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.
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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.
If you’re already rich as shit and don’t have to worry about any consequences for anything you do, why not?
Surprising no one who’s ever had to work with it for longer than sixty seconds.
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.