The people of the city of Driesch are no different from other human beings. From their genesis, the personal memories of Driesch’s residents are tangled with sensory events: that first acrid scent of smoke as it rises from the factory’s soot-stained chimney is inexorably tied to the feel of your sweaty palm pressed to his—the two of you linked—as you listen to your Auntie’s quiet sobs. How could it be otherwise? Whether a Glassed mind, purely organic, or something in between, consciousness is a sensory experience. Loss and chemical smoke forever entangled. At least, until that particular snarl of personal memory and sensory input is excised, altered, intertwined with something new.
“Careful,” the man says. “Adjustment in progress.”
STORIES OF DRIESCH
“We Girls” is one of a number of stories set in the city of Driesch. In this cyberpunk-ish city, consciousness is a commodity. And the self is an augmented, fractured creation. Death detectives work with memories in storied Limm-Glass. Children are outfitted with secondary Glassed-personalities. Black market operators acquire and trade virtual Glassed-slaves, and man-made tools utilize modified and unmodified versions of both the living & the dead.