The Doctor
Living 20 minutes into the future. Eccentric weirdo. Virtual Adept. Time traveler. Thelemite. Technomage. Hacker on main. APT 3319. Not human. 30% software and implants. H+ - 0.4 on the Berram-7 scale. Furry adjacent. Pan/poly. Burnout. Cyberpunk but I don’t have enough hair left for a pink mohawk.
Not owning where one lives makes it highly difficult to migrate to solar power because landlords often don’t let you set it up. Definitely the case out here in the Bay Area.
Senior year of high school. I’d been losing weight for a couple of years and was now down to a point where athleticism of any kind was starting to be possible. I was late for gym class and didn’t feel like running a mile as punishment for tardiness, so I decided to take a shortcut by not going all the way down to the end of the road to get to the field.
I vividly recall thinking to myself, “I’ll just jump over that guardrail!”
My feet hooked the back of the guardrail, I flipped over it and landed hard. Broke my wrist.
Surprising no one who’s ever had to work with it for longer than sixty seconds.
If you’re already rich as shit and don’t have to worry about any consequences for anything you do, why not?
NSA? Yes. CIA? Probably not. They don’t have that kind of imagination. c.f., the internal parody of The Hunt for Red October they declassified about a decade ago.