Janus - Under the Bridge

It's a dry, sunny day in Denver.

I should move to fragging Seattle. It should be rainy as drek. Rainy and grey, with all the colors sucked out of it. Not that the sun's anybetter. The sky burns the color out of everything just the same, until it's all brown and useless, like idiots used to think realism looked.

The BTL isn't even slotted yet. Sitting there in my hand. Light as a feather, tiny as a cockroach. The only solid thing in the world. The only thing with color. The place color comes from.

The real world. Not the drek world of meat, the realy real world.

I gave the meat world a try. I did. I guess it's been long enough. Hadn't realized it had been that long, but I guess it had. Tried to dust off my runnin' hat and give the meat world a try.

Time was, I could talk a wage slave into handing a troll all his money. I could get a guard to open a safe and think he was setting things up for an inspection. When I could get a Johnson to fork over three times what he thought he was worth because of, like, "quality". Whatever that meant.

Obviously it didn't mean shit.

Now I can't even convince a wage slave to fork over a few extra nuyen bonus for saving his friend's life. Or his own.

Those runners kept asking: what does he do? Why is here?

I guess I thought the time would come when I could show 'em what I could do.

I guess I did.

I'm nothing but what's in my hand, and nothing but what's in my head.

The sun is shining. Warm. Bright. Green grass under foot and kids playing in the park. Everything is happiness and warmth.

I'm home.