As you all know I prefer to think of myself as a writer above being called an artist. But I'll admit that my college lined notebook that's supposed to be full of writing actually has doodles on top of scribbles I call writing :/! I ought to do comics or something. I'm not always sure of what to do with myself as there are many ways to do it. I'm not feeling very inspired lately but I'm working on it. Maybe I need to get out more. Or something. This is my new chunk of fiction that'll change pretty soon:

Working Titles: in CONTEMP (or "HEAR NO EVIL" or "iso-LOCK")

J0h4nn was shouting at at the top of his lungs, but it was too late.
Panic erupted as silence fell. A flood of active noise controlling waves had swallowed the music hall, canceling out the faintest of cries to the loudest explosions. People were screaming, but he couldn't hear them. The DJ he was talking to, disappeared from his side, and was suddenly halfway across the room running and ducking. J0h4nn watched. Somehow, he had forgotten how to do the same. He could do no more than stand there, his heart sinking deeply into his gut as he looked all around himself at the muted chaos.
When the peace officers materialized to escort J0h4nn away he was very cooperative. His vitals proved to be functioning at normal rates and thus, there was no calculable risk that he would rather succumb to hysteria than submit to the authorities. He required no stabilizing as the IDentification roBOT punched a needle into his arm for DNA. Because he was tame and unblinking, the IDBOT subsequently completed a perfect retinal scan.
YOUR ILLEGAL USE OF AIRWAVES THROUGH PRIVATE AND PUBLIC SOUND SYSTEMS ENDS NOW. YOU MUST BE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY. YOUR CASE WILL BE REVIEWED AND ANY RECORDS OF PREVIOUS OFFENSES WILL DETERMINE YOUR SENTENCING.
He was surprised by a line of live text on his e-screen, floating below the PEAce KEEper announcement in the forefront of his sight.
|236UL4T0|2: Have any questions?
They were hundreds of meters underground, far below even the deepest subway train. Something about all this was wrong, he thought, the underground had been a well-guarded secret for an entire decade. J0h4nn struggled to make sound of what he wanted to say.
Who made the report?
|236UL4T0|2: Please check our FAQ.
WHO MADE THE REPORT? WHO MADE THE DAMN REPORT? WHO FUCKING MADE THE DAMN REPORT? WHO FUCKING MADE THE DAMNED REPORT? TELL ME WHO FUCKING MADE THE DAMN REPORT? TELL ME!
But as the last words from the live representative dematerialized, another announcement from the peace officers appeared in their place.
...CONVICT ...TEMPORARY EMPLOYEE ...J0H4NN UPLANDIS ...FOR YOUR REPEATED OFFENSES IT HAS BEEN CONCLUDED THAT YOU MAY NOT BE NOT CAPABLE OF REHABILITATION.


W1lla 7chaikov5ky once pulled up some aluminum foil (something she actually did more than once but was now thinking of a particular memory of one), she had marveled over how large a piece it was for most sheets of aluminum she found were either tightly scrunched up balls or scraps the size of her thumb. It was covered in filth, like most things were, and she remembered lining the sheet up with the horizon to study it more closely. It was covered in greasy black stuff, caked thickly with the remainders of burnt oil and greyish lard (which was probably why it was so well preserved). The LOC4SAN (location for sanitation) she was assigned to for the day looked just like that, especially since the sun hadn't risen just yet and it was still dawn. The landfill was no more than a jumble of jagged hills, with mounds of so full of shapes the concept of shape became obsolete.
It only became grayer when she equipped her protective mask and breathing apparatus over the cowl of her work suit. The polycarbonate shield that allowed her to see didn't have any smudges, but did have an awful lot of scratches (she meant to replace it eventually). Although her junkyard shift would be over at noon, she couldn't help taking a minute to think over the equipment she had brought while she tuned up her metal detector. To plunge in with an oxygen tank or no oxygen tank? She was the only one on the team who didn't need it who equipped it anyway, and feeling foolish she began unhooking it from her back to set aside in the ASSignment rOOM (today they were going to work on metal extraction from a junkyard full of car parts).
Without one she was at the mercy of her SANitation suit's filters and vents, which upon rare occasion could fail. It had never happened to her personally, but it had to some of her colleagues and that was horrifying enough-- to know that it was possible.
Already, she was preparing a line of things to say and stories to tell the n00b.
Here he comes, she said to herself, time for the old drop-your-name tag trick. Pretending to fuss with the sealing of her coverall, she knocked her magnet name tag off her chest and onto the ground in front of him. With casual hurriedness she leaned over to pick it up. Suited up somewhat clumsily, he then slunk by 7chaikov5ky (haircut, stubble, eyebrows and all) without offering even the slightest look of acknowledgement.
PubSanVoW1lla7c: OW! HEY!
Or rather, he passed by without an apology for crushing her hand under his feet.
PubSanVoW1lla7c: >_O; I know you're reading this!
But he ignored her and went outside to view a map of the landfill. Upon blatantly receiving the cold shoulder she knew her one-sided dialogue wasn't going to go anywhere with him. She was a little shocked and very confused because there was no reason for his attitude. W1lla turned to her colleagues.
PubSanVoW1lla: What's wrong with him?
PubSanVoGAyl3: Udk? He's a convict, I saw in his profile that he was a generator last week and before that he was in a textile recycling factory.
PubSanVoW1lla: That doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's a TEMP.
PubSanVoMstuhso: Or MAYBE he's a convict, doing community service. They're always moved from service to service in order to deter the planning and execution of more criminal activities.


It was later in the day that he came across W1lla again, and this time she wasn't even going to bother with him... but then again she was curious anyway. She decided to concentrate on a plush looking vehicle nearby, stripping the seats for metal springs. Every once in a while she would briefly glance his way or at least look at his shape from the reflection of a side mirror. It couldn't be helped really, before she was just interested in helping him but after learning that he was a convict she felt a need to spy on him in case he did anything criminal. And it wasn't as if J0h4nn didn't know what she was doing either. Sometimes he managed to return the stare, wanting her to know that he knew she was watching. Half an hour of looking and not looking passed by without change though and J0h4nn realized that making eye contact was probably encouraging the situation.
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: Am I that good-looking or what?
PubSanVoW1lla: What?
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: Oh, so I look the freak and it amuses you to stare at me?
PubSanVoW1lla: I'm not staring.
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: Then what are you doing?
PubSanVoW1lla: >:[ A lot more than what you've been doing-- I'm doing my job. What have you been doing?
They both looked down at his collection bin, it was empty.
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: Better than anything you've been up to.
PubSanVoW1lla: If no thing is better than public sanitation maybe you should try working on that instead of nothing.
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: You should try working on earning enough to buy a better synthesizer-- your vocals sound fucked.
PubSanVoW1lla: I'm deaf.
She surprised him (and herself) with a loud obnoxious laugh. It made J0h4nn feel uneasy.
CONTEMPJ0h4nn: I got started with the treatments last month. In a couple of years I'll be as mute as you. I'll be speaking through a synthesizer and depending on an e-screen to know what people are saying.
PubSanVoW1lla: Oh, it's not that that bad-- you'll get used to it.
He had expected her mechanical response but it hit him like a blow to the skull.