(Rewrite Complete!) Ch. 140 – Damage Control

The advent of the Antithesis damaged, even destroyed, the cultural continuity of many peoples.

Once, it was not rare to stumble across a half-forgotten shrine, and all that was required to learn of its history was to ask a friendly face at the pub, or perhaps to pay a visit to the local library.

But the threat of death by alien fang and claw pushed these small communities into the chaos of the megacities, and the anonymity among millions bleached their connection to their heritages as surely as magnets erase antique tapes.

Yet some traditions took on a life of their own as they were carried into the Mesh, where they collided, merged, and flourished with traditions of other places.

Take the fragmented Japanese, whose youth found unexpectedly broad contact and appeal with the youth of certain Nordic survivors; these disparate groups met, recovered partial knowledge of old traditions in both cultures, and mixed it all together in a truly multicultural melting pot.

So it came to be that a red kimono—shoulders daintily exposed—and the specific coloring and patterning of a neon feather woven into a young woman's hair, have an absolutely electrifying effect on her cohort.

– Excerpt from a chapter on Coming of Age ceremonies, in a book titled The Fall Of Real Life; The Rise Of Mesh Life, 2054

***

"Oh dear."

"Uh…that doesn't sound good,"  I said, ripped from my musing about handling the Quanta more properly by Tynea's dry, amused tone. Leah's mumbling and shifting beneath me reminded me to be quiet.

Tynea answered via a spread of corporate media blog posts and VODs. Following the usual media traditions, the very first headline was cringe-stupid and clickbait.

Family App footage leaked! Irresponsible samurai "Airmonkey" sighted blowing up only highway in her region!

I shuddered. I'd not heard of a samurai with that particular name before, but I sure as fuck did not want it. If I got stuck with a name like that, I'd have to go with some kind of stupid rambo monkey theme to rescue my streetcred. I'd have to modify my face and ears accordingly.

Just the thought pissed me off.

Beneath the headline, was a still shot. Those were rare; usually they used clips instead. Moving pictures were more likely to draw the eye, afterall, and attention was pure currency to these corporations. I looked at it. I froze. I looked at it.

'Twas I.

Spread-eagled, looking awkward and just plain dumb in the air above the cratered surroundings of the old highway cutting through our earlier battlefield. There was the actual clip playing beneath in another window and I looked just fine in motion, but they'd chosen the specific frame from it to be as unflattering as possible.

"Are they suicidal?" I asked. "I'm new. I haven't built even an iota of reputation. They don't know how I might react to this inane claim, whether I might have a thin enough skin to reward provocation with violence."

Tynea didn't even bother replying to my rhetorical question. I agreed with her. The less bandwidth wasted on these idiots, the better. So, I discarded the irrelevant idiocy of my supposed irresponsibility and the shit picture, and focused on the name they were trying to coin.

Airmonkey. Fuck no. That was not going to fly. At least not in the same skies that I called mine.

The other blogs and videos all were just copies of each other—classic trash media ripping each others' articles for no-effort views.

"Suggestions for damage control?" I asked.

"A counter-leak, perhaps. Upload something the Family's satellite cameras couldn't have picked up, and add tags to the metadata such that the algorithms will guide viewers of the unwanted content to the new leak."

"Do we have something like that?"

"Absolutely. I have all the recordings from your various drones, including Leah's mechs."

"You can share those with me? No breach of privacy?"

"No. You are their subject, after all."

"Ah, I see. Show me the one you think will be most effective, I guess?"

"This one should do well:"

'Twas I; Edition Two. Stretching languidly, gracefully inside my crater of ice. The point of view was above and behind video-me, from the lip of the crater. Video-me's arms came down slowly, matching the fall of the snow around her, and then she met the camera's eye over her shoulder. A smile that was half smoldering bedroom, half merry innocence.

Dang. Me cute.

I considered the vibe, and indeed, the fairytale grace was an utterly uncompromising counterpoint to the inanity of the tabloids and spy sat clips.

"Solid choice. Hit the Mesh? Especially the usual high-traffic suspects for leaks. Add the battle leading up to this shot as well."

"I'll upload it. I suspect we'll see engagement in seconds."

"It's the Mesh, after all."

"Do you want to give the file a suggestive name? That'll almost guarantee the public calls you what you might wish to be called."

"...No. I don't have a particular name in mind, yet. Let's see what people come up with…and then edit the file after the fact, when everybody's already seen the nondescript datetime header. That'll catch attention."

Tynea uploaded the clip, and included the battle that led to it, too. The one where I killed my first Twenty-Two, and where I honored my old hunting rifle with the death of its final prey.

I was pretty sure it'd go viral.

***

vanguards.RoadRash.members/freesubmurderhobo

…/chatrooms/samurai/NM/conspiracies_aka_news/leaks/satfootagefoundincanadawilds

Sat Footage Found In Canada Wilds! New samurai for NM? (Or Quebec City, but who gives a fuck.) Warmechs! Vids inside. (UPDATE! New leak, 5 minutes old! Second samurai, real cute and real maniac. Does poetry shit in battle. Vids inside!)

Participants: ERROR! elemidNotFound: Element ID is missing. Please submit a support ticket here (don't actually).

//what? Logs say somebody manually fucked with this? Who?? And why??? -adminplox

//Participants: 42069 nice -RR

//…of course. Sigh -adminplox

//don't worry about it. -RR

//fuckinghiremetodomyjobandthenfuckwithITplskillme -adminplox

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): I say again, the second leak is definitely intentional. It's not sat cam footage, and it's not from any public camera that I could find. I bet she leaked it intentionally to run damage control against the dumb name the media is trying to coin.

> noFeetGang (member level: Nuclear Landmine): the vid with the pretty brunette in the ice crater? was amazingly beautiful, real enchanting. and airmonkey is dumb. even if she does have a fluffy tail and can fly. i could see her leak that just to stop it

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): yea that one

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): she a fairy or sth

> luminousdumdum (member level: High-Explosive Pogostick): fairy, huh?

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): make it skycat lol

> luminousdumdum (member level: High-Explosive Pogostick): better than airmonkey, but still seems too, uh, kiddie to me. how about Mayfly?

> rampampam (member level: Gunpowder Bear Trap): dawg, it don't sound bad, but who'd really wanna get called a random name like mayfly? like, it don't really mean anything real, does it? it say basic two-bit sam right here! also, generic enough and bad enough that somebody mighta taken it already.

> causeImImaginative (member level: Murderhobo): if Heavy Metal for the oen on the ground, then obv Light Metal for the flying one.

> butDoesTheNameCheckOut (member level: Murderhobo): Results…Invalid. Name Does Not Check Out.

> causeImImaginative (member level: Murderhobo): fuck you.

> butDoesTheNameCheckOut (member level: Murderhobo): I Rest My Case.

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): scorching

> causeImImaginative (member level: Murderhobo): fuck you again.

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): lukewarm

> causeImImaginative (member level: Murderhobo): fuck you too

> circlesquare (member level: Murderhobo): Heavy Metal works for the redhead with those huge mechs, especially if she keeps getting bigger ones. Light Metal is stupid.

> causeImImaginative (member level: Murderhobo): you're stupid.

> ProperCheeky (member level: Ultranova) has banned user causeImImaginative> reason(s): if ya gonna trash talk on my server, use a dictionary -RR

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): AAARGH MY EYES ARE ON FIRE

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): fucking lol

> bobSpamFilter has removed 666 messages between timestamps xx:xx:10 and xx:xx:15> reason(s): 314x near-identical, 199x emoji spam, 152x NO_RIZZ, 1x hatespeech

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): that was five seconds of my life that i'll never get back

> noFeetGang (member level: Nuclear Landmine): worth

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): So, she did that thing with the poem in the middle of that one fight at the start of the second leak, and by all that's unholy, I don't think I've seen as massively cool a sendoff as the one she gave her rifle. I propose: Battlepoem! (I swear, it has nothing at all to do with the metadata nobody else here has mentioned yet.)

> ProperCheeky (member level: Ultranova): bitch please. That's a thing, not a person. Might as well call her Battleporn.

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): getting there

> luminousdumdum (member level: High-Explosive Pogostick): battlewhore doing the battleporn with the battlepoem

> butDoesTheNameCheckOut (member level: Murderhobo): Results…Invalid. Name Does Not Check Out.

> luminousdumdum (member level: High-Explosive Pogostick): the fuck do you want?!

> butDoesTheNameCheckOut (member level: Murderhobo): trollface.jpg⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣩⣭⣭⣭⡭⢭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣍⣙⣛⡛⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣠⣿⡿⣟⠯⡒⢯⣽⣓⣒⢾⣯⣭⣿⣿⠿⠭⠭⣯⣷⣦⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⣰⣿⣯⣞⣕⣽⠾⠿⠿⠿⢿⣏⣿⣿⣿⡗⣽⣿⣿⣷⡝⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⣀⣛⠛⢿⣛⢝⢁⣀⣀⣀⠓⠶⠈⣿⣿⡿⠗⠉⠁⢀⣀⣹⣛⣛⣳⢌⠻⠏⡔⡾⢁⣴⡆⢦⣬⣙⣛⣋⣤⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⡆⢿⣿⡟⠻⠛⡉⣍⣲⢱⠁⡀⣇⣇⢸⣉⡀⢦⣌⡙⠻⠿⣯⣭⣥⠡⡤⠿⢿⣿⣿⡆⠉⡻⢿⣿⠇⢻⣟⠼⠀⣷⡈⠪⣴⣿⣧⡀⢉⠛⠘⢶⣦⣬⠉⣀⠓⠿⠿⠯⢉⣴⠿⠿⠓⡁⡄⠀⣿⠃⣼⣿⣿⣦⠙⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⢠⣤⣀⠉⠐⠛⠿⠿⠰⠶⠦⠰⠶⠇⠘⠃⠁⠀⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡘⢿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⢿⠇⣼⣶⣦⡄⣄⣀⡀⢀⡀⢀⡀⡀⠀⢠⣿⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⠯⣛⠭⣻⠶⣬⣉⣛⠛⠃⠿⠿⠃⠿⠃⠚⣀⣁⣤⣾⣿⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣙⠒⠯⣶⣋⡽⢛⣿⣯⣿⣭⣭⡿⢿⣿⣻⣾⢟⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣍⡛⠿⠿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣭⣭⣭⣶⣿⡿⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣤⣍⣙⣛⣛⣛⣛⣋⣡⣴⣿⣿

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): my culture. i feel right at home

> luminousdumdum (member level: High-Explosive Pogostick): dammit

> JohnJohnnyLongJohn (member level: Gunpowder Bear Trap): guys! check the new vid's metadata!

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): Wow, y'all are quick on the uptake.

> burn-o-meter (member level: Murderhobo): that sizzled

> noFeetGang (member level: Nuclear Landmine): origin folder's name, huh? nice find, mangosaint. still…battlepoem. best yet, but sth wrong with it.

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): Hah. This was a shitshow, but you're not exactly wrong. I do think Battlepoem's, well, poetic, but it also feels passive in a way. Perhaps it does not truly fit the bloodcrazed warrior, eh? How about…Battlepoet? The one who doth the poetry. Imaginative variation, I know. I am in awe of my own genius.

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): bitch please. obviously Battlepoem's the right name. it's even in the metadata for the origin folder.

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): Oh shit, fykmahlyfe's using punctuation! Shit's getting real!

> noFeetGang (member level: Nuclear Landmine): oh shit, mangosaint's using swear words! the apocalypse is nigh!

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): lmao nah battlepoet's cool

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): shoot the media

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): I'm all for that, but why?

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): shoot it to the media*

> ProperCheeky (member level: Ultranova): Done.

> MangoSaint (member level: Orbital Codpiece Insertion): …Which one?

> foxxynewsreporter dives for hardcover

> fykmahlyfe (member level: Nuclear Landmine): lmao

> ProperCheeky: Message @forum here…|

Chuckling, James "Road Rash" Goodsworth leaned back, welcomed by the creaking of his old, worn, and ultra-comfortable ex-office chair. He was quite satisfied with the last few minutes. It wasn't that often that he caught a fresh samurai's naming live. It was even rarer that he had any influence, even if it usually was other samurai doing the naming for the freshlings.

Laughing, he replayed the last few hundred messages in his latest chatroom again. "Fuckers are always good for a riot."

One could almost call them a cult of your particular brand of chaos, James.

Road Rash grinned at the dry amusement in Solygant's voice. "You know you love 'em, Sol."

They do make for great randomizer seeds.

Snorting, he replied, "Alright. Help 'em kick the Battlepoet idea around a bit more. Have it gain traction. And find me some media types deserving of a bullet or three, please."

How much traction are you looking for?

"Meaningful. Not so much that the girl's AI would have to go to war with the Mesh to fix it if she don't like it."

Roger. Accessing the SocialHammer.

"A'ight. Let's make 'em look like nails."

He got up, went into his workshop, readied his side piece, and printed two slightly different magazines of rounds.

One, was just normal bullets. These were the backup, for if it turned out that the girl didn't particularly want to be named the Battlepoet either. Let nobody say Road Rash doesn't keep his word.

The other, the ones that made Road Rash's grin grow teeth, was full of no-launch laser rounds that would stitch a rather lethal message across any forehead: It's the Battlepoet, bitch!

If he got to use the latter, he'd stream it. Let nobody say ProperCheeky doesn't keep his word.

***

"Battlepoet, huh?" I whispered. Humming quietly, I tilted my head back and forth a few times. The name spoke to the part of me that absorbed battle in a visceral way, that turned the experience into something just a little…purple.

"If it fits, it sits. Yeah. Why not? I like it."

Shall I replace the meta tags?

"Go ahead."

***

Fifteen minutes later I was strangling laughs, watching Road Rash's Twitch stream as he clomped his ordnance-loaded prosthetics across the set of a particularly annoying news show. The kind that made money out of ruining lives. There were already a few bodies, each with blood-leaking It's the Battlepoet, bitch! tattoos across their foreheads.

Well, that's a message alright, snickered Tynea in my mind.

She'd played for me a list of heretofore unknown and covered-up crimes that the people of this particular news agency had committed. Mostly bribes to gain access to privileged data on whoever they'd chosen as the newest victim, more bribes to fabricate blackmail. But there was some proper black stuff, too, among their extracurricular activities.

Kidnappings for example, especially of orphans, directly from orphanages. Children apparently made great test subjects, and orphanages made for cheap storage of such test subjects until they could be…retrieved later. The orphanages usually didn't give much of a fuck and wouldn't resist, and so the kidnapping mercenaries couldn't command high prices for that kind of gig. Yet there were entire agencies for whom these cheap, low-risk jobs were the bread and butter.

And the stakeholders…well, they were all for saving money.

I had no compunctions at all about watching cheap, unskilled mercenaries masquerading as sleazy journalists trip, fall, and die, or about cheering Road Rash on as he used my new moniker to send a message.

***