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We can solve all three of these problems, funding, retirement and the lack of necessary nano-improvements in our shortest internship. I might even like something else if you can shoot me a menu? We have a 67 Craymagnon working up psyches on the bio option that you filled out long ago, net hits too; while the menu is just a one size fits all sort of thing; 200 options, but hey, it's like going to the restaurant and picking something, as opposed to just letting your taste buds tell you what they are hungry for by looking at the real thing behind a counter." "So, like the bio thing is free, and the other menu stuff costs? We find the best clients for our needs, and do much of it off of bios. You are scouted by the company, and they like what they see, so they go to hire you to fill a need that has just opened up and won't be there tomorrow; and then you decide that you don't want to be the finance manager, for which we know you are perfectly suited, but rather, you decide that you want to be a salesperson. I have that on recording, but I have to ask one last question.What we are talking about here is a win-win solution for us, Joe. " She answered, "It's weird, I know, but the best product on our table is the cheapest and only available for those who sign up right away; an exclusive offer, you see. We can't pay the same for that because our needs are not as perfectly matched, and besides, you'd be a less satisfied employee. Right out of your records and bio; stuff you don't even know about." "OK, I guess. You'll be signing a legal wavers of sexual preference declaration, in effect, so we need to be a bit legal here.Or, be all that you can be, and make a career of it. Sign a title 47, and thumb that nag on the way out the door, Mister!

We match pheromones, what man can pass up ..." I hit the anti-spam icon, and it faded away with the sound of a whip cracking. Jesus, you'd think that after sixty years of communal internet technology, a person could figure out how to stop some of the crud a person wants stopped, but hey, I still didn't even know how to get rid of the history files that the 'get rid of history files' icons couldn't get rid of, so I'd gotten to the point of putting towels over my speakers just to dampen it some. I hit the phone monitor button, and there she was, typing her words so they'd come out like Betty Boop, her favorite old time cartoon character.

Shoot, last week I'd even gotten an internet spam out of my electric socket, the whole house humming, "Come to Femworld. It struck me that the only time I ever gotten to speak with my real sister, her using her real voice, was when we met at her place to meet another one of her friends in hopes of hitching me up after my 6th divorce.

Never into the plastic people glam-show scene, Joe went to 488, a game show, he couldn't remember the name of it, a woman's show, not at all unlike the old 'Oprah' shows, only the women were less dumpy, more professional, and for therapy, instead of Doctor Whatshisname, they simply had their boyfriends duck into the pillory wall and got to toss eggs at their heads for prizes whenever the interviewed couples got to a point where they discussed the battle of the sexes in mainly female terms.

All in good fun, but nothing like the music videos, where channel 489 was featuring headbanger girl bands of the 2030s, guys crawling at their feet with loin cloths on that left the occasional gaping view of a penis or two.

Haven't I been trying to save you from that kind of stuff?

You have no idea the extremes that playing around with culture stuff can lead to; being unable to get the open news in your socioeconomic status.

Damn, even I didn't know I even had a pheromone record! There are stories that are less than flattering about organizations such as yours. Saves admin costs as well, the Cray already having spit you out months ago. Could you include that for our voice scanners, Sir? Female domination was my kink, but I'd only really played at it with a wife or two for a few minutes at a time.

I don't want to get into anything illegal." "Oh, it's perfectly legal. Oh, and did I tell you that upon arrival we'll be matching you up with a pheromone match? Of course, she's meeting pheromone matches all day, so you can imagine her state." I went back to an earlier thought, "What did it say? My bio was really kinky, and I thought I should maybe go back and read what I'd put in that thing for my chat channels junk, but they had a Craymagnon 67, and I'm sure they could read through the junky overblown part of the bio to get to the real me, especially with all my other records on tap, I was thinking.

" She started pecking around for my bio, but hey, at least the secrecy screen worked; she unable to scratch out a clue from my Alias. "I live a drab life; thank the goddess," I told her, in my own voice, my hands free. Last six rich women mind fucked me far more than any other kind of fucking, and not a one would spring for an improvement in my nano status or health plan, married or not; imagining me a throw-away on our wedding days. Remember that law against rude, sexual comments to ladies? I could scramble your voice around that fuck word, and you'd be toast. " "Sure things, sis," I said, closing the connection. I started to say something very negative, but like most of those sneaky cold calls, she was fast on her lips and had almost hypnotic green eyes, not to mention a mouth that wiggled in ways that had me wondering if I'd seen that right.

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