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Breed was totally immersed in the net , her geek work and personal life had no real boundaries, she was a freelance coder, always online networking friends, solutions , business deals , outcomes, and when the mood took her, deliciously prolonged and exhilerating orgasms with total strangers in the privacy of her room which she liked to capture on cam .
Breed was a net butterfly who had grown up in the information age , she had her business e-mail address tattooed on her arm above a likeness of a young Vince Cerf, she was 19 going on immortal and forever beating her wings against the constraints and possibilities of the medium . She was born in a fluttering age of weightlessness and the valley's Wi Fi networks and her treasured i-phone were fast transforming her 3d life into an always on out of body experience as well, Breed lived and breathed tech , it was the humdrum routine disaster of everyday life on the planet she chose not to see , she was permanently detached , she didn't even much notice the other occupants of the apartment house , sure she passed them in the hall but when she wasn't surfing or calling people on her i-phone she was listening to music on it or reviewing podcasts,. Off-line people didn't much figure in Breed's outlook or circle of aquaintences , she led a near virtual existence , her social networks ran on applications, the net paid the rent and its latest favoured brands, vices and memes clothed, honed and fed her. Breed had even fantasized about being knocked up by an Android and giving birth to a machine. Raoul lived in the adjacent apartment to Breed , he'd been given an old computer by his parole officer to keep him out of trouble and he was prison meat temporarily back on the street. The parole officer had shown him the basics in a 'monkey see, monkey do' way and Raoul had mostly used the pc to get online to masturbate over video porn of old Russian women being fucked by leering teens and to look at graphic images of death and destruction posted by US troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. He felt compelled to zoom in on images of mushed heads and strewn around body parts and would replay horrific Mujahadeen videos of torture, throat cuttings and beheadings and feel strangely warmed by the victims desperate pleas for their lives. He got off on knowing what was going to happen to them next , it created a sense of certainty and power and he bought head phones to minimise the risk of the screams being overheard as he did his thing although the bitch next door played Nine Inch Nails so loud he really didn't think he needed to. Raoul also had tattoos , an extensive array of home made black patterns inscribed with a blunt sewing needle and Indian ink , the cryptic shorthand of gang culture not so much a statement of artistic expression as a map of a wasted life and prisons he'd been incarcerated in. If it was art, it was outsider art at its bleakest, a hellish skin art people lived and died in. Deep down, Raoul was looking for God and a partner but the Divine had failed to break through his defence mechanisms , Raoul would kill before admitting weakness, and his parole officer hadn't yet managed to enrol him on the literacy course so for the time being forays onto Craigslist and into instant messaging were out. He didn't doubt he'd find someone though, he had always managed to in jail. Mercy spent way too much time on personal lists and camming on casuals sites where she was much in demand from the waist downwards , she struggled with her weight and self esteem but strove to overcome these and other personal issues through pleasing others and catching a little satisfaction herself. She did once think to hit on the tattooed dude who lived upstairs to try to get it on off-line but when she tried to manipulate an interaction with him in the hall she noticed the Aryan Brotherhood crap on the back of his neck . She guessed her colour wouldn't be as much a problem as her weight - guys would fuck anything right?- but taken together ......, whatever she let the opportunity go , it was his loss as she had a big big heart. Mercy hit the personals from her workplace at the child welfare department and at home masquerading as a multitude of beautiful , well heeled white female characters to enter into romantic embroilments with other posters, conjuring up ever more ingenious ways to avoid sending pics or meeting up. Her characters radiated pure love but inwardly the deception and cruelty broke her heart , her online lovers would ultimately tire of her evasions and hurl abuse at her ' You never really loved me ' and 'it was all just a game to you ' were common complaints and she'd genuinely feel deeply wounded - they just didn't understand, she would truly love every one of them if they let her, and once spurned to the point of no return she'd crawl the cam sites for some instant relief and then hit the biscuit tin and chocolates. Mercy had God in her life , He just didn't have a lot of time for her because she was always online. Sean lived next door to Mercy and wished Breed would keep the fucking music down as he spent most of his free time meditating . He could mentally block out the Thrash , Industrial and Techno but it was such a waste of energy. His work with an international environmental concern exposed him to the clutter, chaos and pain of the world . It was all about balancing negative and positive energy but the world was fucked and Sean knew it and so just kept his personal life materially and emotionally uncluttered so he'd have nothing to pack when it was time to go Sean's apartment was completely unfurnished apart from an old pc he kept in the centre of a locked room he never used. . He mentally focussed on the pc for his meditation, using it as a power source for real communication and a visualisation device for progressing towards the anihilation of the self. Often his sheer powers of concentration would interfere with the pc's of the other three people in the aartment house but Breed was the only one who had figured out that he was responsible as she'd pushed a note under his door reading ' 'Stop fucking with the Cosmos while I'm gaming dude or i'll pwn you'. Sean had tried to accommodate her but he felt the most compassion, an immense compassion , for the heavily tattooed kid who seemed oblivious of his need to avoid an eternity of fucked up being. The kid needed a guide. Sean's own material needs outside work and eating were limited to the prostitutes he paid for Tantric sex on the bare floor every 6 weeks. He called them from a pay phone down the street but had heard that pay phones were being phased out in the neighbourhood so he was seriously considering celibacy. Besides he needed more energy if he was ever to levitate again. He was convinced reaching out to the tattooed kid would bring in some positive energy and decided he would plug into the kid once they pulled the phones..
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