Part 1:
Foorier the Fixer,
Here as told in legends old,
The story of how our hero true,
Escaped from Omni-Med hold.
The tale begins in Omni-2,
As Foorier wanders through,
Here we find him hunting as we've often heard,
For employment and credits too.
This, as all should know,
Was in days long gone to mould,
When a well-paid job could not be found,
From terminals scattered around.
Fortunately for Foorier,
Our hero's eyes were keen,
And 'pon a wall he spotted;
"Wanted:
Test subjects of nineteen."
Now to our modern reader,
This number may ring bells,
But to our well-loved hero,
Well, he just thought: "What the hell?"
See, at the time young Foorier,
Was just not quite that new, and though not many years over,
This number printed on the wall,
Was simply a few too few.
But our hero's mind was cunning,
And slowly a plan did create:
He would march inside and tell them,
"You're right! People do say I have an experienced face."
Attached with a smile most charming,
And a newly acquired ID chip,
(He'd fixer-ized that morning,
Through a haze of Hit-The-Floor-Jack) -
Our hero went inside to find,
The opifex assistant nurse,
Giggling something horrific until,
She couldn't get any worse.
But the scheme, it seemed suceeded,
An experiment he was henceforth,
Then with his forms all stamped and set,
He dreamed of creds, phat loots and moar.
Now you and I might wonder,
What this test was all about,
But whether ignorant or bold,
Our hero had no such doubts.
We will leave our hero waiting,
And for now follow Doctor Joo,
A scholarly solitus surgeon,
Finally leaves his terminal pew.
His eyes show length of time at work,
The left; a brow above no more,
No doubt the result of fiendish works,
With implants, stims and bots and gore.
As he gets up, we catch a glimpse,
Of the reports all over his desk,
And in amongst the data we see:
"Group fifteen: All dead."
He walks out to the reception,
And calls out to the nurse,
With a smile most unconvincing,
"Group sixteen, please, Deb."
(To be continued)
