At-a-distance-command-and-controlled cyborg hit squad
give them just the right levels of aggression and cunning
load them up with bionic parts and heavy artillery
make sure at least one asset’s packing a cute little brainwash gun
get the enemy worker bees on your side,
light up the whole fuckin’ hive
-not to worry, not when it comes to the collateral damages and such
the whole planet’s been paved over
by all the rivalling, property-obsessed oligarchic factions
everywhere you go
the same architecture, the same infrastructure
all of Earth
is a campus for some New Era Corporate Citizen,
the constiuent flunky-shit-work drones that make up the bodies politic
of the Money Titans of this contemptible era
-so go nuts,
Young Mastermind,
shoot up the hired gunslingers of the Other Side,
and go ahead and nuke the saloon set, too, while you’re at it
it’s expected and encouraged,
actually . . . sure, sure, sure-sometimes it’s a defector extraction bit,
that requires finesse,
obvi
-but force is pretty much default,
now,
then,
forever,
and all the parts and pieces of infrastructure
and personnel
have been totally rationalized, standardized, and maker-ized,
ready to be vat-grown and secreted,
or assembled-to-spec in sundry micro-manufacturies world-around,
so get your damage on, son!
Fully Militarized Globally Scaled Gentrification of the Earth
makes all the white trust fund hipster-gentrifiers of the recent past look like amateurs
especially nowadays,
since there’s no pretense of “art,” of “starting a band,” or “doing theatre,” or “opening a cute little coffee spot,” or “thinkin’ I’ll set up a micro-brewery to get a couture drunk-on, bro,”
it’s just straight up guns and bombs and brainwash rays and full-on suicide soldiers
when you need some of those;
carnage-on-demand
whenever and however you like it, son,
no slow death of economic, racial, and social apartheid, in-this-the-cruellest-now,
just fast-paced commando death squad dropship action,
24/7
you wouldn’t even know how to close, dude!
it’s the only way you can elevate yourself from a mere Destroyer
to a full-on Decider . . .
Syndicate is-in my mind-a training program for a dystopian cyberpunk future villain-kinda like a next level Bond Villain, or something like that.
It should have come with a fully functional vat-grown synth-cat to perch on your lap,
making those biscuits,
as you stroke its fur,
the greatest pack-in feelie of PC gaming history,
ordering the next atrocity,
at-a-distance
command-and-controlled,
‘cause the one true executive core competency
you must master
is how to orchestrate the slaughter
with not a spot of blood on you
secure in your airship
your vicious little godhood.
I’d say it beats minimum wage . . . but what doesn’t?
Really
the more I think about it
you need a prequel to the training program of Syndicate
like what’s the sorting process
to even get into a murderous executive scumbaggery career track?
I mean what with the economic, racial, and social apartheid IRL-
what the fuck does that look like eye-deep into a dystopian cyberpunk future?
Now that one-that would be too depressing to contemplate.
Something like an All-American capitalist version of Papers, Please.
Probably too much to contemplate even for a pessimist like me.
