Augmented Streaming, from the obvious perspective.
<< What is "obvious"? choose a better tittle
An interview with Enrique Samorano (formerly known as FatBastard_77). The first person to stream his whole brain live onto the internet. <<rework this
By [insert name later] <<???
Cut down on the narration, this isn't how an interview is structured.
This isn't about you. I get what you're trying to do here but this isn't about you, the reader isn't here to bear witness to your, what, change of heart? is this what you're going for?
Please, for the love of God, TELL US about Mr. Samorano, there's literally no information about him here aside from the introduction and what we can see from the interview. What about his first stream? what about growing up with a disability? what about the fact that he lives in THE GREAT SANTIAGO, THE DOME CITY, THE ONLY CITY IN THE WORLD COMPLETELY COVERED BY THE NIGHT THAT IS STILL THRIVING?? Or, i don't know, his girlfriend, who is by the way one of the biggest content creators of their country. And while we're on the subject, what about the aspect of race in all of this? the exploitation of a disabled, third world man by mostly europeans and americans. What about this? I know it's not finished, but if this is how you're writing it now, I think it's safe to assume that's how you planned to write the whole article, which is unacceptable of course.
Fix your grammar, be careful with the commas.
Work on your etiquette.
Do your research.
Don't give up! most articles need a lot of rewrites!
As i go down to the lower layers of the Great Santiago, around two kilometers underground, i am pleasantly surprised by the fact that i do not need directions. The lackluster arquitecture of this so called "Nivel pirata" feels familiar to me, even if this is the first time i even touched this city, or this country. Part of FatBastard's memories are still baked in my brain, and although his mental palace (or the archive of it) is somewhat outdated, i feel as if i'm coming back home, rather than just being a tourist. <<Irrelevant, but an acceptable way to set the mood i guess.
FatBastard told me to meet him in this picturesque little restaurant that serves refined stuff like hotdogs and dried horse meat [Careful with your wording]. He didn't care much when i told him it would be far easier for me to find his house… We got a table at the far corner of the restaurant, its red metal looking horrible next to the bright blue walls [Search for a better word]. It makes me think of America. FatBastard pulls out the chair so i can sit, then without a word he sits on the chair next to me. His difficulty looking at me in the eyes is endearing.
It's been four years since Fatbastard_77 [You can either call him FatBastard or Fatbastard_77, not both, consistency!] streamed last. He is no longer fat, he is in fact bautifully thin now, rich-thin [irrelevant, problematic]. His hair is still white, longer now, but i can see hints of color coming back [reword this so it flows better]. His face looks older, his gray eyes reflect light in such a way i fear he will have cataracts soon [Too much filler]. The only thing that remains the same is his right arm.
If FatBastard notices me staring, he doesn't say a thing. It is quite weird to see someone with missing limbs in this day and age, much more to see them wearing a damn hook prothetic. It is sublime. <<Problematic and fetishistic. Choose a word better than sublime.
Why not wear a bionic arm, Fatty? You have the money. <<FATTY?
He doesn't answer, he does however call the waiter and orders a coke, i order one too. When the waiter comes back with the glasses i decide it's time to start for real. <<Look for a better way to say it.
"I feel like an introduction would be stupid. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone knows you're still streaming, too… just- you know, third person shit no one cares about. I was thinking it would be more entertaining if we went directly into the how's and why's." <<Unprofessional.
He stays quiet for another while, mindlessly mixing his coke with the metal straw they gave him. I am about to start watching videos online when he says in a very thick accent; <<Feels weird to point out his accent like this.
"My name is Enrique Samorano, chilean male of 35 years, I work on the entertaiment industry, formerly as an Augmented Streamer (before it became illegal), and now as a… normal streamer. I work mainly with the Streamer SweetMollyNA, who i'm dating. Our niche is speedrunning old FVR (Full Virtual Reality) games. I have 1500 or so paid subscribers on ChIck and 480K followers on my Youtube channel. I had five million followers on my original Lilliums channel before it got banned. That Is Me."
He says so with a very calm face, but knowing him, he is either so nervous he is about to vomit, or he is furious and resisting the urge to beat the shit out of me.[Carefull with these assumptions] It feels weird to see his face instead of being him, like i was blinded. <<Stop with the "like", find a better way to say this.
"That is you."
"Now you tell me who you are."
"My name is [later] [Come up with a name for yourself already, if you can't do it we'll just use your real name] and i am… european female of 20 years…? I am a-i wanna be a journalist. I also was one of the first 200 viewers you ever had. I was there on your first stream. I donated like, 500 euros to you." <<Sigh.
I start sweating and i don't know why. [No, rewrite this] FatBastard, Enrique looks disgusted for a second, then apologetic. <<I wouldn't say the video of him you provided showed those emotions, if anything he looked surprised, i know this is how you felt but you can't paint him in this light when you know most people are going to watch the interview, not read it.
"Now that we have properly introduced ourselves, ask."
My mind is [goes] blanc. I take out my antenna and look in the cloud for the document with the questions. <<Rewrite.
"How did you manage to get the alterations to your antenna that allowed augmented streaming in the first place? Who did the operation? How did you get the code?" <<For future reference. Do Not ask questions this way, be concise.
"I… am not allowed to explain it to you fully, court order… But eh… A friend of mine did the operation after a few beers, it is actually not as invasive as you may think, they just have to open your head and, don't- don't try it though, i was lucky, most people end up dead or paralized after DIY alterations like that. But yeah, a friend of mine did it, opened my head.
The code was a bit trickier to get. At that point recording brain and body experiences was already possible, there were even a few apps that allowed you to do it for a small fee, the problem was that streaming required much more power, and no commercial antenna is made to wistand that much data, so there were not a lot of programmers that would waste their time making a way to facilitate that kind of stream, even if it seemed like it would be the natural pro…progression.
I ended up reaching to a friend of a friend who was really into theoretical shit, he'd- they'd spend their days doing… math i suppose, to see if they could do something… like hacking another person's antenna, or the bank, or something equally bad. But then they'd never use that code. When i told them what i wanted to do they got so excited (because this time they would actually get to try out the code) they figured out a way to do augmented streams in just about a week.
It required very expensive hosting servers and "one hell of a firewall" (his words not mine), and a lot of tunning, too. I changed my antenna's operating system so it was faster, a very painful process, and- and- then they had to figure out how to make it compatible. It was a system held up by tape and hope (again his words not mine) but it worked well enough. For me at least…"
That was less exciting than expected. <<Irrellevant
"What did you mean by 'For me, at least?" <<just wasting everyone's time at this point
"Oh, you know, a lot of people tried to reverse engineer my friend's work and ended up frying their brain on accident. Poor things didn't know better.
…Next question?"
"Yeah! um. Why do this in the first place knowing the risk?" <<...
"I was poor."
He stays quiet for a minute.
"No better push than hunger. I am… I was always on the verge of being kicked out my home, even in the Niveles- Pirate Levels, i couldn't afford my own home, the colonos took ownership of the ground long before i got here, so i rented. Money was tight because I couldn't get a job because of my disabilities and-"
"Disabilities? plural?" <<UNPROFESSIONAL
"Ah? Yeah, my missing arm, and my incompatibility with full cloud inmmession. It is considered a disability since… 2094 i think. Basically i can't control any technology that uses uh… out of body interaction."
"Remote mind-interaction incompatibility. That is a thing that happens? I've never heard of it" <<HOW. THE HELL. DO YOU NOT KNOW??? DID YOU DO ANY RESEARCH?
"Yes, my brain was damaged during the installation of my antenna when i was a baby, or that's what my parents say, the doctors say that i was born like that… so… well, I can't control any machinery that requires movement not mapped into a body-part movement. Included any modern prothetics of course. I was born without my arm, so… no neural pathway to help me cheat."
"Why not use a cosmetic arm then? I guess i could understand you couldn't pay for one before, but why not now? You'd look better than with the hook, and to be honest i don't imagine you'd be losing much, what can you even do with that?" <<Oh Lord
He looks at me and smiles for the first time, but doesn't answer, as if i couldn't possibly understand his reasons. But i could, i can faintly remember being Enrique and hating how sweaty the hook arm felt, even when you coated it with baby powder. I also remember the embarrassment he felt when the eyes of the people around him would fall onto him. I think i could understand. <<Rewrite the whole paragraph
"Yeah, that'd be easy, no?"
He says finally, then, a long pause. <<You can't highlight every pause if he is constantly taking long to respond, find a better way to mark the beat of the interview.
"So, as i was saying… i was poor. I had a shitty body, a lack of any talent, and an ass to ugly to sell for food. He actually chuckles So i, um, took a look at the influencer market. It was of course saturated as all shit, but there's was a very clear hole in the market, something no one had done. If i managed to do the first augmentated stream, i would have enough time to carve out a place for myself, even if others followed after. I would always be the first, no better uh, PR, than that."
"Publicity"
"Sure"
Anyyyyyways that's what i have until now, the actual conversation took like??? 3 hours or so??? he then took me to his house and everthing!!!!!
I knowww that the first conversation is a bit all over the place but i PROMISE it gets better after the first hour or so, fatty really comes around after a while, he gets SOOO much more nicer and responds without embelishing everying (i mean what a monologist /ref lololol no but for real). He later tells me more about his priv life AND, (I KNOW YOU'LL LOVE THIS) the Babel incident. you know with the stream snipper, he's talked about it before but did. you. know the he actually knows the guy that found the body? they've been streaming together for a while (he's like a super small content creator tho), but no one knows!! i mean, ik i'm the only one who cares about this, not alot of people have a latin american streaming hyperfix, but i think if we sell this article on the latin branch of your news portal it couold do real good. Just sayinggg
UM um um!! i am so excited, this has a lot of potential! I'll send you more updates soon, thank you AGAIN Pam for reviewing rthis, i know you offered to hit up your editor but even i know i'm not ready for that yet hehehe, you're way nicer
I'll go back home in a week or so, i'm going to sight-see while they get my paperwork ready. Entering the city is easy enough but LORDDD is it bothersome to get out, i need to prove i have a method of transporation reliavble enough (because of the night and it's fucking mortal gas lol), money to move around, AND i need to prove i have somewhere to stay on my own country??? like of course i got a home??? i got here on a tourist visa of course i do, they did't ask me nearly as much shit when i got in--- whatever so yeah it's been a boring process, i thought i could hang out with fatty more but he's been "busy" (i bet his gf didn't like seeing me lolol) so i'm just going to places, meeting people, living lifee. People talk and talk about how people go crazy in dome citys but like, it's BIGG here, they even got a few plazas with real trees and sun-light-lamps, it's good! I swear the "santiaguinos" are such crybabys sometiems, oh no!! i live in a beautiful city but i can't see the sky!! i must kms!!
It's a nice vacation spot but nowhere worthy of a whole week, doooont come here, if you gotta go to a dome city go to dubai, it's way nicerr
The city fell right before your eyes, and with it, fell The Night.
As the cloud of The Night began to dissipate, you expected to see the sun. Having never seen the sky, the excitement was so overwhelming you could feel your heartbeat on your ears, your neck, your wrists. A feeling so strong you didn't even notice how your augmentations were struggling to keep up with the toxicity of the air. O lord, your lungs were filling up bloody, but you were going to see the heavens!
But you didn't see the sun, only the night sky.
What a disappointment! Oh what a disappointment! To live your whole life inside the skyscrapers of the Great Santiago, yearning to see the holy blue and escape infinite darkness of The Night, only for your freedom to come during the night.
You look for your dearest Miranda, searching for comfort in her black eyes. Surely, you thought, surely you feel as debastated as me, let's share this pain, let's make it bearable, you thought. But her pain was completely different, one you could never hope to understand.
"The stars are…" she began, her fingertips digging up the grass roots. You had never touched natural grass, she hadn't either. "I thought they were… more. Is this all…?" Tears filled her eyes. Why would she care about the stars, you thought as she refused to look at you.
To your left, completely forgotten to your mind until now, you see Enrique fall to his knees. His eyes are on a puddle of water, disgusting, murky water. He reaches the edge of the puddle with his hand, his only hand, and drags it out. His fingers dig four lines on the soft dirt, and the water follows this new path like a river. He seems amazed, and starts tearing up once he realizes the dirt is under his fingernails. He'll probably need help cleaning it later, you think, unless he's fine digging the dirt under his fingernails with his teeth.
"I forgot this could happen." His laugh sounds more like a cry. "I forgot how it felt. it is-"
Miranda turns towards him quickly, tears running down her face. "It is displeasing." She smiles greatly.
"Unpleasant!" He laughs.
"The- The- The milky way is not visible from here, why would i-? this sky is so bare." Why is she so happy?
"And the grass is wet and cold." How is he smiling?
"It fucking sucks!" She throws herself at him, kissing him, hugging him. Both cry, as if this is the happiest moment in their life, it probably is.
You look back at the simulations, the only thing that kept you alive in the white walled jail that was the Great Santiago. They felt real enough, although you guess that small details like altering the shape of a puddle were overlooked, still, you didn't think it was beautiful enough to cry. Was it the unpleasantness that they missed from the real world? The cold grass and the unsurprising sky?
To live in the real-reality, that was your objective, but now you feel as though your idea of reality was far more superficial than theirs. You feel ashamed, you only wanted to see the sun.
O Lord, you only wanted to see the sun.
Your weeping is far louder than anticipated. The cries coming from your mouth sound like exclamations of pain. Uncontrollable. You couldn't remember the last time you cried outside virtuality, where the tears came silently and left without complaint.
Here, the gentle wind touches your face and you notice how the parts of your face wet with tears feel slightly colder. You forgot that could happen. Yet it doesn't feel groundbreaking like it seems to feel for your comrades, this real-reality, far more advanced than the simulations.
Miranda and Enrique break their kiss to look at you, surprised, like they forgot you were there.
Enrique takes your hand and pulls you into the hug. But you keep weeping.
Then kisses you, too, Miranda follows, her lips feel far softer than his, you don't care for this realistic difference. "It's perfect, isn't it?" He says as he absentmindedly moves your hair out of your face, fingers rough with drying layers of dirt, it feels disgusting, then kisses you again, and at least that feels good.
It isn't! It Isn't! You want to scream, the only thing i wanted was...!, but you can't speak. You force your breathing to calm down, and Miranda takes this as you agreeing with them.
As you three lay in the grass, a feeling how despair overwhelms you. How much longer would your augmentations keep you alive? Would you get to see the morning?
You don't dare ruin the moment with your questions.
Feel the pain, feel it head-on. Allow yourself to feel it, and then let go, you repeat the mantra loudly in your mind.
When you were little, you drew the sun with sunglasses and a smile. you wonder where did you get that idea in the first place.
I hated drinking formula; I absolutely loathed it. I hated the lumps, the thin layer of cream, and I hated how my mother would yell at me to finish it already because we had to go to school, even if it was boiling hot and burned my mouth.
I often poured it down the drain when my mother wasn't looking, God, i hated it so much.
Once, just once, I left a glass of milk on the table. I barely took a few sips before giving up completely and going to my room; it tasted awful. Then, something, someone, knocked it off the table.
And then my mother burst into my room screaming at the top of her lungs about how stupid I was, how horrible I was, how wasteful I was.
She cornered me against the wall. God, how terrible I was, how horrible everyone was, how stupid I was, a horrible kid, just like my sister, I was just like her, horrible, horrible, just like her. A fucking piece of shit i was.
She looked like a giant against me; all I could do was listen to her scream. I'm sorry, Mommy, I'm so sorry, Mommy, I'll drink the disgusting milk, even though I tell you every day that I don't like it, I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm the worst child, the worst. Don't hurt me.
And then, the memory ends.
Sometimes I yell at my dog ​​just like my mother used to yell at me. And the dog trembles, trembles as if I'm about to beat him up. Maybe i will, maybe i will kick the shit out of it until it stops breathing. I won't do it, I promise. I promise you, doggy. Even though I really want to, I won't, because it would be wrong.
I didn't use to be this angry. My mother could have just strained the milk.
Close to my home there is a forest, a man made one. Pine trees are not from this part of the country, but here they are, growing and killing the soil, every single one of them a perfect 15 feet apart. And it's about a 20 minute walk, deep into the forest, where you will find this awful, beautiful pet cemetery.
The grave are shallow, dirt barely covering the boxes that serve as coffins. Most of them are digged with bare hands. Little crosses are built with sticks the pet owners found along the way... ain't that interesting? The pet can't even begin to understand religion, but here they are being burried under the Lord's protection, or at least the owner's. It makes me think about God, Death--my Mother, who was also burried in a shallow grave. Did she understand? could she even begin to comprehend the magnitude of what having a God meant? Does the protection of a makeshift cross count at all?
Will God recognize the love we all felt for her, will He be merciful? Would He care about the love we feel for her?
A few times a week i have this recurring nightmare. In this other world i am lying atop a fancy-looking tub, white marble so pure that the shine it reflects hurts my eyes. Filling this tub there is no water but blood, my blood. My whole body with cuts so deep and painful, i can't think, i can't do anything but cry in horror.
A voice calls to me in mocking laughter, it says "This is not the first time you have been here, you will be back, and you will not remember. You will always be here. You will wake up and realize this over and over again."
When i was a child i heard about reincarnation. You die and you forget your old life and are reborn into a new life. And i thought, in that moment "This must be my last life, then." Because i can not remember the things i forget, meaning that the fact that i was awake right then and there, remembering everything in my life, then that meant this was my last life.
I will go to hell, i have always been there, and i will not remember.
I hope my mom will go to heaven.
i wish i was born a souless dog. then i would forget. i could even sniff the mines and rotten flesh under the floor.
I tried praying today, to ask God to get rid of this indescribable sadness living in my soul, to help me be normal, to be able to connect with other people.
I begged time and time again, but the more I approached the subject, the more I tried to formulate the question, the worse visions I saw.
I saw blood and people being tortured, I saw demons in increasingly more disturbing shapes laughing over the bodies.
I believe God was showing me Hell, and I believe He has it made it clear that my sins are unforgivable.
Forever merciful He is, but he knows the sinister reason behind my acts, He knows how I will sin again after repenting. For my soul is tarnished with desire and greed.
He showed me Hell not as a threat but a confirmation. I can't hide.
I tried praying today, to ask God to get rid of this indescribable sadness living in my soul, to help me be normal, to be able to connect with other people.
I begged time and time again, but the more I approached the subject, the more I tried to formulate the question, the worse visions I saw.
I saw blood and people being tortured, I saw demons in increasingly more disturbing shapes laughing over the bodies.
I believe God was showing me Hell, and I believe He has it made it clear that my sins are unforgivable.
Forever merciful He is, but he knows the sinister reason behind my acts, He knows how I will sin again after repenting. For my soul is tarnished with desire and greed.
He showed me Hell not as a threat but a confirmation. I can't hide.
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