You Bet Your Skin

By Foyd Flanagan

In Floyd Flanagan's satire about the death of privacy, antihero videogame designer, Vinny Vanilla thrashes his way through the conundrums of sex, violence, money, race, and guilt with the single-minded intention of righting all wrongs via his tour de force, new media creation, Stalking Justice - The Ultimate Game of Getting Even.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foyd Flanagan
• Release date: Mar 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452430959

Foyd Flanagan

In addition to writing, Mr. Flanagan's professional career includes media producer, instructional designer, and systems engineer on satellite systems with Raytheon. His interest in futurist media began with the electronic publication of 'Mylar's Warp,' the first online novel in text format, published on The Source computer network in 1981. His other writing includes 'MacCats -- 99 Ways to Paint a Cat with MacPaint' and 'Maggie and the Moneysuckle Tree -- a Young Person's Guide to Building Wealth.' Mr. Flanagan is currently working on a sequel to 'You Bet Your Skin' and other projects.

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YOU BET YOUR SKIN

by

Floyd Flanagan

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY:

Floyd Flanagan on Smashwords

You Bet Your Skin

Copyright © 2010 by Floyd Flanagan

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This novel is also available in video format at YOUBETYOURSKIN.COM.

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YOU BET YOUR SKIN

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Prologue

Look, you can disregard what I'm telling you, but do so at your risk, because, believe me, the chips are in everything. Smaller than flyspecks. Beyond taken for granted. Chips inside you, that know you, help you, tell on you. Chips that talk to you, talk to everyone, right through your InVision.

It's all there. Every detail of every deed you've ever done. Every video, photo, chat, email, comment, scribble, letter, contract, confession, slander, rant, speech, plan, your prescriptions, drugs, and drug tests. It's all there. All public.

Do you doubt it? I'll show you. Pick up anything, there's a chip inside. Take that sock over there. Yes, that one, the one hanging out of the dumpster. Pick it up. Go on. It won't bite you. It's only a sock. Yes. There you go. Now, scan it and there you have it: price, style, size, maker, seller. It even has your consumer ID, your consumer preferences, favorite music, politics, your sexual preference, sex partners, even your sexual performance. It's all right there. You got it. In fact, everyone's got it. Right there on InVision. Everything, down to your last heartbeat. There's a life story in the chip in that sock. Are you curious? Yes? Well, just press continue.

Chapter 1

Sleeping in my snug little room, I am watched. And now awake, surveillance confirms that I'm here. There's security in a system that keeps tabs on you even while you're sleeping, and that's the good news. But the bad news is my status light is blinking yellow again.

Through my InVision I ask, Helper?

The oversaturated image of the avatar replies, what?

I say, recognize me.

He asks, who?

Me. Recognize me.

My status turns green.

Helper says, sorry Vinny.

I dismiss Helper.

I had that dream again, the one where they're pealing my skin. I asked them how much are you going to take?

They said, how much do you have?

Now, all day long I check to see if I'm still all here. It's ridiculous. People don't lose their skin. But they could. And if they could, I could. And who'd even know. What if it happened when I was alone? Like in the movies. But this isn't a horror story. It's just my life. And of course I can always count on surveillance. It's all around us. But what good is surveillance? Just because I'm being watched, that doesn't mean anyone is looking. And if no one is looking, what's the good of it? Someone should be looking, someone should be looking out for me. All the time.

I can surveil myself. I can use surveillance, like a diary. Why not? It must be good for something. I will. This way if anything actually happens… I'll just set this to

Recording…

For the record, my temp name is Vanilla, like ice cream. InVision recognizes me as Vanilla, Mr. Vanilla, Vinny, Vin, or whatever, as long as my bio-identity is recognized. That's what counts. My bio-ID, beyond that I can change my temp name whenever I want. After all, what's in a name? Vanilla casts me in the image of neither-this-or-that. And that feels just about right to me. Hey it's a dangerous world for people who don't blend in. Look too different talk too different, before you know it you're going to get noticed. To be seen, now that is OK, but to be noticed that is definitely not OK. The trick is to be recognized for who you're supposed to be, no-more-no-less. It's not easy, because really who am I anyway? Who is anyone? So here I am, Vanilla, your basic non-flavored kind of guy, plain as plain can be.

I'm a video game artist, and my work is all about splitting hairs, because in this line detail is everything. Hey, check this out.

Helper, show Hammerman.

The blast visor rises, the cold stare under the massive brow. Khaki shirtsleeves rolled tight to the armpits. Tattoo of a shrunken head on that ham hoc biceps. The tattoo? A cliché you say? Hardly. Examine her shriveled head, and keep in mind that once upon a time this was an honest to God for real woman. Zoom in on her dainty eyelashes; see how they form a fringe along the pits where her eyes used to be. The tiniest hair, even in death, each hair still growing. Whoa, that's reality if there ever was reality. I want you to know there's not one hair on her head I didn't put there personally. That's purpose. That's control. Oops, that eye hole winked again. I thought I fixed that.

Helper make a note: check skewing error. No, make that, check all skewing errors.

But this work is far deeper than just appearance. Because it's what's inside Hammerman - Blood Warrior that makes him this one-of-a-kind wonder man. Look in his eyes. Look deep. You can almost tell what he's thinking, but not quite. And that's the art of it, the ambiguity. To get down to that level I had to imagine his soul. Talk about a dark. I had to ask myself, what could possess a man to adorn himself with such an emblem as that tattoo? I knew if I could answer that question I'd have the key to a real killer hero. I thought long and hard on that and when it came to me it was so simple. Hey, this guy is evil. I mean, real evil.

And, you know, they proved me dead-nuts right. Because, that's exactly what they said, wow, he is really evil. And I don't just mean good evil, but evil in the very best sense of the word. How evil? Well let's just say he's a work in progress.

Now, let's go on to something else.

Helper, show my family album.

Notice how prettily the white silk bow releases the cover of the simulated leather-bound book. That's my family nestled in the decoration of rosewood and gold. Mom and Sis seated in front. Behind, poor short Dad and me with my arm on his shoulder. Why does Mom always sneer like that, casting a shadow wherever she looks? And mumbling Sis, forever chatting up her InVision girlfriends. Anyway, these are my people.

Hey Dad, say a few words for my surveillance diary.

Well yeah hey sure OK. So you know Vin, you're numero uno in my book. My main man.

Dad needs a lot of reassuring and I tell him, hey you bet.

And he says, yeah, me and Vin real buds. Best friends, huh Vinny?

The very best.

Share and share alike?

You bet.

He says, I know I can always count on you son. And about that loan, I've been meaning to… Like I tell everybody, you know I can always count on Vinny.

Thanks Dad. Now, Mom, say something for my diary.

She adjusts herself like a lineman waiting for the snap and says, you know it's a miracle we're even here. If it wasn't for you, Vinny, there's no telling where we'd be. Looking around she says, I can't say I'm thrilled about this place you've got us living in, but beggars can't be choosers. If we had to depend on your father… Lord knows I've tried. Oh, how I've tried…

OK Mom, that's enough.

Now Sis. Sis likes feeling good, and nothing makes her feel better than having a bevy of star-framed sisters listening to her woes on InVision. I'll try to get her attention.

…hey and it's not like I hadn't already told him you can do that all you want and see if I even care but if he thinks I'm going to put up with that he better think again because that doesn't go down with me no way man when I can chat up another guy quicker than swatting a fly and not even give it a second thought as though I even care what he thinks anyhow and even if he wanted to make up I mean why should I the way he's been fooling around and everybody talking about me and all even to strangers who don't even know me and even if they did so what's the difference anyway, huh?

Sis, something for my diary? Sis, please? No? Are you feeling a little shy? Well, maybe later.

Well, that's my family. The only family I got.

And then there's Ice. Oh, Ice, my sig-one.

Helper, bring up that photo of Ice.

Whoa, just look at her. Oh man. Her face, her skin. Isn't she incredible? And smart? The smartest person I know. She has to be, the kind of work she does, with social diseases and all; chromosomes turning things off and on like Christmas lights, peptides, enzymes, gene markers, you name it. With what that woman knows she can turn an Ethiopian into an Eskimo quicker than you can say, how about that! Absolutely amazing. Ah, but she can be difficult. And sometimes I have to wonder. Take for example

Helper, run that video of us from the other night.

I mean, here we are, sitting down to dinner at the food slot. The BetterBurgers, piping hot, sliding onto the table. Then she starts with that look of disgust, just picking at her fries, so I know something's coming, and then she picks one up and says, there isn't even any potato in this French fry.

And I say, hey that's pretty remarkable when you come to think about it.

And she says, they make the potato stuff out of corn. Everything is made of corn.

Not wanting to be a partner in her negativity I tell her, hey, you know, I can't even tell the difference.

Oh, but now she's on a roll and tells me, that's the point, Vinny. That's the whole point.

So there's another dinner ruined. But it wasn't always like this. Not the first time, anyway.

Helper: play park surveillance of that first time.

So, there we are, nose to nose, not more than twenty minutes after we met. And you can see how I have her there, right up against the tree; and it's like she's going for it, you know -- but at the same time, she isn't. Anyway, I have her, with her big blue eyes wide open, like she's way off in the distance somewhere. And the feeling, I mean imagine the feeling, the woman is stone cold, outside and in. Her skin, pale and dry and perfect, like marble, and the way she's staring at me. Like I'm less than nothing, or maybe I'm everything. I don't know, I can't explain what that stare is doing to me. Anyway, she sure lit my fuse. So bang, I'm in total collapse, my head on her chest; and her, hardly even breathing, like a corpse or something. I raise my head to look at her. Oh, what a face. Alabaster, glacier-blue white. Frozen. Timeless. Not even virtual skin can compare. I couldn't get enough of just looking at her, and all the time she's looking right through me. Like she was staring all the way to the end of the universe.

So then she asks me, how do you feel about that, Vinny? Well, I gotta tell you, that really caught me off guard, because what kind of question was that supposed to be? I mean we hardly even knew each other.

So I tell her, OK. I feel OK.

And she says, and me, Vinny, how do you feel about me?

And I say, you? I don't know. You? You're kind of, well, wow, you know what I mean?

And she says, no, I don't know what you mean.

And I say, hey, well I guess, you're cool.

And she says, no, I'm not cool.

So now I don't know what to say. So I say, you're not?

And she says, no, I'm not cool.

And I say, you're not?

And then she doesn't say anything for what seems like forever, and I'm waiting, and we're just standing there, my heart still pounding like a jack hammer; and then, just her lips say, I'm frigid.

Well I got to tell you, the way she said that, that was really cold, I mean, knife in the kidneys cold. Whoa! And I say, yeah, you really are frigid. And then she takes my head in both hands, and she's covering my face with kisses like she just can't get enough of me, like I'm the first guy that ever got the point.

Next thing I know, she goes and changes her temp name to Ice. Go figure.

But it's not like that anymore. Things sure can change.

Helper, play that video from last night.

So there we are, sharing our bed, her feet to my head, each of us alone as alone can be. Me staring at the ceiling and her, I mean I'm watching her on surveillance, her head hanging off the foot of the bed, making that sigh she sighs all the time, as she selects a PorNovel from the InVision pick list.

The Quickest Lust of All

which brings up this hot Latin couple sitting in a restaurant across the table from one another. The woman in low cut scarlet unleashes her fury on this hairy-chested goon in a leather vest.

How dare you look at her like that, says the little hottie as Senior Macho raises one eyebrow. In a flash her nails fly across the table and slashing his cheek. Nearby diners gasp as he flings his chair away, now looming over her, he says, do you know what I'm going to do to you? I'm thinking, hey, this is getting pretty hot. But, Ice just yawns. Clearly she's not going for it, so I say, hey, remember that old favorite we used to do?

She shakes her head.

No, really, I tell her, I'll surprise you. You'll see.

Helper, pull up InYa.

The sex helper on InVision says, nice to see you again, Vinny. Who do you want to play with this evening? Let's see, your recent selections have been Ice, and Ice, and lets see, Ice. Now isn't that unusual, all of your recent play pals have been Ice. Wouldn't you like to play with someone else for a change?

I tell helper, no, just Ice. Just me and Ice.

Helper says, select a style.

Het-Male(s) Het-Fem(s) Bisexual(s) Gay male(s) Lesbian(s) Trans-Male(s)

Trans-Fem(s) Geek(s) Creep(s) Freak(s) Animal(s) Mix & match

Or Other

I select other.

How do you like it? Traditional, Oral, Anal, Equipped, Tortured, Snuff, Mix and Match, or Invent your own?

I tell helper, we're feeling inventive.

Our InVisions are linked andI morph into a vampire. Fangs emerge. I press my cheek to the nape of her neck and I'm wondering, why is it always so difficult for her to get into this? I try to reassure her, I'll be gentle. Then ever so lovingly, I slip a fang into her jugular. A chain of crimson beads yields to the pull of gravity. This is so sexy.

Then she asks me, how do you feel about this, Vinny?

And I say, what?

I mean what we're doing here.

What are we doing?

You're sticking a fang in my neck. How do you feel about that?

I don't know. Your neck is soft, your flesh is soft.

Not on the outside, Vinny, how do you feel inside? Oh man, this is getting difficult.

I tell her, I don't know.

What do you mean, you don’t' know?

Oh man, she has this way of exhaling, it's how you would spell the word exasperated without an alphabet. Then she says, look, Vinny, if sex is too difficult to talk about, tell me how you feel about anything. There must be something you feel something about.

I tell her, I have trouble sleeping.

I know that, she says.

I have dreams.

Everybody has dreams. Boy, she just won't let it alone. I confess to her, I'm afraid.

She wants to know, what are you afraid of?

You really want to know?

Yes, I do.

Well there are lots of things, they're just not the kinds of things people talk about. Not the kinds of things a sig-one can be proud of. It's just that I'm afraid… I could disappear… from you, from everything, from my life. Half the time my InVision is iffy. Helper doesn't recognize me. I mean, suppose, just suppose, what if I lose my InVision? It happens. Wthout InVision who am I? Who is anybody? And lose you're bio-ID and there goes your InVision. What if I have BID poison? You know what happens to people when they get BID poison, they're nobody, they're trash. We see people like that all over the place, but you know what, no one ever talks about it.

Don't be ridiculous, she says. BID poison is history. It was eradicated before you were born.

Well maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. You know, people still talk about BID poison. You hear rumors. For all I know people still get infected. In fact, I could be infected right now. I can hear my voice pleading: But you can help me. Diseases are your business. You can find out. I know you can. Will you? Will you look into it for me? I'm begging you. Will you? Please?

You know, there's a soft side to Ice. Sometimes she can even be sympathetic. She puts her fingers to my cheek and says, yes, I will.

I tell her, you asked me how I feel, well I'll tell you, right now, just knowing you'll do this, I feel a whole lot better. So now, can I count on that? I can count on you?

Oh oh, I shouldn't have said that.

She smears the drops of blood on her neck with her thumb and with the same distain she had for the French fry and says, you're asking if you can count on me?

I tell her, well, sure, I mean if it was the other way around…

And she just laughs. Oh, I hate it when she laughs like that. Me count on you? You've got to be kidding.

Anyway, that's my Ice.

Chapter 2

This is my habi. Standard condo. Clothes scattered, food wrappers here and there that didn't quite make it into the trash slot, Ice's half-packed or half unpacked bags, like my backpack, always waiting and ready for the imminent breakup. It's all emblematic of a lifestyle that boldly states, hey, you know, we really value our freedom. We can leave, just like that.

The good life is a simple life. It doesn't take much to make a habi a happy home: living room, bedroom, food room, bath. That's it. Each room 8x8 and ready to reconfigure on the fly. What more can you ask for? Everything else you might desire is just a click away on InVision: SnatchDeals, InfoFun, GlamFest, FastFriends, PubBuddies. The choices are endless. For example, if I feel the need for friendship,

Helper, bring up my PubBuddies.

There's one, Flamer man, Johnny on the spot, ready for action in barbecuing hat and apron. Sometimes, when I'm feeling kind of down, I know I can always count on Flamer. After all, that's what friends are for. Flamer's always glad to see me, saying, hey Bud, grab yourself a Bud; and bingo, here comes a cold one rolling right out of my wall slot. And here come my other buddies, Balls Up! and Cockers Rock, sidling up in their baseball caps.

Yo Vin!

Well say hey!

It's hard to feel out of it with friends like these.

Who's playing?

Balls and Cockers.

Incredible. What's the spread?

Balls by five.

Cocker laughs, Balls will choke and croak.

Flamer says, hey Vin, there's gonna be some heavy grilling after the game. And hey, check out this cooker. Self-cleaning. Self-serving. This scorcher will torch a side of beef faster than you can say black and twitching. I'm talking prime, primo, rare and crispy critters, done to a T.

How much? I ask.

Hey, get this, sold separately it'd be a grand per view for the game on top of $1,299 for the Flamer and $699 for the ribs and beer. But for you, Vinny, right now, the whole package is only $1,999.

The others chime in. Hey, that's a savings of a whole grand. I'm getting one of those for my dad right now.

Flamer says, so, Vin, what do you say? Ship it?

And then, from out of nowhere, Ice butts into the picture, right in the middle of my buddy fest she says, Vinny, are these guys even real?

Don't spoil this Ice. We were getting set for a great game.

Flamer is miffed. OK Vinny, bottom line, are you buying in with us, or what?

I don't know guys, I'd really like to… They turn their backs on me, I mean, my best friends, just like that, they click me off.

I ask Ice, tell me why? But she's gone too.

Feeling angry and disappointed, I click around for something to distract me.

Crime Report.

Over a montage of bullet-riddled bodies, flashing cop car lights, and live action bad guy take downs, a pair of male and a female news things say:

You've been talking.

And we've been listening.

So many killings.

So very many killings.

Every day.

Each and every day.

Facts.

You're drowning in facts.

Killers.

Oh so many killers.

And victims.

Way too many victims.

You've been talking.

And we've been listening.

We know your mind.

And we're doing something about it.

Crime Reporting.

Crime at its very best.

Star Killing.

Star quality.

Killer entertainment.

A news chopper circles a dump. Scavenger gulls take flight. An autocop zips a body bag closed on the bruised face of a corpse. An on-the-scene news thing reports, fans were stunned to learn of the discovery of Show Queen's mutilated body, found, only minutes ago, in this New Jersey landfill. More on the death of Show Queen after the break.

Another news thing says, three hundred and fifty-eight pound woman loses two hundred and thirty-six pounds on the pill. Here's her story.

I never could have done it without Foodpass. Now, I can party and binge all I want, whenever I want. So, whatever you do, don't pass up Foodpass. To order Foodpass, just say Foodpass. Use only under supervision of an autodoc.

Another news thing says, medical alert: ASD (Acquired Skin Disorder) is on the rise. Infection rates are at double digits in marginal countries. World Health officials warn that loss of melanin pigmentation in tropical populations is tied to increased rates of skin cancer. This news is brought to you courtesy of Bodyblock. Bodyblock is the only sun block that automatically