The Malicious Monocle » Cyberpunk http://wooz.edublogs.org Ramblings of a largely random nature Wed, 02 Jul 2008 00:00:03 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.2 en hourly 1 We are Cyberpunk http://wooz.edublogs.org/2008/02/03/we-are-cyberpunk/ http://wooz.edublogs.org/2008/02/03/we-are-cyberpunk/#comments Mon, 04 Feb 2008 05:01:12 +0000 wooz http://wooz.edublogs.org/2008/02/03/we-are-cyberpunk/

That’s a real 3-D hologram in Tokyo Bay.

]]> http://wooz.edublogs.org/2008/02/03/we-are-cyberpunk/feed/ 0 Black and White or Color? http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/23/black-and-white-or-color/ http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/23/black-and-white-or-color/#comments Tue, 23 Oct 2007 19:36:02 +0000 wooz http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/23/black-and-white-or-color/   So tell me, would you like your organs printed in color or black and white?

 http://www.wired.com/science/discoveries/multimedia/2007/10/body_builders

     Watch the video there and be amazed.

]]> http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/23/black-and-white-or-color/feed/ 0 Ramble, ramble http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/15/ramble-ramble/ http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/15/ramble-ramble/#comments Tue, 16 Oct 2007 04:16:30 +0000 wooz http://wooz.edublogs.org/2007/10/15/ramble-ramble/       The StreetDoc sliced my left arm open longway with the magnetic scalpel . The look on her face told me she was getting pissed when nothing happened. Making sure my forearm was locked into place with the surgical vise she takes a smaller vice and places it on my wrist and starts screwing it down. This isn’t my first time on the surgery slab so I just relax. Eventually my forearm splits open showing the chrome underneath my synthderm.

“Why the hell doesn’t your arm respond to the magscalpel? Every damn time I have to put the squeeze on your wrist to get at the core. One of these times I’m just going to saw it off.”

“Like I have a clue, Doc. When I can afford to replace it, I will, but until then keep your saw away from my arm. Without this arm there’s no way I can keep myself in gourmet kibble.”

The Doc snorts as she plugs my arm into the diagnostics. After a few minutes she nods her head at the squiggles on the readout as though they make sense and unplugs me. My arm may not open easily, but closing it up isn’t a problem. A quick spray of dermglue seals the skin back up. I slot my creds as I get up off the slab.

“Gomen, Doc.  Good to know everything checks out. Later.”

“Dena Hoss.“

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