Asset Protection (Wushu Cyberpunk IC)

[Zassiliss]

0600 Hours, May 25th, 2085

On a blearly Monday morning, the three of you are each called up by a direct-retina image suddenly slammed in front of your eyes. Each of you sees what appears to be a HD video image of two men. The first is a tall balding man with sunken cheeks and an oily smile, whose suit looks baggy on his almost-skeletal frame. The second seems a complete foil to the man next to him, dressed in a dinghy Salamander Dynamics security uniform, large unkempt beard hiding the lower half of his face, black military beret almost falling off the side of his head. The tall man speaks first. Miles Avner, Head of Public Relations. From the high-definition image you can see all-too-clearly the permanent sheen of sweat on his face, the wide grin as he starts to speak. He adjusts his tie a little unnecessarily before beginning.

“Ah, um. Sorry to wake you gentlemen, but we have an assignment for you. Please report to the meeting room in D985. I’m sure you all know where that is. Miles out.”

The image fades, and as you open your eyes it’s like you’ve just spent an hour looking into the sun. A bit blinding for some, but for such veteran users of direct-brain interfaces and visual cortex hijackings, you soon shake it off.

[Wertible]

Jack's eyes adjust swiftly to the intense scene. Years of research camps and intense integration as a child had already dulled almost every inhibition he had to superimposed optical imagery.

Damn, just woke up too.

Feeling the weight of the day already upon him, Jack swiftly dons his cybernetic suit, plugging in the mindjack. A superimposed relay of information quickly fills his vision as the bootloader checks for any recent Legionet updates.

Wonder if they'll fix that workaround in the AverTH patch node.

The update info flashes across his vision as he makes his way to the elevator, lab coat fresh on his shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't own other clothes, it's just that the lab coat never goes out of style. He directly interfaces with the elevator on Legionet, patching his instruction to bring him to D985.

They did fix it then. Damn.

The doors slide closed swiftly, the man too busy with his interface to care.

[Whiplord]

Shekhar

As Shekhar's eyes opened the familiar whiteout faded away gradually, giving way to the equally familiar sight of his small bedchamber. Shiny white metal walls, shiny metal floors. Clean, sparse. Boring. Apparently this was in style nowadays.

He groggily climbed out of bed, shaking his head. He would kill for a few earth-tones.

He stumbled over to the shower, knocking his elbow on the way there. Apparently sharp edges were in style too. He noticed when he felt a wet sensation trickling down his forearm. He shrugged. The wound would knit itself shut in a few seconds. At least the floor had some color now.

He felt better after the shower. He toweled off, and pulled on his clothes, feeling the starched cloth settle over his still slightly damp body, clinging slightly in places.

Brushing his hair and doing the last few miscellaneous things to get ready, and then heading out the door.

Another day.

[Plasma Snake]

Eric blinks and then blinks a lot more.

"Blow it out your arse old man," the Liverpudlian mumbles. His mouth tastes of vomit, beer, vomit, and what might be cocaine. Rolling a bloodshot eye around Eric takes in his surroundings. It was his flat of course and in a mess. The hookers were already gone and upon examining his wallet, Eric discovered that they had taken more than what they earned. He'd need to have a talk with a couple pimps later on in the day.

Falling off of the couch, Banister slowly but surely pulls himself up. Dragging himself to his bathroom sink, he vomits several more times and then examines the haggard figured in the mirror. Newly grown stubble shadowed his jaw, leading up to slightly shaggy black hair. His blue eyes were bloodshot to the point of there being very little whites to them.

After a quick shower and a shave, Eric digs into his medicine cabinet. He pulls out a bottle of Ritalin and downs two pills with a large mouthful of Red Bull. Eric straps on his leg holster. With a twirl in the style of the long gone cowboys of the the ancient American West, he holsters the Hand Cannon. He places various tools and ammunition in the many pockets of his coat. Throwing on his coat Eric walks, to the best of his ability, out of his flat.

Eric stumbles his way to his parking space and starts up his baby. Eve thunders down the streets running many red lights and weaving in and out of traffic. He parks in front of the Salamander Dynamics building and makes his way to the Asset Protection Department Meeting room. Nodding to the others in the room, the wheelman plops down in a seat and opens up another energy drink.

[Zassiliss]

The room Miles was mentioning is actually directly under the main lobby, in the Public Relations Department building. Curiously enough, this is the only Salamander Dynamics building that doesn’t have a full sheet-glass front. Instead, it is a squat, two story building, in the shape of a hexagon. There are no windows, only a small double-door on each side of the facility, guarded by two security officers each. No wonder so few people go to this building for complaints. Then again, Salamander’s usual clientele probably wouldn’t pay a visit to their headquarters themselves. You go inside, swipe your keycards to gain entrance to the facility, and take an equally nondescript elevator down four floors. The fluorescent lighting washes across the empty white hallways, reflecting on the tiled floor, harsh and bright. On your right, is D985.

“About time, gentlemen.” Says the older man you saw on the stream. Miles isn’t there, probably at another stockholder meeting, or pestering the other AP teams this early in the morning. The man standing before you seems much more grizzled, his grey-white facial hair a shock against the sheer black of the Salamander Dynamics. He stands by the opposite wall, covered by a flexible touch-screen display that stretches from the ceiling to the floor. On it, there’s a picture of an Asian man, probably in his 40’s. Wearing a sharp black business suit with a silver tie, his frown seems to express a perpetual disappointment, at some unseen frustration. On the right of his portrait, is a constantly scrolling stream of information about him, his personal background, age, career.

The old man slaps the face with an extendable baton.

“This man is Shen Yudong. He is a senior sales executive at Teng & Miller Inc. the only reason we’re interested with this happy fellow is because he apparently has some records on some major fund embezzling and illegal accounting for Lumisys. As you know, Lumisys is one of our major competitors in the European information market, so any dirt on them comes at a high price.” He says. He collapses his baton and folds his hands behind his back, and smiles.

“Fortunately, we did place the highest bid in the last 24 hours. And the highest bid, was you. we have transferred your contract to Yudong for 36 hours starting at 1300 hours today. You’re going to do some favors for him, and in return at the end of the contract period he will present to you a secured drive with the necessary data in it. Your transorbital flight is scheduled for 0900 hours, London time. Any questions?”

[Whiplord]

Shekhar

More white hallways. Great. It was like he hadn't even left his room. He almost considered cutting himself again on purpose.

Shekhar listens to the brief impassively, his face betraying very little expression. More because he was actually rather disinterested, than from any need to conceal his feelings. No doubt the job would have it's share of interesting occurrences. But briefings were boring as hell.

He started zoning out, and then snapped back into it, having focused by chance on the sparse walls. Which were so boring as to actually manage to bring him back.

At the end of the briefing he simply shrugs. "Will I have to kill anyone?"

[Plasma Snake]

Eric straightens up in his chair somewhat. Waiting for Shekar to speak he takes a a large gulp of his energy drink. Without waiting for the old man to respond he raises his hand and asks,

"Firstly, have you taken care of the return trip as well? Secondly, how from the airport are we going to meet this bloke?"

Finishing up, Eric takes another large gulp from the can.

[Wertible]

Jack remained largely inattentive for the brief briefing. He had his suit record and transcribe it anyway on the off chance that it would actually prove interesting or important. He was far to interested with Legionet updates to really care one way or the other.

Goddamn Legionet, that workaround allowed me to patch into the subway node and get free rides. I guess I'll just have to check out the server side next time I ride. Maybe I can capture an encrypted node access key by...

Jack's mind stopped as the man told them the time of their flight. He hated traveling, especially in the morning. It proved to be quite the uninterrupted social venture, something he hated with his very core.

"Sure, I have a question. Why did you wake us up three hours in advance to tell us something you could've just told us while we were on our flight? We're under direct orders anyway."

[Zassiliss]

The old man looked at the three of them and inwardly sighed. Why do I always get the crazies?

"First off, it isn't your place to ask us when and where you're called into service. As far as you and I are concerned, the moment you walk out that door and onto the plane you are representing Salamander Dynamics internationally. As for eliminating others, that's Shen's call. Get in touch with us if you believe he's up to something dirty, but don't waste our time. We're already knee-deep in dirty as it is. Also, if I haven't already told you, when you're working for Shen you are to remove the Salamander insignia from your suits. We aren't liable for any ations you perform while under his command, but don't go all crazy on us.

As for transportation, all we know is that one of Shen's aides will contact you at the airport with a car waiting. At the moment, nothing for the return trip is planned. You could always call us for a suborbital flight home, if you can't find one yourselves."

His eyes widened briefly then, as if he was just remembering something.

"Ah, that's right." he said, "H&K sent us some of those newfangled 5.56 rangefinding flechettes, as a bonus for buting so much of their ordinance in the past few months. Put in a distance in your rifle's OS, and these things'll explode once they reach that distance, or hit anything harder than a rubber ball before. Very good for people in cover, or arc-shots. Well, what are you waiting for? The flight info shoulud be in your personal overheads."

[Whiplord]

Shekhar

Shekhar simply nods. "That should be useful if I have to kill someone." With that profound statement, he seems to have finished with the conversation.

Moving his hand in a brushing motion over his clothing, the company insignia disapears as the molecules in the cloth reararange themselves.

Turning to the others. "Well. I suppose we have a flight to catch."

[Wertible]

Great, just what we need, primitive weapons.

Testing his suit, he shifts the hardness to that of steel, stomping the floor. The boost from his internals make the stomp like that of a 600 lb. sumo wrestler wearing combat spikes.

"Adequate. See you at take off."

He turns to leave the room, still pondering the morning updates. Although the subway matter had slipped from his mind, there was still the issue of packet moderation being stepped up. Remembering his manners, he turns to the team.

"Well, that is, unless we're traveling together. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Eying Eric as he says this, He steps off, making his way to the elevator.

[Plasma Snake]

Eric is momentarily happy at the thought of new munitions, then realizes that these new shells would never fit into the Hand Cannon. He internally sighs as his hands start to tingle a bit. Good that means the pills are kicking in.

He stands up and with a quick nod to the geezer says,
"If that's all, I better get packing."

He grabs his mission folder and heads out.
Following the others out, he responds to Jacks question with a smile and a wink.
" Of course I'm givin' you guys a lift. Why settle for less than the best in transportation, when you got yours truly as a partner."

The drive back was even more reckless than the ride to.

Arriving at his flat, Eric begins to pack. He places his gun and ammo in a case designed to make the contents look like clothes to most security scanners and throws that case into his checked bag. He then throws some clothes in, several of his more required tools and several bottles of several different kinds of uppers.

He doesn't pack a carry-on. Just puts a bottle of Ritalin in his pocket as well as anything else he'd normally bring with him that could pass through security.

Eric spends the hours in between making calls to finish up other businesses and calling a certain pimp to complain about some prostitutes that ripped him off. Around 0700 he calls the others informing them that he's on his way to pick them up.

The ride to the airport isn't something that would be considered a pleasant experience for most passengers.

[stipes]

Petya sits on a bench outside the security checkpoint, dressed in a newly tailored Armani suit. Today, his hair has a slight curl to it. Not too long, not too short. He sits, observing all the traffic passing while staring out the front window.

The briefing was simple enough, although the old man tries too hard to act as though he's the unknowable command figure. Five seconds in the underground gives me more than enough information to pass myself off as him. Not that I'd want to -- he's pretty pudgy.

Petya pauses and looks at his watch.

Hmm... The others should be here shortly. Don't want to keep them waiting.

As the rest of the team passes through the automatic doors at the front of the terminal, Petya rises to his feet, and goes over to meet them.

"I see that you've all made it here in one piece... Or at least close enough to it for our purposes," Petya says in his typical crisp eastern European accent, eying Eric. "At least it will be a change of pace to have a bit of a trip."

[Zassiliss]

As you leave the Salamander Dynamics compound for the London Heathrow airport, you see the same familiar sights and sounds of the city. After the dismantling of the British government, the CCTVs and other public surveillance equipment are either completely rusted away on the street corners and buildings, or turned into unique street art displays.

One particular one you see is where someone had tapped a straw effigy of a man in a blue business suit under a rusted camera, with a noose around its neck. Below hangs a blaring, flashing sign on the Legionet overview that screams: "STOP PURCHASING SURVEILLANCE NOW! BRING BACK CONSUMER RIGHTS!" and a website underneath it. People of all different types roam the streets, from corporate businessmen just heading to work, to addled stim-users blearily stumbling back home. There are already members of the Posthumanist front out and about, men and women who look more machine than human, oftentimes looking just strange. A figure walks past with the shapely legs of a sexy woman, but with four of them placed radially, and on time a large ceramic disk with what looks to be an ancient diver's helmet inflated to enormous size atop it, with eight articulated arms with dainty little hands busily shuffling around the rim of the disk. One of them holds up a LED display that says "Change NOW! Accept the FUTURE!" on it.

The London Heathrow Airport has gone through some pretty major renovations thoughout the past few years. Aside from the new spaceport, the building has a new, almost postmodern look to it, with lots of abstract animated patterns on the interior walls, and animated bursts of light as your feet stop through the airport. Getting through the security checkpoints at the airport in anything under three hours regularly would be be nigh impossible for the average person, but since Salamander provides hefty bribes to the private contractors that maintain the security at the airport, the squad is able to get in relatively easily. Petya is also inexplicably at the end of the security checkpoint, and after meeting up with him the squad heads toward the flight gate.

The place is incredibly cramped, especially at the luggage check-in kiosk and the spaces in between the flight lobbies. As you walk to your flight, a subconcious bubble of space seem to form round the physically impressive shekhar and Jack. Eric, a little lost in the crowd, suddenly feels two small points jabbed in his back, and a raspy whisper in his ear.

"There's enough charge here to fry you dead, natural or not. Gimme ya public key to ya skintop, an' there'll be no trouble. Do anything funny, and down you go."

[Plasma Snake]

Hearing the voice from behind him and feeling the tazer in his back Eric's blood shot eyes widen slightly with flashbacks of prison. He quickly composes himself and gives off a slight chuckle.

"Okay, okay I give. Just let me get out my mindjack its on my lower spine."

Slowly moving his left hand down to his lower back, his hand quickly changes direction and grabs the man's balls firmly. Before the man can react, Eric says,

"Now listen if you know anything about how electricity works you'd understand that when you shock something, anything it's touching is shocked as well. How many volt's would you like to go through your testicles?"

[Zassiliss]

Spoiler

Show

Okay, since last night I had the rules of encounters completely misunderstood, we're just going to scrap this thing entirely. I hope Colin doesn't mind, because he is going to unleash an entire Alaskan canning factory of whoopass on this mook right here. The next one I'll have statted out and everything.

Before the initial look of shock can pass across the would-be mugger's face, instinct takes over. He grabs Eric's wrist, and with the other hand, reaches for switchblade holstered at his belt. Flicking it open, he attempts to go for Eric's throat in a wild lunge. He never makes it. As soon as Eric felt the two jabbing points of pain his lower back subside, his neurosurgery-enhanced reflexes kick in at full force. That, combined with the years of hairpin getaway turns down crowded urban streets and the caffeine still clogging his bloodstream, doesn't even give the thuggish man behind him a fighting chance. Turning abruptly to the side, Eric's leg shoots out like a piston at the man's knee, which yields with a sickening crunch of cartilage and bone. Off balance, the blade goes wild, easily dodged by Banister, who already has the Handcannon out of his holster. He fires, twice, leaving two taser rounds embedded in the thug right below the heart and along the crook of the collarbone. The man collapses in a heap, twitching furiously as the occasional arc of electricity races through his eyebrows and across his scalp. He smells of smoke.

By this point, the crowd has made another little personal bubble of space around Banister as well. A few look down at the shaking man, but most go about their business or text security to get the ruffian out of the main walkway, as he's taking up space. Eric looks around him, sometimes up, approvingly. With a small twirl, he holsters his firearm and rejoins the group, as if nothing had happened. By the look on Eric's face, one would first guess that he had downed another Red Bull instead of just fended off a mugger. After that incident, the rest of the wait was fairly uneventful. The crowd had taken to giving them ample breathing space, even enough to let Petya put his feet across three chairs, tilt his hat down, and try to catch some sleep in the wait.

An hour or so later, the transorbital plane arrives. Sleek and modern, the ship looks like a large triangular wedge with tiny slits for windows along it's side. The roof and body is painted a brilliant eggshell white, while the bottom covered in black shimmering heat shield, still slightly shimmering the air around it as it cools off. The Northwestern logo on it's wings gleam in the early morning sunlight. A craft like this would be able to carry passengers halfway across the globe in less than four hours, if they could afford the tickets. It worked by launching itself past the thickest part of Earth's atmosphere, where it could accelerate to enormous speeds at a much cheaper fuel cost, eventually re-entering the atmosphere at it's destination. The trip is uneventful, even boring. To accomodate more room for passengers, human stewardesses have been removed, replaced by automated vending machines dispensing food and drink at regular intervals, buzzing across the aisles.

At the Beijing port, a small chubby asian man with perfectly parted hair, wearing a rumpled dress shirt happily waddles over to you after you exit the plane, hand extended.

"Ah, you must be the group from Salamander!" he says in slightly accented English. "Come come, the car is warmed up and Master Shen is waiting, eh? I'll take you right to him."

[Plasma Snake]

After several hours the caffine saturated Ritalin had finally taken effect. Eric's heart beat so fast he felt like he was going to have a heart attack and he couldn't be happier.

Eric pulls a pair of dark aviators out of one of his pockets to conceal his bloodshot eyes. His mouth grows into a large grin as he sees the representative of his new boss. He grabs the man's hand and shakes it enthusiastically, shooting out his words so fast they seem to blur together,

"EricBannister,sogladtomeetcha!So,wheresourride?Ih opeithasaminibarwithlotsandlotsofcaffine.Shallwebe onourwaysir?"

[Whiplord]

Shekhar sleeps during most of the ride. He's fairly excited to be finally doing something, but that should be no reason to lose sleep.

On arrival, he nods his respects to the man who came to meet them, and watches in resigned silence as Eric has multiple small seizures while shaking the man's hands.

[Wertible]

The ride was spent mostly on Legionet updating various coding projects Jack had underway. He didn't even really notice as the plane tumbled sharply through the atmosphere and darted back downward. His stabilization unit that he had installed to cure his intense motion sickness had extreme benefits here.

The ride ended uneventfully, and Jack barely even took note of the man standing in front of him as he exited the plane. Seeing his hand extended for a shake, Jack instinctively took it, gripping very hard and letting go before the man had an opportunity to wave it up and down. Strangely, Jack hated that.

"Why bother with introductions, take us to Shen."

[Zassiliss]

Petya gives a slight smile to the man, giving the traditional closed-fist greeting of the country instead of shaking his hand, but says nothing. Better if Eric fully occupies this man's attention for now. he thinks. Even though it doesn't really look like he can help it. It's better this way until we know exactly what we're doing.

The chubby man doesn't seem to be repulsed by either Eric's frenzied greeting, or Jack's frigid one. He takes each by stride, smile staying in place, but otherwise his face is completely blank. "Master Shen has told me that it would be best if he were to explain what he wants of you himself." With that, he leads the group outside the transorbital station, to a sleek black limousine. The drive over to Shen's condo is uneventful, if not a little frenetic. Beijing, and China as a whole has prospered with the eruption of the Yellowstone caldera. The ash plume had covered most of Japan and Korea but left China relatively untouched save for the coastline, and the tidal waves they faced, while massive, could not begin to compare to what Britain had to endure. Beijing is now completely a city of towering glass and plastics, skyscraper greenhouses reflecting dappled sunlight onto mostly automated streets. Having a car with the proper licenses to run off the automated grid is quite a sign of status, let alone one just for guests.

As he drives, he talks cheerily to the compartment where the team sits, enjoying the automated mini-bar. Well, he mostly sees Eric enjoying the mini-bar immensely, with Petya occasionally taking a small drink. "Wonderful stuff, the Party did with this city. Now that the United States is no more, it is time for the People's Republic to assume it's rightful place in the world, eh?" he laughs, the jowls on his face jiggling. "Look at this place. We've got the most powerful cybernetics industry on the globe, Mandarin is becoming the most commonly spoken language on Earth, not to mention the recent growth of the Asiatic Union. If you ask me, it's high time this happened.

[Wertible]

Jack sits silently in the back, his leg twitching slightly as the man expounds the fresh brand of Chinese Nationalism on the rest of the group. He takes a small sip from a glass filled to the brim with tonic water, playing with it slowly in his mouth before swallowing. His throat energetically receives it, clearing the heavy dryness that was plaguing him since the morning.

Damn boosts need too much water.

He gulped the rest down quickly and refilled the glass almost immediately before taking another small sip. Seeing that the man had finished his brief stint, Jack frowns and begins browsing Legionet in the car.

[Plasma Snake]

Eric's miniature case of stimulant educed epilepsy had finally subsided into simple jitters with the help his favorite depressant, alcohol.

The Liverpudlian lightly guffaws at china-man's propaganda. Swirling what was left of the whiskey in his glass, he responds at a slightly slower speed than before,

"Empires rise and fall good sir, they rise and fall. There was a time when Britain was the most powerful Empire, but that gave way to the Americas. China will have its day in the sun, but so too shall that sun set."

Eric chuckles at his own statement, then downs his beverage. With a sigh he changes the subject,

"So what can you tell us about our new boss before we meet him. You know so I don't start off on the wrong foot with him"

[Whiplord]

Shekhar listens politely, downing one glass of whiskey, and then sipping from a second as he watched the scenery. Whether or not he agreed with what the man was saying was irrelevant. He was here to do a job, and that was about it.

And besides, Eric seemed to be doing enough talking for all of them.

[stipes]

Petya slips into Mandarin, leaving just a hint of his slavic roots, addressing the man. "Ah, it's been a while since I've been here. Always taking care of the little things." Petya reaches down to the minibar, and quickly mixes himself a vodka martini. "Thank you for your hospitality after our flight, but brother, you never told me your name."

[Plasma Snake]

Seeing what Petya makes for himself, Eric lets out a barking laugh.

"Petya, you do know that James Bond was on the Western side of the cold war, right? Honestly you should try acting more like Blofelt or Stromberg."

[Zassiliss]

The man waves a hand dimissively at Eric's comment.

"Pah! The British, American Empires were built up only by circumstance and Western arrogance. The People's Republic had an empire too, you know. Ancient China once controlled most of Asia, all they're doing is taking it back! We have the advantage of a second change, and mind you the Chinese people aren't going to waste it!"

Now breathing a littly heavily, the man visibly tries to calm himself down before continuing. He strokes his hair with one hand, then continues.

"Ah, but perhaps I am getting a little to extremist. My apologies. My name is Jiang by the way, and if it would please you I would really rather wish that Shen didn't know about this little exchange. He does have the interests of China at heart, but publically it would be better for him to put company first. You understand." he pauses before continuing. "Shen himself is an enigmatic man. He's been at his firm for thirty years, initially entering the company as a field agent. He's very into cybernetics, and heavily advocates artificial bodies. Also, he has one son, Shen Duwang. I think he's thirteen this year. As for the job, I think Shen would like to tell you himself, in the privacy of his own home."

[Whiplord]

Shekhar nods at the man's words. "Of course, that is only to be expected. Perfectly reasonable."

Cybernetic bodies huh? Interesting...

[Plasma Snake]

Eric opens his mouth to comment when hears a ring in his head.
"Sorry chaps, have a phone call." Eric says as he closes his eyes and leans his head back.

You've got Banister. He projects across the Legionet to his caller.

Boss, it's Kendrix. Calling in from Florida. Eric hears in his head.

Ah my trustworthy lieutenant, what do you have for me?

The image of a large film canister lights up on the back of his eyelids. Written on tape on the canister are the words The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)
Jackpot boss.

A large grin spreads across Eric's face.
You found it? You found Disney's Vault? EXCELLENT. Have them sent for restoration immediately. Afterward distribute them among our theaters that can play them. We don't sell a single one 'till I've watched them all!

On it boss. Kendrix out.

Eric feels the connection break and opens his eyes. Blinking away the blur of the image Eric smile grows even larger.

"Sorry bout that, gents. Anyone up for a vintage cartoon marathon when we get back?"

[Wertible]

"Sure, right after we watch those prime episodes of The Partridge Family that you've been begging us to see, I presume?"

The casual remark comes as Jack browses Teng & Miller's node on Legionet. A quick glance shows that the node operates on some pretty heavy hardware, and is streamlined for efficiency. Jack calmly examines the administrator login screen before closing it out.

No need to do that. Don't wanna get kicked out of Salamander too.

[Plasma Snake]

Eric waves a hand dismissively at Jack,

"Nah man, I sold those over a year ago. But these, these are classic Disney cartoons. Mickey Mouse? Donald Duck? Goofy? It's a freakin' gold mine" he stops to think for a bit. "I stopped bugging you about those a year ago too. Blimey, you need to unplug more often and pay more attention to the world around you man."