If you have been following along with Akemi and his adventures in the future, then get ready for some revisions! The fantastic people over at Reddit were kind enough to read my story and give me some feedback, so I will begin to post my revisions to my short story here now. Please feel free to comment with further thoughts on improvement. I am always looking to get better, and I promise you won't hurt my callused heart with your criticism.
A World Covered in Plastic Bags Filled with Cat Poop.
The protest was in full swing. A few NewRepulic guys loudly reading out sections of the Bill of Rights and the Bible, alternately, while all the Socialites reacted in divergent unison. The SocialDems had started today’s protest thread on Wizper so they got the main stage at the center of the Loop, right below the newest art installation of a sixty foot bronze wolverine giving birth to the current CEO of U.S. Corp.
“Target spotted. Hovering around the SocialDems at center stage.” Zhang’s voice was smooth in Akemi’s Teardrop earpiece. He clicked the link Zhang had slide across the holographic screen projected in front of him, and the aforementioned target came into view. A spindly kid, joining in with the SocialDems as they screamed about the cesspool recently discovered under the playground at Walter Payton College Prep, giving all the future CEOs facial mutations. Genetic modification only works in the whom; fixing a mutated child’s face post-birth costs a shit ton of cash, and Socialites like these SocialDems didn’t publicly approve of underage alterations.
Akemi closed the gap between himself and that mark, Holton Pembleton, double tapping his teardrop to lower the screen and checked out the perps movements in real time. Pembleton was diving full into the SocialDems, going as far as to clasp hands with one of the members of the Citizens United in Nuclear Treaties (C.U.N.T) that made up the one of the center rings of the gathering. Any social grievance could win out at these things. Usually protests just digress into screaming matches and orgies, but today was a special day. One of the seven to five incidents each year when some asshole decides that they are smart enough to beat the Dissarmers at their own game and blow everyone up. Akemi had this one marked on his calendar for a month. He had even volunteered to take the creepy grad student down for Zhang, who was the top agent in the Armament sector, but she hated touching people.
So, in yet another attempt to prove to Zhang that he was worthy of her screen-free time, Akemi began to approach the target. You have to move quick with these Anti-Nuec extremists. They know that from the second they apply for armament they pop up on the Dissarmer Watch List, but this guy had done the extra work. Posting as a pure SocialDem for the past two years and joining every organization with Dem, Feme, or Nuclear in the title, but even the poorest SocialDem wouldn’t be caught dead without an INuec, literally. So, the fact that Pembleton got his first INuec six months ago was a big red flag. Anyone over the age of five without a registered INuec is labeled an Anti-Nuecer, and the label is 92% correct, more proof that the world thrives on stereotypes.
Akemi was five feet from Pembleton now. They both wore ripped leggings and crop tops with ironic quotes scrawled across them, so Pembleton assumed Akemi was one of them just like everyone else was assuming Pembleton belonged. Akemi flinched at his one frustration; he had to wait for suspicious action before he could neutralize his target, and Akemi didn’t like to push the definition of suspicious the way some of his colleagues did. Maybe he could get one of the NewRepublics to push Pembleton to action.
“The NewRepublics are just commies in capitalist clothes! They’ll take your INuec then force us all into debtor camps in order to fund their foreign wars!”
“There hasn’t been a foreign war in over fifty years, and you know it!” A chubby NewRepublicer, wearing an American flag bodysuit, screamed back at Akemi, shoving his finger across the open space between them for emphasis.
“U.S. Corp has been at war with Iran International since before all governments privatized, you ignorant fuck!” Akemi knew the drill. He could scream along with the best of them. The only difference was that he didn’t actually care about the majority of the shit that whipped off his tongue and into the ears of so many enraged protestors.
“Hostile negotiations are not the same as war, so stop trying to hyperbolize our company’s dealings for your own self gain.” This NewRepublicer was well spoken to the point that it pulled Akemi’s attention from Pembleton, who was now quietly watching the exchange.
They had already flagged Akemi as the NuecNarc and were working his own tactic against him. Drawing him into an argument they foolishly believed he cared about. That’s every Socialite's big mistake, conservatives and liberals alike, they assume everyone cares about everything as much as they do. They had misread Akemi, and they had given him the definition of suspicious he needed.
With a flip of the wrist, Akemi’s Dissarmament Wand was out and swinging. Pembleton actually tried to reach out for the Wand, but Akemi’s fist reached Pembleton’s adam’s apple before the greasy fingers could even feel the heat that emitted off the thin, black baton. The overly educated NewRepublicer came from the other way, but was blocked by a couple C.U.N.T members that had just been telling Pembleton how cool they thought his shoes were seconds ago.
“Arm-a-ment... arm-a-ment... arm-a-ment!” The two C.U.N.Ts, beautifully dark women with hair the size of their personalities, bombarded the chubby NewRepublicer into the pavement with their Siren cries.
The scan was done and Akemi made his way through the crowd; protestors of every creed patting him on the back or giving him the finger, as he walked past.The Anti-Nuec crowd seethed with the knowledge that their plan for annihilation hadn’t come to fruition, but within that disappointment there was a sigh of relief, because everyone loves to rant about their principles, but very few actually want to die for them.
* End Part 1 *