tweaked. We have
planned stages of tek evolution to integrate all species on The City
into our upgrade platform. Yes, for now the bio-mods are predominantly a human upgrade; but that is our base technology platform from which to extend. My
friends, NanoTek strives for the improvement of all species.”
“Sir? War Machine Inc. You
mention all biomods being linked to the GreenSource Mainframe. Does that
framework include pirated biomods? Do you have tags on the mods which have been
cracked and smashed and pumped?”
There came an embarrassed silence
which swept Joker’s Hall like a tsunami. Dr Oz smiled, but his face was gargoyle
stone. A non-animate. “Not—as such,” he said, finally. “But we have people
working on it. Now, one final question.” He faced a sea of hands from the
gathered media peeps. He pointed.
“Mr Blue. The Shag Town Times. Is it true that NanoTek have secured contracts with Quad-Gal Sec5 Military?
And are developing new technology such as processor types, AI scripting and
molecular weapon enhancements which will eventually filter down to civilian
level?”
Dr Oz peered at the man in the
sea before him. He smiled. “That is a rumour circulated by you journalists. NanoTek
do not, and I repeat, do not have dealings with the military. We are a
simple and ethical organisation interested in the extension and technologically
enhanced longevity of the unified organic species of Quad-Galaxy. Now, I thank
you for your questions. I bid you good night.”
Another round of applause. A few
cheers. That was good.
Dr Oz turned to walk from the
stage. As he turned, a man entered from behind silver curtains and made his way
swiftly across the platform. The man’s walk turned into a run, another two men
appearing from opposite sides as knives appeared glinting in fists and the
three large men rushed the defenceless figure of Dr Oz who seemed—
suddenly—alone and out of reach of his security.
Dr Oz’s pace faltered. He glanced
right.
The first man to appear, a huge
and heavily muscled mercenary with a brutal scarred face and hooked nose,
lunged with his blade; Oz sidestepped with clinical precision, the knife
slashing past his heart as he slammed out, hand snapping down to break the
assassin’s arm at the elbow. The attacker screamed, his limb flopping and
dangling useless as Oz whirled, fast, to meet the other assassins. With cries
they leapt and Oz ducked a blow, ramming outstretched fingers into one attacker’s
eyeball which flicked free of an anger-skewered face to dangle, jerking useless
and spasmodically against his cheek like a slug on a string. Oz flicked himself
left, rolling, scooping up the long slender dagger from the first assassin and
slamming it into the third man’s heart. Blood fountained, soaking the man’s
long curly dark hair, and as he fell, ten security men charged the stage and
grabbed all three assassins, dragging their bleeding, screaming and, ultimately
(after several silenced bullets) limp figures from the stage.
Dr Oz turned, mechanically, then
moved back to the podium. He wiped his blood stained hands on a cloth,
straightened his tie, lifted his head and swept the hushed audience once more
with a gold-flecked gaze. He smiled, a slow easy smile. “I do apologise for
this intrusion. As you must acknowledge, when you are in a position such as I,
threats from extremist minority groups can sometimes embarrass a situation. I
hope this has not ruined what is to be a superb World Technology Show, and beg
that you enjoy yourselves in what has traditionally become known as the opening
event leading to The Quantum Carnival.” As if on cue, a billion fireworks
detonated outside. Through the liquid-glass ceiling, the sky fizzled with
colours and explosions. “Thank you. Goodnight.”
Oz bowed once more, and travelled
the long lacquered stage on a palanquin of cheers, screams and tumultuous
applause. Not only was he the most powerful and
planned stages of tek evolution to integrate all species on The City
into our upgrade platform. Yes, for now the bio-mods are predominantly a human upgrade; but that is our base technology platform from which to extend. My
friends, NanoTek strives for the improvement of all species.”
“Sir? War Machine Inc. You
mention all biomods being linked to the GreenSource Mainframe. Does that
framework include pirated biomods? Do you have tags on the mods which have been
cracked and smashed and pumped?”
There came an embarrassed silence
which swept Joker’s Hall like a tsunami. Dr Oz smiled, but his face was gargoyle
stone. A non-animate. “Not—as such,” he said, finally. “But we have people
working on it. Now, one final question.” He faced a sea of hands from the
gathered media peeps. He pointed.
“Mr Blue. The Shag Town Times. Is it true that NanoTek have secured contracts with Quad-Gal Sec5 Military?
And are developing new technology such as processor types, AI scripting and
molecular weapon enhancements which will eventually filter down to civilian
level?”
Dr Oz peered at the man in the
sea before him. He smiled. “That is a rumour circulated by you journalists. NanoTek
do not, and I repeat, do not have dealings with the military. We are a
simple and ethical organisation interested in the extension and technologically
enhanced longevity of the unified organic species of Quad-Galaxy. Now, I thank
you for your questions. I bid you good night.”
Another round of applause. A few
cheers. That was good.
Dr Oz turned to walk from the
stage. As he turned, a man entered from behind silver curtains and made his way
swiftly across the platform. The man’s walk turned into a run, another two men
appearing from opposite sides as knives appeared glinting in fists and the
three large men rushed the defenceless figure of Dr Oz who seemed—
suddenly—alone and out of reach of his security.
Dr Oz’s pace faltered. He glanced
right.
The first man to appear, a huge
and heavily muscled mercenary with a brutal scarred face and hooked nose,
lunged with his blade; Oz sidestepped with clinical precision, the knife
slashing past his heart as he slammed out, hand snapping down to break the
assassin’s arm at the elbow. The attacker screamed, his limb flopping and
dangling useless as Oz whirled, fast, to meet the other assassins. With cries
they leapt and Oz ducked a blow, ramming outstretched fingers into one attacker’s
eyeball which flicked free of an anger-skewered face to dangle, jerking useless
and spasmodically against his cheek like a slug on a string. Oz flicked himself
left, rolling, scooping up the long slender dagger from the first assassin and
slamming it into the third man’s heart. Blood fountained, soaking the man’s
long curly dark hair, and as he fell, ten security men charged the stage and
grabbed all three assassins, dragging their bleeding, screaming and, ultimately
(after several silenced bullets) limp figures from the stage.
Dr Oz turned, mechanically, then
moved back to the podium. He wiped his blood stained hands on a cloth,
straightened his tie, lifted his head and swept the hushed audience once more
with a gold-flecked gaze. He smiled, a slow easy smile. “I do apologise for
this intrusion. As you must acknowledge, when you are in a position such as I,
threats from extremist minority groups can sometimes embarrass a situation. I
hope this has not ruined what is to be a superb World Technology Show, and beg
that you enjoy yourselves in what has traditionally become known as the opening
event leading to The Quantum Carnival.” As if on cue, a billion fireworks
detonated outside. Through the liquid-glass ceiling, the sky fizzled with
colours and explosions. “Thank you. Goodnight.”
Oz bowed once more, and travelled
the long lacquered stage on a palanquin of cheers, screams and tumultuous
applause. Not only was he the most powerful and
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