Quoted By:
“You’re bullshitting me, Larkin.”
He rolls his eyes. “The insurance company was very anxious about covering damages-”
“About zero-G honeymoon parties,” you counter, deadpan.
Larkin chortles at that, low and deep. “I shit you not, that was a thing. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing, but something that the upper middle class could’ve done at one point in their lives.”
“First I’ve heard of it.”
“You had to have been there. Really was a different world than the one we’re living in.”
Now that’s the understatement of the fucking century.
“Well, if you wanna pull the wool over my eyes,” you drawl as you pour another glass of scurvy-b-gone, “Now’s the time. I’d believe just about anything about the Old World, right now.”
“Hmph. Got anything in particular?” asks the old man. His grin is so full of shit that I’m surprised he isn’t gagging. “Let’s see if you can’t tell if I’m bullshitting or not.”
<span class="mu-i">Where’s the tired old man who cut off his story?</span>
Suppressing a grin, you ask, “Genetically engineered catgirls for mass market consumption.”
“Yes and no,” Larkin answers, snorting. “Although that depends. There were some schools of thought that had the idea of splicing animal genes into the human genome. Fuck if I could tell you why, though. But in some seedy red-light districts in Tokyo, you could find plenty, although it’s more implants and props than natural-grown appendages.”
He isn’t bullshiting. What the hell…
“Weren’t you five when you went into the bunker?” you demand. “How do you know this?”
His grin is saucy. “When you’re with twenty-three other people, and you run out of books to read, people tell stories of better times, and past exploits. And they just eventually stopped caring about covering my ears for the spicier bits.”
Snorting, you shake your head. “That’s fucked. Alright, what about…3D-printed meat?”
“Very real, but your millage may vary. It’s plant-based. And the taste and texture’s only good as both the printer and the protein source.”
Ew. “Fair enough. But how about flying cars? We always see those in the movies.”
“No.” He shakes his head sadly. “At least flying cars that made it past the prototype stages.”
“What about Dolljackers? And Auglockers?”
“Both were real. And no, they weren’t just made up for the Teeth’s ludic propaganda.”
Yikes. “Right, right…huh. Okay, here’s one: brain transplants.”
“Very, very real…” he mutters, but you can see in his eye(s) that he’s lying.
Snorting, you counter: “Yeah, only your wildest dreams, Larkin.”
But before you can continue, the doors to the cafeteria open with a loud BANG. Startled, your gaze turns towards the entrance…only to promptly sour when you realize who it is.
Larkin grips your arm. “Unami, who’s…”
(cont.)
