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Biochips With Everything

 

"You want chips with that?"

"NO!"

"Sor-ry!"

Nero the Riddler audibly ground his teeth.

"Don't have a cow, dude. My manager said I have to ask everyone that."

"I want neither a cow, young man, or any MENTION of those accursed biochips!" Nero grabbed his Bucket-o-Soy and strode wrathfully over to a relatively clean booth. "Biochips with everything, pah!" he muttered.

"Lousy ol' world, ennit?"

The Riddler glared up at the rapscallion who dared to interrupt him before he could even take his first soylent bite.

"Cor, what, with biochips even inside our mildly-futuristic food! And random cobbers like me, bending the ear at the least-expected times and places!" exclaimed the stranger as, with hint of an invitation, he slid his slick Cockney self into the seat opposite. "Blimey! Chips with everything!"

"I daresay," Nero protested. "While I agree with your disparagement relating to the intrusive nature of our near-future authorities, I am trying to eat my lunch! Would you mind-?"

"I could tell you are frustrated, what?" the young hoodlum ventured. "The way you lost your rag with that counter blagger. 'That, Tipper McPocket,'- I sez to meself- 'is one frustrated ol' cobber if ever you've seen one! A fight with his trouble-and-strife? No... A bad day at work, that's it! That gentleman's a fellow who could use a watt of Gabbo, if ever you've seen one!'"

Nero was still enraged at the locatious thug's intrusion, but was nevertheless intrigued at his shared disapproval of biochips and his accurate assessment of his anger's true cause. Nero also wondered what this aforementioned 'Gabbo' was.

Nero was still enraged at the locatious thug's intrusion, but was nevertheless intrigued at his shared disapproval of biochips and his accurate assessment of his anger's true cause. Nero also wondered what this aforementioned 'Gabbo' was.

This Gabbo was surely of more interest than vanilla Bucket-o-Soy. Nero spoke carefully, "Now, you wouldn't just happen to be a merchant in this Gabbo comodity, would you sir?"

"Indeed I am, gov'na!"

"And how much will a jolt of Gabbo deplete my montary resources?"

"A mere three billion euros," spoke Tipper McPocket. "The price of a lowly near-futurific dinner, such as you now enjoy yourself!"

This did not seem to be a great fiduciary liability. Surely the investment was worth whatever mild diversion Nero gained! It would stand a fair chance of being the highlight of this accursed day, what with the meeting his supervisors had scheduled, later this afternoon.

"Done, and done!" cried the Gabbo dealer, just moments later. "Meet me around back in two minutes. I'll have the wattage waiting for you."

Abandonning the rest of his green dinner in the proper waste receptical moments later, the curious engineer left the establishment and circled to its rear. Sure enough, there Tipper waited beside an extremely beat up old roadhazard of a 2002 Lexus. "Now, close them peepers, guv'na!" Tipper winked with a mad Cockney glint in his eye. Nero humored him.

Immediately thereafter, a searing jolt of electricity bolted throughout The Riddler's body. Shocked motionless, he lay staring up at McPocket from a pile of black rubbish sacks. Tipper smiled like a madman.

"That's good ol' Gabbo!" the hoodlum cried, disconnecting the jumper cables from under the auto's bonnet. "Packs quite a punch, what?"

Too late, Nero realized that Tipper _was_ in fact a madman. He felt a fool. "Nero the Riddler," he thought to himself, because he was too rigid with paralysis to speak. "How many nineteenth century Eastend street dealers do you encounter here, in this part of the world, in the near future?" He should have realized it from the start. He also should have realized, as a biochip engineer, that a surge of electricty of shock-treatment proportions would overflow the currency buffer and allow the weird little graeseball to withdraw far more than a mere three billion euro.

Which Tipper McPocket then proceeded to do.

"Ta!" the colorful, if confusing character cried as he leapt into the Lexus and backfired his way out of this critique.

Nero should have regained feeling, but all he felt was a gradual building rage. He began to climb to his feet. "Biochips!" he cursed. Then he cursed again, in a voice that shook strongly enough to rattle the very foundations of civilization. "Biochips with everything!!!!!"

And now for an important disclaimer from Critical Mick

Yo! This review and all content on the DFA Guide site are copyright 2005 Mick Halpin. All links to other sites and documents are copyright to whatever source wrote something cool enough for Mick to give it a referral. Try to claim them as your own work and bad karma will catch up with you, baby. Believe it.

Irate, huh? Managed to piss off another one? Direct your hatemail to mick @ mickhalpin dot com.


This Page Was Last Updated On 7 August, 2005.

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