Post by Alex Tamora on Apr 24, 2017 21:11:45 GMT -5
"I won, I won, I won, I won!"
I paused and let the feeling sink in. It had been nearly seventy two hours since Trauma and I was still riding a wave of euphoria so extreme that Quincy had offered more than once to administer a sedative. The very first wrestling match, not just in PCW, but in my entire life and I had won! The feeling was indescribable.
Quincy's holographic form materialized in front on me, "Alexandra, your adrenaline levels are rising again. Are you sure you would not like me to administer something to help you relax?"
I glared at the projection, "I don't need a sedative, Quincy. Haven't you ever been excited by something?"
It was a stupid question. Quincy was fairly rudimentary AI as far as such things went and did not have the capacity to experience emotions in the same way that people did. Fundamentally he knew what they were and could (and had) give entire dissertations on the chemicals that caused each "emotion" as well as the effect that each had on the human body. But so could the internet.
"I have not, Alexandra. However continued elevated levels of epinephrine in your blood system could lead to irregular heartbeat, headache, dizziness, and nausea; among other side effects."
I rolled my eyes. Dr. Quincy, MD to the rescue again.
"What you can do for, Quincy, is initiate holographic recall starting from mark 20:20 Tuesday, April thirteen."
Blue lights flickered on the edges of my vision and suddenly I was standing in a blue wireframe version of the PCW arena. Pain threatened to overwhelm me as I squeezed my eyes close. Normally when someone initiated holographic recall it was aided with immersion panels. These panels helped to trick the senses and block out extraneous information. By using recalls alongside the appropriate tech it allowed someone to see and slightly interact with past events. I didn't think to bring an immersion suite with me when I borrowed my ship and as such my brain was struggling to quantify all the date that was currently flooding it.
"Quincy, scale back the replay, only the ring and the immediate area around it."
The arena disappeared and suddenly I was left standing in the ring with Lunatic, the referee, and myself.
"Begin sequence."
I watched as everything unfolded in the ring. I watched Lunatic stomp around at ringside before my phantom self got fed up and kicked him into the announce table. It was interesting to watch myself at work. I'd been concerned going into the match that the data uploaded into cortex might not have fully integrated, however watching as everything unfolded in the ring I realized that while it had indeed integrated, another session would only aid me going forward.
All the uploads in the world wouldn't save me from mistakes in the ring though. I cringed as I watched Lunatic leap over me in what I later found out was called a "Flying Squirrel" and rolled me into a pin attempt. Looking at it from this angle it would have been laughably easy to roll through and get away or even dodge the move all together. Seems you couldn't upload ring awareness.
My phantom lifted Lunatic up and just watching, I felt my adrenaline spike. I'd always loved the concept of the finishing move, a move so devastating or executed with such precision that it almost always signaled the end for whomever the poor soul taking it was. Whether it was "The Harvest", "The Candygram", or "The Major Impact" it was almost always a wrestler's best and/or flashiest move and mine was no exception. I watched with child like glee as the phantom Lunatic came crashing down over phantom Alex's knees.
"Quincy, replay time minus ten seconds."
The stage reset itself with Phantom Alex lifting her opponent.
"Quincy, slow play by sixty percent."
I savored the dawning realization that spread over Lunatic's face as he realized this was about to really really hurt.
"Alexandra, your adrenaline levels are elevated again."
I chose to ignore Quincy as I watched my doppelgänger cover Lunatic for the win. Of course my adrenaline was rising, I'd won. Seeing it again, even in holographic form did nothing to diminish the sense of accomplishment I felt. Not bad for a twenty sixth century girl, I thought smugly.
"Okay, Quincy, end recall."
The holographs blinked out of existence around me, leaving me alone with my talking brain AI in the dilapidated warehouse that currently served as home. It was grey, crumbling, and unfit for human habitation. I'd been here nearly a month. I made a mental note to look into a more appropriate residence as soon as possible. I could have very easily has Quincy create a monetary holding account for me in any amount that I wanted. Twenty first century firewalls and security systems were nothing before the electronic might of a Quantum Neural Computer. But I wasn't going to do that.
I was already risking the distortion of history just by interacting with the past as I had been, and lets be honest, would continue to do so. If I started adding computer fraud and theft to the mix, especially with an AI's fingerprints, I could irrevocably alter the past. But there was no way to receive payment from PCW without what they called a checking account. I'd looked into it and it wasn't something I'd be able to obtain without certain documents that I obviously didn't have. So I only committed a little fraud and had Quincy create a verifiable identification for me in this time period. What was the worst that could happen?
A lot actually, but it had been a calculated risk. Causing changes in the past created a ripple like effect in the time stream. Eventually everything would revert back to the way it was supposed to be but it could cause all sorts of unpleasantness to happen while the ripples were still spreading. Wars could be started, people important to the future could die or never come into being, and it was theorized that a large enough distortion could even lead to an extinction level event.
Like I said, calculated risk. Of course by causing those ripples it could eventually reveal my location as well. Altering time was a serious crime and one of the few crimes that was still punishable by death. Time moved differently in...well...time. The further back into the past you went the slower time flowed in the future. Given how far I'd gone back, I estimated that no more than an hour or two had passed back home. Eventually they would discover that the time ship was missing, but as long as I didn't create too many ripples, they'd never known when exactly to look for me. I was about as safe as I could be.
I went over to the time ship and took my place in the cockpit. After nearly a month I still couldn't make heads or tails of the diagnostics so I still didn't know exactly what was wrong. Luckily the ships mainframe was still receiving power so I could still what I needed to do. And what I needed to do was update my cerebral mainframe with even more information about wrestling. What? A girl needs all the advantages she can get.
I pressed behind my ear and winced as the skin over my connection port gave way as the port itself pushed through. Normally this kind of upload would be done wirelessly using a lot of different technical stuff that I made no pretense at understanding. Guess what else I didn't figure to bring along for my little time jaunt. So I had to do it the old fashioned way and do a direct upload via cable. It was painful and unpleasant but it was the only option I had. I pressed the cable into place and gasped in pain as what felt like an ice cold spike stabbed into my brain. I'd never seen a cabled upload done on anyone else but from everything I'd read it looked like a cross between deep REM sleep and a minor seizure.
It was the lack of pain that actually brought me out of the haze that an upload causes. I gagged as the frozen spike was abruptly pulled from my brain as I disconnected the cable. The nausea passed and I had a certain clarity of mind regarding my next match.
SAM was, or rather would be a PCW legend. As a relative newcomer it was easy to overlook him, to lump him in with the untested rookie crowd. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a unique opportunity, to face a future legend before he hit his stride.
He’d lost his debut match against Whitey Ford; that was a recognized fact. But what no one in PCW besides me knew about Samuel Alexander Marshall was that not only would he eventually go on to face Whitey Ford at Mass Destruction XI but he’d end Ford’s nearly two year reign as PCW champion. Ford was never the same after that and in fact would retire within a year of losing his title to SAM.
Suddenly I had a horrible thought “Quincy?”
“Yes, Alexandra? How may I be of assistance?”
“Me competing in Pure Class is technically causing dilations in the time stream, right?”
“That is correct, Alexandra, however your affect on the time stream was calculated as minimal. Despite there being no historical precedent for you competing within this organization, your presence should not cause any radical changes.”
“Are you saying that it’s possible that even if I were to beat SAM, someone who is historically regarded as a legend in this business that he’ll still achieve everything he did originally?” I held my breath in anticipation.
“I calculate a 0.0024% chance that your continued participation within PCW will have any lasting effects on the time stream.”
I let out a deep sigh of relief. After last week’s panic inducing realization that I didn’t recognize Lunatic from the history of PCW nor could I find any record of him in ship’s database, I was afraid that I’d already started to damage the time stream. Of course I went on to wrestle the match anyway, because if it was already broken how much worse could it get? Probably a lot but I’m not a scientist to I didn’t really think about it too much.
SAM was next in line, and while I knew what he would become, this was my chance to see where everything started. I couldn’t wait.
I paused and let the feeling sink in. It had been nearly seventy two hours since Trauma and I was still riding a wave of euphoria so extreme that Quincy had offered more than once to administer a sedative. The very first wrestling match, not just in PCW, but in my entire life and I had won! The feeling was indescribable.
Quincy's holographic form materialized in front on me, "Alexandra, your adrenaline levels are rising again. Are you sure you would not like me to administer something to help you relax?"
I glared at the projection, "I don't need a sedative, Quincy. Haven't you ever been excited by something?"
It was a stupid question. Quincy was fairly rudimentary AI as far as such things went and did not have the capacity to experience emotions in the same way that people did. Fundamentally he knew what they were and could (and had) give entire dissertations on the chemicals that caused each "emotion" as well as the effect that each had on the human body. But so could the internet.
"I have not, Alexandra. However continued elevated levels of epinephrine in your blood system could lead to irregular heartbeat, headache, dizziness, and nausea; among other side effects."
I rolled my eyes. Dr. Quincy, MD to the rescue again.
"What you can do for, Quincy, is initiate holographic recall starting from mark 20:20 Tuesday, April thirteen."
Blue lights flickered on the edges of my vision and suddenly I was standing in a blue wireframe version of the PCW arena. Pain threatened to overwhelm me as I squeezed my eyes close. Normally when someone initiated holographic recall it was aided with immersion panels. These panels helped to trick the senses and block out extraneous information. By using recalls alongside the appropriate tech it allowed someone to see and slightly interact with past events. I didn't think to bring an immersion suite with me when I borrowed my ship and as such my brain was struggling to quantify all the date that was currently flooding it.
"Quincy, scale back the replay, only the ring and the immediate area around it."
The arena disappeared and suddenly I was left standing in the ring with Lunatic, the referee, and myself.
"Begin sequence."
I watched as everything unfolded in the ring. I watched Lunatic stomp around at ringside before my phantom self got fed up and kicked him into the announce table. It was interesting to watch myself at work. I'd been concerned going into the match that the data uploaded into cortex might not have fully integrated, however watching as everything unfolded in the ring I realized that while it had indeed integrated, another session would only aid me going forward.
All the uploads in the world wouldn't save me from mistakes in the ring though. I cringed as I watched Lunatic leap over me in what I later found out was called a "Flying Squirrel" and rolled me into a pin attempt. Looking at it from this angle it would have been laughably easy to roll through and get away or even dodge the move all together. Seems you couldn't upload ring awareness.
My phantom lifted Lunatic up and just watching, I felt my adrenaline spike. I'd always loved the concept of the finishing move, a move so devastating or executed with such precision that it almost always signaled the end for whomever the poor soul taking it was. Whether it was "The Harvest", "The Candygram", or "The Major Impact" it was almost always a wrestler's best and/or flashiest move and mine was no exception. I watched with child like glee as the phantom Lunatic came crashing down over phantom Alex's knees.
"Quincy, replay time minus ten seconds."
The stage reset itself with Phantom Alex lifting her opponent.
"Quincy, slow play by sixty percent."
I savored the dawning realization that spread over Lunatic's face as he realized this was about to really really hurt.
"Alexandra, your adrenaline levels are elevated again."
I chose to ignore Quincy as I watched my doppelgänger cover Lunatic for the win. Of course my adrenaline was rising, I'd won. Seeing it again, even in holographic form did nothing to diminish the sense of accomplishment I felt. Not bad for a twenty sixth century girl, I thought smugly.
"Okay, Quincy, end recall."
The holographs blinked out of existence around me, leaving me alone with my talking brain AI in the dilapidated warehouse that currently served as home. It was grey, crumbling, and unfit for human habitation. I'd been here nearly a month. I made a mental note to look into a more appropriate residence as soon as possible. I could have very easily has Quincy create a monetary holding account for me in any amount that I wanted. Twenty first century firewalls and security systems were nothing before the electronic might of a Quantum Neural Computer. But I wasn't going to do that.
I was already risking the distortion of history just by interacting with the past as I had been, and lets be honest, would continue to do so. If I started adding computer fraud and theft to the mix, especially with an AI's fingerprints, I could irrevocably alter the past. But there was no way to receive payment from PCW without what they called a checking account. I'd looked into it and it wasn't something I'd be able to obtain without certain documents that I obviously didn't have. So I only committed a little fraud and had Quincy create a verifiable identification for me in this time period. What was the worst that could happen?
A lot actually, but it had been a calculated risk. Causing changes in the past created a ripple like effect in the time stream. Eventually everything would revert back to the way it was supposed to be but it could cause all sorts of unpleasantness to happen while the ripples were still spreading. Wars could be started, people important to the future could die or never come into being, and it was theorized that a large enough distortion could even lead to an extinction level event.
Like I said, calculated risk. Of course by causing those ripples it could eventually reveal my location as well. Altering time was a serious crime and one of the few crimes that was still punishable by death. Time moved differently in...well...time. The further back into the past you went the slower time flowed in the future. Given how far I'd gone back, I estimated that no more than an hour or two had passed back home. Eventually they would discover that the time ship was missing, but as long as I didn't create too many ripples, they'd never known when exactly to look for me. I was about as safe as I could be.
I went over to the time ship and took my place in the cockpit. After nearly a month I still couldn't make heads or tails of the diagnostics so I still didn't know exactly what was wrong. Luckily the ships mainframe was still receiving power so I could still what I needed to do. And what I needed to do was update my cerebral mainframe with even more information about wrestling. What? A girl needs all the advantages she can get.
I pressed behind my ear and winced as the skin over my connection port gave way as the port itself pushed through. Normally this kind of upload would be done wirelessly using a lot of different technical stuff that I made no pretense at understanding. Guess what else I didn't figure to bring along for my little time jaunt. So I had to do it the old fashioned way and do a direct upload via cable. It was painful and unpleasant but it was the only option I had. I pressed the cable into place and gasped in pain as what felt like an ice cold spike stabbed into my brain. I'd never seen a cabled upload done on anyone else but from everything I'd read it looked like a cross between deep REM sleep and a minor seizure.
It was the lack of pain that actually brought me out of the haze that an upload causes. I gagged as the frozen spike was abruptly pulled from my brain as I disconnected the cable. The nausea passed and I had a certain clarity of mind regarding my next match.
SAM was, or rather would be a PCW legend. As a relative newcomer it was easy to overlook him, to lump him in with the untested rookie crowd. I couldn’t help but smile. It was a unique opportunity, to face a future legend before he hit his stride.
He’d lost his debut match against Whitey Ford; that was a recognized fact. But what no one in PCW besides me knew about Samuel Alexander Marshall was that not only would he eventually go on to face Whitey Ford at Mass Destruction XI but he’d end Ford’s nearly two year reign as PCW champion. Ford was never the same after that and in fact would retire within a year of losing his title to SAM.
Suddenly I had a horrible thought “Quincy?”
“Yes, Alexandra? How may I be of assistance?”
“Me competing in Pure Class is technically causing dilations in the time stream, right?”
“That is correct, Alexandra, however your affect on the time stream was calculated as minimal. Despite there being no historical precedent for you competing within this organization, your presence should not cause any radical changes.”
“Are you saying that it’s possible that even if I were to beat SAM, someone who is historically regarded as a legend in this business that he’ll still achieve everything he did originally?” I held my breath in anticipation.
“I calculate a 0.0024% chance that your continued participation within PCW will have any lasting effects on the time stream.”
I let out a deep sigh of relief. After last week’s panic inducing realization that I didn’t recognize Lunatic from the history of PCW nor could I find any record of him in ship’s database, I was afraid that I’d already started to damage the time stream. Of course I went on to wrestle the match anyway, because if it was already broken how much worse could it get? Probably a lot but I’m not a scientist to I didn’t really think about it too much.
SAM was next in line, and while I knew what he would become, this was my chance to see where everything started. I couldn’t wait.