Clover's Pass hummed to the tune of business deals and serendipitous band pacts. Internet cafes were common, but Clover's Pass had an allure that brought back its customers. The wooden furnishings and classic lighting transported the denziens back to a simpler time, before the Second Singularity. Punk augs huddled around the juxbox, reminiscing the early scenes of lightstep and neurobeats, while straight-tied corporate men slammed their 7th beer onto the mahogany table, boisterously ordering another round before the night is over. "Jen, make sure you keep the tab on them." warned Mr. Guro, the owner of the hidden establishment. A hard working Natural, Mr. Guro watches over Clover from afar, making sure to balance transparency and unseen deeds to his patrons. "He's still plugged in, isn't he?" Asked Mr. Guro. "Sure looks like it." Replied Jen. "How long is it going to fucking take?" Mr. Guro took a strong blow from his cigar. "He better not fuck up." In the corner of this underground forest, a lone figure patiently sits. He's wearing a CFV, computer facial visor, and occasionally hits the table with his fingers at certain yet precise times. "Don't worry, he always likes to end it at the last second." said Jen, with a grin.
firstname.lastname@example.org: Those keys should be the one.
r3x: give me a sec to authenticate them.
email@example.com: I don't have that much time. Sentries are making their rounds. This is -QD-, you know.
r3x: it won't take long ;)
r3x: done. they're good.
firstname.lastname@example.org: Do I lie?
r3x: r3x: guess not. what's it called?
email@example.com: No. 2037, aka Lotus Supreme.
r3x: right. so how much are we down?
firstname.lastname@example.org: Being that those are only one month old, 5k.
r3x: gtfo, you said 4k.
email@example.com: You know what I had to go through for that shit?
r3x: how about keeping your word for 4k. Creds don't grow on servers you fucking theif.
firstname.lastname@example.org: Fine fine, whatever. Just send 4k.
[TRANSACTION COMPLETE. -4,000 Creds]
email@example.com: enjoy. it's freaking sick.
r3x: yea w/e. cya.
Rex pressed onto his temple. The visor make a solid click and snapped from his eyes to his forehead. He rested his arms on the table, and sighed. "Fucking pushers. Always trying to change shit at the last second." He reached for his cappuccino and threw whats left of it to the back of his throat. With an exaggerated movement, he pushed off and got up. "About fucking time." Mr. Guro slapped his hand towel onto the bar, splashing an unfortunate and underconfident drinker with questionable liquids. "I didn't wanna make it look easy" shrugged Rex. He flashed two E-cards to Guro and Jen. "The latest. It's called Lotus Supreme." "I wouldn't care if you called it Meatflap City" he snatched the cards from Rex. "Next time you wanna give us a heart attack like that I'll fucking turn off the signal!" Jen wrapped her arm under Guro's "Now now honey, he just wanted to end in style." Rex walked past them and waved without turning "You know where to contact me if you need another heart attack." and left Clover's Pass. Mr. Guro walked back behind his bar, blinding making two tonics with scotch without flinching.
A cold blast of air brushed through Rex as he left Clover's Pass sliding door. The cold winter of New Nepal could mute the fiercest of fires. He looked up at the white sky, only to be looked down upon by towering pagoda's built atop humble storied buildings. He buttoned his jacket and joined in with the march of tourists, businessmen, and rebels sharing the same sidewalk. His temple chimed. He pressed it, dropping his visor to his eyes. "Hello?" "Rex, you've gotta come back. Guro is having a seizure." "Jen? Are you ok?" "The keys...he tried them but they must be some kind of a virus or something...please" She started to slowly break into a cry. "I'm coming. Don't worry" He ended the transmission and ran back to Clover. "What the fuck did he send us?"