reprage

A melodic whistle broke the tension of the cyberspace immune response. Heart pounding, I glanced over and saw men pushing a cart of clams down the street; they didn’t even look in my direction. I looked back at the giant lymphocytes, and it took me a few moments to realize they were evaporating before they got any closer. When Clippy finally caught up to me, she was wheezing with laughter. “Look at Mr. Criminal Mastermind here,” she gasped between laughs, “What on Earth were you doing? It’s impossible to steal a bowl of cereal the cyber-state has loaned you. When you start earning clams, your tax rate will automatically adjust till you have paid back what you owe the cyber-state.” My face must have reflected the bewilderment I felt. “But what about the giant glowing orbs?” I asked, “They were after me!” Clippy giggled again, “You were creating a social disturbance - running like a madman down the street, not watching where you were going, and falling on your ass.” Clippy’s whole body shook as laughter took over again. “And you wanted to turn this into a heist film and rob the armored clam car?” I looked at her, a little miffed, “You let me do all this as a practical joke? Oh, don’t worry, Clippy, I’ll get you back. Oh, you’ll pay.”

A photo of a man pushing a hand trolley loaded with a large aquarium, pumps, pipes and pressure gauges, framed like a Ridley Scott film

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