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Welcome to Neo-Boston...
Mar. 26th, 2002 11:40 pmA long day of work had just ended, and I was walking through the lobby on my way home. I zipped up my leather jacket, tugged my thug hat down over my head, slid on m gloves, and braved the weather. The day was dismal while the sun was still out, bleak and gunmetal grey. But in the twilight it was softer, a hint of blue in the blackness.
I walked across the bridge on Summer Street, wanting nothing more than to get home and relax. The wind blew mist into my face, coming from my right, so I turned my head to face it. I like the feeling of wind blowing in my face, even when it's damp. The water, usually putrid green during they day, was dark glass laced with light. Pylons jutted out of the black water, and indistinct shapes drifted in the current. The far bridge was strug with some sort of blue plastic, which was illuminated from behind. As I glaced towards the source of the light, I could see the office buildings, windows dotted with light and dark like an old computer punch card, at once high tech and hive like. The setting was transformed for me into a scene from a cyberpunk novel. I could imagine small skimmers darting through the dark waters, carrying mercenaries and smugglers to cryptic destiantions. I could see the Spawl, where people from every ethnicity and walk of like mixed and mingled and hawked pirate computer hardware and sim chips. Rising above them were the corporate office buildings, where vicious information warfare was waged on a daily basis. I felt the eyes gazing down from the high offices, security cameas, optical lasers painting over my leather jacket. I clutched my satchel tightly to me. Could they see what I was carrying? Nothing important would be in the bag, that was a decoy. The real information was in my mind, much hard to get at.
I crossed the far side of the bridge, and the streets of modern Boston returned. Postal trucks rolled by, idiots in cars leaning on their horns like the sound alone would part the traffic in front of them. Moisture glistened on my face. The entrace to the T loomed in front of me. I let the dreams of Neo-Boston fade into the background, but I knew that they would return, on future rainy nights.
I walked across the bridge on Summer Street, wanting nothing more than to get home and relax. The wind blew mist into my face, coming from my right, so I turned my head to face it. I like the feeling of wind blowing in my face, even when it's damp. The water, usually putrid green during they day, was dark glass laced with light. Pylons jutted out of the black water, and indistinct shapes drifted in the current. The far bridge was strug with some sort of blue plastic, which was illuminated from behind. As I glaced towards the source of the light, I could see the office buildings, windows dotted with light and dark like an old computer punch card, at once high tech and hive like. The setting was transformed for me into a scene from a cyberpunk novel. I could imagine small skimmers darting through the dark waters, carrying mercenaries and smugglers to cryptic destiantions. I could see the Spawl, where people from every ethnicity and walk of like mixed and mingled and hawked pirate computer hardware and sim chips. Rising above them were the corporate office buildings, where vicious information warfare was waged on a daily basis. I felt the eyes gazing down from the high offices, security cameas, optical lasers painting over my leather jacket. I clutched my satchel tightly to me. Could they see what I was carrying? Nothing important would be in the bag, that was a decoy. The real information was in my mind, much hard to get at.
I crossed the far side of the bridge, and the streets of modern Boston returned. Postal trucks rolled by, idiots in cars leaning on their horns like the sound alone would part the traffic in front of them. Moisture glistened on my face. The entrace to the T loomed in front of me. I let the dreams of Neo-Boston fade into the background, but I knew that they would return, on future rainy nights.
