| > | | | | In answer, George removed his ninja sword from the |
| A story in the style of Neuromancer that touts a | | | | box and laid it reverently upon the coffee table. The |
| futuristic ninja sword. George gripped the shiny | | | | hilt of the blade flashed bright as the hilt segments |
| 5000-watt solar cell in his sweaty palm. Rubbing his | | | | opened to reveal the ninja sword's true nature - |
| thumb over the slightly raised lithographic circuit | | | | sophisticated electronics and flickering diodes |
| shaped like Barack Obama's head - he shifted his | | | | traversed each telescoping compartment. |
| weight nervously from foot to foot. Solar cell | | | | "Kind of looks like you lopped off C3PO's arm and |
| currency was a relic - a leftover response to the | | | | used it for your hilt" mused Jackson as he eyed |
| global hyperinflation of all world fiat currencies early in | | | | George's prize casually. "What'cha going to do with |
| the 3rd Millennium. They still celebrated the guy who | | | | that ninja sword?" |
| came up with a way to give all currency some value | | | | With a single, uninterrupted motion, George slid the |
| despite the fallout from the Global Depression | | | | ninja sword smoothly from the black sheath and |
| though, and George's eyes flicked to the iridescent | | | | crouched with the sword in a double-handed grip |
| image as it shimmered from red to gold - the cell | | | | over his head. Just as quickly, the ninja sword was |
| changing as it charged in the dim light of the alleyway. | | | | re-sheathed and again twinkling enigmatically on the |
| He looked up. | | | | coffee table. |
| His contact was here. | | | | "Well, actually this particular ninja sword is a gift...for |
| A tall lanky form meandered in between broken bits | | | | you. Happy Birthday, Man." George smiled as he |
| of glass, plastic and alleyway detritus. She was | | | | handed over the sword to his surprised companion, |
| carrying a non-descript brown box, about a meter | | | | pommel first. |
| long and as wide as her hand. There were no | | | | Jackson's eyebrows knit in puzzlement. "If the ninja |
| marking to indicate what was inside. But he knew. His | | | | sword is for me...then why did open it?" Jackson |
| ninja sword had arrived. | | | | looked slightly incredulous as he took the ninja sword |
| "Iris here" stated the bored postal employee, her | | | | from George. |
| gaze flicking ever so briefly over his features before | | | | George turned slightly red and looked a little sheepish. |
| continuing on languidly over the rest of his basement | | | | "Oh, you know how I am about opening packages." |
| apartment entryway. George placed his eye to the | | | | He bit his knuckle. "I just can't help it." |
| scanner and took a breath. The brilliant flash caught a | | | | Jackson smiled wryly at his friend's Peter Pan |
| stark image of the needed biometric and within | | | | mentality. "It's okay, man. Thanks for the gift. I've |
| seconds the exchange had been made and the postal | | | | always wanted my own ninja sword." |
| worker was on her way. | | | | "I know," said George. Then smiling broadly, he |
| Scanning the area in both directions, George ducked | | | | reclined back on the tattered couch, and watched |
| back into the scattered gloom of his apartment. His | | | | the light reflect off the segmented hilt of his best |
| finger slipping under the box flap as he walked to the | | | | friend's ninja sword in the dwindling aura of the |
| couch, George opened the package, and gained the | | | | apartment's filtered light. |
| attention of his roommate Jackson as he did so. | | | | Get your own futuristic ninja sword, just like George |
| "What'chem there?" slurred Jackson as he jerked his | | | | at |
| chin in the general direction of the package before his | | | | Diodes not included. |
| eyes focused again upon his food. | | | | |