Story Starts – The Upload


Today’s Story Start came from a conversation that I had with my partner about the future of the internet and what life will become if social media has it’s way with us…

Upload

It all started in the year 2104, when the aged celebrity, Bill Swanson declared that he would hand over his fortune to the company that could successfully upload his consciousness to a machine.

Of course, the company that managed it was the ever-present “BILLIONS”.

The small internet startup search engine, Millions, had been bought out by the tech giant NoName inc. and transformed into BILLIONS overnight. They soon became NoName’s AI branch and the world promptly forgot about them. Until 2104. That year rewrote the world.

We all watched on our screens as the dying 95-year-old was uploaded. We marvelled as his avatar appeared in front of us, young and healthy; the incarnation of his mind’s self-image. Nothing would be the same again.

Now, fifty years later, the world is unrecognisable.

Everyone is free to do everything, but the problem with true freedom is that it means that you can do whatever you want. 

When you have the power to create and shape the world around you, you do, and when your time in the Upload is dependant upon your views and ad revenue, you’ll make damned sure that your space is as attractive and extreme as possible. Any view is a good view.

I can hardly browse the strips anymore without having tits and ass shoved in my face. People offering ‘extreme’ body modification shows scream at you from their galleries and their desperate, but willing, ‘participants’ howled on behind them.

Why people would debase themselves in such a way, all in the name of ‘experience’, is beyond me. But, I noted with dismay, today’s special was apparently ‘leg swapping done quick’.

I shuddered.

‘Extreme’ has become the buzzword of choice. Extreme sports, extreme sex, extreme surgery and – I turned away from the cages of drugged up ex-celebrities, desperate for their next fix of fame – extreme execution. The sacred and profane were so casually thrown together now, and it was all done in an effort to ‘find out what would happen’. Nothing was off-limits anymore.

If you died online, your real body remained perfectly intact. Your mind, however…

 “Wanna feel what it’s like inside me, honey?” a voice from a forum door to my left called.

I turned to see the avatar of Hayley Dean thrusting her oversized tits at me.

 “No thanks,” I muttered and turned to head for the cabin I’d set up by the long-forgotten and dried up riverbed of the 2115 Online Olympics. 

Hayley may have been the newest star on the block, but I for one didn’t fancy showing my naked self to the world. My body wasn’t for sale. I’d gained access to the Upload for an entirely different reason.

Sophie, signing out.

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