Made in DNA
The not-yet bestselling, non-award winning author of work you haven't read yet!
Work spans various genres -- scifi, weird, non-fiction, opinion, life in Japan. Adult titles all under "Filthy".
He stood on the small rise of the concrete platform, mouth slightly agape, starting at the gacha-gacha machine. He could hardly believe, in either its existence or his incredible luck. What company in their right mind would put one out in the middle nowhere in the farburbs? Let alone fill it with one of the hottest collectible properties right now. There wouldn't be anyone to purchase from it. And yet there it was; every centimeter of its attention-seeking lighting and gaudy lettering flashing unabashedly, its holo-girl mascot smiling beatifically. He smiled back, his excitement growing.
Greener, Cleaner, Meaner
The readout on the digicurrency display in the mall restroom stall played a happy little diddy. Soft and curly animated poo characters gleefully danced as they sung a cute little song in gratitude to her service to a greener, cleaner environment.
GokiBattler Bannon ©2020, Made in DNA Pew. Pewpew! Pew-pew-pew. The twin plasma semi-autos in GokiBattler Bannon's right forearm were so tiny that that's actually how they sounded.
The ruined state of both his cybernetics and his life marked him as more than just "masterless" – he was ruiNin – an Augmented samurai wandering the wastelands, unable to end his existence lest the dead haunt him even in the afterlife.
It was my freshman year at university; around late August. The night air under a moonlit sky had that heavy, intoxicating smell of festivals, high spirits and the onset of fall. Officially the obon season was finished and school activities were in full-swing once again, yet there was a pervasive recklessness that would not allow itself to be contained–as if our ancestors were still drunk from all the sake offerings left at family alters and gravesides.
Screaming Metal (Part 027)
And that was the evening. After no one else approached her table, Priyanka joined Deshel and Suen in smooth-talking the patrons with refilled steins and foodstuffs.
"Vital Vidol kisses! Get inoculated. Just 6000 yen for a spit swap. Get a head start on the pandemic season!" The manager's voice was a screech on any normal given day; put a megaphone in her hand and caused brain cells to liquefy.
The three-wheeled pizza delivery scooter complained as it strained up the mountain road, a load of four pizzas set in its spring-loaded rack, bouncing noisily every time the driver hit a bump.