(no subject)
In the end, despite the teeth gnashing and garment rending of the privacy groups, it was the over-surveillance of humanity that saved us, in my not so humble opinion. The cameras spread exponentially after the three-pronged attacks of 2008. The London and Los Angeles attacks were bad, but no one could get the satellite images of Sydney out of their heads for weeks after. And everyone was caught within a fortnight but the crew behind Sydney. Why? No surveillance, we were told.
And so, they started to go up. Everywhere. Where there were none before they appeared and where there were already some they were doubled.
Media centers in homes had cameras for two-way video chat. They were a basic feature of all displays of any kind. And it was quickly determined that, thanks to government's manipulation behind the scenes in putting chips into the centers before they were built, an exploit could be used to turn the cameras on and leave them on. And once the datastreams were there, of course, they could be hacked. And they were. If you wanted to interact with the world at all, then privacy became a thing of the past.
The thing about having something that prevalent in your life is that eventually, you'll grow used to it. And so people did. They gave up. And many of them apparently decided: you want to see everything, they said, fine...here's everything.
Normal ordinary people doing it on the couch. Doing it in the bathtub. Doing it in large groups, doing it solo. And the rest of us became riveted to our screens, whether we admitted it or not. VSS notification feeds would pop up with a new attraction in minutes, algorithims were created that could recognize the movements associated with sex and flag them for perusal by the masses. Some people left their channels open on purpose, some left them easy to hack, knowing that was part of the lure. Part of what kept it taboo. Net orgies became triumphs of coordination as hundreds of people would tune into a single feed and alternate images of the rest of them going at it like mad. Records for simultaneous orgasms were made and then broken. Five hundred twelve people on all seven continents was the last one I had heard.
And, oh, the poor porn industry. How could they possibly compete with the imagination of the ever growing crowds of sex hungry people? Nothing can compete with real people not only acting out your fantasies, but inviting you to join as well. And collaborate and improve the experience.
The walls came down. People realized their own dirty secrets weren't nearly so dirty as they imagined. There's always a bigger freak than you, sweetheart, the world says to them. And emboldened by safety in numbers, they step up and take control of their own sexual lives.
And those who wanted to put a stop to this? Who rattled on and on about family values and decency? They cited polls in which the majority of citizens wanted an end to this flagrant use of what was supposed to be keeping us safe (never mind that violent crime had plummeted once everybody became too busy playing the voyeur to kill one another) but the real numbers told the truth. One hundred million unique visitors to various and sundry sex hubs and yet you're telling us 78% of people are against this? Sure. Soon enough, they found their web histories on the Net for all to see, and their cameras, which they had been assured were secure, were of course not. When the CSPAN net feed was hacked and replaced with the Congressional Committee for Morals chairman whacking off to "Schoolgirl Petting Zoo," it was pretty much all over.
I never had a problem with this new lifestyle. You could consider me an early adopter. And, you know, I am a guy after all. So I'm an old pro and always looking for new and exciting things. The other day, my girlfriend Cheryl called my girlfriend Amanda into the media room. Cheryl's a former nun who freed herself from a convent. She kept her habit, though. And that's good for some fun. Amanda is almost completely Irish, with fire red hair and the sexiest accent you have ever heard in your life.
Cheryl had hacked a signal expecting to find a basement naked wrestling feed. Instead, a young woman in her twenties was sitting, fully clothed, staring at the screen and watching a documentary on her media center.
"She's not doing anything," Amanda pointed out.
"I know," Cheryl replied, grinning. "Fuck, that is hot."
