Keeping It Real with Sable Gentry S1:E5: Difference between revisions

Latest revision as of 22:22, 4 March 2025

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Originally Published on December 7th, 2490
A Free Media Production

Your comms beep with an alert. When accessed hard-core, raw, street edge music plays while a series of color-hued video imagery flash rapidly across your viewer. Each scene depicts some action or the aftermath of action in various locales throughout the system: Earth, the floating cities, orbital colonies, Luna, Mars, the Belt; they are all presented within a short thirty-second block. Each hue adds to the feeling of the imagery, blues, yellows, reds; combined with the music it is quite stimulating. The final scene of the video fades away at the end of the thirty-seconds revealing a single still portrait with the animated title superimposed over the top. A mechanized voice, highly augmented through editing software, urgently whispers, Keeping It Real with Sable Gentry.

“No one is at the scene, choombattas.”

Sable’s tempo is a little slower today as her rich, throaty words tickle your audio receptors.

“Not a single person seems to give a damn.”

The beautiful media is shrouded in darkness, her location indiscernible. No lights but that from her recording drone barely illuminating her Nubian skin.

“What I’m doing is bringing attention to the unattended, the amped-out, the buttonheads. Those individuals who are ghosts in the system, numbers in the books, lost souls. They mill about seeking some semblance of life and what do they find? Most find death, gato. That’s what they find. Have you ever come across the remains of Harvesters at work? You do your best to be chill when all you want to do is charf. They are the Devil’s minions and there’s no one at the scene but damnable Cocoon cleaning synths. Who was it that fell prey to the hunger, to the lure, to the spice that kills? Whose name will no longer be spoken as their memory fades? Who was the soup that the synths are wiping from the floor? We’ll never know because there’s no one at the scene, choomba. Is that the scene that’s being painted for your life? Ask yourself, are you doomed to end up on Boot Hill with your parts adorning another person’s body? Are you destined to become a statistic on the Kill Boards? Will anyone remember? Will you be drank up by the cleaning synths and deposited in waste canisters? No one is at the scene. No police, no detectives, no mourners, and certainly no corpo. No one is at the scene. You work away your best years, give away your soul for the credits to exist, and the organization to which you’ve sacrificed everything doesn’t even recognize when you disappear. Yet, you keep working for them. You keep giving to them. You keep feeding the very beast that is devouring your body and soul day after day like some masochistic lunatic. When you seek out that stimulant, that escape from your horrible reality, and you wind up prey to the predators of the Streets. No one is at the scene. Why do it? Why continue to feed the beast? Why not demand more? Why not rise up? Why not…? No one is at the scene. That’s why. Not even you.”

A small chime sounds.

"Evil only wins when good people do nothing, gato. When good people do nothing. Be at the scene. Keep it real. I'm out."

@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 To view other news releases, visit [[MediaNet Archives]].
 <hr>
-''Originally Published on December 17th, 2490''<br>
+''Originally Published on December 7th, 2490''<br>
 ''A Free Media Production''
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 [[File:MN-2492 - keeping it real.png|frame|center]]
-Dark the color of a deep pool of blood prevails with only hints and halos of red-hued lighting causing silhouettes of furniture and the media, Sable Gentry. Even in the lack of light her beauty shows matched by the contralto and timber of her voice.
+ “No one is at the scene, choombattas.”
-{| class="wikitable" style="width: 90%; padding: 50px; margin: auto"
+Sable’s tempo is a little slower today as her rich, throaty words tickle your audio receptors.
-|-
-|“I know, I’ve been absent for a while. Sometimes silence has to prevail so that the truth can be heard. I put my life on the line day in and day out so you chummers can have the Know. Regrettably, there are occasions where such acts require delicate seclusions and I’m afraid that’s where I’ve been these past few days; in delicate seclusion.
-Do you remember a short while ago I reported on the accusations from Prometheus Corp against Sol Energy? The claim was assassination. Well, gatos, I dug deeper and the biz is more nefarious than originally suspected.
+ “Not a single person seems to give a damn.”
-The assassination of Prometheus Corp’s head scientist, Rajanjeet Lidder, isn’t isolated. I have it on good authority that two more attempts were made against leading PC scientists. Margrjet Þangbrandsdóttir and Wael Abadi, two division heads for Prometheus Corp, were also targeted. Mr. Abadi remains in critical condition at an undisclosed location having been saved by the overpriced yet fortuitous contract he had with Trauma Team. Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir was alerted with enough time to make an escape while her security team engaged with the would-be assassin. One member of the security team survived and I secured a private interview with Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir. Put your ears on, choombattas. I’m flinging it your way now.”
+The beautiful media is shrouded in darkness, her location indiscernible. No lights but that from her recording drone barely illuminating her Nubian skin.
-|}<br>
-Transitioning from the crimson abyss to a blue haze of blurred scenery and spotted light motes, the video shows two navy blue shadows seated across from each other. One is obviously Sable and the other is presumably Margrjet Þangbrandsdóttir.
-{| class="wikitable" style="width: 90%; padding: 50px; margin: auto"
+{| class="wikitable" style="width: 100%; padding: 50px; margin: auto"
 |-
-|Sable Gentry: “Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir,” Sable leans forward intently. “Who tipped you off to the attempt on your life?”
+|“What I’m doing is bringing attention to the unattended, the amped-out, the buttonheads. Those individuals who are ghosts in the system, numbers in the books, lost souls. They mill about seeking some semblance of life and what do they find? Most find death, gato. That’s what they find.
-Margrjet Þangbrandsdóttir: “Wael, may he rest in peace,” Margrjet’s voice is ladened with a heavy Icelandic accent giving it a toughness akin to a Viking from a holo-vid. “He called to let me know that he was under attack. He—he was murdered while on the call with me.”
-SG: “Were any of you, Mr. Lidder, Mr. Abadi, or yourself, read in on any potential threats by Prometheus Corp’s security division?”
-MÞ: “We were warned that there was a distinct possibility we could be targeted, yes.” Margrjet’s shadow shifts slighting, her hands kneading into each other as she speaks. “That’s why we all had heightened security details assigned to us.”
+Have you ever come across the remains of Harvesters at work? You do your best to be chill when all you want to do is charf. They are the Devil’s minions and there’s no one at the scene but damnable Cocoon cleaning synths.
-SG: “Were you told why you were a potential target and who was targeting you?” Sable presses.
+Who was it that fell prey to the hunger, to the lure, to the spice that kills? Whose name will no longer be spoken as their memory fades? Who was the soup that the synths are wiping from the floor? We’ll never know because there’s no one at the scene, choomba.
-MÞ: “We weren’t, no. Only to be on guard and to limit our leisure activities.”
+Is that the scene that’s being painted for your life? Ask yourself, are you doomed to end up on Boot Hill with your parts adorning another person’s body? Are you destined to become a statistic on the Kill Boards? Will anyone remember? Will you be drank up by the cleaning synths and deposited in waste canisters?
-SG: “So, you were at home when the attack happened?”
+No one is at the scene. No police, no detectives, no mourners, and certainly no corpo. No one is at the scene. You work away your best years, give away your soul for the credits to exist, and the organization to which you’ve sacrificed everything doesn’t even recognize when you disappear. Yet, you keep working for them. You keep giving to them. You keep feeding the very beast that is devouring your body and soul day after day like some masochistic lunatic. When you seek out that stimulant, that escape from your horrible reality, and you wind up prey to the predators of the Streets. No one is at the scene.
-MÞ: “Yes,” Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir nods in tandem with her reply. “My security drones were disabled as were my security cameras. The sec-team went on high alert when Wael called, they were monitoring my communications as well.”
+Why do it? Why continue to feed the beast? Why not demand more? Why not rise up? Why not…? No one is at the scene. That’s why. Not even you.”
+|}
-SG: “And yet, only one of your team survived,” Sable settles back in her seat. “What’s your conclusion of the hit team’s capabilities? Do you think it was a freelance team or corpo?”
-MÞ: “I don’t believe any corporation would risk a known member of their personnel being caught on site,” Margrjet shakes her head. “No, I believe that the team sent to kill me was freelance. Either a single individual who is extremely augmented and skilled or a small team with specialists that can focus on disabling my electronic security while dismantling my physical security.”
-SG: “What do you say to the accusations made by your company against Sol Energy?”
-MÞ: “Prometheus Corp does not act rashly,” Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir claims with determined resolve. “If they believe that Sol Energy is behind these unlawful attacks then I must conclude that Sol Energy wants me dead.”
-SG: “Do you believe that you’re safe now?” Sable asks quietly.
-MÞ: “No,” the scientist responds firmly. “I am asking New Geneva to intervene and force Sol Energy into talks with Prometheus Corp. I’ve lost two good friends—good men who were doing nothing more than striving to provide better energy solutions to the System. I am convinced that this is the preamble of a much greater conflict, and should no one take steps to stop it the actors involved will be emboldened causing more death.”
-|}<br>
-The transition from the blue to red scenes takes place in much the same way as it had previously, leaving only Sable’s silhouette alone with the viewers.
-{| class="wikitable" style="width: 90%; padding: 50px; margin: auto"
-|-
-|“Two dead and another on the run in what could be the harbinger of greater conflict throughout the system, and what is New Geneva doing about it? My interview with Ms. Þangbrandsdóttir is time passed, more than a few cycles, and so far, nothing.
-“Will your power bill represent the cost of this corporate engagement? Will your lives be added to the statistics when this boils over? Who were the teams of freelancers that executed two of Prometheus Corp’s most brilliant assets and fumbled on the final play?”
-|}<br>
 A small chime sounds.
-{| class="wikitable" style="width: 90%; padding: 50px; margin: auto"
+ "Evil only wins when good people do nothing, gato. When good people do nothing. Be at the scene. Keep it real. I'm out."
-|-
-|"You have a right to know, you have a right to have something done about it. In the meantime, keep it real."
-|}<br>