Read Online ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) by Isaac Hooke - Free Book Online
Authors: Isaac Hooke
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street, the take-out order from the local pizza joint, the lap dance from your favorite stripper. That’s right, Nova exchanged cloud data with all the other merchant clearinghouses. Probably still does. Part of the ‘fair use’ policy when using their web properties. Cloud algorithms are in place to tag money launderers and other tax cheats, but a lot of the time that data is misused, and sold to other retailers so Net ads can be targeted to your buying habits, for example. Just hope you don’t get a stalker working at Nova Dynamics.
“The age of robos heralded the end of the age of privacy. It’s a dangerous age, where robotic eyes observe your every movement. With robots and security cameras everywhere, you’re constantly recorded and analyzed by cloud computing resources, one wrong word or action away from being flagged and arrested. Let’s just say, it wouldn’t be a good thing for the robots to turn on us.”
The unsaid reference to Geronimo was foremost in all our minds, I think. Because out there, eight thousand lightyears from home, our robot support troops had done just that, and turned against us.
Snakeoil tried to lighten the mood. “And here I always thought Fret was our regional provider of doom and gloom.”
Fret was still staring at the woman on stage as she gyrated to the hippie metal music. The lanky communicator was enraptured, and hadn’t heard a word of what was said as far as I could tell.
“No, he’s just our village idiot,” Bender said.
“That’s getting cold by the way.” I nodded at the basket of wings untouched in Lui’s lap.
“Oh yeah. I sometimes forget about my stomach when I’m talking about things I’m passionate about.” Lui retrieved a light stick from his side pocket and flashed a bright beam at the chicken wings.
“Are you taking pictures of your food with your Implant again?” Skullcracker said. The heavy gunner was relatively slight of build, but the daunting, realistic-looking human skull tattooed onto his face made up for any impression of weakness. You’d think the tattoo would repel girls. Not so. They were fascinated by him, and he had two dancers in his lap right then, though he didn’t seem all that interested in them, which was probably an act. “Sure, I could understand if we were ordering filet mignon or some exquisitely arranged sushi. But greasy, deep-fried barbecue wings piled into a basket at a strip club?”
“Hey, I like food okay?” Lui said. “When we’re in space, cooped up for months on end, these pictures get me by. They give me a chance to plan out my food itinerary for when I get back. What buffets to hit. What diners. You know.”
Skullcracker chuckled, the skull tattooed onto his face bending into a ghastly shape. “Food itinerary. I like that.”
“I’m a foodie,” Lui said. “I admit it. And this is what we foodies do. Cuisine and the art of eating, the presentation of the food, it’s all very important to us. Even if it’s just a basket of wings. Besides, being a foodie is part of my cultural inheritance. You know that ‘how are you’ in Korean-Chinese basically translates to ‘have you eaten yet,’ right?”
“You greet each other in Korean-Chinese by saying have you eaten yet ?” Skullcracker shook his head. He turned to TJ, who sat beside him. “Hey, have you eaten yet?”
TJ, our main drone operator, had a girl giving him a microcoin dance in his seat. That night he wore his usual tight tee that showed off the groove between his pecs and his bulging biceps to good effect. The olive skin of his left arm was tattooed to look like the arm of an ATLAS mech, replete with rivets and servomotors and swappable weapons. His right arm was inked with other military robots like the Centurion and Raptor, which competed for every square inch of skin. He also had an Atlas moth tattooed to his neck, the wings extending down his chest.
The girl’s hand was also reaching down his chest as she ground against him
“The age of robos heralded the end of the age of privacy. It’s a dangerous age, where robotic eyes observe your every movement. With robots and security cameras everywhere, you’re constantly recorded and analyzed by cloud computing resources, one wrong word or action away from being flagged and arrested. Let’s just say, it wouldn’t be a good thing for the robots to turn on us.”
The unsaid reference to Geronimo was foremost in all our minds, I think. Because out there, eight thousand lightyears from home, our robot support troops had done just that, and turned against us.
Snakeoil tried to lighten the mood. “And here I always thought Fret was our regional provider of doom and gloom.”
Fret was still staring at the woman on stage as she gyrated to the hippie metal music. The lanky communicator was enraptured, and hadn’t heard a word of what was said as far as I could tell.
“No, he’s just our village idiot,” Bender said.
“That’s getting cold by the way.” I nodded at the basket of wings untouched in Lui’s lap.
“Oh yeah. I sometimes forget about my stomach when I’m talking about things I’m passionate about.” Lui retrieved a light stick from his side pocket and flashed a bright beam at the chicken wings.
“Are you taking pictures of your food with your Implant again?” Skullcracker said. The heavy gunner was relatively slight of build, but the daunting, realistic-looking human skull tattooed onto his face made up for any impression of weakness. You’d think the tattoo would repel girls. Not so. They were fascinated by him, and he had two dancers in his lap right then, though he didn’t seem all that interested in them, which was probably an act. “Sure, I could understand if we were ordering filet mignon or some exquisitely arranged sushi. But greasy, deep-fried barbecue wings piled into a basket at a strip club?”
“Hey, I like food okay?” Lui said. “When we’re in space, cooped up for months on end, these pictures get me by. They give me a chance to plan out my food itinerary for when I get back. What buffets to hit. What diners. You know.”
Skullcracker chuckled, the skull tattooed onto his face bending into a ghastly shape. “Food itinerary. I like that.”
“I’m a foodie,” Lui said. “I admit it. And this is what we foodies do. Cuisine and the art of eating, the presentation of the food, it’s all very important to us. Even if it’s just a basket of wings. Besides, being a foodie is part of my cultural inheritance. You know that ‘how are you’ in Korean-Chinese basically translates to ‘have you eaten yet,’ right?”
“You greet each other in Korean-Chinese by saying have you eaten yet ?” Skullcracker shook his head. He turned to TJ, who sat beside him. “Hey, have you eaten yet?”
TJ, our main drone operator, had a girl giving him a microcoin dance in his seat. That night he wore his usual tight tee that showed off the groove between his pecs and his bulging biceps to good effect. The olive skin of his left arm was tattooed to look like the arm of an ATLAS mech, replete with rivets and servomotors and swappable weapons. His right arm was inked with other military robots like the Centurion and Raptor, which competed for every square inch of skin. He also had an Atlas moth tattooed to his neck, the wings extending down his chest.
The girl’s hand was also reaching down his chest as she ground against him
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