Printcrime Remixed

From Abulafia Random Generators

[edit] Cory Doctorow's 'Printcrime' remixed

They destroyed grandma's trunk, the one she'd brought from the old country. I saw it all from my phone, in the remains of the sitting room, watching it on the screen and wondering how, just *how* anyone could look at our little flat and our terrible, manky estate and mistake it for the home of an organized crime kingpin. I'd visited him three times -- on my tenth birthday, on his fiftieth, and when Ma died.

The ipolice paid in high-grade pharmaceuticals -- performance enhancers, memory supplements, metabolic boosters. "What, Da?" I said, leaning in close.

"I've learned my lesson." They took the printer away, of course, and displayed it like a trophy for the newsies. They smashed our little refrigerator and the purifier unit over the window.

"There's no hat or laptop that's worth going to jail for." "Come here, Lanie, let me whisper in your ear."

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. God knew what he went through in prison. What they did to him. "Lanie, I'm going to print more printers. Lots more printers. One for everyone."

They took the printer away, of course, and displayed it like a trophy for the newsies. "Lanie," he said, as he sat me down. God knew what he went through in prison. They brought him out the door and let the newsies get a good look at him as they tossed him in the car, while a spokesman told the world that my Da's organized-crime bootlegging operation had been responsible for at least twenty million in contraband, and that my Da, the desperate villain, had resisted arrest.

Refresh to read it again, differently.