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EVanimations — Oct 10- Barkeeper
#bar #bartender #brain #challenge #character #cyberpunk #cyborg #design #october
Published: 2015-10-11 03:33:51 +0000 UTC; Views: 686; Favourites: 10; Downloads: 1
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Description
"What's wrong with my head...?
You're not from around here, are you. In fact, have you been living under a rock...?
...Really? Ok...
People like me passively undermine the robot-dominated workforce. We like to show our human brains off as a kind of romantic display, to demonstrate our humanity, you know. It also helps that we run small establishments like this, give people a place to unwind in a genuine, friendly environment.
Not that it matters much because next year, 2053, THE POWERS THAT BE will supposedly be integrating quantum brains into a new generation of machines. Those damn idiots will make us all obsolete. Ah well, enjoy the drinks and atmosphere while it lasts, I suppose.
What you want?"
Prices seem to have gone up while you were asleep.
Microbeer: $42 "Old fashioned, brewed right in our microstill. I recommend it."
Imported cider: $65 "Apples don't come cheap, but tis the season."
Vodka: $33 "Best smash for your buck."
Nanoslurry: $20 "Don't touch the stuff, myself. They say it tracks you."
Absinthe: $80 "Probably not a good idea."
Nothing could have prepared you for this.
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Comments: 6
Oh I surely don't know about that. Something about this cybernetic server and her overly familiar way cause em to suspect that she just might whip up one wicked Mickey Finn that will have you waking up on a slow cargo ship to Alfa Centauri. She hasn't a look in her artificial eyes to reassure that she would not add a few drops of android oil to your cider.
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>You shoot the bartender a distrustful glare.
"Relax, kid. Times like this, I understand how edgy people can be, and not without good reason. But we're all here to have a good time. Now, you gonna get a drink or not?"
>You shoot the bartender a distrustful glare.
"What???"
>You shoot the bartender a distrustful glare.
"Alright, look. You're beginning to make me uncomfortable."
>You shoot the bartender a distrustful glare.
"It's because I'm black isn't it. Get out of my tavern."
>You were kicked out.
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I've been kicked out before. Not the first tome at all a very capable, captivating, and damn straight Lady bar keep has not approve of the cut of my jib and my queries about the spirits. She is as fine a proprietress who has run my off, than many another who has bid me stay. 
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"Oh, and now you're hitting on me! This just gets better and better. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
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I'll TAKE THREE ABSINTHE AND ONE VODKA! OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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You wake up. It's another 40 years later and your head is pounding.
The bar is gone. Everything is gone. But putting your ear to the bleached dirt you can hear a kind of mechanical thumping. That's not your head pounding -- that's the EARTH. Or maybe it is your head.
You pick up one of the empty absinthe bottles and sigh. You can't help but wonder how it can be that the world ended around you and yet nobody noticed the passed-out drunk in the corner of the bar. Well, here you are. A part of you wonders if you're developing a problem, since you just spent $273 of your remaining $500 on 4 drinks.
"No," you think to yourself. "I can stop anytime I want!" Well, you don't really have a choice at this point, now do you.
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