Cold Position
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- Votes 9
- Parts 6
A Legacy Asset. A Frozen Bet. A World Where Shares Replace Souls.
Eli Shams was a trader; not a visionary, not a villain. Just a guy who made a few lucky plays and bought himself a future. Literally. When the markets started melting and biotech offered cryo-freeze to the rich and restless, Eli cashed out and went cold, expecting to wake up richer, safer, freer.
Instead, he wakes in Arcadia: a corporate theocracy where human rights are traded like stock, and your worth is measured in a number called SRI. No government. No money. No mercy. Only the Market.
Eli's portfolio survived the centuries. He didn't.
Now, he's labeled a "legacy asset," catapulted into the upper echelons of a system he never agreed to, but helped create. And while everyone's eager to tell him what he owns, no one will explain what it's costing him.
Trapped between corporate doctrine and the black-market world of the Nulls; those erased from the system. Eli has a choice: play the game to stay alive... or sell everything to burn it down.
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cyberpunk
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Dome XIII - Memories for Sale
Introduction Imagine a future where the most precious commodity isn't money or gold, nor power, but the very essence of who you are: your memory. Welcome to Dome XIII, a dystopian metropolis where every fragment of life, every emotion, every experience is encoded and archived in neural diaries, the Scriptum. Here, memory is the new currency, the very breath of the economy. Those who possess it hold power. Those who lose it... vanish into oblivion. In this hive of rogue artificial intelligences, obsessive clubs, and liquid architectures, every transaction is an exchange of identity. Do you desire unattainable luxury? An emotion you've never felt? The price is always the same: a memory. But you cannot choose what to forget. Every payment with memory is a blind ritual, a leap into the void. The machine extracts randomly, and it's not always an insignificant detail. The price is unknown until the very end, but once paid... it's forever. Every individual in Dome XIII has a Scriptum, a Neural Diary that records every lived and internalized experience. It is a sacred-technological object, an inseparable extension of the mind and identity. Without it, one is nothing; the collapse of identity is total: those deprived of it become Nameless, sentient but disoriented, fragmented creatures, starved for meaning and self, destined to ramble in the void of the city's shadow zones, sometimes degenerating into something less than human. The elites and powerful Megacorporations feed on the memories of others, acquiring them in a parasitic capitalist race. Artists sell pieces of their memory to create immortal works. The masses slowly bleed themselves dry, selling their past to live illusions they won't remember. Every choice costs a piece of you. And the bill always comes due. Dome XIII is a world where identity is a luxury, memory is a commodity, and one's name... is the last defense against nothingness. "Who are you, if you don't remember yourself?"![Revolution- Runaways 3 [EDITING]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/291558876-256-k521724.jpg)
Revolution- Runaways 3 [EDITING]
The whole camp was filling with smoke. I coughed, praying that my lungs would keep working for just a few more minutes. "Eli, which way is west?" Adam's breathing was just as labored from physical exertion, smoke, and panic as mine was. I didn't even process the question. I didn't know. We couldn't see anything through the smoke because the fire was spreading so quickly, and I just realized I'd forgotten my walkie-talkie. "Don't know!" I answered. Adrenaline was the only thing that kept my feet going. I knew we'd come in the East Gate, and if the cells were in the center, then if we kept going straight, we were going to find the gate any second. "Keep straight!" I instructed. I saw his head bob slightly, acknowledging my delayed direction. Then Adam cried out beside me, and I stopped short. I reached for his body involuntarily as he pitched forward, nearly causing him to take me down with him. My left hand was soaking wet from where it had landed on his shoulder. I winced as I tried to steady him, not daring to look at what I knew would be a pool of blood in my hand. ☁ Now that they have a new ally on their side, they're looking to change the United States for good. At some point, they want every camp freed and every teenager home safe. But each new camp brings an endless supply of new challenges. Things are beginning to spin out of control. Follow each of them as they discover who they are, who they love, and more of their country's secrets than they could ever dream of in a thrilling trilogy told from all five points of view.Complete
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Introduction Imagine a future where the most precious commodity isn't money or gold, nor power, but the very essence of who you are: your memory. Welcome to Dome XIII, a dystopian metropolis where every fragment of life, every emotion, every experience is encoded and archived in neural diaries, the Scriptum. Here, memory is the new currency, the very breath of the economy. Those who possess it hold power. Those who lose it... vanish into oblivion. In this hive of rogue artificial intelligences, obsessive clubs, and liquid architectures, every transaction is an exchange of identity. Do you desire unattainable luxury? An emotion you've never felt? The price is always the same: a memory. But you cannot choose what to forget. Every payment with memory is a blind ritual, a leap into the void. The machine extracts randomly, and it's not always an insignificant detail. The price is unknown until the very end, but once paid... it's forever. Every individual in Dome XIII has a Scriptum, a Neural Diary that records every lived and internalized experience. It is a sacred-technological object, an inseparable extension of the mind and identity. Without it, one is nothing; the collapse of identity is total: those deprived of it become Nameless, sentient but disoriented, fragmented creatures, starved for meaning and self, destined to ramble in the void of the city's shadow zones, sometimes degenerating into something less than human. The elites and powerful Megacorporations feed on the memories of others, acquiring them in a parasitic capitalist race. Artists sell pieces of their memory to create immortal works. The masses slowly bleed themselves dry, selling their past to live illusions they won't remember. Every choice costs a piece of you. And the bill always comes due. Dome XIII is a world where identity is a luxury, memory is a commodity, and one's name... is the last defense against nothingness. "Who are you, if you don't remember yourself?"
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