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When I was a little person...
A short story.

When I was a little person, I had a name that meant something. It was nice. People called me by it and I liked the sound it made in the air. I played with my toys and enjoyed doing what made me happy.

It first started with my identity. But what is an identity if it isn't your name or how you feel? What people saw me as, became dangerous to speak aloud. Don't assume, they said. Assumptions lead to offending and offending leads to pain. It never hurt me before.

Later, not soon after, my own name became a weapon. Something that forced an identity upon me, they said. I needed a new name, one that wasn't defined by biology but by me. But I loved my name and it wasn't more than a label, as they said. There were those who said even names as labels were stifling and harmful. So I became a person. A person without a name, but a special number and a description that didn't fit me.

Like everyone, I got used to it. Why should we hurt people by labelling them before they can comprehend their world? There was no such thing as gender or names that were based on gender. Asexuality and no choices, except mandated neutrality and equal access to all. No longer were there things such as hetero or homo, there was simply a person and if I declined the sexual advances of anyone -- I could be arrested for bigotry. If I did it again, it became a hate crime.

As I grew older, I longed secretly for my name: Harmony. I longed for the days I played with dolls and dressed in pretty colors and things. Defined now by gray loose pants, gray coats, gray shirts and gray hair. The world used to be full of color, but that too became difficult to prevent others from being offended. So everyone had to be the same. The same hairstyle, color and hues. Everyone had no real names anymore. Their cards on their lapels proudly displayed whether they were of consenting age or not, and a serial number. That was it.

No longer could you look people in the eyes, for that was also aggressive. You couldn't say hi to anyone on the street, because it could insult them for suggesting they were on drugs. Words had to be carefully chosen to avoid any instance of suggestion for gender, ethnicity, identity or even their age, religion or anything. No talk about religion. No talk about politics. No talk about the nice day it was, out of fear you might upset them by not taking into account something that might have happened to them that day or time, someplace, sometime...

When I was a little person, I had a name that meant something. I was important. I was someone. Now I am alone, forgettable and inoffensive.

Today, I am no one. I am everyone.
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Oooh... What did I just find?
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Holy shit, this is pretty good!
6 minutes of adrenalin and suspense!
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Wow.
This is well done.

It really puts things into perspective for that scene.
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This is gonna be interestin'.
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Star Trek: Camelot
Dawn of Days Passed.

When those lost, are those found.
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Star Trek: Camelot
Dawn of Tomorrow

The USS Camelot, rejoined by their fated crew from the Twilight of Sorrows, boldly goes where no one has gone before. From the ragtag tatters of the remainder of Alpha Fleet, boosted by the Civonian-Ni`yuH'jI-Tirol Emperium, seeks to rebuild the Federation after the trials and hardship brought by the Milky Way Wars.

Yet in a new world, deep in the heart of the Andromeda Galaxy, the menacing Gods of old seek new paths to guide their ancient fledgling pets. As Zeus, Hera and Aries, angry at their failing to uplift to supercede God herself, are more interested in restoring their power by striking fear into the hearts of the mortals once more.

In a fight between Gods and Mortals: One ship, stands before them, defiant... because what the fuck? They've got nothin' better to do.

STAR TREK: CAMELOT
DAWN OF TOMORROW

Rise up, middle fingers... rise.

COMING SOON!

+Chris Bryson +Russ Fox
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Who Rustles The Rustlers?
Another installment!

Strix has entered the dark side of The World, literally. Meeting with the one person who knows Strix intimately, Takahashi is a cute but incredibly dangerous genius. However, as Strix's past emerges, is it a threat to the future of the entire Human species?
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Who Rustles The Rustlers
The next chapter opens with another murder and Strix reopening old wounds.
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Who Rustles The Rustlers?
They Rustle for Thee...

A mind-bending, cyberpunk murder mystery story set in a 1940s film noir style, with a creamy dark comedy center. Meet Ashley Strix, known as * online: An INTERPOL LAPD Division Homicide Detective who specialises handling cases in The World -- The ultra-modern form into which the Internet has evolved. A time not too far in the future, where wetware and appliances connect the human consciousness by augmenting their physical bodies, just to get their fix online to be more real than real.

A series of gruesome murders of several notorious online Trolls draws Strix into this challenging case of whodunit. In the course, it also begins bringing up old memories and secrets of her past she'd rather remain six feet under. Unfortunately, her sole witness to help identify and stop the killer is a DJ named Meg Usta... and she's already dead.

So grab some popcorn and put on your headphones, and get ready for a story that not only entertains, thrills and chills... but leaves you questioning your very perception of existence and reality.
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