Ah! There it is!

The cyberpunk dystopia I was promised.

As usual, my gen using Nightcafe. I’m a street samurai, not a decker.

I read Neuromancer when it first came out, and while I don’t consider it to be as earth-shaking as the pundits do, it did set certain expectations for the on-rushing cyberpunk era it promised.

Later when I moved to Amarillo, I discovered a tabletop role-playing game called Shadowrun, which had magic mixed into a lovely cyberpunk world, and I played a street samurai named Felonious Monk. There were also novels set in the Shadowrun world, and while they were a bit hit-or-miss, the good ones set the same expectations for the future as Neuromancer did.

I’m here to tell you that the cyberpunk dystopia of the early 21st century has been something of a let-down. Oh, we’ve got the soulless megacorps and overbearing idiot governments galore, but I’m still waiting for my cybernetic eyes with the targeting software linked to my Ares Predator pistol.

Damned disappointment.

However, every now and then we get little jewels that restore a bit of my hope.

Apparently the California government’s refusal to do anything about the epidemic of squatting in their hellhole State has resulted in a semi-underground industry of folks who — for a price — will go give feral unsanctioned free-range Socialists tenants the old heave-ho¹.

The very concept just warms the cockles of my little capitalist heart, but the cherry on the cyberpunk cupcake here is this guy.

Why, you ask? Simple:

Please, God, let that katana be a Gas Station Special.

“‘The average squatter,” says James Jacobs, “has no melee experience.’

No familiarity with katana swords or other bladed weaponry. No training in kendo, iaido, or other martial arts.”

There’s the cyperpunk future I was promised!

Consider my gigglebox well and truly kicked over.

Ian

1. “Life, uh, finds a way.”