Is this prompt related somehow to work? Or did you buy the pantry cupboard for the kitchen and it's a centimetre or so too wide? :)
A tight spot Now that I could see the department building through fresh eyes, and I really didn't want to think about what MacArthur could have done to the cyber-optics in my head since he's got no physical presence, I slowed a little more until I was nearly stopped. Mac seemed to realise what I was doing. "Keep moving," he growled, sounding like a Rottweiler with distemper. "Stopping and staring will tip the building's AI off immediately that you can see through the glamour." "Glamour?" I nearly choked on the word, but I picked my pace back up and started looking around as though worried about who might be living in the near-derelict hulk the building was pretending to be. "That's the opposite of glamour!" "It's an illusion," said Mac. "Glamour's just another word for that. What did you think make-up was for, exactly?" "I don't wear the stuff," I said. "Not even moisturiser." "You sound so proud," said Mac, and I swear he managed to sneer. "AI's not as smart as they claim it is," I said, changing the subject onto something I knew more about. "It might know I'm looking at the building, it can't guess what I'm thinking." "Doesn't have to," said Mac. "It just has to alert the human security force that you're looking at it in a funny way. Even an AI can do that." "Even so," I said. "If that's as posh as it looks I'm not waltzing in there. I don't think they'd let me get through the front doors without a permit or a pass." "No," said Mac. "Definitely not. But like I said, Jenny was a friend of mine." "Is that supposed to help? Hey!" Mac somehow took control of my legs and I started walking round the building, heading down yet another grimy sidestreet that looked like it turned away from our destination early on. It wasn't hard to get control back, but the loss of control shook me. "We need to move," said Mac. "You were slowing down again. You're a liability, fleshbag, and if we don't get that resolved you're going to get us both killed. Again." "Speak for yourself," I muttered. I was pretty sure I'd not been killed before, even if Mac had. We carried on down the street and a thought struck me. "How many times have you been killed then?" "Lost count," came the grunt. "Stop here and climb over this fence." I looked at a wooden fence a tiny bit taller than me; easy enough to grab the top and haul myself over. I grabbed the top and pulled myself up to see over though. The other side was a strip of grass and mud that ran between the fence and a chain-link fence. Beyond that was a concrete expanse of carpark, and over a low wall on the far side of that was the apartment building, glittering as my eyes fought over the two images it tried to present. "Fine," I said, feeling Mac tickle my thighs. "I'm going, I'm going. We've got another fence and I can't climb that one though. This is going to be a tight spot." It was easily four metres high. "Don't need to," said Mac. "There's a way under it." My feet hit the mud and grass, and my heart sank.
Greg - I think I had a tight spot in my left shoulder? Pretty sure that was it. But getting the cupboard into the back of the van to bring home was also a pretty tight fit, so you're not wrong!
I think... Mac is having fun with this? Either way, I am definitely enjoying reading it :)
2 comments:
Is this prompt related somehow to work? Or did you buy the pantry cupboard for the kitchen and it's a centimetre or so too wide? :)
A tight spot
Now that I could see the department building through fresh eyes, and I really didn't want to think about what MacArthur could have done to the cyber-optics in my head since he's got no physical presence, I slowed a little more until I was nearly stopped. Mac seemed to realise what I was doing.
"Keep moving," he growled, sounding like a Rottweiler with distemper. "Stopping and staring will tip the building's AI off immediately that you can see through the glamour."
"Glamour?" I nearly choked on the word, but I picked my pace back up and started looking around as though worried about who might be living in the near-derelict hulk the building was pretending to be. "That's the opposite of glamour!"
"It's an illusion," said Mac. "Glamour's just another word for that. What did you think make-up was for, exactly?"
"I don't wear the stuff," I said. "Not even moisturiser."
"You sound so proud," said Mac, and I swear he managed to sneer.
"AI's not as smart as they claim it is," I said, changing the subject onto something I knew more about. "It might know I'm looking at the building, it can't guess what I'm thinking."
"Doesn't have to," said Mac. "It just has to alert the human security force that you're looking at it in a funny way. Even an AI can do that."
"Even so," I said. "If that's as posh as it looks I'm not waltzing in there. I don't think they'd let me get through the front doors without a permit or a pass."
"No," said Mac. "Definitely not. But like I said, Jenny was a friend of mine."
"Is that supposed to help? Hey!"
Mac somehow took control of my legs and I started walking round the building, heading down yet another grimy sidestreet that looked like it turned away from our destination early on. It wasn't hard to get control back, but the loss of control shook me.
"We need to move," said Mac. "You were slowing down again. You're a liability, fleshbag, and if we don't get that resolved you're going to get us both killed. Again."
"Speak for yourself," I muttered. I was pretty sure I'd not been killed before, even if Mac had. We carried on down the street and a thought struck me. "How many times have you been killed then?"
"Lost count," came the grunt. "Stop here and climb over this fence."
I looked at a wooden fence a tiny bit taller than me; easy enough to grab the top and haul myself over. I grabbed the top and pulled myself up to see over though. The other side was a strip of grass and mud that ran between the fence and a chain-link fence. Beyond that was a concrete expanse of carpark, and over a low wall on the far side of that was the apartment building, glittering as my eyes fought over the two images it tried to present.
"Fine," I said, feeling Mac tickle my thighs. "I'm going, I'm going. We've got another fence and I can't climb that one though. This is going to be a tight spot." It was easily four metres high.
"Don't need to," said Mac. "There's a way under it."
My feet hit the mud and grass, and my heart sank.
Greg - I think I had a tight spot in my left shoulder? Pretty sure that was it. But getting the cupboard into the back of the van to bring home was also a pretty tight fit, so you're not wrong!
I think... Mac is having fun with this? Either way, I am definitely enjoying reading it :)
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