The mix of overwhelming global media and memes and assertive local or even individual preferences is the fundamental characteristic of culture in 2100. There are few places utterly disconnected from the worldspanning information networks. Along with functional real-time translation, it is possible for people thousands of miles apart to have ongoing professional and personal relationships. That one person may be a Christian Hyperevolutionist and the other a Hindu Preservationist is less relevant when both can talk freely and comfortably about the latest episode of Ein Berliner or the bizarre fashions emerging from the Duncanite Design Center on Ceres. For many people of 2100, tolerance of individual choices has come to mean that those differences are less important than the shared culture in which nearly everyone lives. This does not mean that such differences have disappeared or that they don’t play into people’s lives, however.
In 2108, Beatrice Samuels, a memetic scientist at the University of Leeds, wrote a paper for the Journal of Memetic Theory about a widely noticed phenomenon. A small portion of the human population is attracted to memes that sit well outside the mainstream culture. In Propagation of Human Ideas, LOGOS had identified them as “memetic outliers,” and theorized that they were the results of rare, self-reinforcing combinations of memes and memeplexes that pushed the holders to the edges of cultural acceptability. Samuels disagreed, and produced compelling evidence that at least some tendency to seek the fringes was the result of neurological structures. She called those with this characteristic “cognitive extremophiles,” in reference to lifeforms that live in conditions far outside of Earth’s physical norms.
In the years since Samuels’ article, subsequent research has given new insight into the nature of cognitive extremophiles. This includes some tentative techniques for combined memetic and neuromedical treatments to dampen the desire to accept and propagate strange and often dangerous memes. Some memeticists oppose the widespread use of such techniques, however, arguing that cognitive extremophiles have an important place in the overall memetic environment. Some memes that appear bizarre or overly risky are actually appropriate when considering the ongoing technological and social changes. Cognitive extremophiles can embrace and retain memes that appear irrelevant or worse at present, but may prove useful in the future. Furthermore, since memes often evolve in response to the existence of other memes in the environment, cognitive extremophiles provide a source for memes that push the evolution of others.
An individual identified as or claiming to be a cognitive extremophile has a +1 reaction modifier with memeticists who believe them to be valuable, and a -1 reaction modifier with memeticists who believe them to be dangerous. About half of the professional memeticist community harbors feelings one way or another.
It is possible to bioengineer a brain to contain the neurological structure associated with cognitive extremophiles. The degree to which the effect manifests depends on how the person is socialized. At minimum, the result is Weak Will (Vs. memetic influence only, -75%) [-1/level]; at worst, the result is Gullibility [-10].
For academic memeticists, “culture” is the set of rules a society uses to generate and decide between memes. Culture includes a society’s norms and values, along with its styles of art, its accepted beliefs, and the full range of its cognitive artifacts – journalism, entertainment, etc. Memeticists need to understand a group’s culture before they can craft memes that will survive or thrive in that society.
Many memeticists pay close attention to popular culture. Pop culture, once derided as ephemeral and superficial, is now considered the most Darwinian environment for memes. Some survive by evolving persistence and complexity; others survive by virulence and novelty. These latter often form waves of fast-growing, fastspreading memes.
Memetic scholars consider subcultures, conversely, as pockets of memetic stasis. While particular memes within a subculture may shift over time, they are often divorced from the larger changes of culture going on around them. Many people who embrace a subculture do so precisely because it is disconnected or opposed to the culture at large. Subcultures, in many respects, are a form of Isolate community existing in the heart of global societies.
Not every meme exists solely to propagate. Some memes and memeplexes thrive on being different approaches to life. These can manifest as subcultures, pop-culture artifacts, and movements. They are widespread in 2155; some are serious explorations of different ways of life, while others are common forms of selfexpression. In each case, the meme contains an element that limits its growth. If most of these memes were widely adopted, they would fission into competing versions, mutate into something more palatable to the global culture, or quickly die out.
These memes and memeplexes vary in complexity and depth, but all are philosophies and lifestyle choices embraced only by smaller groups.
What is the alternative? Continued war? The ultimate domination of a single cultural paradigm and the obliteration of differing norms and values? As long as people have divergent beliefs there will be the potential for conflict. We simple feel that the inherent value of cultural variety is greater than the value of being “right.” – Willem Bronowski, Aesthetic Modernist Manifesto, 2100
This philosophy holds that since only a sadist intentionally hurts another’s feelings, all human conflict stems from an inability to understand each other fully. When people say hurtful things, it is either because they are ignorant of the other’s culture or they hold other cultures in contempt due to misunderstanding. This inevitably leads to discord, which in turn leads to hatred and war. Thus, if people were able to understand each other’s culture and avoid offering unintentional insult, there would be far fewer conflicts, and very likely no real cause for war.
Networked artificial intelligence is the key to making this possible. A human simply cannot know enough about every culture or subculture to follow the tenets of Aesthetic Modernism in every possible interaction. Accordingly, followers of this memeplex rely on their AI advisors, who can keep track of myriad cultures with access to immense networked databases, to help them avoid offense. The movement has a large computer system in Geneva, known as the Diplomacy Node, containing detailed information about all known cultural groups and where members can contact volunteer SAIs well trained in social interaction. A single SAI can handle many interactions at once as long as a connection is possible. Conversation with an Aesthetic Modernist is markedly sanitized, but always polite and socially acceptable.
In its minimal form, Aesthetic Modernism is simply a deep immersion in the customs and norms of a given group prior to interaction, along with focused monitoring of the Modernist’s statements and gestures. Most Modernists get really good at listening to advice from their AIs about what to say next, even while speaking.
More extreme Modernists actually refuse to speak directly to others, instead using their cultural AIs as filters. During a given interaction, the human subvocalizes a proposed response to the AI, who either speaks the proper, inoffensive remark out loud, or tells the wearer exactly what to say and do. The AI also actively monitors the wearer and all others in view, warning when an action or word is inappropriate to someone nearby. Experienced Modernist-AI pairs are skilled at anticipating offense and can lead their conversation partner away from a possible insult before it even takes place.
Aesthetic Modernists are heavily dependent upon information technology. Most outright refuse to go places where they may lose contact with cultural databases. Very few Modernists use wearable interfaces, fearing the loss of their advisor infomorph. These AIs are always either LAIs or SAIs, as NAIs are not considered reliable enough when it comes to dealing with human feelings and pride.
This philosophy is moderately popular in Fourth and Fifth Wave societies, especially where several cultures live in proximity. The largest body of Aesthetic Modernists is in Europe. Many diplomats, international traders, and pacifists have adopted elements of this philosophy. Critics parody Aesthetic Modernism by claiming that it boils down to “if you can’t say anything nice, say nothing at all.” Others consider those who have accepted this memeplex to be spineless thralls of diplomatic AIs, lacking real opinions and or even free will.
People adopting this philosophy and who have the proper equipment have Cultural Adaptability and a +2 bonus to Savoir-Faire for all publicly described cultures and subcultures with more than 1,000 members. Aesthetic Modernists who rely on their AIs for advice but speak for themselves have a slight delay in conversation is noticeable to most conversation partners and, ironically, are occasionally annoying. This is effectively the Uncongenial Quirk [-1]. For those who have their AIs speak for them, reactions are much more negative, equivalent to an Odious Personal Habit [-5] and a -1 reaction modifier during face-to-face conversations with non-Aesthetic Modernists. The Aesthetic Modernism software costs $10,000; membership in the Diplomacy Node costs $500/year.
Usually found in locations where VIIs are ubiquitous, virtual clothes are v-tag-embedded outfits that show up as elaborate and sometimes physically impossible clothing when viewed by someone with a virtual interface. In reality, most are simple gray jumpsuits, although in some cases the virtual images are meant to accent already elaborate physical clothing. A few designers make virtual outfits that are worn only as a belt; anything else the user wears is entirely optional.
Virtual clothes are commonly worn by people who have to wear specific and greatly divergent outfits in different settings, and wish to avoid having to change clothes over the course of a day. The ability of virtual clothes to display a wide assortment of images makes them sought after for high-fashion gatherings as well. At some events every attendee wears virtual clothing. The software for virtual clothing is able to correctly respond to a wearer’s position and movement, although occasional errors occur. There is also a vaguely intangible quality to the virtual-clothing image and commercial versions are unsuited for disguise.
Few people who wear virtual clothing create the fashions themselves, and there is a thriving market for attractive and innovative designs. New styles can easily be found and downloaded. Given that the v-tags can signal nearly any image, clothing designs based on rare or impossible materials are fairly common. Some of the more outlandish virtual outfits include waterfalls, flames, living creatures, or even black holes – outfits made up of bugs, snakes, or bats are customary around Halloween.
Virtual clothing unit: $300, under 1 lb. Virtual clothing designs: $50-$5,000+.
A nearby gamma-ray burst scours this section of the galaxy clean of all life, organic and digital. An accidental nanoclasm destroys everything. Humans, transhumans, and AIs decide that they’ve had enough of each other and start one final war. God gets bored and presses the delete key. Can you really say that none of these are possible? And if such dire occurrences were to take place, can you really say that you wouldn’t care if there was no record left of who we were? – Ivan Kothburn, Fossils of Us, 2075
The Artifactists are an artistic movement that springs from many of the same concerns that motivate the Survivalist meme and drive the Civilization Archive Project and Deep Time Foundation. These artists believe that, for one reason or another, humanity and transhumanity are very likely doomed to suffer a catastrophic event, possibly leading to humankind’s extinction. Most Artifactists, unlike Survivalists, believe that this doom is still a considerable ways off. (The Artifactist manifesto Fossils of Us cites a Civilization Archive study claiming a 90% chance of such a massive disaster within the next 1,000 years.) Unlike Civilization Archive’s supporters, most Artifactists believe that recovery from such an event is close to impossible.
Faced with this apparently inevitable disaster, the Artifactists believe that the purpose of art in the 22nd century should be to create objects that will both provide clear evidence of intelligent design and withstand the ravages of the mankind’s collapse. It should also survive geological and even cosmological spans of time, so that some millions or even billions of years later the next intelligence to arise in this region of the galaxy will know that human and human-derived life once existed. While most Artifactists are sympathetic to proposals to bury evidence of humanity deep in Lunar lava tubes on in a time capsule on Callisto, they feel that such efforts are not artistically meaningful.
So far most Artifactist projects have been subtle; the creation of artificial asteroids is a popular approach. Various methods have been used to fulfill their artistic goals in these asteroids: unusual geometric shapes were in vogue at the beginning of the movement, but fell out of favor with the realization that eons of microcollisions would erode away the features. The current trend is to place within a given asteroid’s body an amount of rare but nonradioactive metals, with the ratio of different metals’ weights as nearly equal as possible to significant mathematic constants.
Others, taking their cues from nature, seek to create fossils that leave a clear message of humanity’s existence. This particular approach uses fairly elaborate schema to indicate which planet in the system humans evolved on, at what point in the Sun’s life human civilization arose, and so forth. Most recently, some Artifactist pioneers have journeyed to the furthest reaches of the solar system, where they sculpt Kuiper belt objects and then gently push them out toward interstellar space on a very long orbital arc around the Sun.
These installations require substantial resources to create, and most carry corporate sponsorships. Some Artifactists decry the debasement of the project, while others accept it with the knowledge that in several million or more years nobody will really understand who “Columbia Aerospace” or “Xiao Chu” were… if the logos in the art even survive.
Beyond the needs of survival – shelter, warmth, nutrition, safety, comforting affection of others – all else is constructed. Yet these constructed desires feel as real as – or even more real than! – our basic mammalian needs. We have built our cultures around relentless attempts to satisfy these artificial urges, but by their very nature we can never fully meet their demands. A truly human culture recognizes this, and helps us step away from false needs and toward true contentment. – Bailey Raines, Ataraxia: A New Way of Living, 2059
Ataraxia, which dates from the 2020s, is an emerging cultural memeplex with values that appeal to many Transhumanists, especially in Asia. It has also gained supporters in less-prosperous nations, where its disciplines are seen as an affordable alternative to genetic or technological upgrades.
The word “Ataraxia” actually comes from ancient Greek. The philosopher Epicurus taught that every need or desire was a trouble to the mind, and that the ideal life was one of limited and easily satisfied desires. Andrew Baird, a neuropsychological researcher at Edinburgh, used the word in his essays on the educational and ethical implications of neuroscience and adherents of his views adopted it.
Baird’s central idea was that a large part of human behavior and motivation is driven by chemical reward mechanisms in the brain, and therefore similar to addiction. Just as heroin addicts crave heroin, he said, other people can crave gambling, sex, or violence, and can make self-destructive choices under that craving’s influence. He proposed both a way of life that prevented such cravings from arising and specific disciplines that controlled them and quieted the mind.
Ataractics tend to be religiously agnostic. The movement doesn’t reject religious doctrines, but considers intense religious experience to be a source of craving and best avoided. For the same reason, they avoid political mass movements, especially militaristic ones. Many Ataractics live quiet, productive lives, with occasional retreats to cultivate peace of mind; some move into isolated villages that minimize undesirable stimuli. Most governments find Ataractics harmless, but totalitarian regimes that demand active commitment are often hostile to them.
Ataractics don’t drink or use other psychoactive drugs. Many are celibate – even married couples may abstain from sex, both physical and virtual. They’re likely out of touch with popular culture, much of which is based on selling intense experiences and charismatic personalities. For the same reason, they’re not much involved in consumer capitalism, preferring simple and durable goods to trendy new items. This doesn’t mean that they’re poor; many are well off and have excellent credit, helped by a philosophy that favors long-term planning over immediate pleasures. Ataractics favor simple, conservative clothes and minimal biosculpture, styled to avoid sex appeal and personal display. Paradoxically, some people find this idiom alluring – the fantasy of being the one person who gets through an Ataractic’s reserve has given rise to a great deal of fiction and drama.
Perhaps the biggest departure of the Ataractics from most philosophies is that they don’t usually call themselves Ataractics, or argue for their beliefs. This isn’t from fear of persecution, but from the belief that intellectual argument is one more source of chemical reward, driven by the same aggressive and territorial impulses as sports and warfare. Ataractics who discuss their beliefs and lifestyles usually just describe them as personal preferences. If they recommend them to other people, it’s as an individual’s choice, not in the name of loyalty to a philosophy.
Ataraxia is a minority belief system, and is likely to remain so, especially since its adherents are determinedly low-key and avoid proselytizing. Transhumanists in Fifth Wave societies often sympathize with its goal, a life of detachment from physiologically driven emotions, but prefer more technological methods of attaining this, from genetic modifications to brain implants and uploading into computers. Its strongest appeal is in Third and Fourth Wave cultures that share Transhumanist aspirations but can’t afford to realize them technologically; attaining selfmastery through training and discipline appeals to them. Thailand, with its Theravada Buddhist culture, is an emerging center of Ataractic belief. The emergence of significant upwardly mobile groups following Ataractic disciplines gives the meme a respectful hearing. In a larger sense, the Ataractic meme is fairly widespread in the late 21st century – most visions of transhuman or posthuman life include some aspects of it, often not explicitly so labeled.
In game terms, most Ataratics have the skills Philosophy (Ataraxia) and Meditation; serious practitioners have a Discipline of Faith worth -5 points.
“Melody was a Felicia II ordered in 2105 by a gentleman on Ceres for unstated purposes. He had asked for her to be given courtesan training, however, so his intent was obvious. Unfortunately, just as Melody was to be freed from her biofac, this gentleman suffered a fatal encounter with vacuum. As he left no heirs, and his estate was bound up by the authorities, Melody faced an uncertain fate. Fortunately, her birthing manager at Euphrates knew of us, and asked if we’d have room for a Felicia with potential socialization issues. Little did we know how much of an understatement that was… ” – Susan Black, Pinocchio’s Cousins, 2113
Raising a child is a time-consuming and stressful process. Changing its diapers, supervising its exposure to hostile memes, making sure it gets a good education, and dealing with teenage rebellion… Even with state-of-the-art child care technology, child-rearing can be overwhelming for a parent, even more so when it all goes wrong and the child turns out nothing like they expected. This is why some hopeful parents decide not to have a child the “traditional” way and watch it grow from a baby to an adult, but commission a bioroid “child” instead and adopt it. Bioroids emerge from the biofac fully grown, exactly like the “parents” want it to look, and already have a basic education and personality according to the adoptive parents’ specifications. All they lack is life experience, and providing this is a pleasant and relatively less-stressful task for the proud parents.
As bioroids can be designed using a vast array of templates and features, bioroids chosen for adoption vary greatly. Some parents prefer to commission a bioroid designed to look fully human, often a human closely related to the family. Others adopt bioroids based on more exotic templates, reasoning that such bioroids will rarely want for work and acceptance once they have moved into the real world. A small number of adoptive parents take on bioroids that, for a variety of reasons, could not be accepted by the company or person placing the original order. Such occasions are rare, but not unknown; the most respected abandoned-bioroid adoption facility is the Giapetto Society, based outside of Cape Town, South Africa.
This practice is found primarily in South Africa and a growing number of space colonies, especially Islandia, as few locations have the necessary technology, legal permissions to manufacture bioroids to specs, and full civil rights for bioroids. On Earth, only South Africa combines the three in a way that makes bioroid adoption a real possibility, and it is highly controversial even there. Small numbers of bioroid-adoptive families can be found in the PRA, the United States, and Europe; China has begun offering incentives for parents to raise bioroids and parahumans, but the response has not been significant. Adoptive parents form a very close-knit community, even if separated by distance, and often pass along tips and insights from their own experience to new parents; some have provided financial or legal support for parents suffering social or official harassment for their choice.
With the dominance of Bollywood in the global-entertainment markets throughout much of the century, many small and fairly harmless memes have been exported from Indian culture to the rest of the world via Bollywood movies and InVids. Among these is a global resurgence in popularity of the moustache, or “moosh,” as Indians call it.
In Indian culture, the moosh signifies male virility and adulthood. In Bollywood productions, the moosh is a traditional signifier of male roles: a pencil-thin line denotes the hero, while the villain commonly sports a more luxuriant growth. In 2100, many of masculine inclination grow moustaches or have them implanted after the Bollywood models. A thin moosh gives an impression of dashing bravura, while a thick one indicates a more sensual and untamed sexuality. To be a proper moosh, of course, a moustache has to be as dark as possible; men with very blonde, very red, or very gray hair sporting deep black mooshes are common humor elements in slapstick InVids.
In 2108, the moosh briefly became a point of controversy, as the fading Bollywood actor Salman Kumar attempted to register his moustache style with the WTO as a protected property. While he was well known for the thick moosh that extended over his upper lip, several Bollywood studios and countless moustache wearers filed their opposition with the organization. After initially hinting that they would give Kumar the right to the “moosh design,” the WTO eventually ruled that it was already established in the public domain. In protest, Kumar shaved his moosh; the ridicule he suffered from this episode effectively ended his Bollywood career.
Big is Beautiful. – Sign in the window of “Carbolicious Era,” a Manhattan restaurant Human beings are programmed by evolution to take advantage of bounty, since you can never predict when the next famine will come. As of 2100, in many nations the bounty has lasted a very long time indeed. Humans respond with joy and even ecstasy to the ingestion and digestion of sugars, complex carbohydrates, saturated fats, long-chain fatty acids, and proteins of many a stripe and hue. Many people overreact, and up to the middle of the 21st century these individuals suffered greatly for their overwhelming appetites. Exercise, diets, and social ridicule were rarely enough to counter deeply rooted genetic programming.
But medical science has progressed. Meme therapy, VR feasts, corrective surgery, and even gene therapy have been tried and found to have varying and occasionally positive results. But much more substantial progress has been made on other fronts. Nanomachine artery cleaners remove and repair sclerotic tissue and drug regimens reduce blood pressure and scrub unhealthy levels of harmful substances from the blood. Tissue damaged by the general wear-andtear of an obese body simply moving around is replaced with new, stronger tissues, and treatments to improve muscle strength and efficiency are employed just as readily on a heavy person as on a thin one. It is simply no longer unhealthy to be fat or even obese.
So people eat and enjoy eating, and stop when they wish to stop without feeling guilty about it. Of course, airlines do charge extra for heavy passengers, and spacelines charge by the kilogram. But with the rise in teletourism and virtual conferencing, airlines tend not to be too restrictive in their pricing. And while relatively few people travel by spaceliner, if you are massive and need to travel between planets, then there are many rapid and effective means of losing weight.
“Lean and healthy” remains a popular look for the wealthy, as it suggests access to advanced metabolic biotechnology and perhaps even being born with a superefficient genetic upgrade. Being heavy no longer carries the same stigma as it had in decades past, however, and many of the most popular performers and models would have been considered “plump” a century earlier. This is only the case for Earth, however – most space-based communities retain a negative reaction to fat people.
“In the past, art was everlasting and life was ephemeral. Nowadays, the opposite is true.” – Heather Mackenzie, Burner Flock 72
Burners are a subculture found primarily in North America, although community members can be anywhere. Most are Eloi who have decided that transient art is the highest form of self-expression. As a result, they spend much of their time creating artwork that is destroyed – usually by burning, hence their name. Most Burners are between 15 and 40 years old, although an increasing number of older Burners are remaining with the community. Burner culture has existed in various forms since the 20th century, but saw its greatest growth since 2095.
Burners tend to travel in “flocks” numbering 20 to 500, with most around 150; Burner flocks often split relatively amicably once they get too large. There are about 250 flocks in North America, and about 30 in South Africa, five in Europe, and a couple dozen in Australia. They are fairly transient, remaining in one location for no more than two weeks. Established Burners often follow a cycle of camps, although some groups make a point of never going back to the same place twice. Burners generally camp in relatively sparsely populated areas, if only to avoid problems with local authorities.
The behavior of Burner flocks can vary widely, with some trying to shock more mainstream communities with their “wild” ways and others trying to be as respectful as possible. Burner camps are infamous for brainbug use and other licentious behaviors, but some Burners are almost Ataraxic in their restraint (see p. 83). All emphasize creativity and artwork, however, and many Burners use a very broad interpretation of the word “art.” Burner camps are usually filled with music and visual displays and most welcome visits from outsiders wishing to learn and create. At the end of each camp, all of the artwork is destroyed in a community ritual. Most Burners don’t want to have any of their art recorded, and many discourage the use of virtual interfaces.
Burner flocks get together annually for the Big Burn, which is usually held in abandoned urban areas. Flocks aren’t required to attend, as that would violate the spirit of the event, but they are encouraged to do so. Burner flocks on different continents coordinate the timing of the Big Burns in order to allow enthusiastic members to attend all of them. At the Big Burn, flocks try to out-do each other with art projects and potlatch-style gifting.
“Anyone who says that the human heart ‘tastes like chicken’ has never eaten a human heart. I have, and I can tell you: a heart – at least my heart – tastes nothing like chicken. A heart’s tough and chewy. It’s bitter. And it definitely went better with red wine than with white.” – Kevin Chen, I’ll Do Anything Once. Yes, Even That
A term coined by TEN commentator Skiff Alinoa, “clonibalism” is the act of eating cloned human flesh. For most practitioners, it is more symbolic than epicurean. The practice is a relatively recent one, and highly controversial. Those practicing clonibalism hate the term – they prefer “self consumption” – but it has stuck.
Cannibalism has been accepted as a religious rite in many cultures through time, and has been seen in cases induced by starvation as well. But as Western influence spread through the world, ritualistic cannibalism was replaced with symbolic rites or wiped out all together. While outsiders have always viewed cannibalism as barbarous, its spiritual aspect has usually been that of drawing strength from the eaten.
With the advent of accessible and affordable cloning technologies, clonibalism hit center stage in 2103. Despite a fairly accepting global attitude toward most experimental practices, many were shocked and repulsed when a Hopi elder and shaman, Marcus Ashewequa, ate a clone of his own heart in a tribal ritual. Ashewequa had always been a strong proponent of returning to the ways of the Hopi ancestors. Whether or not cannibalism was part of ancient Pueblo culture has been hotly debated for over a century. In his research, Ashewequa became convinced it had been true and accepted it as a way to return to his ancestry. The Cibola Cultural Preservation Office fervently denies the shaman’s claims, but cannot at this point do anything about it.
Since Ashewequa’s first act of clonibalism, a handful other priests of ancient and New Age religions have followed suit. In most cases – due to cost, time, and in many cases ethical constraints – only partial clones, tissue, or organs are created for these rites. Particular organs are eaten for specific spiritual attributes, depending on the religion. For example, the heart may be eaten for strength or the brain for wisdom. Congregations often share their cloned organs with fellow worshippers as part of their rituals. Some clonibal gatherings can be quite gruesome.
The entire subculture of clonibalism is constantly under attack from pansapient-rights groups and others simply offended by the very notion… which are many. Making matters worse are those clonnibals who have taken the idea a step farther. To make the killing more satisfying, some clones are quickly grown to full size via biogenesis techniques and completed just enough to make them living and breathing, if not fully functional.
This latter technique may have spread beyond clonibal groups. In 2113, TEN reported a controversial therapy, called Self-Annihilation and Rebirth, where a person’s nonsapient clone is murdered to rid the patient of self-loathing or self-destructiveness. Claims of black-market clones bought by wealthy “murder clubs” to hunt down are also known, but are largely thought to be apocryphal. As such activities violate human-rights laws, even if the victim clones are not sapient, any groups suspected of either are vigorously prosecuted.
This subculture has spread throughout areas where cannibalistic rites were once popular and cloning is known. It is also slowly growing in places where New Age religions mix with advanced technology, such as the United States, European Union, and L5 colonies. Proponents claim there is little difference between clonibalism and the eating of faux flesh and many can see that point, even if they still find it repulsive.
In the eyes of many, clonibalism is closely related to the consumption of sentient snacks, a claim hotly denied by both clonibals and sentient-snack manufacturers. Clonibalism involves eating an organ or piece of flesh genetically identical to one’s own, while sentient snacks are little more than syrup-filled bioroids. This matters little to critics, however, who cite both as examples of moral decay and sheer decadence in society… Or, as Erk Chattermore puts it, “I don’t understand what you humans eat. On one plate, you have something telling you your butt’s too big, and on the other plate, you have the proof!”
Medusas are sophisticated headwear, typically worn by long-haired women, found among Eloi in Europe, China, and the more fashion-forward Duncanite enclaves. The Medusa is a tiny mechanism that functions as an endoskeleton for hair, which is wrapped around its multiple snake-like armatures. Typical Medusas have from eight to 20 snakes. As the advertising around Medusas emphasizes the Greek mythological roots, only women are encouraged to wear them – some Medusa manufacturers go so far as to make their model shut down if the device detects it is being worn by a genetic male.
It takes upwards of an hour to perform the initial installation of a Medusa, as the hair must be threaded through the unit, wrapped around each snake, and nanogelled into place. Coloring is often applied with the nanogel. Each snakehead has small camera eyes and a functional mouth able to speak, usually only in a hiss. Some also snap, although rarely enough to cause damage. Once installed, a wearer must return to a salon for at least monthly maintenance; if she is unable to do so, the Medusa will go dormant (see below) until the next maintenance session.
The base of the Medusa is linked to the wearer’s virtual-interface implant; salons refuse to install a Medusa on someone without a VII. The wearer can see through the “eyes” of the snakes at will – which can be very confusing, but is sometimes useful for looking backwards. Once activated, the snakes have three modes: dormant, in which they lie flat, appearing more or less like normal hair, albeit with snake heads at the ends; autonomous, in which the snakes writhe, hiss, and look around on their own; and controlled, where the wearer can issue various commands to the snakes. Medusas are often designed to respond to the wearer’s emotional state – hissing when angry, writhing quickly when excited, gently rippling when happy, etc. Medusas make use of solar power, electrostatic power from the wearer’s skin, and a B cell, which must be replaced annually.
Medusas are not common, although most people are familiar with them from media appearances and not frightened to see one in person. Costs for Medusas vary greatly by designer. While the component hardware is not inherently expensive, prices are often inflated for fashionable brands. In addition, each manufacturer provides its own heavily copyright-protected behavioral software, and much of the differentiation between designers is based not on the Medusa’s physical appearance, but on how lifelike, artistic, or subtle the snake behavior is.
Specialized Medusas with the ability to spit poison, acid, or nanoweapons have appeared in various adventure InVid, but are not known to be real – although such a modification is possible…
Attribute Modifiers: ST -9 [-80]; HT +2 [20].
Advantages: 360-Degree Vision (Snake heads) [25]; Absolute Direction [4] (Uses GPS, -20%); Doesn’t Breathe [20]; DR 1 [3]; Extra Arms 4 (Short; No physical attack) [8]; Flexibility [15]; Injury Tolerance (No Brain) [5]; Machine Body [37]; Manual Dexterity 3 [9]; Radio Hearing (Only form of hearing) [0]; Radio Speech (Infrared, +20%; Reduced range 2, -10%) [28].
Disadvantages: Dependency (Maintenance; common, monthly) [-5]; Inconvenient Size (Under two feet tall) [-15]; Mistaken Identity [-5]; Reduced Hit Points -11 [-55]; Reduced Move (Running) 4 [-20]; Social Stigma (Valuable Property) [-10].
Features: Complexity 4-6 Tiny computer.
Date: 2094. Cost: $500 + $20 per snake to $50,000 + $3,000 per snake.
This is a typical mid-range eight-armed Medusa, controlled by a tiny distributed computer. It automatically keeps the hair clean and styled, and if desired can rearrange the wearer’s hair according to practicality, fashion, or custom.
This particular model is produced by Labyrinth Designs, and is marketed as the “Gorgon II.” It features a Cheap Compact Tiny Computer, ($40) and runs an NAI-4 ($250) with Fashion Sense ($50) [5], in concert with Professional Skill (Hairstylist)-12 [10] (Complexity 3, $50) and Acting (Snakehair)-11/17 [10] (Complexity 3, $50). Most other designs have similar specs, although some versions with Compact Genius Tiny computers run an LAI-6. It costs 2 points for each additional snake above the standard four. 0.5 lbs., 1’ extension.
“My wife asked, as she left me, what was next – fighting sharks? I told her not to be ridiculous. A shark would be too easy. She didn’t laugh.” – Tommy Marquez, Danger Sportsman of the Year 2152, in an interview a week before his death in the 2154 Tetrathalon
According to the pundits, death is now far less popular than it used to be, and a substantial number of people hope to avoid it entirely. Life, according to the enthusiasts of so-called “danger sports,” has suffered a similar drop in popularity: teletourism, VR sex, and even virtual-interface glasses divorce people from the real world. Advanced medical techniques, up to and including emergency brainpeeling, remove the fear of danger that gives zest to life. And the engineering of human life itself has even removed the fun of competitive sports! The decline of the Olympic Games resulting from the radical improvement in human bioengineering was not compensated by events celebrating such technologies, such as the Kyoto Cup HuGEX Games, which many critics deride as crass advertising for geneticengineering firms. Many people looking for an athletic thrill now turn to danger sports.
Proponents of danger sports pit themselves against the universe in order to feel alive. More often than not the participants eventually end up dead or nearly so. In one notorious event, the annual Real Men on the Moon race – 50 meters across the Lunar surface without vacc suits! – every participant requires hospitalization at the end of the run and each year two to five suffer irreversible brain damage. The Olympus Mons Free Climb is a race to scale the volcano’s two-and-a-half mile high northwest escarpment without using ropes or specialized climbing gear; last year, three climbers fell to their deaths.
Their activities are condemned by authorities as a danger to themselves and others: the space-drop stage of a tetrathalon, for example, has about a 50% chance of permanently killing one competitor per event, and on one occasion severely injured an observer. The 2154 tetrathalon killed Tommy Marquez, long one of the mostfamous danger sportsmen. The winner of the event, Alphonse Nsanze of Burundi, is now a regular guest on InVid talk shows, and just signed a contract for an upslink implant to record his next Real Men on the Moon run.
Danger sports are gaining in popularity, not only with the competitors but with the spectators. VR sims, after all, can only give the illusion of personal risk; intellectually, no matter how good the simulation, the user knows that he is in no danger. To stand in an audience watching a jetpack race, knowing that an all-too-possible mistake in piloting could cause not only the death of the pilot, but also that of crowd members, brings the entire experience into sharp focus. The difficulty of obtaining access to these oftillicit events only serves to reinforce the meme. For those who cannot attend danger sports live, a growing market in slinkies recorded by the participants provides an exciting alternative. By custom, only recordings by those who survive an event are sold, although a thriving black market exists for slinkies ending in the athlete’s death.
Many danger-sports participants are under 25 years old and have a strong belief in the resilience of their bodies and their ability to be patched up from all but the messiest disasters. But more than half of the participants and the vast majority of the audiences are much older people – mostly men, but not exclusively – who have far less rugged biologies and little expectation of vastly extended lives. Memeticists are eager to study some of them to determine whether they have a traditional “death wish” or something more novel. The vast majority are human or parahuman. While bioroids and SAIs have, at times, expressed interest in some of the events, there is a strong biochauvinist undercurrent in the danger-sports world.
Ever since man moved into space full time, the quest for comfortable, useful, and attractive zero-gee clothing has been an ongoing one. A variety of outfit designs have come and gone over the decades, but one item has stuck around: the tabi. Based on the Japanese split-toe slipper, the so-called “spacer tabi” allows for comfort when walking in positive-gee environments and the ability to use the crude gripping ability of toes in zero gee.
In the early 2100s, spacer tabi suddenly became popular on Earth. Nearly all are made with memswear, allowing them to function as relaxation slippers as well as outdoor footwear. Good spacer tabi can be worn in nearly any environment, although they are not recommended for extreme cold (below 0° F). Spacer tabi come in a wider variety of color and fabric on Earth than they do in space, and have become popular in most urban settings. Most adults in Fourth and Fifth Wave countries have at least one pair of spacer tabi in the closet.
Spacer tabi (standard): $50, 1-2 lbs.; Spacer tabi (all-weather): $150, 2 lbs.
Sleep in my robotic skin. I’d kill for the touch of night! I’m splitting open from inside, My soul is reaching for the light! – From Biometal Lullaby, by Lords of the Belt
Hard Edge is a fairly popular music style heard in dance clubs and on the streets of many cities. It combines elements of Soft Edge music and traditional rock, and is most known for the elaborate dances many Hard Edgers engage in at concerts. Hard Edge pop culture presents the image of a harsh environment of dancing competitions and youthful bravado. It is most common in cultures where the population is much older than the global average – Japan, Korea, and much of western Europe.
In her seminal 2112 documentary Stepping Off, Marcy Park followed the lives of a group of Hard Edgers in Seoul. She discovered that the external signs of aggression and display – the hard leather clothing, the shaved heads, the overtly sexual postures – masked fairly normal and rather shy teenagers. This was somewhat expected, as Park admitted, as it followed teen patterns for generations. What was not predicted is the degree of cooperation between Hard Edger gangs in preparation for dance competitions, known worldwide as “circles.”
Each Hard Edger group seeks to develop its own style of dance, but does so in part by paying close attention to the evolution of other groups’ moves. This isn’t spying – the goal is to find out what not to do, because copying another gang’s routine, even inadvertently, is shameful. The aggressiveness and shouting during the dance circles is part of the overall performance, and Park was able to decode some of the connections between seemingly violent displays in the audience and dance moves in the circle itself.
Stepping Off, while critically acclaimed, did not receive wide attention, and the popular perception of Hard Edgers remains that they are youth gangs to be avoided. In a 2114 interview on the Spinner memenet, Park lamented that by avoiding Hard Edge circles, art audiences were missing out on some of the most-original dance performances around. Park was dismayed by the attention given to the more lyrical but in her words “much more superficial” Soft Edge movement. In this, her opinion matches the contempt many Hard Edgers have for Soft Edgers.
While the tough reputation of Hard Edgers means that they may suffer from police harassment and popular suspicion, it does often result in occasional employment as bodyguards, bouncers, and other jobs requiring the employee to look intimidating.
Cyrus: What is your plan, my liege? Al-Azar: Climb the wall, disable the force field, rescue Aliyyah, and elude a regiment of Iron Knights. What could be simpler? (An explosion rocks the tower above them.) Al-Azar and Cyrus: (together) This can’t be good… – From The Golden Jihad: Episode 79, The Spiral Path, 2083
In 2081, a small production company in pre-TSA Indonesia created an InVid show called The Golden Jihad, a science-fantasy epic set in a world that echoed elements of the Arabian Nights, but with a variety of technology twists. The main villains were robots, the flying carpets could travel between planets using something called an “Ebony Gate,” and the evil Sultan Koh lived on a vast starship. It quickly developed a small-but-loyal following around the world, overshadowed by the much more widespread popularity of Starburst Station. The show lasted for 50 episodes, but suspended production when the political situation in Indonesia grew chaotic. About a year later, the producers moved to Lebanon and created another 150 episodes before ceasing production entirely in 2086. They then returned to Indonesia, where they worked on TSA propaganda and more-conventional entertainment programs.
Copies of the show continued to float around the Web, and were easily found on the TSA Web. No more would be made, however, and the production company stated bluntly that it had no interest in doing big-budget versions in Bollywood. In 2092, a fan created a full-length episode using common home-production tools; this installment quickly became wildly popular among other Jihad fans. Soon “Jihadis” (as they called themselves) around the world were making their own episodes of Golden Jihad to share with other fans and occasionally to sell.
In 2081, the WTO tried to shut down these copyright violations, but the original producers of the show pointedly refused to participate in the proceedings. They stated that they believed that the fans should own the show. As a result, amateur productions of Golden Jihad stories have become the most widely seen homebrew InVids on the Web. Most of the fan episodes are really bad, but a few – including the feature-length Al-Azar on the Red Planet, made in 2099 – are cult classics. The only homemade Golden Jihad InVids that the WTO goes after are those which violate other copyrights, such as the subversive and now very hard to find Al-Azar Meets the Eternal Commander, a 2094 InVid in which a damaged Ebony Gate transports Al-Azar and friends to the Starburst Station.
Although no official releases have been made for years, The Golden Jihad remains one of the more widely recognized fantasy-adventure stories around. Some of its catch phrases – most notably “this can’t be good…” – are known worldwide. Ironically, the show is now considered suspect in the Islamic Caliphate, although smuggled copies are readily found in local markets.
There are several dozen active Jihadi websites and memenets, along with several different “shared universes” for collaborative storytelling. Two different Golden Jihad virtual kingdoms compete for participants. One is hosted on the TSA Web in Peru, where there is a surprisingly fanatical following of the show, and the other is on the mainstream Web in Singapore. Nearly 100 sites on the Web provide digital sets and background characters for people making their own Golden Jihad episodes. Jihadis consider themselves to be more “co-creators” than fans, and some express disdain the slavish devotion to someone else’s work as seen in the fans of Starburst Station.
In many cultures, headwear was a traditional part of a standard outfit until the latter half of the 20th century. Epidemics of skin cancer resulting from the ozone layer thinning in the early to mid-21st century led to a resurgence in their use, and hats remain popular, especially in Australia and New Zealand, southern South America, southern Africa, and northern Europe. Hats and other headwear are far less common in the United States than in much of the rest of the world, aside from immigrant communities.
Given that the reason for wearing hats is as much for health as for fashion, certain designs are much less common than others. Skin cancer from UV exposure occurs most often on the ears, nose, and the top of the head, so hats have to cover more than a typical baseball cap in order to be effective. Depending on region and culture, wide-brimmed hats, head wraps and scarves, or keffiyeh-style headwear are the most common. Many modern hats integrate virtualinterface elements.
Different cultures have different rules for the propriety of wearing headdresses indoors, although in most locations it is largely acceptable outside of formal situations. The spread of the ability to cure most cancers easily, combined with persistent skin protection gels, is leading to the decline of hats as fashion. Still, more than half the adults outside of the U.S. wear headgear of some sort.
Dear AdviceSystem3000: My husband and I have been married for over a decade now, and are still very much in love. Recently, he was diagnosed with Rafferty’s Syndrome, a serious neurological condition. He’ll be fine, fortunately, except that for the next two years he’ll be in nano treatment and he can’t use a virtual interface. At all. We’re working out arrangements for his professional life, but there’s a bigger issue. We’ve only ever been intimate through our virtual interfaces. The idea of going without for the next two years is staggering for him, and I want to be a loving partner. But I really don’t even know where to start. Help! Signed, First Night After 10 Years – From an anonymous advice memenet, 2154
The virtual-interface implant has proven an invaluable aid for all sorts of purposes, not least of which is sex. Using VIIs, two or more lovers can share any kind of scenario in any setting; they may do so even if separated by a city, continent, or ocean. The details of the scenario can be different for each participant, and with imaginative programming and a little flexibility stimuli can even be mapped onto utterly dissimilar experiences. The experience can be recorded and played back later when alone, and busy lovers may even send eidolons of themselves to a virtual rendezvous to record the experience and replay the scenario later.
VR sex can be so rewarding that many find the experience of real-world sex comparatively uncomfortable, inconvenient, disappointing, and frankly… messy. Coupled with the occasional scare-memes of horrible nanoviruses spread by sexual contact, many with VIIs eschew real sex altogether. There are married couples who have never “gotten messy” with each other in the real world, being perfectly content with their shared virtual seraglios. And there are those who, having experienced VR sex since puberty, and being put off by a few peers who have tried real-world sex, have never gotten messy with anybody and perhaps never will.
Since sex and reproduction have long since gone their separate ways, concerns about this situation are minimal. Indeed, since the meme of virginity being a precious thing has never truly gone away, many parents find themselves pleased with the idea of offspring who will never lose this most precious possession and yet will still have fulfilling lives. They are less pleased with the idea of secret VR licentiousness, but are willing to accept the trade-off.
This “new virginity” has been a recognized social phenomenon in Europe for the last decade at least, and probably was evident a decade earlier. It is of growing significance in the SAC and PRA. As American culture has long been squeamish about the use of prurient VR-ware by teens, the rate of physical activity in the United States hasn’t dropped nearly as much as in other advanced regions. China, conversely, has encouraged the use of virtual sexual experiences for as long as they’ve been available, as a way of managing population growth.
The “new virginity” meme pops up infrequently in popular media, largely in stories where the virtually experienced but physically virginal partners are stuck in a setting where VR relationships are impossible.
I think the final straw was seeing Gram and Grep at the Halloween party carrying their anti-Andes War signs and dressed in their old yellow slickers, still stained from 50-year-old acid rain and stinking vaguely of crowd-control gas. I mean, okay, I get it, you were there in the era that music was good, food was real, protesters believed in things that mattered, and people were people. We all know it, you never let us forget it. Can’t you just get over yourselves a little bit? – Miranda Menendez, How Much Longer? slog, 2098
There is a pop-memetics concept that all people have “identity decades,” a point in their lives when they are most familiar with emerging ideas, trends, and culture. For many people, this decade is usually when they are in their 20’s, but in some cases it can be much later in a person’s life. For the vast majority, once the “identity decade” passes, people are stuck feeling increasingly out of it and nostalgic for the time when life made more sense. But in a world where people spend the vast majority of their lives in the years after their “identity decade,” nostalgia for past greatness is a common emotion.
In 2155, nostalgia is everywhere. It manifests in vehicle design, public-space design, advertising, clothing, entertainment… all manner of popular culture. In much of the United States and Europe, public manifestations of nostalgia have been seemingly stuck in the 2050s and 2060s, roughly the “identity decade” of the so-called “Outbreak Generation”. A noticeable portion of everyday life in most American and European urban centers – ambient music, restaurants, InVids – contains references to life in the 50s and 60s, and most people, even those born long after the era, understand the references. AsOutbreakers continue to hold civic and corporate leadership positions, this is not likely to change any time soon.
Rejectionism “Don’t want it, don’t need it, already happy without it. Seems reason enough not to get it.” – Phrase posted throughout the What Do I Buy Now?!? website by an anonymous prankster
Rejectionism is opposition to the use of certain technologies; the technologies vary, depending upon who holds the meme. Rejectionism sometimes stands on its own, but in many cases is a memetic “add-on.” There is no rejectionist movement or ideology per se, but rejectionism shows up as an element in many different philosophies. The meme’s manifestation within this variety of memeplexes is remarkably consistent.
It’s important to note that rejectionism opposes the use of a technology, not its existence. For example, biochauvinists who wish to destroy SAIs and SAI-creation technology are not rejectionists. But if those same biochauvinists refuse to wear virtual interfaces because they include NAIs, but don’t really care if others do, then they have adopted a rejectionist opinion about VIIs and VIGs. Rejectionism is rarely activist.
Rejectionism usually appears as an element in an individual’s personal lifestyle. Such attitudes are adopted for a wide array of reasons. Some people cite a technology’s impact on their health, some ethical objections, and some simply because they just don’t like the way the technology changes people. Common rejectionist focuses include nanotechnology, implants, virtual interfaces of all types – “I’ll learn about the world the way my grandparents did, through noninteractive video!” – and teleoperation.
While many people harbor some rejectionist memes, few people know that the continued propagation of rejectionism in a world where technological consumerism is a dominant memeplex is in part the result of a long-lasting memetic campaign. A distributed, anarchic, and otherwise fractious group calling itself “Just Stop It” has been engaging in this guerrilla memetic campaign for the last 50 years. Just Stop It claims a variety of “culture jammer” and anticonsumerist groups as its philosophical forebears. Just Stop It gets very little media attention, and goes out of its way to avoid the spotlight, but its rejectionist campaign has been very successful. Just Stop It members are anonymous, even to each other – people aware of the group would be surprised to learn that most members work in the advertising profession!
The sail unfurls, The ocean rises, Your touch is my wind. – From Opus 19, by Elegiac
Soft Edge is one of the currently popular musical styles, and can be heard at gatherings of young people around the world. The music is melodic and romantic, and the pop culture surrounding the music tends to be equally dreamy. In contrast with Hard Edgers, Soft Edgers adopt a much friendlier, calmer attitude around outsiders. Puffy, lacey tunics, elaborate makeup, and extensive use of digital hair and nanomorphic tattoos (see p. TS146) are commonplace among Soft Edgers. The overall image of the subculture is that of a loving, almost sappy community. The media celebrates Soft Edgers as what all young people should be.
This is not an entirely realistic appraisal, however. Soft Edger groups, often called “nests,” are strictly hierarchical, and dominance is asserted not by violence but by ruthless words. For Soft Edgers who know their place in the nest, their experiences can be as loving and tender as outsiders imagine. But the moment a Soft Edger steps outside of his assigned role, the group can turn vindictive. Leaders of Soft Edge nests make a point of learning whatever details they can about their underlings, particularly secret, scandalous bits that can be used to cut them down if necessary. Members rise and fall in the nest hierarchy on the basis of cutting word play. This verbal jousting can go on for hours as each combatant attempts to be more boastful, more insulting, and, critically, more clever than the other. Crudity is worthless; the most valuable attacks are those that don’t sink in immediately. “A kind word kills slowly” is a favored Soft Edger saying. One exposé of Soft Edge life referred to it as “Oscar Wilde meets Machiavelli.”
The Soft Edge subculture has been around for over a decade now. Many of the original “Transromantics” – the term some older Soft Edgers used for themselves – have moved into the adult world. While they no longer wear the Soft Edge costume, they still embrace the behavioral rules. Soft Edger adults are viciously manipulative managers and leaders, and some have found a niche for themselves in the world of politics. One of the founders of the movement, Gordon King, will likely be elected mayor of Atlanta in 2156.
“The old cliché is to act in ways that would not harm the next seven generations – about 200, 300 years tops. But when you figure you’re going to live another thousand years at least, 300 years starts to sound kind of silly.” – Barb Mya, on a 30C website
“30C” isn’t a group or movement so much as a media label, usually used to refer to young Fifth Wavers who intend to live to and past the year 3000 – although, too often, the label is used to refer to any person born after 2095. The term first appeared in a 2107 TEN report, “A Generation at Risk.” Many referred to by the title “30C” decided that it was worth using, and it’s easy to find squabbles all over the youth-oriented parts of the Web between those who find the label meaningful and those who find it demeaning.
Among those who like the term, there are consistent elements in the ways they’ve chosen to live their lives. The guiding philosophy of 30C is to make all decisions based on the question of how those choices will affect the next 900 or more years. Many won’t have any lasting effect, and being able to recognize which issues have long-term consequences and which are more transient is a useful skill. Some 30Cers err on the side of caution, however, and are prone to be more conservative in their lifestyles than others in their generational cohort. A small minority of 30Cers focus on the “butterfly effect”-like results of small decisions, and find themselves trying to make fewer and fewer choices at all. These individuals tend to drop out of society and find a nice Isolate community willing to take them in.
30Cers are often militant in their avoidance of new technologies that might be hard to relinquish, even after obsolescence. They often avoid personal modifications other than a carefully selected few that promote extended life and health, reasoning that they don’t want to get stuck with dead-end or primitive mods. Most 30Cers are fearful of being reliant upon a technology that can become dated. “If this tech and that tech are cutting-edge now, what will be the revolutionary tech in 50 years? 100 years? Why get locked into a design I’m only going to regret later?” Modifications that can easily be upgraded or removed are favored in the 30C philosophy. As a result, 30Cers avoid using implanted virtual interfaces, preferring wearable systems.
30Cers spend much time and energy building models of the changing world, trying to live lives in accordance with sustainable futures. In this way, some 30Cers see themselves as the philosophical descendants of 20th century Greens, although most avoid any connection with earlier and inherently short-sighted ideologies. But while 30Cers have a strong desire to see the year 3000, they want to live life along the way. 30C is adamant about not using nanostasis or similar methods to drop out for a millennium; 30Cers want to see it all.
As the 30C meme has shown up in a variety of Fifth Wave societies, no two 30Cers are identical. They can be both adventurous and careful, focused on both novelty and structure. They want to see the world, but they know that they don’t need to rush. They have time.
“Stay awake for the next 10,000 years? Why on Earth would I want to do that? I’m curious about what the future will look like, not curious about how long it will take me to die of sheer boredom.” – Comment from Natasha Belkin on sci.nanostasis.talk
Many who have a desire to see how the future unfolds are far too old to take advantage of new life-extension technologies and far too uncertain about brainpeeling to become an infomorph. Another option remains, however: nanostasis. Properly maintained, a body can remain in nanostasis indefinitely. Coming out of stasis after a century is no more dangerous than coming out after a day. People who choose to use nanostasis to freeze themselves into the future are called “timesicles,” a derisive phrase that many nanostasis enthusiasts nonetheless wear proudly.
Few timesicles just set the timer for the year 3000 or 30,000 and slip off to nanodreamland. The vast majority are curious about what happens along the way and intend to be awakened either every set number of years or if an “interesting event” happens – the definition of “interesting” being the subject of extensive interviews between the prefrozen timesicle and the attendant AI. Once brought out of stasis, timesicles may simply take a quick look around and go back to stasis, or may choose to stick around for awhile. How many will choose which course remains to be seen.
The majority of timesicles are older, extremely wealthy, and have either a cultural or personal aversion to brainpeels and ghosting. Nanostasis systems are quite expensive, and the ancillary equipment to keep a timesicle safe and secure only adds to the cost. Timesicle crypts are set up with an attendant AI and are self-powered with the AI programmed to seek out new power sources if the builtin supply is threatened. There are also appropriately comfortable living quarters for the timesicle after he or she comes out of stasis. Some, especially those launched into space, are aggressively defended. Any unexpected contingencies will be paid for using compounded interest on existing fortunes, assuming that money is still meaningful at that point. A single nanostasis pod set up for extended storage, including revival nanomachines, extra nanostasis nanomachines for multiple stasis/revival cycles, cyberdoc AI with Complexity 8 Physician skillset (Physician-16), and long-term power supply can cost upwards of $5,000,000 – including maintenance costs, paid up front, and fuel. This does not include the cost of a ship, rental of a lava tube on the Moon, defensive systems, etc.
There are occasional rumors that nanostasis systems can fail in complex, hard to spot ways, and have done so. In these rare occasions, the bodies in the pods quietly die, with nobody the wiser. The various nanostasis system manufacturers deny that this is possible, and there is no proof that it has happened. Still, the meme is widely held.
Nobody quite knows how many timesicles are currently waiting for something interesting to happen. Estimates range from a couple thousand to nearly 100,000. Given the delicacy and value of the systems, most timesicle crypts are well hidden. Some are very likely on Earth, in out-of-the-way locations; many more are on the Moon, and a growing minority are thought to be on private yachts in the Deep Beyond, often in a trans-Uranus cometary-type orbit.
The concern for secrecy and security is not without cause. In 2111, the timesicle crypt of Zelda and Ali Berkeley, two of Ithemba Biotechnologies’ original investors, was discovered and broken into by a group seeking to defraud the couple. The attendant AI was erased, and the nanostasis pods were taken to a warehouse in Johannesburg. Although the Berkeleys had only been in nanostasis for three years, the criminals created an elaborate virtual environment to convince them that something had gone horribly wrong, and that they had been in stasis for nearly 40,000 years. The group made the world seem as disorienting as possible, and pressed the Berkeleys for information about their past… including passcodes to their bank accounts. After the Berkeleys’ fortune had been plundered, the criminals put them back in their nanostasis pods, and left them in the warehouse. They weren’t discovered for several weeks. By the time they were reawakened and had figured out what had happened, the thieves and the Berkeleys’ fortune were long gone.
A less-tragic event occurred in mid-2114, on a timesicle yacht owned by a former Nanodynamics board member, Michael Choi, and his husband, Robert Li. According to USAF records, the yacht was attacked by a pirate vessel during its long orbit in the Deep Beyond. The onboard AI called out for local authorities, but it took the nearest security vessel, the DFS-3 Tabris, five days to arrive. When the American forces got to the yacht, they found the pirate vessel still attached, but all of the pirates dead. It turned out that the yacht had been built with military-grade defenses, including swarms and hunter-killer cybershells. Fortunately, the AI recognized the Tabris as a friendly vessel, and ordered the yacht’s defenses to stand down. The timesicle residents were undisturbed.
I hold the rose on the surface of the Moon, and wonder… If it can never smell sweetly, can it truly be named a rose? – Maxwell 17, Reflections
The hobby of cultivating and breeding roses is still strong in 2155; now rose fanciers grow flowers that are beyond their forerunners’ imaginations. With sufficiently advanced biotechnology, it is possible to engineer organisms that can survive the extremes of UV radiation, stark cold of vacuum, and sleeting rain of particles from the solar wind.
Plant genetic engineering in the early 21st century allowed for an explosion in morphological expression in rose varieties. Various organizations, such as the Royal National Rose Society in Great Britain and the American Rose Society, quickly reacted by banning any “artificial” modifications, forcing rose breeders to rely on old techniques and traditional hybridization. Nonetheless, some breeders continued to experiment with modern genetic engineering and transgenic designs, believing correctly that there would be a market for these new roses. From this group grew the VacRose; morphological extremes are the bread and butter to this new breed of rose fancier.
Rose breeders now include those who strive to grow roses in any and every environment possible. VacRose fanciers breed varieties of rose for Mars, Mercury, and zero-gee environments. Even the most extravagant of transgenic rose growers and other cultivators consider VacRose designs as extreme, equaled only by a 2082 Earth-bound rose created with genomic alterations limiting it to bloom only once every 1,000 years.
Rose fancying is a hobby meme. As such it has undergone many cycles of popularity and decline, with the most recent peak during the 2104 race to produce a bloom for the polar regions of Mercury. Roses designed to survive in such extreme environments can rarely withstand conditions comfortable for humans, and VacRoses can only be appreciated virtually or at best through glass. Nonetheless, theft of VacRoses is not unknown; their fragility and exotic nature lead to high prices on the black market. Even the genome licenses for well-designed, impossibly rare VacRoses can fetch tens of thousands of dollars on the legal collector’s market.
In March of 2155, the Luna City VacRose Society is holding an exhibition and contest, certain to bring out some of the newest and strangest variations on the rose genome. Security will be exceedingly tight, as there is a rumor that a Triad-connected mob has offered substantial sums of money for intact new-variety VacRoses.
Subcultures often adopt body-decoration styles specifically intended to shock more-conventional communities. In years past, tattoos, piercings, scarification, and in the 2030s cutting off the last knuckle of the little finger all appeared in fringe communities as outrageous forms of body modification. Each, in turn, spread to the mainstream for a brief – or, in the case of tattoos, extended – stay as a fashion trend.
The latest candidate for this pattern appeared in Eastern Europe in 2153, and is slowly spreading to other regions. Most people call it becoming “visible,” although devotees in Albania refer to it as “opening up.” Whatever the name, the act is the same: bodies are modified to expose their inner workings.
Most visibles have replaced stretches of their skin with transparent bioplastic to show the muscle, sinews, nerves, etc. This is most often done on the arm, for ease of display, although some visibles have opened up their stomachs and faces. The look is shocking for most viewers: the skin seems to fade leading to a patch where inner tissues are visible. Most patches are no more than a few square inches in size, although some visibles have had large parts of their bodies (such as their entire back or chest) made transparent. As this bizarre practice began to spread, the mainstream media were quick to call out an alarm. They noticed accurately that such a practice would have serious negative health effects due to the possibility of internal sunburn and increased cancer risks. In turn, images of scary young men with visible muscles started appearing in the more-edgy publications and InVids. The look is certainly intimidating and disgusting to most people, a result that appeals to a sizeable population segment.
Few reputable physicians perform the necessary skin grafts, and there are some rumblings in the European Union about making transparent bioplastic illegal – or, at least, highly restricted – until the trend runs its course. If that happens, the cost of the procedure will likely increase significantly. In November 2154, a virtual-clothing (see p. 82) designer named Frankie! released an outfit that provided the appearance of exposed musculature and tissue without actually requiring surgery.
In game terms, having visibles causes damage to the internal organs, reducing HT; -1 to HT every year (small area), six months (medium area), or three months (large area). The individual recovers 1 HT/month after the patch is removed and replaced with bandaging.
Bioplastic skin graft on face or back of hand (small): $1,000 (including surgery), LC 6 now, LC 2 or 3 soon.
Bioplastic skin graft on arm (medium): $2,500 (including surgery), LC 6 now, LC 2 or 3 soon.
Bioplastic skin graft on chest or back (large): $5,000 (including surgery), LC 6 now, LC 2 or 3 soon.
“Visible”-style Virtual Outfit: $250.