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[Zwaart]

Well, what could it hurt? Just a note, this post is fully supported by the DSRNET. Feel free to join in!

4500032X
Comfort Sphered Condominiums
Pulona
Ananda

The DSRNET site of the Crossystem Opportunity Network showed a shining high rise located in the busy downtown commercial district of Pulona, on Ananda’s largest continent. There were smiling secretaries behind long, swooping desks that hovered above the crisp, clean tile floor like gulls. There were stretched-out plate glass (well, not real glass, but a close facsimile, high quality, you could tell) windows looking out onto the brilliant and romantic sunsets of the jungle planet, while the men in loose-collared tunics and the women in those high-heeled monstrosities known as pumps worked worked worked, providing opportunities-Opportunities-to those without them.

One should not think this was entirely inaccurate. It was, however, 70% fabrication and 25% illusion.

There was an office in bustling downtown Pulona. There were desks. There were windows. There were brilliant and romantic sunsets. That, in truth, is about all there was.

Clarence “Rent” Kay ran the Network out of a modular condominium in Pulona’s suburban district. His daily professional attire consisted of a white undershirt, a pair of cotton pants and filthy track shoes. He forgot to shave but three mornings a week. He did smile a lot, but he wasn’t a secretary. And the Crossystem Opportunity Network cared about opportunities for exactly one person- Clarence "Rent" Kay.

The office in downtown Pulona was dark most of the time, with the windows tinted and no furniture on its less-than-gleaming tile floor. When it was needed, a swarm of paid-by-the-hour technicians descended on it and turned it into the professional mecca seen on the NET, but when it wasn’t needed it was dead. The landlord was told it was a set for a television show that was needed often enough to maintain, but not often enough to keep stocked. He never asked the name of the show. It looked like a comedy, and he didn’t watch things like that.

So Rent’s secret was safe with Rent. The rest of the systems saw the carefully constructed illusion he spent long hours on maintaining. That illusion served him in especially good stead this time of year. It was time for the Network’s annual poetry contest.

The contest’s node opened with a zooming flyby of the building on Ananda through glass doors into a room covered with antique books. Rent’s cleaned-up-self (shaved, barbered and dressed in his best tunic) leaned against a desk with a volume the size of his head clasped lovingly in two long-fingered hands.

“Good day,” he said, his smooth voice caressing the words as a grin spread across his angular, intellectual face. “My name is Dr. Carter Kulkin, and I’d like to welcome you to the next chapter of your life.”

Rent smiled and slid the finishing lines of code into his hook before letting it loose on the NET. It was time to see how many fish he could catch. Last year’s take had been good, and the Network had wider exposure this year. Soon submissions would be flooding in, accompanied by reading fees.

And then would come the book sale. The take would be fantastic. Utterly fantastic.

[Wolfe]

Twisted into the hustle and bustle of the urban areas of uptown Pulona, hailing from Ananda’s largest continent, was the residence where a certain man was leaned over the monitor of his external DB system. Browsing the DSRNet was something most had to grow accustomed to, especially when what it was that you were searching for had to be imported from many light years away. His eyebrow shot upwards as he exited out of a pirate-hosted channel, a frequency where many others sought out the, more-than-often, illegal wares of others. All he’d needed, in all actuality, were ritelanium casings so that he’d be able to reconfigure the trigger settings of a Lancer Deus 10mm and maybe even throw in that extended clip he’d needed to have at the base and fabricated support of it. He was a master of his craft--crafting. One could tell from the clutter of seemingly worthless items that decorated the floors and gave one limited place to walk within his meager apartment.

“No one’s selling the Lesgrave cheap enough… can’t find ritelanium casings…” He mumbled to himself, a habit he’d found himself succumbing to a lot more often these days. It wasn’t the easiest thing being a crafter. He only got a good run every-so-often, though whenever he was on the field and one of his pieces came out all attention was upon him. Brilliantly redesigned instruments they were, appealing to him in every which way possible: décor, performance, and dependability had managed to be greatly enhanced through his craft. His current project included a Lesgrave Shotgun and somehow managing a way to suppress the kick of the gun, for its recoil was its fatal flaw.

Browsing through the many directories and the endless web of channels and sites within the DSRNet usually brought to the attention of whoever gazed so sternly upon an illuminated screen, random site of alternative interests. Usually this man, Wolfe, as he had been known for years upon years would merely shrug off these disturbances and go about his business, yet there was one that somehow managed to peak his interest, as moderately as it could for the it was temperamental and uncontained.

“Poetry…” It clicked in his mind, though the man was far from a poet. He’d dropped in on a poetry slam or two in his time, even bestowing his wisdom in the form of improvised art upon those in attendance, but he merely considered himself “enlightened” in terms of everything: life, the universe, and everything in it. He was seasoned beyond the moral guise that he carried himself: a bronzed, galaxy-hardened man who still kept his weapons tucked away beneath his shirt and still tossed shots at men from all across the galaxy. He was bred in the slums; it was only natural for him, though he was a down-to-earth and a down-to-Ananda kinda guy.

It opened with brilliance, shining light on Pulona’s commercial district rather than the slums, under the semblance of a flower springing to birth in rapid celerity. Then there were the instructions and such. Wolfe hesitated for a moment, though he would certainly have his word spread. Only for a moment.

[Treslo Krehsa]

Arts and wonderful niceties to get your mind turning. Makes me want more to work with! Oh, and artistic talent...

http://www.sparth.com/gallery/index.php?cat=10