Technology

you better start believing in cyberpunk dystopias

YOURE LIVING IN ONE

👏 OPEN 👏 SOURCE 👏 AFTER 👏 OBSOLETION 👏

This was the plot line to the movie Robots. The solution was socialized medicine.

I can't wait for when medical implants require a subscription so that I can routinely pay to live a normal life!

/s because it seems like it's still needed even if it feels obvious

Sorry but you are obsolete sir. The suicide booth is right around the corner. You'll have to wait for bender to finish though.

Hope they open source the tech or pirates get a hold of it.

It is the year 2038.

Adam Jensen, formerly a conspiracy busting mercenary badass, sits in a run down motel room in Hell's Kitchen, New York.

He didn't check in with much baggage, excepting a decade of extreme emotional and physical trauma. After he threw in the towel, decided to /really/ retire, he figured he would be able to live off of occasional PI work, and hell, maybe just crawling through some vent shafts until he got somewhere with a hidden cache he could sell to some idiot on the street, or just look for an ATM to ... reroute funds to his account through.

Lying on a bed that squeaks everytime he shifts his massive, nearly 400 pound augmented body in a vain attempt to find a position that allows him to drift into sleep... he decides maybe a drink will help.

He sits up. Creak. He yawns as he reaches toward the night stand table, cluttered with credsticks, EMP grenades, a pistol, and some strange looking prototype for a dual purpose, wall mountable, but also throwable explosive.

LAM? Was that the acronym they went with? Not important in the long run, just a souvenir from his last and final corporate espionage contract.

He blinks a few times and waits for his once bleeding edge, but now ancient occular implants to resolve his last remaining bottle of cognac.

As he reaches to take a pull, straight from the bottle... darkness. Moments later his vision of the cluttered nightstand table is replaced by a 600 x 480 jpeg, blown up to encompass the entirety of his approximately 8K total field of view and resolution.

It is an image... of text. Very low resolution... Papyrus font. It states that his occular implants will no longer be receiving any software updates, and that his implants are now out of warranty, and non compliant with a recently passed consumer safety law, and as such must be shut down for his protection.

Startled by the darkness, then abrupt disclaimer, then darkness again, Jensen fumbles while reaching for his drink. How... how is there an audio message thanking him for his purchase of the wrong model of occular implants... playing through his infolink? Shouldnt those sub systems be firewalled?

This is the last thought that ever passes through Jensen's mind.

In blindness, as the wrong corporate sound file played through the space between his ears, Jensen never realized he had knocked the prototype LAM off of the nightstand, which armed itself, beeped several times, and then exploded.

-=====-

Downstairs, a 3 year old Sandra Renton screams when one of her father's hotel rooms explodes, triggering fire suppression systems before the power goes out.

She stumbles out of the lobby out on to the street. A minute later her exasperated father, crying out for Sandra, finds her outside bawling. He embraces her and thanks God that she is alright.

While he was reaching down to grab his traumatized daughter, he noticed she was standing in a pile of ... broken glass?

Embracing his only child close to his heart, he looks up at the front entrance to the motel lobby.

It takes him a few moments to breathe deeply, more slowly, and eventually calm down enough to realize what has occured: The letters 'H', 'i', and 'l' were knocked off the wall by the explosion of Jensen's suite, leaving the neon sign advertising the name of the hotel to now read only as 'ton'. Sandra just happened to come to be standing in the debris field.

"What a shame," he sighs ... "what a shame."

-{====}-

Author's notes:

Sure, sure, you've heard about Chekov's gun...

... but what about Jensen's Lightweight Attack Munition?

=P

I had heard about these two patients years ago, and I still can't believe the doctor's death was this much of a set back. Did he write nothing down? Or did the company itself simply mismanage everything about this shit? This article makes it sound like the latter.

Damn it, I wanted a Star Trek future, not a Neuromancer future!

This is the sort of thing I think of when people talk about "uploading their consciousness." Whose going to keep paying for that server uptime? Is Facebook going to acquire my brain and put it into cold storage while telling the world I'm not experiencing an eternity in solitary confinement?

Cyberpunk here we come

profitable medicine sure is for winners

Some shit literally out of a cyberpunk dystopia:

Others find their mods deactivated and drug regimens terminated when their gender subscriptions end. Several thousand “Platinum” and “Sunset Rose” gender subscribers recently found themselves in critical medical distress when Prakhet Identity Studios was bankrupted by rogue operators. In a spirit of public service, Nova Vida is generously providing a discounted, time-limited upgrade opportunity for these consumers into their similar but fuller-featured “Cordova” and “Spartan” gender products.

— Kevin Crawford, Cities Without Number

New Cyberpunk 2077 sidequest: hack the bionics company to restore people’s vision. Like a more murder-y version of Orbis.

This sort of tech needs to be heavily regulated in how proprietary it can be; not at fucking all.

We already exist in a cyberpunk world, and people are just beginning to wake up to it. Implants that go obsolete, corporations controlling everything, the general sense of despair because you can't change the system, only rebel in hopes of improving the immediate life of yourself and those around you...

I wonder what the costs would be to start a new company that works on the obsolete technology that Second Sight installed? I don't expect the 350+ receivers of the implants to be affluent enough to make it a profitable venture but knowing exactly what it takes to make the help they need available again would be nice.

Can’t wait to get in line for that Elon Misk brain chip!