Here I go. The port-plugin took me to this place, so she has to be inside. I hop the fence and stroll the walk. Wow. The digi-roses are srsly primo code. They smell and feel real. I am impressed. I'll put in for one on the next reqform. My habzone is not this swank, but I do alright.
The secure on the door is good, but not admin. I don't get to play with my Pluslife stats much, so this will be fun. All SWAT with none of the training.
>>Cnapce/PlusAvatar/Adjust >>Avatar/Strength/+99
It doesn't feel any different to me in the rig, but I know the world will react right. My code++ foot turns that high-priced doorframe encryption into scrapcode at a single click-n-drag, and I am in.
The graphic chatroom is even more prime than the hab's shell. Most of these private sceneboxes are where the richies show their true colours. You know, either leave the place all white00 or pull out the pr0ncode and let their freak flag fly. Decor by Martha Stewart with a few touches by the Marquis de Sade or maybe Himmler. But not this place. This place is full on swank. The carpets match the shades, the furniture is all high... I guess high dollar, being Sydney and all... and the atmos-code is exactly like that potpourri my stepmom used to set out on Boxing Day. Top stuff, all of it. Even includes a jpeg family photo over the mantle. I am almost sorry that I have to admin Malessa77. She has put a lot of time on the keys into this joint.
A shame, really.
Each room in this place is just as fanced up as the last. It is something special. Back toward the rear of the place, I can hear a voice. No, two voices. It's another chatroom, so I can't see what's being txt, but I can follow the stereophonics.
The door at the end of the hall pops open and there it is, the story unfolds. Two young ladies, their avatars all remarkably normal for Pluslife images, are lying in bed inside. By the state of things, I'd say I was just too late to see one helluva show. Oh well. Wait. One of them is Malessa77, but the other. The other is lister number four. LthreethreeT is the brunette on the left. Two for one. Fantastic.
>>Malessa77: I don't know who the hell you think you are, barging in here, but
>>LthreethreeT: Uhm, Mal, I think he's Company. >>Malessa77: Really? Oh God, that means
>>LthreethreeT: Sir? Mister, uhm, what can I call you?
Since they are both here. I don't get out much IRL, and being around two nudies is a great way to spend my time on the clock.
>>Cnapce: It is probably better if you don't call me anything. Easier anyway.
>>Malessa77: Easier? Oh god, no. Please don't. This is all we have. >>LthreethreeT: He isn't going to care, Mal. They don't know how. Corporate bullies.
Bully? I fuckin' don't think so. It's just a job, chickie. You and your digi-lez friend are breaking the rules. Time to pay up.
>>Cnapce: User ID Malessa77. As per your digital SID signature, you have been found in violation
>>Malessa77: No! She didn't hack me! I GAVE her the code! >>LthreethreeT: It wasn't her fault, it was my idea. Leave her alone, you fuckn wage-slave!
>>Cnapce: of your Terms and Conditions agreement with the Pluslife programming code. As per said agreement
>>Malessa77: This isn't fair. I can't live without her! I'm quarantined! This is the only place we have together! Don't take it away! Don't take HER away!
>>LthreethreeT: It's okay, baby. I'll find another SID. This corporate douche can't keep us apart.
>>Cnapce: your account has been
>>Malessa77: I luv u, Linda. Whatever happens to me, remember this place. Our dream house. Remember me! I lo>>Cnapce: terminated.
Her avatar's perky little B-cups pixel out, and I almost feel bad for her. I hope they don't ban her complete. You know, full disconnect. A suspension. Yeah, that's what her and her friend will get. I'm sure of it. Oh yeah, her friend.
Wow.
I didn't know Pluslife avvies could cry.
Streaks of digital pain and synthesised anguish colour-tint LthreethreeT's rose19 cheeks, and if there was a player-mod for eye beams or aggro-static weapons...my avatar would have just been pwned by the look she is giving me. I actually have that worried tingle in my gut, like the feeling right after cheating on a lover. This is the shite part of my job.
>>LthreethreeT: You rotting corporati bastard. You just killed the only thing I loved. I can't afford the med-pass to see her IRL. This is all we have. Had. Past tense. Fuck you.
>>Cnapce: Chill. You guys broke the rules. I'm just doing my job. >>LthreethreeT: So I guess you have to do your job on me, too. >>Cnapce: Yeah. I'm sorry.
Sorry? Why the hell did I just txt that? THEY are the rules-breakers. THEY fucked up. Why should I be sorry? Oh well. It's syntax now. It'll fall off the cache when she is gone.
>>LthreethreeT: Sorry? You will be. Keep your eyes on the Sydcast news for the next couple of days. My name is Linda Barrows, look for it in the obits. I can't live without her. I'd rather die than go on knowing she is wasting away in a med-centre alone and suffering without me.
>>Cnapce: No you won't. You won't kil
>>LthreethreeT: We both know you don't care. You are a soulless corporate slave marching to the tune that key turning in your back is grinding away. Just fucking get on with it.
She's right. She is just pixels and memory bytes to me. I can't let her slide. This is MY livelihood, after all. I gotta watch out for Player One, you know?
>>Cnapce: User ID LthreethreeT. As per your digital SID signature, you have been found in violation of your Terms and Conditions agreement with the Pluslife programming code.
Her avatar's last emote, standing there naked like she forgot to buy clothes-code, looks at me with sadness scrawled on her face. She is holding a jpeg in her hands. It shows two women, arm in arm. One looks like an athlete, maybe a footie player. The other looks like all the warning ads I have seen about the last big outbreak. She holds it out like a mirror at me, filling my monitor with the image. I have to do this. It's just another job. Heh, @nother job.
>>Cnapce: As per said agreement, your account has been terminated.
She closes her eyes the moment before the pixel storm sweeps her away. The jpeg goes along with her. So does the room. The furniture. The drapes. The art. The walls. The entire hab scrambles out and becomes an empty lot with an Ebay page already forming for its auction.
Full disconnect.
Oh well. Job's done. I'm paid. That's what it is all about, right? Keeping your head above water and making your way through RL. Yeah. And all that shit about offing herself? Really? No way. It's just a game. Nobody really dies because of the shit that happens in Pluslife. No way. Digital lives, not real ones.
Wait a sec. My lister just chirped out at me. I must have scored a bonus gig. Exactly what I need to get that melodrama-mama out of my head. I mean, who dies over something like that? Life is never that that bad. bad.
>>Lister 08.10/
>>>User ID: 10 (delinquent account) >>>Location: Cape Town
Great. Another bum not paying his bills.