Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
Starting early, as I have my regular computer in the shop and typing is surprisingly difficult and typo-prone on a different key board.
This is, of course, the Six Sentence Story.
Our new host, Denise requests that all who would participate follow six very simple rules: write a story six (and only six) sentences in length.
We can do that, right?
Sure we can.
(Did someone say, ‘cyberpunk’? Sure… lets go for that genre this week)
The word?
Activate.
The hydraulic sneeze of a toilet somewhere on another floor brought a fragile consciousness, my bare legs moved slowly over the sheets, seeking the warmth of the old water-bed; I didn’t want to get up, preferring the, use-once-and-throw-away embrace of blankets that smelled of girl, passion and the hint of ether.
Favored by the well-heeled bio-enhancement tourist seeking basic creature comfort and post-op care, the hotel’s morning sounds triggered the memory-image of an attractive woman warning me that the anesthesia might mess with my memory.
“After a brief recuperation, you’ll be the proud owner of the latest in cerebral augmentation,” the surgeon’s real eye was beautiful, the scars on her other temple extended into her dark hair and were done in a deliberately elaborate pattern, like a 21st Maori with a medical degree and a scalpel. “It’ll override your HHS ID implant and read ‘100% country club genotype’, at any security checkpoint in the world,” she paused a second, “If you’re short the credits, I’m willing to take that multi-phasic corneal implant in your left eye as a partial trade; not that I care, but why the stealth, frankly this tech is over-the counter these days.”
“Well, doc, my grandfather was what they called, back in the 20th, a private eye and he was the best at what he did; nothing artificial in him other than society’s conditioning to consume and, maybe, the desire to impress any girl who gave him a second look; I’m just trying to uphold the family tradition. So what say you leave my cornea be, put the thing in my head, activate it and lemme go home; I got me some social network secrets to steal.”