Branded reflections (photo)
"What for the love of God were you doing near that tree?" the Garda asked. His name was Pat. He was nice enough, as Gardaí go. He gave me something to wear and he took off the handcuffs when I complained about my wrists.
"It's..." I started. But I really couldn't say. You don't rat on your girl. Especially when she's the only woman on earth. Sex strike is a bitch when there's only one fish in the sea.
"Alright," said the guard. "CCTV footage should be in soon anyway. We'll sort that out later. At least tell me what that apple was for."
"You know..." I hesitated. "There isn't much to do over here. Gets boring after a while. We thought we could have us some fun. Make cider or something."
The door opened. Another uniform came in and whispered something to the Garda, who had a quick smile and turned back to me.
"Right," he said. "Let's go. Your accomplice spilled it."
"Who, Eve?"
"Nope. The snake."
"Of course it was. So what's gonna happen now?"
"You know the judge. You and your wife are probably going to be cast out."
"All because of a fucken' bastard snake..." I said.
The Garda was silent for a second.
"I know, mate," he said. "It's them snakes that should be driven out. I hope someone thinks of it at some stage."
Another step towards a bright future of augmented reality and corporate surveillance.
And also, I'm glad my latest science fiction story replaced 'networked goggles' by contact lenses...