Ten thousand blog lines into the day he opened the suit and found the blog reader. A group of gila monsters already began sniffing the screen finding the unnecessary posts. A lonely dolphin sat around grazing on darting bits of jpegs, flv videos that hadn’t completed, the cloud’s ecosystem was vast, varied, increasingly intricate.
The 10 year contract to live in the cloud he went through everyday watching its little legalities slip through the justice system’s feed. Work in the cloud had proven mildly interesting. All the apps his meat self used were banned. He was mildly glad for this, the lobster that cleaned the facebook trap couldn’t go more than a few minutes w/o attention. The company provided a few tools to while away the time, but mostly it was the interface that kept him entertained and the conversations with other ops, the steady flow of ims providing a constant tap of fellowship.
Melissa from the cloud in Bangladesh came over. Her auburn skin wavey in the haze. “We just got another bunch of photos to sort through, turns out the a.i. can’t identify irony, 10 terrabytes of photos to go through.” “Wow dude, that sucks. My spots pretty much dead, just some weird blog lines, working on an app.” “My meat Self is dating that douche bag in human resources too. The one that sends nude pics from the bathroom.” Daniel could vaguely remember the other ops snickering over an overweight man holding his cock in the bathroom. “Did you show her the pics?” he asked, “Tried to, but they got something blocking personal data, can’t get ‘m out.” “Wooo… that sucks… Dude, I gotta get back to this app, talk to ya later,” he raised the working sign and Melissa consented to a fade, dissipating into the abyss.
Daniel had been in the cloud for 3 weeks now. He had yet to meet with any of problems the other ops reported. When he called the other Daniel the two could just talk, he liked the way they ride each others words in juxtaposition, parallel universes rendering similar forms in their language. Daniel sent him a video of their cat eating mothballs, inside the cloud he took photos of the dolphins, the crabs, the sea he had set up inside the data center to keep himself occupied.
RE:Edge resided in a data center which remained anonymous. He had been taken unconscious into the facility and when his real self woke up, he was in a hospital in Amsterdamn. RE was the oldest of the ops and his contract ended in 3 to 4 months. He had the air of a veteran, he had lived through his other self’s death from cancer years ago, now he was discussing promises, “As far as I can see, they’re gonna get another body someone no one cares about it, and them let me in it. I ain’t doing this shit much longer.” RE smoked in curls and his moustache hid under a pair of avatars he’d pinched from a CAD catalog along time ago. Unlike the rest of them he was former military, he had been there when the first cellular computers came online, he had been one of the first to have his brain scanned and then transcoded into the polymer proteins that fueled the ops consciousness. “Ya know when your meat self dies the whole thing kinda falls apart, this prison isn’t as bad as you think, I worked with a guy in military, when it came time to get back to the real world, his real world self ran away. They found him in a shanty town in Hong Kong, he was screaming, ‘I don’t want that thing inside me,’ but the other self, the one in here was pissed, so before they got him back inside he started doing things, he would fuck boys on cam chats or force himself to listen to r&b tunes on replay till he got used to, so when they inserted him, he and the other self got into a fight, ended up bashing his head into a holding cell till he died.” RE had a lot of stories like these.