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Most Of My Clients Try To Kill Me

Date: 7-Feb-2009/13:05+3:00

Tags: , , , , ,

Characters: me, guy, policeman, lab coat guy, swat guy

I was being introduced to a group of businessmen who were standing in a circle. As I went around I'd tell them my name, and they'd tell me what their previous jobs had been. One guy wearing a blue button-up shirt said he'd been with Subway.
me: "Subway eh? Management or making sandwiches?"
guy: (laughing) "Management, of course."
me: (cryptically) "Of course."
There was a police officer there who introduced himself. Instead of shaking his hand, I went to scrutinize his ID nametag, which was a gold-colored rectangular pin:
The thing I was looking for at first was his rank, but there wasn't one--or any municipal title I could see. Instead, surrounding his name was a bunch of corporate logos and endorsements.
policeman: (frustrated) "It's not fake!"
me: "Fake vs. real... Authentic vs. inauthentic... well that's a matter of perspective. But I just wanted to know the context of authority here. Now I know."
At one point I was introduced to someone who said we'd already met. She didn't understand why I didn't remember her.
me: "I generally don't have all my memories around all the time. In fact, we distribute ourselves... and not knowing everything is just a tradeoff of that. It's a safety precaution, in case we're attacked and killed."
guy: (nervously) "Um, how many of your clients try to kill you?"
me: (smiling) "Most of them, actually."
My point of view flipped to where I was in a lab environment with a lot of people who were in some kind of containment tanks. They began to panic as the people began to vanish out of the tanks and all their machinery started to melt. I just sort of walked around it, feeling as if all was going according to plan. I picked up a little device and started looking at it.
me: "This is a light meter, I take it. Primitive looking. I've seen better ones on Earth."
A bearded guy in a lab coat pulled out a gun and shot at me... I fell backwards, but managed to get up. I charged at him and grabbed him.
me: "Thanks for missing that shot."
lab coat guy: "I didn't miss, so how can you still be here!?"
me: "Guess I've been practicing for a while."
He took on a maniacal demeanor as I pulled a thing that looked like Dr. Who's sonic screwdriver out of my pocket.
lab coat guy: "How do you ever know you're not just looking in a mirror, about to kill yourself?"
me: "People do say I'm a bit narcissistic. So if as I die I'm just looking at myself, I guess that's somehow fitting."
I pushed a button causing a needle to come out of the screwdriver-like device, which I pushed into his chest and he fell backwards. As we crashed through some kind of plate glass window, he fell to the ground and didn't get up. Some guys in heavy SWAT team-type gear came up to us with weapons ready to fire, and one waved his gun at me.
swat guy: "We just got authorization from Citadel to kill these guys. So... do you think you can work across this?"
Note Though dialogue is usually a rough reconstruction in my journal entries, that line is fairly specific in wording and stood out to me at the time. I understood him as asking me if killing the body I was in--which was not my own--would hurt "me".
me: (backing away from his drawn weapon) "I... I don't know."
swat guy: (thinking) "Okay, we might not have timed this right. This is unfortunate. But if we don't kill them both we'll have to take them into custody, and that won't be a good situation."
me: "Ah well. I've been killed a lot by people who didn't ask ahead of time, and woke up all right. How important is it? I mean, how bad are these people, anyway."
swat guy: "Pretty bad. This guy raided one of our vaults."
me: (sighing) "It would almost be a blessing if you could kill me and put an end to this weirdness. Which I don't think you can, but if you do I'll say I lived a good enough life and just call it even. But do you have anything painless?"
swat guy: "Absolutely."
He put away his bayonet-gun-seeming thing and produced an injection device filled with a brown liquid.
swat guy: "This won't hurt at all. You'll just drift off to sleep dreaming of kittens in blankets."
me: "Sold!"
There was a slashing motion across my arm, and then an injection which indeed didn't hurt much. And I awoke in bed.
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copy write %C:/0304-1020 {Met^(00C6)ducation}

The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?