(no subject)

[dramatispersonae]

You lurch sideways with the abrupt sensation of being punched in the heart.

For a few moments, darkness clouds your vision. You can't breathe, your chest is clenching, you gasp and no air comes. Your skin crawls with frantic fear. Your body feels heavy, your limbs awkward, your belly distended. Needle-shocks of pain shoot through your legs, and you want to throw up, but can't. You're hiccuping; you hear someone screaming and you can't tell whether it's you. Your mind feels fragmented, and for a moment, you cannot even remember your name--

Everything goes black.

And then you are, almost gently, set on your feet in a new place...

(Join #engineroom)

Comments

Re: The Crèche

[dramatispersonae]

[More handwavy infodumps!]

Jackson's Whole is the planet where anything is legal. Anything at all. Slavery, cloning or vat-growing humans for specific purposes--including clones for brain transplants, as is the case with this facility--and a whole host of other biological, technological, and legal monstrosities. The planet works by a sort of controlled chaos, with an array of Houses, basically massive predatory corporations. The only thing that passes for unwritten law is that a Deal between two businessmen is to be held and honored.

Re: The Crèche

[stigmateyes]

I remember...

[Taps the cloning button more agitatedly.]

Re: The Crèche

[dramatispersonae]

You've already gotten the core of this infodump IC, but yes, cloning. History of the development and the refinement of the technology, and a long list of perfectly legal and savory uses for it, primarily as a method of reproduction for single parents, homosexual couples or couples involving a herm or other nonstandard genetic donor, couples where one side of the family has a known genetic instability, etcetera. On most planet's, one's clone is legally recognized as either one's child or one's sibling, depending upon the circumstances. And, yes, horrible things done with clones on Jackson's Whole, because everything's legal.

Re: The Crèche

[stigmateyes]

[Mrr, I think it's time to go check out that red paint on the glass.]

Re: The Crèche

[dramatispersonae]

Written on the glass in blood-red paint is: "EVERYTHING THEY SAY IS A LIE YOU'LL NEVER GET OUT."

Glimpsed between that, and the bars behind the windowpane, the dense cityscape is composed of towers and massive labs, logos and House crests everywhere. Snow falls gently, turning gray from dirt where it accumulates. People scuttle back and forth, looking hurried and busy, and some of them seem oddly too large, or too small, or strangely shaped.