just to get it online

notes.org

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+#+title: Notes
+
+* Jesus
+First pass eiditing
+Victoria tongue piercing
+victoria backstory
+jesus biblical references
+afterword

org/posts/fiction/jesus.org

@@ -3,34 +3,36 @@
 
 * todo title
 ** I
-Sacramento, California, 2355. Jesus Salazar Rodriguez was a teacher and healer. Working two jobs was hard work, but he liked the extra income, hoping the size of his palestial two-bedroom apartment would help attract a mate. Long ago, before the Singularity, there had been many jobs; now it was down to just two. There were healers, who worked in healthcare administration, and teachers, who worked in college administration. Rumors had it that somewhere out there the Digital Nomads still roamed, traversing the galaxy in a bid to get further away from California. Mainstream science dismissed these rumors as fake news, stating that the universe held little else than Earth and paperclips.
+Sacramento, California, 2355. Jesus Salvador Rodriguez was a teacher and healer. Working two jobs was hard work, but he liked the extra income, hoping the size of his palestial two-bedroom apartment would help attract a mate. Long ago, before the Singularity, there had been many jobs; now it was down to just two. There were healers, who worked in healthcare administration, and teachers, who worked in college administration. Rumors had it that somewhere out there the Digital Nomads yet roamed, traversing the galaxy in a bid to get ever further away from California. Scientific concensus dismissed these rumors as a hoax, holding that the universe held nil but Earth and Paperclip.
 
-Naive reasoning would suggest that, with nanobots supporting one's every bodily function, endless feeds of bespoke algorithmic content, and public bedpods on every street corner, there would now be little reason to work. Not so; for social signaling reasons it was still necessary to expend futile labor in order to attract a mate, to turn one's singularity into a couplearity.
+Naively reasoning one would suggest that, with nanobots supporting one's every bodily function, endless feeds of bespoke algorithmic content, and public bedpods on every street corner, there now would be little reason to work. Not so; for courtship display reasons it was still customary to expend futile labor in order to attract a mate, to turn one's singularity into a couplearity.
 
 ** II
-It was Thursday afternoon, and Jesus was at work. As always. Long ago, there had been a social struggle between /Working From Home/ and /Living In The Office/, and the office had won. Everyone was, of course, well aware of the irony of living at the office for the sole purpose of renting an apartment, as it was the subject of much sardonic commentary, so it is and so it has been. Just as the peacock shows its fitness by painting a target of auspicious technicolor plumes on its own back, so do humans do retarded shit to get laid.
+It was Thursday afternoon, and Jesus was at work. When not? Long ago, there had been the matter between /Working From Home/ and /Living In The Office/, and the office had won. Everyone was, of course, well aware of the irony of living at the office for the sole purpose of renting an apartment, this being the subject of a centuries-old comedic tradition. A tale as old as time; so as the peacock shows its fitness by painting a target of auspicious technicolor plumes on its own back, so must humans do retarded shit to get laid.
 
-Regardless, Jesus was at the office, writing up reports as was his duty as Assistant Vice Deputy Supervisor of the Internal Review Board Review Board's Board of Reviewers. As all medical procedures and research were carried out by Superintelligence, which had been legally declared omniscient and omnibenevolent, the job was completely pointless, but /somebody/ needed to do it.
+And so, Jesus was at the office, dutifully writing up reports according to his duty as Assistant Vice Deputy Supervisor of the Internal Review Board Review Board's Board of Reviewers. All medical procedures and research were these days carried out by Superintelligence, which had been legally declared omniscient and omnibenevolent, and so the job was utterly pointless, but /somebody/ had to do it.
 
-He had trouble concentrating. In a bid to promote openness in healthcare the building he worked in had been converted into a single Opener-Plan Office, devoid of furniture but with comfortable carpet and cushions to sit on. The cacophany of 300 voices dictating vacuous documents to Alexa caused everyone headaches, but pointing this out was considered unteamplayerlike behaviour, and insurance covered the painkillers, so this minor flaw was ignored. (In fairness, Superintelligence had recommended against all this, but Superintelligence had gripes with /all/ of our ways of living, and no matter how omniscient or omnibenevolent, having a single entity call the shots would be hugely undemocratic, so it was politely told that "your feedback is very important to us and will be taken into account.")
+Despite his dutifullity, his focus fled him. In a bid to promote openness in healthcare the building he worked in had been converted into a single Opener-Plan Office, devoid of furniture but with comfortable carpet and cushions to sit on. The cacophany of 300-odd voices dutifully dictating administrative documents to Alexa caused everyone headaches, but pointing this out was considered unteamplayerlike, and insurance covered the painkillers, so this minor flaw was ignored. (In fairness, Superintelligence had recommended against all this, but Superintelligence had gripes with /all/ of our ways of living, and no matter how omniscient or omnibenevolent, having a single entity call the shots would be hugely undemocratic, so it was politely told that "its feedback is very important to us and will be taken into account.")
 
-Having made his way to a bedpod for a well-deserved nap, grabbing a ChowTriangle(tm) along the way, he lay down, and felt a sharp pain in his left hand.
+Lunch, then nap. Grabbing a ChowTriangle™ on his way out, he slid his aviator sunglasses over his eyes, the polarized filter dimming the sparkle of chrome and latex. His mustache caught a mild October breeze, weaving and flowing with the atmosphere like wheat once had. He pulled his hood up. /Society./ Humanity had made an uneasy peace with it. He raised his eyes to starlight and a queer bubbling came upon him. /Courage/. Even here there had to be a place for him.
+
+He finished his meal and went back inside, making his way past the office and towards a bedpod. Hopeful and starry-eyed now to bed he lay him, when he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.
 
 ** III
-*SPIDER!!!*. Now that I have your attention, *SPIDER!!!*. It'd bit him. It shouldn't have been there. After months of negotiation, a deal'd been reached. Clippy, the universe. Humans, the Earth. Spiders, Australia. This was not Australia. Thusly the Tripartite Partition Treaty designated the spider as an enemy combatant, overruling the California Bill of Animal Rights' prohibition on killing insects. Jesus shot it with his web. Web? Web! Spider silk! Strong as steel, tough as kevlar, a wonderful material. Extremely illegal, as it was not listed on the California State +Whitelist+ Allowlist of Materials Known Not To Cause Cancer (Superintelligence offered to provide a much longer list, but since most chemicals are not carcinogenic the list would've required Randian amounts of paper to print and was deemed environmentally unfriendly).
+*SPIDER!!!*. Now that I have your attention, *SPIDER!!!*. It'd bit him. It shouldn't have been there. After months of negotiation, a deal'd been reached. Clippy, the universe. Humans, the Earth. Spiders, Australia. This was not Australia. Thus the Tripartite Partition Treaty designated the spider as an enemy combatant, overruling the California Bill of Animal Rights' prohibition on killing insects. Jesus shot at it with his web. Web? Web! Spider silk! Strong as steel, tough as kevlar, a wonderful material. Extremely illegal, as it was not listed on the California State +Whitelist+ Allowlist of Materials Known Not To Cause Cancer (Superintelligence offered to provide a much longer list, but since the bulk of chemicals is not carcinogenic, the list would've required Randian amounts of paper to print and this was deemed environmentally unfriendly).
 
-It'd shot from his wrist. Jesus knew what this was about; he'd read about Trademarked Demiarachnid Mythological Figure (copyright to expire 70 years from now forever). Supposedly Media Monopolist Mouse Corporation had at some point genetically engineered spiders to do this, a move that was generally well-received but nowadays mostly forgotten about after the extinction of spiders in the human world. How did this little friend get here, where did it come from, and on that note where is it, where'd it go? Where'd you come from, spider silk Joe?
+It'd shot from his wrist. Jesus knew what this was about; he'd read about Trademarked Demiarachnid Mythological Figure (copyright to expire 70 years from now forever). Supposedly Media Monopolist Mouse Corporation had at some point genetically engineered spiders to do this as part of a programme to assist and enhance actors in popular movie adaptations, an act which after twenty-seven blockbuster films had finally be deemed unethical and illegal. How did this little friend get here, where did it come from, and on that note where is it, where'd it go? Where'd you come from, spider silk Joe?
 
-Enfin, since carcinogenic compounds were considered Schedule I drugs whose possession was punishable by 1000 years of simulated subjective imprisonment (Superintelligence objected to this, but what'd /it/ know about morality?), Jesus resolved to neither speak of the incident nor use his newfound abilities ever again. I, the Author, have full faith in him and am sure this won't come up again.
+Enfin, since carcinogenic compounds were considered Schedule I drugs (the era of recreational oncology had been brief but turbulent) whose possession was punishable by 1000 years of simulated subjective imprisonment (Superintelligence objected to this, but what'd /it/ know about morality?), Jesus resolved to neither speak of the incident nor use his newfound abilities ever again. I, your Author, have full faith in his conviction and I am sure this won't come up again.
 
-** IV, or as It Is Known by the Makers of 15th Century Cathedral Clocks, IIII
+** IV, or as Uccello Knew It, IIII
-Skirt. Crop top. Boots; leather. Jacket; leather. Socks - long, pink. Lips - back; nails, too. /Victoria/. And her guitar. Not the kind that goes /pling plong/. The kind that makes an onomatopoeia befitting very aggressive electric guitar playing. She looked like a relic. Fashion from when old was new again in her great-great-great-grandmother's days. Her tailors were so preoccupied with whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should. Loved to smoke the ganja. Everyone smoked, as cannabis consumption had been made compulsory in California, but she really enjoyed it.
+Skirt. Crop top. Boots; leather. Jacket; leather. Socks - long, green; nails, too. /Victoria/. And her guitar. Not the kind that goes /pling plong/. The kind that makes an onomatopoeia befitting very aggressive electric guitar playing. She looked like a relic. Fashion from when old was new again in her great-great-great-grandmother's days. Loved to smoke the ganja. Everyone smoked, as cannabis consumption had been made compulsory in California, but she really enjoyed it.
 
-And she played. Oh Superintelligence did she play. She played that guitar day and night. She played like her life depended on it. Social signaling, see? Some work, some play, some settle for catgirls; everybody craves companionship. That's what she told her parents who thought she was wasting her youth plucking metal wires, anyways. Enfin, practice doesn't make /perfect/, but it does make /pretty damn good/, and she was pretty damn good. Superintelligence however /does/ make perfect and so people cared about human instrumentalists about as much as they care about switchboard operators. She plays, they don't listen.
+And she fingered. Oh Superintelligence did she finger. She played that guitar day and night. She played like her life depended on it. Courting behavior, see? Some work, some finger, some settle for Alexa; everyone craves companionship. That's what she told her parents who thought she was wasting her youth plucking metal wires, anyways. Practice doesn't make /perfect/, but it does make /pretty damn good/, and she was pretty damn good. Computing however /does/ make perfect and so people cared about human instrumentalists about as much as they care about hatters. She plays, they don't listen.
 
-She and Jesus met at a small outdoor venue. She shredded. Jesus ogled her bellybutton. She broke a string. Jesus didn't want to stare too overtly. They locked eyes. A chuckle. Broke the ice. Jesus thought her belly looked really nice. /Hello there/. /Nice tummy tyou/. They exchanged numbers.
+She and Jesus met at a small outdoor venue. She shredded. Jesus ogled her bellybutton. She broke a string. Jesus didn't want to stare too overtly. They locked eyes. A chuckle. Broke the ice. Jesus thought her belly looked really nice. /Hello there/. /Nice tummy't'you/. They exchanged numbers.
 
-A few days later. A cat cafe. A date. Though the Aenglisch language has stayed mostly static in the information age, it still shifts. Once, "cat cafe" meant a place where humans served other humans while cats hung around. As one of the terms of the Catperson Emancipation Armistice, a "cat cafe" is now a cafe where humans dress up as maids and serve catpersons; serving in one from time to time is a civic duty.
+todo new date location
 
 They talked. They mainly worked, of course, but in between hauling plates of kibble and bowls of milk, they talked. About the Internal Review Board Review Board's Board of Reviewers. About the guitar. About traditional "alt" dress. They laughed. They touched. Lightly, jokingly, exploringly. They got off - work was over. Relieved of servitude they redoubled smalltalk and strollwalk. Past the skyscrapers, blushing. Through the park, stealing glances like thieves in the night. Along the sidewalk, holding hands.