RPG To The Future, And Whatever It May Hold... [M-VL]

[Corey]

[size=1][b]To The Future, And Whatever It May Hold...[/b]
[i]This RPG has been rated[/i] [b]M[/b][i]ature for Violence, and Offensive Language.[/i]
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And without further ado...
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He smiled, warmly and salesman-like, at the man.

[b]Jared-[/b] "Oh yes sir. All these models come with the very best and current processors on the market. Also, this one right here, the V26-Opteron, comes with the recently approved optical interface technology. You barely even have to touch the keyboard. Just look at what you want, and it'll bring it right up on the holocron screen." The man rubbed the side of his head.

[b]Man-[/b] "The price is pretty steep... 3,500 credits..." Jared cursed internally. If the damn market would send production over to Russia, instead of Taiwan and Japan, he could sell new products for a fraction of the price and still make out like a bandit. Ever since Taiwan Unionized, everything had gotten so expensive. "I just don't know if I can afford that..."

[b]Jared-[/b] "Well, it's not a necessity to own the top of the line model. The Dell N75 is only 1,750 credits and it has only slightly less processor speed. It doesn't have as many features, and still uses an 'old fashioned' optical mouse, but it's a great system for the price." The customer still looked reluctant.

[b]Man-[/b] "I don't know... I've heard some pretty shifty things about Dells. Don't they still run on Windows? All the higher quality computers use Apple operating systems now-a-days." He cursed silently again. This guy just wasn't biting. "Do you have [i]anything[/i] else?"

[b]Jared-[/b] "All the other models we have are quite a bit older and unable to run some of the more recent operating systems. They were made a whole four months ago. Technology moves so fast in this age." The man nodded again.

[b]Man-[/b] "I think I need some time to think about this. I might be back tomorrow." Jared sighed inaudibly, and smiled his salesman smile.

[b]Jared-[/b] "Of course. Take all the time you need. I'll be here tomorrow, God willing, at six o'clock in the morning. Have a good day sir." Jared shook his hand and walked him out of the store. Once he was around the corner he dropped his smile and walked into the back room of the store. "Fuck."

[b]Theresa-[/b] "Rough day boss?" His assistant sat at her interface taking care of the days paperwork. She was hooked up to a special computer he had made. It utilized a sort of technology akin to the mental powers he had. Much the same as the optical interface technology, it tapped into the users neural system through the optic nerves of the eyes. Only this took it a step further. Where the technology put out by Apple Conglomerate was approved by the TSM (technology safety ministry), this was not. Users could only use it for short bursts of time without suffering crippling headaches from the overworked neural pathways. The Apple technology worked on an extremely lower wavelength, lowering the efficiency immensely, but also improving the use time.

[b]Jared-[/b] "You have no idea..." He rubbed his temples. "No sales at all. Do me a favor and handle any customers that come in. I think I'm going to search a bit and then head home. My wife's been complaining about my long hours. I don't blame her..." Theresa nodded.

[b]Theresa-[/b] "Sure boss. Not a problem. Go make some babies or something. Have a beer." He smiled at her. She was ten years younger than he was and extremely empathic. Wife upset = lack of action at home.

[b]Jared-[/b] "Thanks Theresa." She was one of the only people that knew about his condition and what he was. A Techno-Kinetic. He switched his computers on as he walked into the room. The entire office was taken up by gigantic rigs of the fastest, home-made computers in the world, except for government owned items. The total processor speed of his entire rig peaked at about 75,000 Terra-Hertz. He always had a search program running, even when it was switched off. Searching for relevant information regarding the GD syndrome and any related parties. Referencing, cross-referencing, cataloguing the current whereabouts of scientists. New breakthroughs in gene-therapy. Anything and everything. All he had to do was take in a few spare thoughts to know the days searching had been in vain. Nothing new, and nothing to give hope. The last useful bit of information he's gotten had been nearly three weeks ago. One of the scientists was in hiding somewhere in Brazil. He'd booked a flight for later this week under the pretense of checking out some new holographic interfaces. Brazil had been a leader in new technology since Di-Silicon Valley popped up there a few years back.

He entered a few notes into his wrist screen, a small implant in the wrist of a holographic projector and data storage chips, and switched the computers back off. He quickly checked the level on the liquid nitrogen tanks, used for coolant, and left through the back door.

Jared had been running simulation after simulation on his personal system at home to try and determine when his memory would begin to degrade. The best prognosis he could get was 'Soon'. Anywhere from a week ago to two months in the future. Every once in a while he got a readout that said he should have lost all memory three years ago. And so the waiting continues. At least when it did go, he'd have everything that he found in his wrist implant...[/size]

[Kitty]

[color=#006aaf][size=1]It was the late evening, and young Mark Bentbrook lay wrestling under his covers for some sleep. Every night had been the same. Sleepless, and full of thrashing underneath the thin, white sheets that lay ontop of the bed and the body stuck between them. Suddenly, he jerked upward, sweat rushing down his face. He ripped the sheets away and jumped onto the carpeted floor, dashing out the door.

Across the hallway, he came to a stop in front of the bathroom mirror. He let out a yelp, then paused to take in several deep breaths. Calmed a bit, he began touching his face, examining his features.

[b]"Damnit,"[/b] he muttered, staring down at his chest.

He reached up and pulled the mirror away from the cabinet hidden behind it and grabbed a small container with an illegible label. He removed the cap and shook the bottle a bit, dropping a bit of its contents into his hand. He shoved it into his mouth and swallowed, not even bothering to wash it down with water anymore. He replaced the lid and then the bottle, then pushed the mirror back until he heard a familiar click. Raising his head back up to the mirror, he stared and waited for the horrible transformation he had seen every night of the past week.

A few moments later, a young woman strode out of the bathroom, frowning at the stretched bra she held out in front of her. [b]"That's the fifth one this week,"[/b] she sighed, tossing it into the kitchen's trash bag on her way back to her bedroom.

Nicole Barret had a strange gift. She was not born with it twenty-someodd years ago. No, but she was indeed granted this power when she was a young child. There were others that recieved gifts from the molecular Santa Clause, though none had asked for them. And now, each and everyone that lived nowadays was cursed with their powers.

Nicole had dealt with her uncontrolled metamorphosis for almost four years, and was growing steadily weaker. Soon, she knew she'd forget what she really looked like and not be able to change back anymore. But she was lucky. She still had some medicine left. But she knew she'd run out soon.

And not only were her transformations happening more often, she was beginning to forget things. Small, unimportant things, but she was scared. She had heard what happened before to those who were experimented on and lost their memory. It was an early sign of a frightening side-effect that she wished she'd never have to deal with. Unfortunately for her, that wish didn't seem to be coming true.

[b]"I just have to find the others. They can help me find more of my medicine,"[/b] Nicole told herself as she returned to underneath her covers. It had been her ritual for a while now to mutter this to herself as she laid in bed. It seemed to calm her down a bit. But it was just wishful thinking. She knew none of the others, having never been allowed out of her cell because they worried she would have escaped.

She shook her head into her pillow, not wanting to think about [i]that[/i] any more.

[i]"The sooner I forget [b]that[/b], the better,"[/i] she thought to herself before closing her eyes tight, though she knew sleep would not come tonight.

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OOC: Sorry it took so long to post. Wasn't sure what to put. Hope this is okay.[/size][/color]