#neotyche

[machinakrp]

>> OPEN BAE JOOYOUNG’S FILE …

:// AGE — 29 :// OCCUPATION — owner of ambrosia :// CLASS — elysium native

>> LOADING DEVELOPMENT …

:// MODIFICATIONS —

Data Jack: Two data jacks - one located behind her left ear, another at the back of her neck. Computers are a little old school, and Jooyoung prefers a more hands-off method of managing her affairs. From her car to her jewelry to her home to her office - the stream of information never ends, sorted through and compartmentalized behind closed eyes. She’s prone to headaches now though because of it, and the growing irritation means she lashes out more often than is appropriate.

Retinal Displays: She got these done at the tender age of sixteen - her left eye is almost entirely bionic now, allowing her to use it like a screen. It backfired when any movement of her pupil meant pixel distortion and she had to have it redone a few years later. It function as both a screen for communications and a computer - the benefits of always being wired up.

Low Light: An augmentation done to both eyes, allowing her to maintain perfect vision even in darkness.

Telephone: Being able to call up anyone she needs to, whenever she wants, wherever she wants, is handy.

Dampener: A minor augmentation to protect her ears from deafening, sudden sounds. She had recurring tinnitus in her youth and when getting it fixed surgically, she had dampeners installed to protect her ears. Turns out handy to tune out the screams when she watches the gladiator matches.

>> LOADING BIOGRAPHY …

perfect things, she learns, are maintained, not made. it isn’t enough to win, to be better once. you must always win. you must always endure. you must always be better.

it’s what matters most about elysium. to live here you must know how to survive, to not simple be born with fangs but to learn how to sharpen your teeth. what is not given to you, you must take. what is given to you must always be kept.

her mother’s of the sort - from nothing you must become everything. beauty is created, it is maintained, it is always glittering. when it isn’t, it’s polished. she’s watching her mother walk out of buildings with shinier skin, brighter eyes, thicker lips. the hands that she holds are always different, but always warm. eventually she learns how to put names to this kind of thing - but before that her mother kneels - kneels for her - and cups her face to say the things that matter most to her.

i love you.

you are so precious.

do you want to go with me?

jooyoung has been in the same place since the day she was born. so she’s always been watching, first watching where her mother’s manicured fingers point, then learning how to see on her own. to understand.

her father isn’t so different. while her mother had to clean the dirt from her nails to become everything she has, her father was having his baby teeth professionally whitened. jooyoung sits on his lap and plays with the paper weights on his desk and he strokes her hair and tells her how wonderful she’s going to be when she’s older. when he’s older.

her family is all she knows, and they teach her everything worth knowing.

the casino was always an idea at the backburner, but it’s only when her father passes it that she takes the reigns of his business. while he had laid the blueprints, jooyoung is the one that makes it into reality. her mother’s words ring in the back of her head.

the reality of the world was never hidden from jooyoung - what her parents do has never been good but they’ve always been good at it, and she would be too, one day. and if she wasn’t, they taught her, and if she didn’t learn -

well, she did.

ambrosia is bigger now than it ever was before, olympians and elysians alike coming to throw their money at her feet, the rumors of its polished halls spreading high and low. a building can only be so big though, and jooyoung won’t be limited by it. she wants more - and she’ll take it.

[machinakrp]

>> OPEN KANG SAEROM’S FILE …

:// AGE — 28 :// OCCUPATION — owner of ambrosia casino :// CLASS — elysium native

>> LOADING DEVELOPMENT …

:// MODIFICATIONS —

techhair - artificial hair that is embedded into the scalp and contains a display layer that can emit colors and patterns.

turn-on fails: fake fails that possess the same properties as techhair, the display layer allows the change of colors and patterns within seconds.

cyberlimbs (validation fingertips): chips implanted into the skin on the fingertips can detect counterfeit money upon touch.

>> LOADING BIOGRAPHY …

kang saerom had the great fortune of being born into a family that had abandoned any glimpse of hope. they had stopped living under the assumption they could evoke change in the charred grime of elysium long ago. truth was that everything surrounding us has been built by despicable people for despicable people; only burning it down to the ground and vowing on the remaining ashes of the past to never let the darkness of our hearts take over again could lead the world onto another path. alas, it had to be different.

as he liked to lament so much in his stories of older times, her father, a weathered politician, had seen it all. kang saejun had witnessed how those with ill intentions had molded the city into their perverse playground with no limits. how those with the means simply took what they wanted, rightfully theirs or not. life in itself is the quietus for every scintilla of hope, for every thought that maybe, just maybe, it could be different. elysium had made sure to terminate any idea for a better future and the deal was sealed when he married the heiress of the ambrosia casino.

choi mina played her part in the casino’s blinding farce perfectly. black market mink coats, self-sown sequin dresses and fake louboutins adorned her when she made her laps through the casino, a child born from foul soil pretending to be a dazzling star. convinced that the olympian’s superiority can trickle down one day, she gave ambrosia the necessary touch it had been craving for so long. naked bulbs replaced with chandeliers, blood stains covered by red carpet and blackjack tables instead of rundown slot machines. wicked mouths spoke of vicious assumptions where the sudden capital came from, truth was that saejun and mina cared little about each other’s promiscuity. if the ritual of their bodies could buy them a deal beyond pleasure, so be it.

the tireless devotion mina displayed evolved ambrosia into what it is today. one of the few seldom places where olympians and elysium natives cross, the fine line on which they balance, careful not to step into the other’s world. a bridge between what could be and what really is.

saerom emerged from exactly that pass, that paradox of the two worlds. her birth was a welcome one and yet it wasn’t, as all parents feel the hot drop of guilt run down their spine when they bring yet another life into this godforsaken world. her mother sang her lullabies of olympus, of clear blue skies and a life with no concerns, a life with overflow of everything. saerom listened with ardor about the stories that allegedly unfolded behind the doors of the casino. a place where olympians and elysians coexisted, even just for a few hours, beneath crystal lights and with heartfelt laughter. her mother instilled the thought within her that one day they too would emerge from the dust of elysium, and saerom awoke every day with the thought that it might be the one. a place in olympus was already reserved. but when she was old enough to step into the myth-enshrouded hall, she was met with disappointment.

the image she had painted in her head did not match with reality. what her mother had sold as coexistence was a laughable claim. olympians and elysium natives still prevailed in separate parts of the building, one reserved for the elite and one for who would like to imagine they belonged to it as well. there was no fine line, there was a border. as the owner her mother naturally had access to both parts, slowly feeding her with the thought she belonged to those that descended from the blinding skyscrapers. honey-coated promises of her own ascend made her turn a blind eye to the indebted elite, only to never see those promises fulfilled.

saerom was repulsed. and even more so when her mother pronounced her as her successor, a servant of those she deemed so honorable and dignified. the first specks of doubt had already settled down comfortably in the darkest corners of saerom’s mind when she starts to learn the ins and outs of the casino. she had been trying to dream of something more, something beyond this, but how could it be any different? she negotiates with her quiet, she wanders, she bleeds, but no matter where saerom goes, she is confined by the polluted horizon, fully aware that was lays beyond it is out of her reach. she feels miniscule but funnily enough, saerom always seeks to be present. like, really present. feeling every chill, bloody morning running through her spine and the soreness of her eyes as the neon lights burn themselves mercilessly into her retina.  

only when her mother stepped into a more passive position and saerom emerged as the operator, she realized the unique potential the establishment holds. she noticed the same glint in everyone’s eyes, whether they came with their pockets loaded and ready to be emptied or  if they put their last savings on the table. the highest of the elite and the lowest of the society were attracted by the same blinking slot machines, addicted by the same flick of the cards during a round of poker. truth was that rich and poor used the casino’s grandeur to take their mind off the troubles that await once they step outside. unlike her mother she did not view the similarities between the two worlds as a strength, but as an exploitable weakness. she began holding debts like a damocles sword over those who she knew could afford it, the debt purging policy of her mother abolished once and for all. she goes the extra mile, the one her mother had not dared to walk in order to stay neat and tidy for her alleged olympian rise. books are cooked, bets arranged under the table. she has little respect for life and even less for death, a dangerous combination that feeds her with reckless devotion.

it was at that time that she realized that the halls of money had fold speaking in idioms and empty platitudes. at times she feels far away, as if she could go on and plagiarize identities for a while and no one would notice - it is an off pretending and profoundly unsettling. but at its core is a yearning to bring this chapter of history to an end. she is a hungry woman. heart like a cigarette that won’t stay lit. sometimes she think believing in some kind of manufactured god would be better because it would give some meaning to the soulless networking between blackjack tables. the bitter truth is that she is simply someone searching for savagery. a phrase, a light, a fire. the signs along the way, even if it turned her more into a sinner than a saint.

[machinakrpx]

>> OPEN KANG SAEROM’S FILE …

:// AGE — 28 :// OCCUPATION — owner of ambrosia casino :// CLASS — elysium native

>> LOADING DEVELOPMENT …

:// MODIFICATIONS —

techhair - artificial hair that is embedded into the scalp and contains a display layer that can emit colors and patterns.

turn-on fails: fake fails that possess the same properties as techhair, the display layer allows the change of colors and patterns within seconds.

cyberlimbs (validation fingertips): chips implanted into the skin on the fingertips can detect counterfeit money upon touch.

>> LOADING BIOGRAPHY …

kang saerom had the great fortune of being born into a family that had abandoned any glimpse of hope. they had stopped living under the assumption they could evoke change in the charred grime of elysium long ago. truth was that everything surrounding us has been built by despicable people for despicable people; only burning it down to the ground and vowing on the remaining ashes of the past to never let the darkness of our hearts take over again could lead the world onto another path. alas, it had to be different.

as he liked to lament so much in his stories of older times, her father, a weathered politician, had seen it all. kang saejun had witnessed how those with ill intentions had molded the city into their perverse playground with no limits. how those with the means simply took what they wanted, rightfully theirs or not. life in itself is the quietus for every scintilla of hope, for every thought that maybe, just maybe, it could be different. elysium had made sure to terminate any idea for a better future and the deal was sealed when he married the heiress of the ambrosia casino.

choi mina played her part in the casino’s blinding farce perfectly. black market mink coats, self-sown sequin dresses and fake louboutins adorned her when she made her laps through the casino, a child born from foul soil pretending to be a dazzling star. convinced that the olympian’s superiority can trickle down one day, she gave ambrosia the necessary touch it had been craving for so long. naked bulbs replaced with chandeliers, blood stains covered by red carpet and blackjack tables instead of rundown slot machines. wicked mouths spoke of vicious assumptions where the sudden capital came from, truth was that saejun and mina cared little about each other’s promiscuity. if the ritual of their bodies could buy them a deal beyond pleasure, so be it.

the tireless devotion mina displayed evolved ambrosia into what it is today. one of the few seldom places where olympians and elysium natives cross, the fine line on which they balance, careful not to step into the other’s world. a bridge between what could be and what really is.

saerom emerged from exactly that pass, that paradox of the two worlds. her birth was a welcome one and yet it wasn’t, as all parents feel the hot drop of guilt run down their spine when they bring yet another life into this godforsaken world. her mother sang her lullabies of olympus, of clear blue skies and a life with no concerns, a life with overflow of everything. saerom listened with ardor about the stories that allegedly unfolded behind the doors of the casino. a place where olympians and elysians coexisted, even just for a few hours, beneath crystal lights and with heartfelt laughter. her mother instilled the thought within her that one day they too would emerge from the dust of elysium, and saerom awoke every day with the thought that it might be the one. a place in olympus was already reserved. but when she was old enough to step into the myth-enshrouded hall, she was met with disappointment.

the image she had painted in her head did not match with reality. what her mother had sold as coexistence was a laughable claim. olympians and elysium natives still prevailed in separate parts of the building, one reserved for the elite and one for who would like to imagine they belonged to it as well. there was no fine line, there was a border. as the owner her mother naturally had access to both parts, slowly feeding her with the thought she belonged to those that descended from the blinding skyscrapers. honey-coated promises of her own ascend made her turn a blind eye to the indebted elite, only to never see those promises fulfilled.

saerom was repulsed. and even more so when her mother pronounced her as her successor, a servant of those she deemed so honorable and dignified. the first specks of doubt had already settled down comfortably in the darkest corners of saerom’s mind when she starts to learn the ins and outs of the casino. she had been trying to dream of something more, something beyond this, but how could it be any different? she negotiates with her quiet, she wanders, she bleeds, but no matter where saerom goes, she is confined by the polluted horizon, fully aware that was lays beyond it is out of her reach. she feels miniscule but funnily enough, saerom always seeks to be present. like, really present. feeling every chill, bloody morning running through her spine and the soreness of her eyes as the neon lights burn themselves mercilessly into her retina.  

only when her mother stepped into a more passive position and saerom emerged as the operator, she realized the unique potential the establishment holds. she noticed the same glint in everyone’s eyes, whether they came with their pockets loaded and ready to be emptied or  if they put their last savings on the table. the highest of the elite and the lowest of the society were attracted by the same blinking slot machines, addicted by the same flick of the cards during a round of poker. truth was that rich and poor used the casino’s grandeur to take their mind off the troubles that await once they step outside. unlike her mother she did not view the similarities between the two worlds as a strength, but as an exploitable weakness. she began holding debts like a damocles sword over those who she knew could afford it, the debt purging policy of her mother abolished once and for all. she goes the extra mile, the one her mother had not dared to walk in order to stay neat and tidy for her alleged olympian rise. books are cooked, bets arranged under the table. she has little respect for life and even less for death, a dangerous combination that feeds her with reckless devotion.

it was at that time that she realized that the halls of money had fold speaking in idioms and empty platitudes. at times she feels far away, as if she could go on and plagiarize identities for a while and no one would notice - it is an off pretending and profoundly unsettling. but at its core is a yearning to bring this chapter of history to an end. she is a hungry woman. heart like a cigarette that won’t stay lit. sometimes she think believing in some kind of manufactured god would be better because it would give some meaning to the soulless networking between blackjack tables. the bitter truth is that she is simply someone searching for savagery. a phrase, a light, a fire. the signs along the way, even if it turned her more into a sinner than a saint.