Post by Scruffy on Jun 25, 2013 19:46:02 GMT -5
This is a story about an old lady in 2201 telling a story to her grandchildren about her self when she was 18, in 2117.
Also if I make a typo and call Kaney Kanye I apolgize
When I was growing up, copets were reatively new. They'd only been created thirteen years before my birth, but by the time I was ten, they were as popular as cell phones in the 2020s or plus-holonets nowadays. My brother Kaney, however, had a strange obsession with the twenty-teens, always carrying around his ugly looking iphone and wearing his tacky duck dynasty t-shirt and google glasses, even though holonets even back in 2117 worked a hell of a lot better than any vintage google glasses ever could. He didn't seem to realize that holonets are much better - they could already project holograms of computer data and the internet. They were glitchier than they are today, and the size of the holograms weren't adjustable, but they were pretty efficient for the time.
Kaney was five years older than me, and he had a hatred towards copets and modern technology and such like that. The only thing he liked about the 2110s was that the life expectancy was 94. Can you imagine that? How unhealthy we were back then! I'm well over a hundred and probably have thirty more years left in me before I drop dead.
Anyway, on with the rise of copets. Yes, those perfect little bots had their own humble beginnings. I don't know why the term copets was chosen, because the name copets covers a wide range of brands (most popular back then was Yachow Inc.). I think it was because they are meant to be companions, or because they could be coworkers. In the early 2100s real animals were much more common than copets, opposed to now, where copets are slightly more popular than real animals.
As soon as I turned sixteen and after the death of my two cats I got a copet. Copets back then had no fur, they were pure soft shiny metal and illuminated eyes. Beautiful, but they looked like nothing realistic. They couldn't speak, either, except for their respective animal sounds. My first copet was Winsor, a codog that stood to my knee. He was dark blue and white I refused to let his beautiful shiny skin be soiled but mud, so we spent most of our time inside. His eyelights turned on in dim light and darkness, a bright, pretty green that shoothed me at night when he slept under my arm.
When I was eighteen I finally started taking Winsor for walks outside. Walking down Springworthy Street for the first time, Winsor tensed and whipped his head westward and started electronically barking. He was barking at a dog that my neighbor was walking. Not a codog, a real dog, and I finally tugged Winsor away before he could run after it.
Winsor always loved cats, but he disliked codogs and real dogs. Some kind of rivalry, I guess. His personality chip was at least realistic in terms of doghood unlike his shiny appearance. With every memory patch we got for him he didn't act any differently towards other dogs, which was fine by me, because it was all the more genuine. People yelled at me when they came over with their dogs, telling me Winsor had behavioral problems and that we should buy him a very expensive memory patch to fix this. We always declined.
The same day he barked at the neighbor dog I walked him to my brother's place of work, the pawn shop on the north side of town. Perfect for Kaney because he would always be surrounded by the things of the 2000s. I tugged open the door and Winsor waited impatiently for me to walk in first.
Kaney was selling a customer a dsi and a copy of Resident Evil Deadly Silence. He wished the girl a nice day and smiled at me before glaring at Winsor. He removed his google glasses and set them on the shelf behind him. "Hello, Ress. How's it going? Why is Winsor here? You never bring him outside."
"I thought it was time to walk Winsor like a real dog." I said.
"But he's not a real dog. He's a co. An ugly glitchy piece of new technology." Kaney responded with a bored expression.
"He's my best friend. Copets are real pets too. Just because they don't have flesh and can't breed doesn't mean a thing." I crouched next to Winsor and patted him on the head. He nuzzled me, leaped enthusiasticaly, and barked. "See how cute he is?"
"Get that mutt out of my shop."
"What's your problem? You let other people bring pets in all the time." I stood up and crossed my arms. Winsor wasn't hurting Kaney at all. I had just wanted to see my brother.
"Yeah, real animals. Flesh and bone, lungs and fur. Bring him home." He snarled.
"You fucking bastard, I love Winsor!" I yelled, tugging on Winsor's leesh and bringing him out the door. As I opened it, Kaney's co-worker Yensen came out from the workroom and called to me, "YOLO! See ya later, Ress!"
Those stupid 2000s phrases!
Anyway, I walked myself and Winsor home. Two weeks later we set out again. I forced Kaney to come with me, and ignored his protests, but let him bring his 3ds and iphone. Not that I could've stopped him from bringing them with. He was twenty-three and I couldn't boss him around. Kaney and Winsor ignored each other for most of the trip, until we found ourselves at a dead end in an alley way. A broken copbot was laying on the ground by the wall of one of the buildings, screen shattered and arm ripped out. Electrical wires scattered around it. It looked as though the damage had been done by a human. I've always hated vandalism. "Don't touch it." Said Kaney.
I was about to turn around and leave when I heard a hissing sound and a metalic clank. Kaney stood in front of my protectively, and Winsor growled. A tall man about Kaney's age stood up from the wreckage of the copbot. He held a knife in one hand, and a hammer in the other. "Don't tell the cops." He grinned sickeningly, and I had the impression that he wasn't going to let us go even if we promised not to.
Kaney told me to back away slowly. I took a step back and the man lunged over the broken bot and threw his knife in my direction, swinging his bat at Kaney. There was a bark, a scream, and a flash, and when I opened my eyes, the man was on the ground. Dead. My cobot was also dead. The knife had missed me and hit Kaney in the arm instead. My brother clenched his hand on his arm and stared at the two unliving creatures in front of him. Eyes wide. Mouth closed. Eyebrows down in concentration. Confusion, gratefulness, and denial.
"Winsor!" I choked out, and took a step which turned into a kind of falling jump. I held Winsor in my arms and looked at his black, colorless eyes. His white skin stained red with Kaney's and the other man's blood. Brown with mud. His skull bashed in and a couple of teeth gone, his tail broken in half and his chest shattered. "They'll fix him. Can't they? Can they at least take his chips and put them in another robot?" I screamed at Kaney. He seemed distant. I repeated myself at him, louder, and he blinked. He shook his head. "The chips will be unfixable." I cried, because Winsor had saved us both. What a good dog, I thought. What a good dog.
We went home and I patched Kaney's arm up. We buried Winsor in a local cemetary and said our goodbyes.
Now I have two copets as you can see, children. Furry and lifelike and functional. My corabbit Stellar and my cojackal Rako.
Kaney never got a copet, but before he died of terminal illness, thirteen years ago, he requested to be buried next to Winsor, "his sister's faithful dog".
Also if I make a typo and call Kaney Kanye I apolgize
When I was growing up, copets were reatively new. They'd only been created thirteen years before my birth, but by the time I was ten, they were as popular as cell phones in the 2020s or plus-holonets nowadays. My brother Kaney, however, had a strange obsession with the twenty-teens, always carrying around his ugly looking iphone and wearing his tacky duck dynasty t-shirt and google glasses, even though holonets even back in 2117 worked a hell of a lot better than any vintage google glasses ever could. He didn't seem to realize that holonets are much better - they could already project holograms of computer data and the internet. They were glitchier than they are today, and the size of the holograms weren't adjustable, but they were pretty efficient for the time.
Kaney was five years older than me, and he had a hatred towards copets and modern technology and such like that. The only thing he liked about the 2110s was that the life expectancy was 94. Can you imagine that? How unhealthy we were back then! I'm well over a hundred and probably have thirty more years left in me before I drop dead.
Anyway, on with the rise of copets. Yes, those perfect little bots had their own humble beginnings. I don't know why the term copets was chosen, because the name copets covers a wide range of brands (most popular back then was Yachow Inc.). I think it was because they are meant to be companions, or because they could be coworkers. In the early 2100s real animals were much more common than copets, opposed to now, where copets are slightly more popular than real animals.
As soon as I turned sixteen and after the death of my two cats I got a copet. Copets back then had no fur, they were pure soft shiny metal and illuminated eyes. Beautiful, but they looked like nothing realistic. They couldn't speak, either, except for their respective animal sounds. My first copet was Winsor, a codog that stood to my knee. He was dark blue and white I refused to let his beautiful shiny skin be soiled but mud, so we spent most of our time inside. His eyelights turned on in dim light and darkness, a bright, pretty green that shoothed me at night when he slept under my arm.
When I was eighteen I finally started taking Winsor for walks outside. Walking down Springworthy Street for the first time, Winsor tensed and whipped his head westward and started electronically barking. He was barking at a dog that my neighbor was walking. Not a codog, a real dog, and I finally tugged Winsor away before he could run after it.
Winsor always loved cats, but he disliked codogs and real dogs. Some kind of rivalry, I guess. His personality chip was at least realistic in terms of doghood unlike his shiny appearance. With every memory patch we got for him he didn't act any differently towards other dogs, which was fine by me, because it was all the more genuine. People yelled at me when they came over with their dogs, telling me Winsor had behavioral problems and that we should buy him a very expensive memory patch to fix this. We always declined.
The same day he barked at the neighbor dog I walked him to my brother's place of work, the pawn shop on the north side of town. Perfect for Kaney because he would always be surrounded by the things of the 2000s. I tugged open the door and Winsor waited impatiently for me to walk in first.
Kaney was selling a customer a dsi and a copy of Resident Evil Deadly Silence. He wished the girl a nice day and smiled at me before glaring at Winsor. He removed his google glasses and set them on the shelf behind him. "Hello, Ress. How's it going? Why is Winsor here? You never bring him outside."
"I thought it was time to walk Winsor like a real dog." I said.
"But he's not a real dog. He's a co. An ugly glitchy piece of new technology." Kaney responded with a bored expression.
"He's my best friend. Copets are real pets too. Just because they don't have flesh and can't breed doesn't mean a thing." I crouched next to Winsor and patted him on the head. He nuzzled me, leaped enthusiasticaly, and barked. "See how cute he is?"
"Get that mutt out of my shop."
"What's your problem? You let other people bring pets in all the time." I stood up and crossed my arms. Winsor wasn't hurting Kaney at all. I had just wanted to see my brother.
"Yeah, real animals. Flesh and bone, lungs and fur. Bring him home." He snarled.
"You fucking bastard, I love Winsor!" I yelled, tugging on Winsor's leesh and bringing him out the door. As I opened it, Kaney's co-worker Yensen came out from the workroom and called to me, "YOLO! See ya later, Ress!"
Those stupid 2000s phrases!
Anyway, I walked myself and Winsor home. Two weeks later we set out again. I forced Kaney to come with me, and ignored his protests, but let him bring his 3ds and iphone. Not that I could've stopped him from bringing them with. He was twenty-three and I couldn't boss him around. Kaney and Winsor ignored each other for most of the trip, until we found ourselves at a dead end in an alley way. A broken copbot was laying on the ground by the wall of one of the buildings, screen shattered and arm ripped out. Electrical wires scattered around it. It looked as though the damage had been done by a human. I've always hated vandalism. "Don't touch it." Said Kaney.
I was about to turn around and leave when I heard a hissing sound and a metalic clank. Kaney stood in front of my protectively, and Winsor growled. A tall man about Kaney's age stood up from the wreckage of the copbot. He held a knife in one hand, and a hammer in the other. "Don't tell the cops." He grinned sickeningly, and I had the impression that he wasn't going to let us go even if we promised not to.
Kaney told me to back away slowly. I took a step back and the man lunged over the broken bot and threw his knife in my direction, swinging his bat at Kaney. There was a bark, a scream, and a flash, and when I opened my eyes, the man was on the ground. Dead. My cobot was also dead. The knife had missed me and hit Kaney in the arm instead. My brother clenched his hand on his arm and stared at the two unliving creatures in front of him. Eyes wide. Mouth closed. Eyebrows down in concentration. Confusion, gratefulness, and denial.
"Winsor!" I choked out, and took a step which turned into a kind of falling jump. I held Winsor in my arms and looked at his black, colorless eyes. His white skin stained red with Kaney's and the other man's blood. Brown with mud. His skull bashed in and a couple of teeth gone, his tail broken in half and his chest shattered. "They'll fix him. Can't they? Can they at least take his chips and put them in another robot?" I screamed at Kaney. He seemed distant. I repeated myself at him, louder, and he blinked. He shook his head. "The chips will be unfixable." I cried, because Winsor had saved us both. What a good dog, I thought. What a good dog.
We went home and I patched Kaney's arm up. We buried Winsor in a local cemetary and said our goodbyes.
Now I have two copets as you can see, children. Furry and lifelike and functional. My corabbit Stellar and my cojackal Rako.
Kaney never got a copet, but before he died of terminal illness, thirteen years ago, he requested to be buried next to Winsor, "his sister's faithful dog".