Chapter Six

Alice had a pad, and Bob had a pad, neither of which were a one time pad. Neither these pads, nor the randomly generated keys automatically transmitted to each other before the exchange, were transmitted during the actual conversation. Each session had a different randomly generated key, provided for a maximum of forward security. And each remote viewing session were sent in separate passworded packets across the wire. At least in theory. Rana was unsure how to integrate this system into the Luna network, and she had began writing another program based on the anatomic components of the human brain: the brain stem, the cerebellum, and the cerebrum.

There were some people that were born without a cerebellum and a cerebrum, making it so they always lived by the wire. If anyone had the most potential to my compromised by advertisements, this was them. They were dependent on their parents or caregivers that always care for them. Yet it wasn't uncommon for Rana to hear about on the news about the latest killer nurse putting their patients out of their misery. Never mind if said patient were incapable of misery. And so every time she turned on the local television news network on her computer, despite the tragedy of death, part of it became a game of how badly nurses can screw themselves over, before being sent to Guillotine. And so that was how she continued watching mainstream news, despite her preference the non mundane. Yet most of the time she spent time watching talk shows like Stephen Basset, and another guy who claimed to be descended from the judges who sentenced Marie Antoinette to have her head in a basket filled with water at the tail end of the 18th century.

Humanity went through multiple ages, and yet now it seemed like humanity was nearing their last. And the tide of the seas flow over cities, even those that float in the sky. And yet for Rana, she didn't think about the fact that she didn't live in the Pacific Islands, and thought more about how how it was becoming even during the rain. It seemed like a lot was going on across the media-universe today, and she would at times prefer to turn off the computer and prop her legs up on the wall of the studio flat. Her mother entertained the idea of naming their cat Sneaker, short for what Rana proposed as Sneakernet. Rana would put a vest on her cat, and have it be the courier for transmitting encrypted messages to her friends across the Drone Network. A network theoretically largely immune to advertisement media, and even if somehow they managed to intercept the network, because of the nature of w3m Text based browsers, there was no way they would even see the advertisements. And yet such web browsers had developed a reputation for being old school, built during the era were people did not play electronic pool. All this on hot starry lights under the glow of ever watchful city brights. Rana didn't care what anyone thought, as the only one she had to please was herself.

And yet she went through years struggling to develop more than a minimal level of a good self esteem, all the way back when she played Gaslamp fantasy video games with evil clowns for Villains, yet now she was far to cynical to care about building her own self worth according to others, and largely remained the indoors type she had always been.

She wanted her world to end.

To humanity's chagrin.

In this town that now plays, in this town that now plays as a city. The young women in long flowing t-shirts wear the sandals Jesus. Yet those women of Christian appearance, maintain a Parisian appearance. They smoke near the cafe in the midnight hour. Even under umbrella hooded tables at this very hour. The time is soon now. The time is soon now, that she shall wipe her brow from the rain under the sun, that denied her a rainbow, and gave only false starlight. Goodnight city lights, goodnight solar panels by the roadside powering them. Goodnight headstones, forever moved by urbanization.

Goodnight world, forever.

It had been only a month since she had developed the idea for the Luna network, and yet now transporting them using a specialized drone that can pick things up with a robotic arm was something she had grown to take for granted. Though Rana had suspected she could find a way to develop sneaker net, she hadn't known that her mother would be so willing to help buy her the tools she needed to do the work. She had much from parents, yet at times could not help but let some things slip. At times she would watch necrophiliac movies and guro channels on the onion network, finding different obscure ways to get a sexual high. Yet now that she began smoking cigarettes again, her sex drives was already on the outs, and she found more time to do other things. The old coffee shop that was little more than a hole in the wall, became its own independent establishment. And here she would find girls ten years her junior for whatever reason finding her cute, in the same way one might find their little sister cute, but not as same girl the LGBT scene would actually take out to the local concert hall.

But this was just as well, as Rana had never been one for concerts. She found herself rediscovering the music she used to listen do in her early twenties, back when she was first introduced to the Cyberpunk genre. And now she was back to where she was before, not belonging to any particular kind of counter culture, on some level waiting for death. She stopped taking the usual precautions her mother would ask her to do, and considered getting a burner phone. She gave a homeless guy a dollar when he asked for fifty cents, saying not to worry about paying her back. It was so little that she could just tell her mother that she bought an extra box of stroodles when she went to the local convenience mart. She began to live for real again, no longer having to worry about having to justify her buying choices to anybody. She could truly live like an adult on the way to public transport line.

She could live again.

There was no more Washington.





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