Me. That's what happens. I'll come into your house, with my little box of specialized tools, and I'll crack into your brain. You'll take for granted that I know what I'm doing, and that I washed my hands after I took a piss. Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't.
I'll bring up a little external computer that allows me to go into that cesspool you call your mind, so that I don't have to jack in directly. I'd bet that's a form of contact that would give too many people the willies to allow. I know I wouldn't want a stranger interfacing directly with my most private and sensitive bits.
Let's say the problem you're having is that all of a sudden, you can only see the color blue. Every other color is showing up gray scale. I'll plug in a little something something, tweak a few lines of code, and blam. You see colors again. I imagine everyone will be on pause or whatever during this procedure, but maybe if it's something minor like a color freeze, they'd be awake.
Maybe it's something worse than that. Maybe we'll be so dependent on the mental internet that, should something go wrong, you might not be able to access any financial networks. Your ability to purchase anything will disappear. I'll come in with a little bit of computer magic to fix you up right.
You'll pray that the Brain QA employees are honest people, and that they wouldn't find it funny to leave a porn app in your circuits. Can you imagine how distracting it'd be if you were on the freeway and a dick popped up on your HUD?
(Mini-serial I wrote on storylane.com. The question I answered was 'What do you think the future of your field of work looks like?' )
No comments:
Post a Comment