Cyberpunk short

I walked through the busy night life of Las Vegas, the night air was hot, fueled by the neon signs that lit up the casinos and clubs. My senses were overtaken by the stimuli coming from all directions. The loud music, with its mindless beat, the dull roar of chatter from people talking, the flashing neon lights, the flashing advertisements for prostitutes, and the people on the street, handing out cards to contact the advertised prostitute. People walked around with their implants showing, unafraid of any ridicule.

Policemen were a rare sight here, the casino bosses had cut a deal with the state of Nevada, you could count the number of cops here on one hand. If any fight broke out here, it was the casino's hired muscle that broke the fight up, whether it be peaceful, or the people themselves were being broken, it did not matter. The Casino kings were in charge here. Drugs, alcohol, sex, it was all rampant here. There were no age restrictions, no laws, only money. No law could touch you here, unless the law paid off the casino you were staying in, then you might be taken away. Whether or not you made it into the laws' hands alive, was not a concern.

It was not uncommon to see people pleasuring themselves in the street, in front of everyone. Exhibition was popular here. Vegas had truly become a city of sin. It was also one of the only places you could get enhancements for implants. You had to know people, of course, but sometimes the price in Las Vegas was easier to pay, than the price outside this hell hole. Cybernetic implants were the new thing, the new commodity, and the corporations behind them wanted to milk anyone who wanted them dry of all their money. Unfortunately, these cybernetics could also save lives. Lives like mine, who had been struck with the mysterious illness, that seemed to only be curable by the cybernetic implants supplied by these corporations.

The disease effected neurological tissues, degrading them through some unknown biological mechanism. Over time the infected individual would be unable to move, or they would go crazy and start killing people, so said the media. The sensational media. the very people who made Las Vegas seem like a child-friendly place, where a family could come and have fun together. The very people who cover up the fact that these families get torn apart here, and sold in the Underground.

The Underground was a place where anyone can make money. If you liked to fight, you could fight there for money, and if a Casino liked your fighting, they would proposition you, it was never an option to refuse. Those that did, were never seen or heard from again. People could also be traded in the Underground, put into the international slave trade that no government any where wants to acknowledge the existence of.

This was the very place I was headed. I needed to see a cyber-tech, someone who could modify by cybernetics. Some of the modifications were illegal, especially if you were a citizen and not a military officer, or lawman. Some even considered to be so extreme, that the Sensational Media makes them seem evil and vile. This country had gone to hell since the Cybernetic-enhancement craze. America was now nothing more than a puppet country, run by corporations who pulled the strings to make the president and the houses dance to their amusement.

Even the very foundation of science was challenged here, morals and ethics thrown out the window, peer review non-existent. If you wanted to adhere to the scientific truthfulness of being a scientist, you went to Serbia, or Switzerland, or if you were desperate:Japan. In japan however, there was a chance you would have to work in fields of science that improved the "sex" experience. There were no safe places from the corruption of the Cybernetic industry. Some people had implants that let other people control them, because they were too lazy to live themselves, other people lived for them. Consumerism had swallowed humanity, and few people saw the consequences.

Cyberpunk Short 2

The room was filled with the smell of cigars, alcohol, and sweat. Lights flashed from the ceiling. Some people were dancing in the club. Throwing their cares to the wind as the floor vibrated with the bumping music. Tonight was their night of fun. White lines were formed and erased. Liquids poured and inhaled. With the bumping of the nightclub a man watched from on high. A lounge sitting above the dance floor. He was bald and clean shaven, wore a white suit, and had a little bit of white under his nose. His name was Nicholas Halburg. Part of the criminal element of this downtown area. Major drug ring, operating in Cocaine, sex trafficking, and human trafficking over seas. He got a phone call to his personal cell three hours before the nightclub opened, the caller said "Sorry, wrong number." and hung up. Nick thought nothing of it. People make these kinds of mistakes all the time. Nick was setting up a drug meeting  with some suppliers and buyers this evening. If everything went well, he would make a few million dollars. 

In a relatively decent neighborhood somewhere. Another man sat staring at the ceiling. His name isn't important. His eyes are glazed over, an empty pill bottle lay on the ground.