Profile: filter systemics, 2013 -iii)

She tried to grab her identity before anyone else. In the year 2050, this was a hopeless prospect. Babies were suing multinational corporate enterprises focused on this niche. They called it the born-on-capture initiative. And sadly, they had bricks and mortar presences within a mile radius of every major children's hospital in every major American city. These enterprises were expanding exponentially, and the Supreme Courts in every state were so bogged down with the useless appellate productions coming through the judicial systems in waves, on such trite milled over morality plays as abortion, same sex marriage, and gun control, they could devote little time to proper slashing and burning of the heads of this now fifty-headed monster.

The only way to handle the situation was to invest in the temporal portal merchandise which would enable the jumpback to 2013 (although not guaranteed  successul) to remedy the situation via introducing a personal profile element now getting good marks on consumer reports and widely praised by the BBB better business bureau. Even Yelp, which would slowly be pushed out of the consumer ratings market by Squeal and Sigh, had remarkable traffic from avatar and gravatar subscribers, commenting on this particular element.

This element was getting a cult following, for sure. Geeks and tech-heads were definitely the first to understand it all. Props to them. They could save their money in 2050, because they had already invested in filter systemics and thus, their profiles were firewalled and their identities were safe. The rest of us were having to pay for parts at the identity salvage yards popping up everywhere. And, as the auto industry before them, you can bet these salvage yards were in bed with the towtruck webcrawlers, and milking and bilking consumers.

There was even a giant resale market of piecemail identity components, aggregating out from Eastern Europe's satellite-fueled under and overground, no longer cottage industry. The industrial revolution long-since revamped to environmental demands in the Western world, was still a wilderness the East, and a playground for Saudi third world industrialists headquartered above the clouds in Dubai.

The more surreptitious operations fueled by tax dollars of second world governments' peoples, were now in their infancy in locations only accessible by nuclear submarines or otherwise military zoned; Atlantis (under deep sea shelves around the globe), the Bermuda Triangle (mythically-feared and thus perfect for government sanctioned embedding) hashmarked areas outside Las Vegas (whether alien-inhabited or not), the Lyndon Johnson atoll, within and without the recently flooded Japanese reactors, Siberia. All locations were of course inaccessible to all but the most elevated credentialled contractors (most farmed out from the former NSA's and KGB's of the world), and, legend has it, had harnessed great teams of accountants to work over the tax dollars for slick conversion into operative dollars.

Katya Mills, 07/13 kissilent.wordpress.com
[Remember, this is fiction: You didn't hear it from me! ]

What Gives (dedicated to K+K)

Yesterday i was half.... today i am whole.... being with you babe made it so, you made me so. i was really sitting pretty on the front porch calling you. the immediate downcast when you did not call back made me soft. the stone under my behind chilled me cold like a front. i took down my guard and got my credit card, hit the atm for some retail therapy. pulled myself up a little taller on the sidewalks. i thirsted for you. you made me tremble. the chills ran up my legs and down my arms. so deep was the feeling. when you looked down at me from above; blurred out of my focus was the ceiling.

In my mind i remember so clear. Yesterday you were there. In my mind, you are here.  As i looked up, daydreaming of you, you tumbled away. I what the fucks up? why cannot i locate your dangerous self in the streets? when can we again roll comfortably between the sheets? the wave of your passion riding over me. the latest fashion you peeled away from me. the whole day long the music....you and me. And close to one another, we had another way to use it. To ask the kinds of questions you ask when you desire. in your eyes i witness fear and great excitement. Reflections of my own.

Stone to stone, we rocked the house. You rocked me over on the bed and fucked me pretty well... the ten minute tremor is how i could tell. i fade into your spirals, I drop into your pattern. The music of your soul, well, your music squares my saturn, my ruling planet of aquarius. fresh marked parameters. i love us all around. Up through our solar powered chakras. down the whole united states of soul. You make everything i bought into turn over. I am sold. you cost a lot less than holding. possession charge? i guess i'm guilty. the weight of evidence, ice cold. all the way down the block. you are the puppet in my sock.  i'm losing energy to the thoughts, without you i may be nothing. you come from the past and scramble my ass. bringing me to some progression on my knees. Our hearts in two beat out one  pattern so bold and true. a place where all choices get lost in the fold, the K-crew. some complicated simplicity, some droolin fools gold. im really wrapped up in your mystery. i love you.