rebbeca romjin stavros stepped off the plane eagerly looking around for her new father-to-be, clyde raizing. But cydi, who had staked out the stake house for centuriues, had done a goober on the pavement and becky slipped onto her butt.the pavement broke into four paces and her liver fell out her butt passage. all the pedestrians couldnt belive there eyes, some took snaps with their latest camera phones and others sent pages to their friends all around the country withing seconds it was on the internet. one young boy called chris with tightly gelled hair and a comb stuck in it rock fast didnt pay any attention, such as it was for kids his age to be distracted by the next big thing because as she was halfway thoguh falling he saw a electronic window opening in the side of a skyscraper. ween-dows, so called because you would slowly be "weened" of the old kind of window as you gradually replaced it with these kinds and to be truly honest everyone preffered them anyway. michelle was on the tv programme that was being played on HSR 2 that morning and becky forgot to put a grab disc in. michelle called rebbeca at 3pm to ask her questions about it, pretending as if she wasnt trying to find out whether she had watched it or not, but all parties were well aware of her prying mouth and ears and all felt pretty awkward. at 3.30pm Graves, the finance expert fiance, crashed through the new windows at 600mps and scared the living skin off everyone involved, but did get the girls out of an awkward situation. as graves picked the pictures out of his skin and teeth becky remembered that she wanted to go for a buggy ride before night time and present company considered that there was no time like the difficult future. the door was stuck again so she climed through the sharps edges of the technology to get a better look at the damage. oh no this is going to cost a weeks wages at least, she wringed her hands and her knees fell relaxed in the center. the car was barely scratched but somehow the bumper had flown a hundred meters into the air and stuck on a window of the 40th floor whizzing past the window cleaners platform and makign him sit down and wipe a cloth on his face, but it was the cloth he was usign to clean the windows and he got bat shit and disinfectant all in his eyes! nobody on the ground could see that but there was a meeting going on adjacent to his standing and the important talk of sir williams neice louisa joining the company came up. "i dont think she would be suitable here, shes a very stupid idiod" said sir william. does anyone agree with me. nobody said anything because they were all watching the washmans face turn red and clawing at his skin . well i see im in the minority then, he said pulling out his blackbery pearl to sending louisa her new working hours before sundawn. louisa had often thougght back to the days before the accident and almost upchucked when her emails flashed up with new information. hazard a guess she thought, asses the situation, but sir williams fateful message just confirmed whatt she suspected and damaged the memories she was just seeking. the soundbite attatched to the message did reasure her thoughts and she played the clip of sir williams infamous beating breath several times before rebooting and getting on with life to pick at her pimples in the bathroom. michelle had once introduced louisa to clive at one of her dos but clives intentional mispronunciation of her name made her the "dont of the ball" and she left in tears. she didnt remember the rest of the story becuase of the continued interruptions she faces everyday. her neighbors, clive and anderson a couple of heterosexuals living a gay lifestyle without the physical aspects used to visit her with baskets of fruit and yoghurt when she had moved from the hospital back to the comfort of her tiny cramped bedroom. one afternoon clive came in with some apples and a orange banded to his head and pineapples covering his shame doing a island dance but she was out cold on sedatives and he sat in the room beaten, glaring at her for the next several hours until the cracks of light playing along the floor had faded to hide the pieces of food and dust on the laquered rose floor. after eight years of housebound recovery the world had really chagned for louisa, now her automatic makeup aplyer that used to smear lippy on her cheeks and in her mouth all you did was imagine how you wanted your make up to look if you had a skin operation first for $9000 - oh thats right, credits she thought. global credits. since when did the world get so connected. a layer of intelligent fabric flopped down into heer breakfast plate and matched the colours of splatterd baked pottateo and mackeral using optical camoflage. woud you like to download some expresacino the machine wondered, but kept itself to itself, it was monday morning after all and no one could face the banality of another cupper. just as louisa realised she hadnt recieved a phonecall for seven days her auTVo box switched itself on regular like clockwork and distracted, she watched the 45th day parade down on main street shift past. last year her and Clive had watched the parade from his 8th floor balcony on the P.A.D.S building constructed apartment block and she thought back to the time when she really felt like she belonged someone. though she didnt blame Dawn, i do she thought, it was her who introduced clive to Amray and the rest is sore history. as is usual in the autumn, time slowed down for an agonising 2 hours and her skin went a predictably disgusting shade of grey until she slid back into her rest facility for the rest of the big weekend. Graves made an announcement. "If anyones going to take it away i think I should be the one" he sniffed his nose at the fog that had started to gather around the argument and continued "may i remind everyone i was the top contributor to last weeks annual savings inquest and without my efforts NONE of us would even be standing on this bridge!". Sasha smiled sweetly at graves but was met with total index, and decided instead to head into town instead of facing any more rejection. as soon as the meeting was over a buzz was spreading round the office like wildfire. have you seen the alien! have you been abducted? people were laughing at each otehr. of course, there was no alien, it was louisa with her grey skin and aneroxic figure fooling everyone. the comments hurt but she was used to this happening every year. no wonder people get depressed at winter time if this is what happens to them amray thought with some disdain whilst chomping on a loaf of bread. hey jesus, want some red wine and fish with that sneered graves who was having a terrible day. look im not trying to be humble its just tight money til payday so if i eat for cheap i can still party at the weekend, in fact this weekend ive got plane tickets to the amaricious if your are up for it ? this was the perfect op for clive to let off some steam. it wasnt uncommon for people in the world of business to just dissapear for a couple of days and since hes project with the swiss had just fallen through there would probably be a "greiving period" anyway til at least the folllowing monday. so he packed his data scope and electric jacket into the vacuum pack suicase and shrinked plastic wrappred around his hand as well. oops. i pressed the seal button too soon. with no time at all his veins were bulging and his hand hand turned white from the lack of blood. with his blurry vision it was hard to see the unpack button and he felt a feint spell coming like a truck speeding down the express way with a hurachuci chompa 1000mph advanced engine system in full swing. one too many amaruci and lime's later the pair of men were headed down a dusty trail, that is, the dust that gathers around an ominous situation with a sympathetic "air". one such occasion had aroused moments earlier when clive had spilt the cooling crystals from his drinking vase onto company’s lap and was sad but not embarrassed at all. “that was a miss-take” he said with affected lisp, “I meant to take the drink into my mouth”. the weather once again had turned onto the vacation and a cool breeze blew away the need for any cooling aids in their refreshments. back in the office sir William didn’t notice any change in the weather because he was watching the world spin past his weendow that he’d had coated with doubletime brand varnish by the night porter. double time was a fairly old fashioned solution to the discovery 10 years previous that so called “two way mirrors” were actually a long winded resolution to an age old predicament that could be much more simple by a coat of the brand’s secret recipie solution. sir alex, the elder brother of William, had attended the company’s high profile launch and by default became simultaneously the face of doubletime and a silent provider of credits. in turn, when sir alex became ill from drinking river water, sir William was granted such rites and lets such say credits has never been too much of a bad issue for the family. what with the price of insurance its hard to make up the costs of issues, everthing has to be insured and checked to make sure that the policy is not transparent. this was an industry irony though, because e-paper has just released a new product that transmits onto transparent paper and because this process is cheaper than standard e-papers it is expected that in the next 10 years all business documents and legal papers will use the new kind of paper. xale, the entrepenuring nephew of graves and new wife jen, had actually had a hand in the negotiatiosn of the big e-paper deal, as he had to provide a handmade sound system and background music to ensure the best possible atmosphere. “this is a big one don’t mess it up like you usually do” the problem was that he mis calculated the length of some of the wires and had to completely change the design of the sound system, and in his haste didn’t recognise a design flaw that allowed type 3 gasses into the speaker chamber in the back. though it is at the less dense end of the kalkuli gas-scale, almost 15 types of aliens that are made up of 2.5 – 3 gas were able to reform inside the chamber box and altered the sound when played at the grand seminar. the difference was so subtle that nobody noticed at the event but that evening many of the guests were ill all night and got sick on their company goodybags. the whole thing was chronicled in the trade mag and almost cost the business 16% credit share rating which was funny because he was 16 when he went to his first meeting. under fire in the following monday morning think tank meeting xale retreated to the little boys room for a moments recovery before he said something to regret. voices from the meeting echoed in his head, you asshole, you fucking asshole, even without any substantial loss the bad press has a share value knock on effect deeper than you can ever understand, there IS such a thing as bad publicity screamed the hazy faces lurching back and forth all around him. the blood in his veins rapidly thickend to black and his head fell in the toilet bowl cool and refresehd he returned to the meeting. whats the bloody mark you got on your nose challenged one analyst. its nothing said the newly recharged xale. people noted on their clipboards how swiftly he brushed this attack to one side. well, said the chief of operations lets put the close call we had with the trade mag to one side for now all things considered while we cant ever consider it lucky to come close to avoiding so much capital loss im willing to place the change in the jar with this event and , looking directly at xale, if something even comes close to happening in the future it will be more than just certain top selling industry biz mag journalists that get murdered violently. The analyst, the social representative, the lawyer, the romany and the tax officers all agreed this was like living life on the knife, but all the bosses could think about was their fruits of their labours. “fourteen years gentlemen, and no break ins in the company” “that's because you don't know what the real life is like, have you ever thought of stepping out of that ivory tower you’ve been hiding in” “are you asking me on a date?” “you know that was inappropriate” M.Hale was in no mood for a saucy moment or a laugh, and for the following three days his life was going to be hell. That morning M.Hale woke literally on the wrong side of the bed, and that was just the start of it. He had waited up all night for a delivery he had been expecting, he used nitePAL because his hours at work had already become some kind of hell for him and the courier service had been set up especially for workers who could only be at home in the night shift. When the doorscreen alerted M.Hale that there was a visitor present he was sure that it was the delivery man and didn't bother to look at the display and opened the door straight away to what turned out to be a kidnapper. The mysterious stranger tied up M.Hale while he forced him to tell him where all his money was hidden around the apartment but he’d tied a piece of cloth over his mouth he couldn't explain that he didn't have any money. The worst part of it all was that the kidnapper had forgotten to bring any ropes so he tore up all of M’hales clothes and rolled them into tubes instead, and his suits that had been put on the company cheque account were the only thing he actually owned of any value both sentimentally and monetarily. Luckily a next door neighbour was up late watching a scary film and at the moment of most terrible fear they let out a scream that would scare off any robber. M.Hale, left naked and scared, had no choice but to turn up to work the next day in a fake Pachami suit that even the rancid murderer wouldn't touch. “not bloody likely” remarked a stranger who had overheared M.hales recounting of the story to an uninterested co-worker on the monorail the next day. “your story is 100% unbelievable, you are making some kind of elaborate excuse for your poor fashion taste I can only assume?” The stranger broke the final nerve in M.hales fragile system and he snapped his bones into a fighting stance. The stranger, a woman dressed in plain, you could even say drab and disgusting clothes, took immediate notice of this and exploited his nerves to maxmimal effect "oh yes i know your type" she continued, looking him up and down with intentionaly judgemental eyes. "oh i know just what sort of cheap butt attorney to the criminals you are" M Hale had spent his whole life doing only the best intentions so without even knowing, he donated to a mens heaalth care foundation, he worked late when all the other office bees were buzzing around his neck cheering about mindless thiss' and thats', last nights NFL match or perhaps, what sweet rack they were going to stare it in the sports bar at last nights NFL match. He even alwasy took out the garbage before it started to stink his massive hollow apartment out, the one picture of his great uncle glaring down at him at all times as if Hale was the one that really stunk. The woman regarded his hair, closely pressing her waxy lips against his smooth tanned cheek. Oily what a surprise, she commented loudly in his ear, a light smirk playing on the corner of her lips that he would never see. He mistook her supposedly playful intimacy for outright agression and with the final push of her claling him a hands on the table shit head his bones snapped from taught agression into so much powder, and like the whitest snow his ashes whisped and whireled out of the monorail window leavign behind only a pair of clean polished shoes, a cheap suit, a wallet packed with greenbacks, donor card (that would be useless now) a round plastic disc, long billed baseball cap a double breasted ivy suit jacket a white linen shirt bag of skins and guts and a business card saying (I)'M HALE if im ever turned to dust place dont (I)'MHALE me!. "what an ironic gesture" smirked the woman to herself as she swept subtle tears of regret from under her eyes "perhaps we could have been lovers..." she ended up taking his remaining posessions to the pawn store on lower street 4 and sent the money they made, a princely 4111 global credits, in an envelope addressed to M.Hales' place of work. the receptionist tore open the black silver envelope with her nails that had been adjusted specifically for her job. eyes gleaming with liquid when she noticed the contents she went straight to the top , or what she thought was the top - there were actually mere hundreds of ranks higher that were kept secret from the lower employees so as not to make them feel like drones - and deposited the pile of metal credits on the desk. "is this some kind of joke?" spat her superior "im the one whos supposed to give YOU the raise" he burst into a sweat and laughs that shook his whole body in its recliner. after a lenghthy explaination, (she had added in a lot of exagerations for emotional effect) the secretary persuaded her boss to use the money to create a statue of M.Hale to be permantley placed in the jungle themed garden in the inner courtyard of the building. the boss made sure that when he paid the statue masons for their work that they knew where the money had come from and what their efforts were for. this sense of "meaning" truly affected the statue masons who werre used to the front-page-photo grabbing statue making jobs they usually got from the various mayors and leaders of the city, and when they took their money home they kept it in a seperate part of the wallet and mind. and so in turn, when they made thier perchases, commissions and service bills they let the payee aware of the credit's history, of the great man whos legacy would continue in this radical string of money handling, and thats where the term "credit history" comes from. a similar request for payment had landed in-the-in box of jen who was interupted cutting out a torso of the week for her floors rec room fridge. davvo downeys rippling thigh muscles stared back at her in the reflection of the 10" LCD preview monitor she had a low tech solution to her busted main screen but she was incredibly too distracted to even give him a moments after thought (well that wasnt true, women think abotu sex 10 times an hour, statistlcy less than men but lets just say men arent the only ones). whats that youve got there in your inbox jen? said yaz in a impression of the youve got mail voice. she hurredly clicked the red box in the corner just before he had time to walk 10 yards across the room. oh, nothing she said in a fluster when he finally arrived just some spam. apparently they want my meet local women in my area right now. cyber dating so soon jen, he said raising his eyebrow ina patronising tone. his beautful mocha latte skinned adams apple bobbed as he swallowed drly. well before you take such extremem measures why dont you try a date with me, or would your husband turn a new shade of green, for added emphasis he yanked his olive neck tie so hard that his voice went down a octave level. in this new sexy baritone he continuted, i bed thats just his thing come to think of it, 2 men in a bed, the little jen said. she was used to this kind of sexual predatry most days and depending on her hormone levels it might make an impact but in truth she was too distracted by the message. she discretely synched her p300 to the outlook account and left yaz staring at her swaying tush as she departed for a lunch break somewhere nobody would interupt her...