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Just as [specific sex act redacted], there was a third sound from the service closet. This time, there could be no doubt; the ductwork had unmistakably let out an astonished gasp of the sort that pipes were thoroughly incapable of making.
 
Hah! One Line! Forget it. How about....more....

“Query for Security and Morality AI’s,” I said. “Were Social Services rules and regulations explained to the criminal deviants on arrival in New Beijing.”

“Confirmed, Duty Squad Leader,” the AI gestalt responded. “Their Home Tunnel Captain and the senior Home Tunnel Shàoxiānduì girl explained and understanding was confirmed. The record has been notarized and added as evidence following your question. The deviants have had social credit points removed twice previously and have been previously reprimanded for inappropriate behavior while receiving social services. There is no excuse for recidivist behavior. Please proceed with securing confessions, Duty Squad Leader Chau.”

“Do you confess to sexual assault and attempted rape?” I asked them. I remembered that black eye and the nose. “And assault on Comrades performing a Citizens Arrest and Detention.”

“Yob tvoyu mat,” one of them spat. Fuck your mother? Really? They were so making things worse for themselves.

“Ensure they confess,” I said to Artemis, confirming with the AI’s before I added that next qualifier. “You’re authorized to break anything you like.”

“Understood, Duty Squad Leader,” Artemis said formally. She smiled. Her shock stick crackled and crunched. She hadn’t asked a question, but that was part of the technique.

The deviants began to scream. Soon they’d be confessing. To anything.

“Judicial AI. Please add charges of assault on Comrades performing a Citizens Arrest and Detention, as well as disrespect to a People’s Court, and the use of offensive language towards Shàoxiānduì in the exercise of their responsibilities to The People.”

“Acknowledged, Duty Squad Leader,” the Judicial AI acknowledged. “Charges have been added, evidence notarized and appended to their files, and deviant criminals have been found guilty of all additional charges.”

Artemis and the Duty Squad got to work.

Thirty minutes later, they’d both confessed, which wasn’t unexpected. Actually, before the Duty Squad finished with them, they’d confessed half a dozen times and the Police and Judicial AI’s had added three more crimes against The People. We were the Shàoxiānduì, after all. We knew how to run a Spontaneous Struggle Session. We knew how to secure confessions too, and Artemis could have made them confess a lot more quickly, but Amanda was Shàoxiānduì. She was one of us.

The Shàoxiānduì looked after our own and a point needed to be made.

Artemis and the Duty Squad took time to make it.

There were more bystanders now, and one of the tunnel wall displays was broadcasting so that latecomers could review the crimes and the evidence.

They could review the confessions too.

A good example prevented a thousand other crimes.
 
From an old, unfinished work.
“Listen, bitch, till you can give a liquid blow job the way Kandi does, sucking balls and prostrate through that little slit, figuratively, you ain’t gonna rule the Zone the way she does.”
 
Just came up with a new one:
An old, dilapidated ______ that looked like it had been repaired enough times to create a quandary worthy of Greek philosophers.
No idea where I'm going to use it, as it was one of those lines that just worked its way into my head while letting my mind wander, but there it is. I'm especially happy with it because I usually struggle with the more indirect, associative parts of writing (metaphor, allegory, symbolism, etc.)
 
But then again, a mind approaching 37 is also not always as sharp as it should be. And I've done the same thing a time or two dozen myself.
As have I. Our own actions fade into the ether to the point where we forget, but we're still us, so we often end up doing the same things the next time. It's just an amusing facet of the internet that the previous time is still there forever to be reviewed, so we can see just how ourselves we are and always have been.
 
When my father or mother repeats some story I've heard a dozen times before, I never say I've heard it. I answer with, "So glad you shared that with me." In my mind, sometimes, I add, "Yet again," but never out loud.
 
Establishing the voice of the second POV character after the hand-off from the first following a tense meet cute:

"I watched him dither about staying or going so I shooed him and he left, closing the door behind him. I checked right away that it hadn't locked and I was, hooray, not trapped in a Murder Den."
 
From the WIP for Geek Pride that is almost certainly not coming in in time for this year, so maybe next year, Desks & Deadlines:

"Jim the Manager. Overlord of the office. Feared and reviled by all who worked under him, for he was a taskmaster of unparalleled uncompromise."

I really enjoyed writing this snippet, but "unparalleled uncompromise" especially tickled my fancy. So melodramatic.
 
I hate my current WIP with a passion that would have a crime novelist salivating into their knickers and looking up Rolls-Royce catalogues, so I'm going to indulge my boredom with an exchange that amused me as a logician:

Amanda glared savagely at Henry, then told him, 'You're not as funny as you think you are.'

'Now I'd dispute that. I think I am as funny as I think I am.'
 
Amanda glared savagely at Henry, then told him, 'You're not as funny as you think you are.'
OMFG. Amanda didn't. She only just met him. His wife Alice glared at him. *dies of embarrassment* *stops dying long enough to submit edit and update profile* *goes back to dying*
 
OMFG. Amanda didn't. She only just met him. His wife Alice glared at him. *dies of embarrassment* *stops dying long enough to submit edit and update profile* *goes back to dying*
*brings in crash cart* Don't you die on me, you glorious bastard!
 
"Would it be okay to just try to talk about happy things for a bit? Just have some fun?"

"Of course." I smiled. "Could you pass the dumplings, though? Dumplings are fun, right?"

She smirked and shook her head at my awkward attempt at humor. "Sure, here you go, the 'fun' dumplings! Heh. Dumplings. Dum-plings. Dump...lings? It's such a weird word, isn't it? Dum...plings."

"Are you having that thing where the word lost its meaning because you said it too much?" I asked as I took a bite out of the meat-filled-dough whose name was no longer a word.
(Also, I looked it up and apparently the phenomenon is officially called "semantic satiation" which sounds more like a term for what you'd get after reading a really really good Lit story, but...)
 
Context: His inheritance of a bunch of stocks and accounts and such has just been finalized.
I would need to hire an accountant to help me sort through it all at some point, but for now, they could just sit, continuing to accrue whatever mathematical alchemy allowed economists to manifest a larger amount from a smaller one.
(I know, I know, I understand the basics of how interest works. The character in the story, a mechanic with no exposure to economics, does not. I don't want to get into an economic debate, I just thought it was a good line.)
 
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