Go sell the vid.

While you do have just shy of $4000, you know that isn't going to last long. “Might as well sell the recording.” Pulling up an address for a shop you found that deals in programs you fire the bike to life and speed off down the road. The light of the sun plays in beams off of the massive glass and steel structures as you get closer and closer to the center of town. As the area gets cleaner you also see a slight increase of cameras and even a little police presence. The traffic picks up as well, but that does little to slow you down, with a grin you hug the curb and pass, not too fast, but you make your way into the edge of the city.

Your map guides you below an elevated train platform where a neon sign seems oddly familiar as you drop the kick stand. With practiced ease you stroll on your heels across the sidewalk and into the barred door of the business called “Surfers” The second you walk in the door the rather chunky balding man behind the counter looks at you over his glasses without really raising his head from the glowing tablet computer he is intently staring at and says, “You know I can't sell you anything till you pay Ricky off right?”

“What do you mean?” You ask genuinely confused. Once you have said it though it dawns on you that he must have known whoever your new body was before you got stuck in here.

You let him talk, hoping to gain some information, “Come on Trixi, I work for the guy I know you still owe him over $100,000 for the hardware you had him install in you. I told you not to borrow from that guy.” As he talks you get a few flashes of memory or something that almost plays in your head like little cuts of a movie. You are sure Ricky is a 6 and a half foot tall gray skinned guy that you are sure must be an orc. You also see him paying a doctor for you while you are lying on a metal table, saying, “You know you owe me $12,000 a week for the next year, every time you are late it adds another payment. If you are late three times...”

You hear yourself interrupt, “Ya, ya, just do it, you know I am good, I'll have you paid in half that time. Just you watch.” You then get a flash of yourself sucking him off to get him to forgive you from being late at least 7 times. If you still owe him that much you be doing terrible.

You snap out of the memory by the sound of fingers snapping, “Yo. Wake up Trixi. Damn it girl you have to stop running all those BTL chips, they are rotting your brain. Why are you here anyway?”

“I have something to sell you. I recorded an elf getting fucked by some bad ass German guy.” Tapping your head you add, “I've got the file right here. Once you watch it you will see it is worth some money, they are talking about some stolen tech, pretty cool. Someone is looking for this guy.”

“Let me guess his name is Lynx?” He asks.

“Wait how did you...”

He cuts you off, “Damn it Trixi, I sold you that chip two months ago. I told you to stop watching BTL's. You don't even know what is real anymore. Here look.” He holds up a box with a picture of your former body... or... “This is a vid. It isn't real. I sold you the bootleg, remember. You wanted to watch it before it left the complexes. Come on girl you know this. Right?” As he talks you get flashes of images, memories? Of pestering this guy over and over since you were a teenager. It is all so real, it makes your head swim. He pulls out a binder full of BTL chip titles, movies, of all kinds. Every one seems to spark some kind of image. Till you see one that sends chills up your spine. There is a video with you, the real you, on the cover. “Sim Life.” It is called. The tag line reads, “See what a job would be like before you mess up your employment record by getting fired. Try 'em all. Banker, chef, fireman, we have 'em all.”

Your head spins, you spit up a mouth full of bile, and he reaches out to grab you as your vision blurs as the world goes black.... “So... this... is... me?” He hears you muttering as you hit the floor.