Cory Swanson
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- May 19, 2016
- Messages
- 453
I'm a glut for punishment today. Anyone care to comment on this opening? Not finished with the story yet, but I don't think it will run past 5 or 6k. No particular home for it. I'm just writing about ideas that I think are cool.
“So tell me, why did you come in today?”
The paper on the exam table crunches beneath me when I shift my weight.
“So, this part of my smart tattoo by my wrist has a tendency to get really hot. It drains the battery and while it happens it feels like my arm is going to burn off.”
“Let’s have a look,” he says.
I hold out my arm to him and he twists and turns it.
“Is the battery down here?” he asks.
“No, down here by my elbow,” I respond.
He turns around and digs through a drawer and takes out an ammeter. With one prong in each hand, he checks various spots of the tattoo. While reading the output, he lets out a vague ‘tsk’ing sound. It’s the kind of sound that you never want to hear a doctor make and I begin to fill with dread.
Dr. Hamlin lets out a deep sigh. “When did you first get it done?” he asks.
“About eighteen years ago,” I respond.
“Modifications?”
“Of course.”
“How many?”
“Let’s see, at least every two years. The obsolescence is maddening.”
“I know. They have to make their money, don’t they?” Dr. Hamlin pauses for a moment with his hand on his chin, lost in thought. “Yeah, yeah…not good.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it seems your smart tattoo has developed a short.”
I am devastated. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would have collapsed into the nearest chair. I run my hand through my hair and the Rogaine sticks to my hand in a greasy film.
“Jesus! You have to be joking.”
“Afraid not. You’re what, forty-two now?”
“Forty-four.”
“Yeah. When these things came out, they were kind of rushed to market. I take it you were an early adopter?”
“Yes,” I say, dropping my eyes to the ground in shame.
“Yeah, so, in the early days, they didn’t do much testing. It turns out, once your skin loses its elasticity, the circuits start to collapse on themselves. It’s only a matter of time before one crosses another and then it just snowballs from there.”
I look down at my left arm. The basic interface of the tattoo is still in the middle of my forearm just below the palm of my hand. The modifications snake out from it in several directions around my arm and wrist like the tentacles of an octopus.
“I need it to do my job, Dr. Hamlin. What can I do?”
“Well, as for this unit, it’s fried.”
I can feel myself swoon at this news. My smart tattoo has cost me considerable amounts of money over the years. I remember having to get a loan for the original work. It was necessary, though. I would have starved out on the streets without it.
“The good news, though, is that you have plenty of open skin left, and the technology has advanced considerably since you got this one done. Look.” Dr. Hamlin rolls up his left sleeve and calls up some images on his own interface. “Mine is powered biokinetically. No bulky battery packs.”
Dr. Hamlin is considerably younger than me, and his tattoo is definitely better than mine. I can’t help but ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at it.
“Is that a multicolor display?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he responds. “Check it out, I can change the size.” He pinches and pulls at his skin and the image grows larger and smaller on his arm.
“Unbelievable. What did it cost?”
“Let’s just say that this tattoo and medical school are in something of the same universe.”
I drop my head. I have two teenage daughters who will be going to college soon. I want only the best for them, but I know I’ll never be able to afford a tattoo like that for them.
“Will I be able to use my same interface?”
“No, probably not. But why do you want to use that old thing anyway?”
“Well, I’m right handed. Putting it on my left arm has always made sense.”
“Yeah, this kind of thing can’t be undone. You’ll have to pick a new spot. And I should warn you. You’re no spring chicken. Your skin isn’t going to do you any favors with any future tattoos. Things are going to continue to deteriorate. You might find that problems like this get more and more common as you age.”
——————
“So tell me, why did you come in today?”
The paper on the exam table crunches beneath me when I shift my weight.
“So, this part of my smart tattoo by my wrist has a tendency to get really hot. It drains the battery and while it happens it feels like my arm is going to burn off.”
“Let’s have a look,” he says.
I hold out my arm to him and he twists and turns it.
“Is the battery down here?” he asks.
“No, down here by my elbow,” I respond.
He turns around and digs through a drawer and takes out an ammeter. With one prong in each hand, he checks various spots of the tattoo. While reading the output, he lets out a vague ‘tsk’ing sound. It’s the kind of sound that you never want to hear a doctor make and I begin to fill with dread.
Dr. Hamlin lets out a deep sigh. “When did you first get it done?” he asks.
“About eighteen years ago,” I respond.
“Modifications?”
“Of course.”
“How many?”
“Let’s see, at least every two years. The obsolescence is maddening.”
“I know. They have to make their money, don’t they?” Dr. Hamlin pauses for a moment with his hand on his chin, lost in thought. “Yeah, yeah…not good.”
“What is it?”
“Well, it seems your smart tattoo has developed a short.”
I am devastated. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I would have collapsed into the nearest chair. I run my hand through my hair and the Rogaine sticks to my hand in a greasy film.
“Jesus! You have to be joking.”
“Afraid not. You’re what, forty-two now?”
“Forty-four.”
“Yeah. When these things came out, they were kind of rushed to market. I take it you were an early adopter?”
“Yes,” I say, dropping my eyes to the ground in shame.
“Yeah, so, in the early days, they didn’t do much testing. It turns out, once your skin loses its elasticity, the circuits start to collapse on themselves. It’s only a matter of time before one crosses another and then it just snowballs from there.”
I look down at my left arm. The basic interface of the tattoo is still in the middle of my forearm just below the palm of my hand. The modifications snake out from it in several directions around my arm and wrist like the tentacles of an octopus.
“I need it to do my job, Dr. Hamlin. What can I do?”
“Well, as for this unit, it’s fried.”
I can feel myself swoon at this news. My smart tattoo has cost me considerable amounts of money over the years. I remember having to get a loan for the original work. It was necessary, though. I would have starved out on the streets without it.
“The good news, though, is that you have plenty of open skin left, and the technology has advanced considerably since you got this one done. Look.” Dr. Hamlin rolls up his left sleeve and calls up some images on his own interface. “Mine is powered biokinetically. No bulky battery packs.”
Dr. Hamlin is considerably younger than me, and his tattoo is definitely better than mine. I can’t help but ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at it.
“Is that a multicolor display?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he responds. “Check it out, I can change the size.” He pinches and pulls at his skin and the image grows larger and smaller on his arm.
“Unbelievable. What did it cost?”
“Let’s just say that this tattoo and medical school are in something of the same universe.”
I drop my head. I have two teenage daughters who will be going to college soon. I want only the best for them, but I know I’ll never be able to afford a tattoo like that for them.
“Will I be able to use my same interface?”
“No, probably not. But why do you want to use that old thing anyway?”
“Well, I’m right handed. Putting it on my left arm has always made sense.”
“Yeah, this kind of thing can’t be undone. You’ll have to pick a new spot. And I should warn you. You’re no spring chicken. Your skin isn’t going to do you any favors with any future tattoos. Things are going to continue to deteriorate. You might find that problems like this get more and more common as you age.”
——————