“Primitive isn’t the same as stupid.”
~ Conner Quick
Note: This is the third excerpt in a series. Part one is here, part two here.
Truth was, Conner’s plans were only vapor. He needed a new rhythm, far from his typical tempo. His intuition was whispering caution, telling him to divide his team, observe their movements, and quietly follow his leads.
The shaft doors slid open onto a diamond on black velvet sky. The horizon was wearing a burnt shade of tangerine when the Skyler descended the Canyon. In the hour since, tomorrow had started to chew on yesterday. The shuttle was outlined against a pregnant moon, and Conner felt an almost swollen nobility as he approached the elegance of his own design.
Tessa and Leah leaned against the side of the Skyler with lazy uncertainty. Even through the heavy folds of an evening blanket, Conner could see their eyes swimming in concern, their expressions a rough mix of weary love and undiluted loyalty. Conner half smiled, nodded, then stepped behind them into the cabin of the Skyler.
“What now?” Leah spoke, but both girls stood with their arms crossed in front of him.
“You name it,” Tessa said. Her concern seemed genuine, but that meant nothing. Tessa could have passed a polygraph with a witness in the room.
“Nothing,” Conner said. He stole a glance at the disappearing canyon and pressed his thumb into his temple. “Right now, I just need time to think.” What he really needed was two hours online and in private.
The girls retreated to their quiet corner of the shuttle and Conner ran his finger across the glass, settling on the most famous icon in the entire world: a cash register peeping from behind a wide smile.
The icon itself was somewhat amusing since cash registers had been an endangered species for over a decade. Conner hadn’t seen one in years, and maybe only a half dozen in his lifetime. The only place one might find such a relic was in a small off the map mercantile with no online presence, but a store like that was about as common as a gas engine.
These days everything was online; part of a large franchise or global chain. Once the majority of the populace had their financial info embedded in their Codec with all the rest of their DNA and random data, there stood little reason for registers. In the new world, there was no change given or charge slips signed. Fingerprints and retinal scans didn’t lie. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be for a pair of khakis.
The one icon that gleamed in ubiquity across every glassy desktop in the nation, rendering any material desire just three clicks away, was developed by Everything NEXus at the apex of their rising authority, back before the web moved from .com to .nexus. Now their little app was a standard install on every operating system on every computer across the globe.
The icon spooled into a menu asking Conner where he’d like to begin. “Good question,” he pressed his thumb deeper into his temple.
Categories started broad, gradually refining themselves; Clothes — Men — Style–Size– Color… If a shopper couldn’t locate their item from the several hundred available selections, the application instantly redirected them to another vendor. Because Everything Dot Nexus generated daily traffic greater than the next four most popular sites combined, everyone was willing to take the link even with a 15% cut.
The model was genius. 15% was easy to justify considering the found traffic, but it piled to a fortune for Everything NEXus when you considered they weren’t selling anything outside the privilege of redirection. Analysts predicted the company would break a hundred million novas per day, come January.
“Finished your shopping?” Tessa’s voice shook Conner to almost standing. She was right behind him, he wondered for how long. He quickly touched the chaos icon and spun his chair around.
Writer Dad
Writer Dad is also a ghostwriter for hire. Click to have your copy polished.
No related posts.
Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.
