Keeping It Real with Sable Gentry S1:E3

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Originally Published on December 2nd, 2491
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.

“After living on Cocoon Station for even a few months your soul craves color.” 

Sable’s silky voice caresses the video of an exterior shot of the Station from a good distance out surrounded by the inky black of space.

“Color is life and life can seem a drab existence without rich stimulation. That’s why Cocoon has one of the highest levels of addicts within the System amongst its population. Check my claim in the Medical Herald, chummers. This is another of those hard truths. So, where does one find this life-giving rainbow on-station? Old Town, that’s where. At least, that’s where the life of the party used to be and the decorations are still vibrant. You may find the Casino there, a number of joints to eat at, and, of course, that’s where many concepts exist. Craving a kaleidoscope of energy, I made my way to Old Town just last night. Me and my trusty drone wandering through this marvel of engineering rubbing elbows with you, my listeners, and sharing in the flavors of the Street. Everything was going great, gatos. I was enjoying the conversations and even considering doing a ‘life in the day of’ piece when that pristine experience was invaded.”

A hard razor’s edge cuts along each word as she continues.

“There’s a plague infesting our heart, choombattas. The surgeon’s scalpel seems to be missing the malignant core leaving the contagion to metastasize and so long as the credits keep flowing, the surgeons are just fine treating the symptoms. You see, during my last sleep cycle, while I was absorbing the nutrients provided by Old Town’s beautiful heritage I witnessed this disease in action. This horrid affliction reared its ugliness in Old Town in the form of savagery as residents and visitors alike were accosted by the scum known as the Bosozoku. The wolves are at the door, choomba, and the corpos don’t care that we’re having our throats ripped out. APD is gone, a tyrant that we can all be grateful for was beheaded, but at least they were a deterrent for gangs like these Bosozoku. Free Company tosses a pittance our way as occasional patrols show their double-headed eagles here and there but these aren’t reliable. The cold hard truth is that we need Edgerunners to step it up. That’s right, choombattas. We need you. Vigilante justice, the legendary rule of the Old West, our very own superheroes. We need you to do your thing. Your payment? Reputation, renown, and good, old-fashioned gratitude. That’s right, I’m challenging you to do something about this infestation. You heard it straight from me. Roast them and let the Devil have his due.”

A small chime sounds.

“This is Sable Gentry, keeping it real. À toute à l'heure!”