speak on the topic of Human/Meta-human relations, and to raise money on behalf of job placement programs for impoverished Metas in the Last Ward. Of course, most within the Douman Zaibatsu would prefer that these "job placement programs" send Metas to the farms far outside New Gate City (or better yet, to the lunar strip mines), but at least for tonight, members of both factions hide behind false smiles and false words.

3: AS FEAR'S REPLICATING, YOUR WORDS RESONATING

Someone gasps, and everyone looks up. Arcadia's central shopping district goes silent, save for the distant sound of pop tunes played over tinny speakers, as a massive black banner unfurls down the side of a building. A crudely drawn eye fills the banner, bisected by a line of white paint... the unofficial symbol of the Meta rights movement. People start to whisper, and somewhere, there's a cheer. Police drones buzz through the air above.

Meta rights protests aren't uncommon in this part of New Gate City, even though they're soon dispersed by local security forces. This banner, too, will be quickly taken down and destroyed, but the photos and videos of the event will be harder to suppress. Already, the bystanders are murmuring to each other, some in support and some in fear. Others keep their heads down, wary of expressing their true feelings about the rising numbers of Meta-humans. And as security forces move to block off the area, others are frantically trying to disappear.

4: A NEW HOPE GLISTENS OFF THE STREETS

The blocks surrounding the Neo Sapien Organization's headquarters in the Middle Ward are like an oasis at the center of an otherwise inhospitable city. Old buildings have been renovated into bright and cheerful apartments that accommodate a variety of Meta-human physiologies, Meta schools and Meta-owned businesses are flourishing, and Meta-friendly shops and cafes line the streets.

The best coffee in the Middle Ward can be found at The Mean Bean, just across from the NSO building, where the shop's fire-breathing Meta owner personally roasts every batch. NSO employees and and other patrons of the popular cafe congregate to discuss local news and gossip: a proposed Meta registration and identification law, rumors of vigilante gangs near the border with the Last Ward, and rivalries between NSO university sports teams. Arguments occasionally grow heated (especially when it comes to sports), but overall the atmosphere is friendly and congenial.

5: WITHIN THE CHAOS, I KNOW I'M NOT ALONE

The Last Ward's electrical grid is reliably unreliable, but blackouts on this scale are rare. Half the ward has been dark for the past three days, save for a few emergency generators and dwindling battery backups. As winter winds batter old, drafty concrete apartment blocks, the residents grow restless and frustrated. Police have already put down several riots, but there's no stopping the spike in looting and other petty crimes.

In the Parish, many people have opted to barricade themselves inside their homes until the blackout ends, but others are taking advantage of the chaos. Most, though, have chosen to band together to protect each other throughout the long nights. The people of the Parish may not have much, but at least they have a sense of community.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The previous singer in this little event trots past on feline legs, pausing for a moment to look Robo up and down before his lips quirk in a genuine smile.

"You don't look the type, I'll give you that." Normally, he wouldn't be here, and he's cold in his "exotic" outfit, but hey. Money's good, and so's the exposure. If he has to croon to a crowd of people (who'd rather see him ruining himself with physical labor) for the sake of the future, so be it.

Robo glanced over to see who was addressing him. No one he knew, but definitely another ambassador, if the legs were any indication.

"The type to what?"

That earns an eyebrow raise.

"The type to schmooze." Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Or at least enjoy it. I'd ask if you want a drink, but..."

"Schmoozing is a vital skill for minorities, whether you're AI or metahuman. Just as important"

He held up the champagne he had already. "As is making humans feel at ease. Thanks for the offer."

"... Can you actually drink that, was more the question." His smile returns. "And do you like the music?" His performance may be over, but a review's a review.

"I don't have a mouth, much less a digestive track. How would I drink it? It's all for show." He said with a small shrug.

"I've always had more of a taste for the 1950s big band sound. Sinatra and all that jazz, you know? You're a good singer, though."

"I don't know your physiology." He's not making any guesses. "Thanks, though. I appreciate it."

"Better you singing than me. No one wants that."

"Oh, I imagine someone might be interested in that. And that it'd be more likely if drinking were something you could do."

He grins.

"Regardless, thanks. You're pretty nice. Rakan's the name."

"Atomic Robo."

Robo held out a hand to shake. If Rakan was expecting cold steel, he would be surprised to find that Robo was actually at about human body temperature.

He assumed Rakan had heard of him. Robo had appeared in the headlines many times in his life, being one of the oldest AIs still alive.

TEST DRIVE MEME #1

2 - Hi Eric!

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