SuicideGirl Stina Sardinha may not be a name you're well acquainted with, but it should be. Given how long she's been tattooing, it's quite surprising that she doesn't have one preferred 'style' when it comes to tattooing. With talent a decade in the making, it's no... more

SuicideGirl Stina Sardinha may not be a name you're well acquainted with, but it should be. Given how long she's been tattooing, it's quite surprising that she doesn't have one preferred 'style' when it comes to tattooing. With talent a decade in the making, it's no wonder this rising star has started to attract some well-deserved attention from the tattooing world.



TattooSnob: Let's get the most generic question out of the way. Tell us a little about yourself!
Stina Sardinha: Well, I'm a tattooist in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, it's about an hour from Boston. I work with a great bunch of guys including my husband, James. I've been tattooing for about 10 years now, which is also how long I've been vegan. I've recently become a mother, which is the most amazing thing in the world.

TS: It seems like most artists have a point at which everything "came together" for them. When that was for you?
SS: I think most of us have a few times it all comes together and a few times it all falls apart.

Probably the biggest "come together" point was a few years ago when my friend, Shaun, was opening a new studio. I had just come out of a 3 year relationship, quit my job at a street shop because I couldn't stand the owners anymore, and was kind of traveling around trying to plan a path. Shaun offered for me to work with him until I decided what to do with myself. Obviously, I decided to stay. The group of people we have is pretty awesome and we all bounce off of each other, learn new things from and teach each other. Once I was in a healthy atmosphere that allowed me to grow as an artist, I started putting a lot more effort in. 



TS: Your shop's website states that you are able to tattoo in a wide array of styles; your portfolio is certainly representative of that. Is that because you prefer to tattoo in as many different ways as possible or is it based off demands of your clientele?
SS: Ha! When you live in New Hampshire you kind of have to be more flexible. Most people don't even know that a tattoo can have more than a hand scrawled name and a Cherry Creek rose. So not only are you a little more limited, but you have to have the charisma to help a person expand their view of tattoos. You have to get pretty creative to be able to twist a simple zodiac or kid tattoo into something you'd be stoked to show off as a portfolio piece. However, I do like to try new things and explore new techniques. I always see things other tattooers have done and think, "How can I emulate that technique in my own work?"





TS: Do you feel there's any particular style/type of tattoo that comes to you the easiest?
SS: Plants, animals, people... and I like to stick to a range of semi-realistic to traditional. I won't tattoo without lines unless it's shaded enough to hold up. I don't need every tattoo to look like it's traditional, but I don't want to see my tattoo come back in 5 years faded and without clarity.



TS: You obviously have a lot of requests for work. What's the best way for someone to get in touch with you? How long can a client expect to wait before being able to get an appointment with you?
SS: Best bet is to email me: [e-mail]Stinasard@gmail.com[/e-mail. It depends on the time of year, how cool the tattoo is and how complex. It might range a couple of months or more...



TS: I hate to bring up the whole "being a female in the tattoo industry" thing, but I have a legitimate question on the topic. As a woman, do you feel that you're approached with different work that customers wouldn't normally have a male tattooer do?
SS: Absolutely! This is a conversation I have with the guys all of the time, haha. I have a lot of women who feel more comfortable with me, yes. That means I end up with a ton of women who want children/name based tattoos or really delicate, feminine tattoos. It's kind of funny because I never cared for flower art before, but after you tattoo a few thousand flowers you start to get pretty good.

The other thing I get more of is dudes who want control. Some people see a woman as easier to boss around, so I get a lot of control freaks. "Move this leaf 2 millimeters to the left, this petal needs to have a tiny curve, and this line should be a little more straight" or, "I need you to match the color of this water to this swatch I've brought and make sure it's exact." Some guys think it makes them seem smarter, or better if they can tell you what to do. Unfortunately, you can't always tell those people apart from regular people until you've done the drawing and are about to do the tattoo.

TS: Is there one tattoo you've done that you'd consider a personal favorite?
SS: Probably not a favorite exactly. Since our styles kind of change and evolve all of the time, it's easy to look back and see things you'd do differently in each tattoo. That being said, I do really like the Lady Stobbs tattoo and also the Neutral Milk Hotel song Illustration that I did on my husband. For some reason, I don't have the best photo of that one, but it had a lot of different elements.



TS: Let's talk about the last time you were tattooed - who did it, and what was it?
SS: Well, since I was pregnant I haven't been tattooed in over a year. The last time I got tattooed was by Nick Baxter. He had recently moved to Texas and was coming up for the Paradise Tattoo Gathering convention. For some reason we decided to finish the 8 hours or so that I had left on my sleeve in one day.

Unfortunately, the only parts we had left were the underarm, my elbow and the top of my shoulder. It's all sorts of animals, vivisection and butchery. I have at least one old person a week tell me its beautiful. At about 7 hours into the tattoo I was pretty much crazy. I was biting my own hand; babbling maniacally and writhing around like a snake while sweating all over Nick. Later, Nick sent me a picture of us laughing, which I don't recall one bit.



TS: Are there any artists out there you'd like to be tattooed by, space and time permitting of course?
SS: Certainly--there are some amazing people out there! Seth Wood, Chris Conn, Lars Uwe, Shige, Russ Abbott, Sabine Gaffron, Uncle Allan and Jeff Gogue. Annnnddd probably like 10 other people I've forgotten.



TS: What are some of your favorite tattoo conventions to attend/work at? Do you have any you specifically like to work, or any new ones you'll be checking out this year?
SS: I haven't done a lot of conventions. They're a lot of work and since I have a new baby, I'm not up for traveling too far away this year. I'll probably do the Manchester and possibly the Boston convention.



TS: With joke tattoos on the rise, I'm sure you've done at least a handful. Tell us about some of the more humorous ones you've done.
SS: Well, I've probably done more funny tattoos that are supposed to be serious, than joke tattoos. I would say "Kiss me, I'm Irish" with a smiley face on a penis kinda tops my list. During our conversation I asked if he was afraid that this tattoo would be a deal breaker. He said that no, it wouldn't be and in fact would be quite popular with the ladies. Another penis tattoo was on a guy who had the same name as a cartoon character so he had that cartoon done on the tip of his penis.

I also had a young girl a few years ago who insisted on getting JC Chasez tattooed on her wrist. She told me that when he saw her (somehow) standing in the huge crowd at his next Backstreet Boys concert, she would show him the tattoo and he would truly see that she was his soul mate and he would drag her onto the stage and eventually marry her. Seriously.

I just don't think joke tattoos are big in New Hampshire, yet... but with these sort of serious tattoos, I'm not sure I need anymore humor in my work life.

TS: So you're a full-time tattooer & a mom - what else do you have going on?
SS: Oh geeze. Well this year I'm working on a bunch of paintings that will eventually go to an art show, but no promises yet. Our entire studio does charity events every year. Last year we did tattoos for $30-$70 with the proceeds going to an abused dog that needed an amputation. With only 3 of us working, we made 3,000 dollars in one long day. We're not sure what we're going to do this year. Ideas anyone?

















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by Steven-Elliot Altman (SG Member: Steven_Altman) Our Fiction Friday serialized novel, The Killswitch Review, is a futuristic murder mystery with killer sociopolitical commentary (and some of the best sex scenes we’ve ever read!). Written by bestselling sci-fi author Steven-Elliot Altman (with Diane... more

by Steven-Elliot Altman (SG Member: Steven_Altman)

Our Fiction Friday serialized novel, The Killswitch Review, is a futuristic murder mystery with killer sociopolitical commentary (and some of the best sex scenes we’ve ever read!). Written by bestselling sci-fi author Steven-Elliot Altman (with Diane DeKelb-Rittenhouse), it offers a terrifying postmodern vision in the tradition of Blade Runner and Brave New World...

By the year 2156, stem cell therapy has triumphed over aging and disease, extending the human lifespan indefinitely. But only for those who have achieved Conscientious Citizen Status. To combat overpopulation, the U.S. has sealed its borders, instituted compulsory contraception and a strict one child per couple policy for those who are permitted to breed, and made technology-assisted suicide readily available. But in a world where the old can remain vital forever, America’s youth have little hope of prosperity.

Jason Haggerty is an investigator for Black Buttons Inc, the government agency responsible for dispensing personal handheld Kevorkian devices, which afford the only legal form of suicide. An armed “Killswitch” monitors and records a citizen’s final moments — up to the point where they press a button and peacefully die. Post-press review agents — “button collectors” — are dispatched to review and judge these final recordings to rule out foul play.

When three teens stage an illegal public suicide, Haggerty suspects their deaths may have been murders. Now his race is on to uncover proof and prevent a nationwide epidemic of copycat suicides. Trouble is, for the first time in history, an entire generation might just decide they’re better off dead.

(Catch up with the previous installments of Killswitch – see parts ONE and TWO – then continue reading after the jump…)



[THE KILLSWITCH REVIEW – CHAPTER ONE, PART THREE]

[BLACK BUTTONS, INC. ]

[Previous Chapter -> ]

“Haggerty, where ya’ been?” Tanner grumbled as they entered the viewing room, looking up from his breakfast. “Diddling your assistant? We had a double press over an hour ago.”

Elsa took a seat at the main switchboard and began downloading data, ignoring Tanner’s comment. Haggerty envied her ability to remain unmoved. After decades of ignoring it himself, he’d lately found Tanner’s habitual, juvenile crudeness unbearably irritating.

If Jason Haggerty tried to live up to the ideal of what a Conscientious Citizen should be, Mitch Tanner seemed intent on living down to the worst excesses associated with the status. Haggerty didn’t like Tanner, finding in him the extreme example of everything that was wrong with the majority of people who’d been CCs for more than two decades. He dosed too much in his off time, bitched too much when he was on, and had been campaigning to get Elsa into bed almost from the moment she’d become Haggerty’s assistant. He also went in for plastiche to the point of absurdity. Nobody went much past thirty without at least one visit to the best plastiche parlor he or she could afford, but Tanner chose to look like a JC rather than an adult, and acted like he was no older than he looked. He was ninety-two playing at twenty-two, and not very convincingly. But whatever Haggerty thought of Tanner’s perpetual adolescence, he had to work with the man, if only for the rest of the day.

A quick look at what Tanner was eating, greasy cubes of cloniform beef from the cafeteria dispensary, was enough to turn Haggerty’s stomach. Some of the grease had made a bid for freedom on its way to Tanner’s mouth, and got as far as his chest; two small dark spots marked his regulation grays, which the self-cleaning fabric would eliminate within half an hour. At the moment, though, they remained revoltingly visible.

“Do you have a clue how they prepare that stuff?” Haggerty asked, indicating the plate of food.

“Nope,” Tanner said. “As long as they’re doing the preparing and not me, I don’t really care.”

“There hasn’t been a live cow on the planet for half a century,” Haggerty pointed out. “What they call meat in that swill was culled from a one-hundredth generation clone, grown in a nutrient tank, packed in fake gelatin, flavored with synthetics, and then saniwaved” — which was the reason Haggerty, despite his love of rare steaks and thick burgers, reluctantly followed a vegetarian diet.

“Jeez, Haggerty,” Tanner said, forking up another mouthful of cloniform beef, “you sound like that Code Six guy who’s supposed to be holed up in the desert someplace. What’s his name? Cody?” Tanner scrunched up his face in concentration. “Bodey? Brody?”

“Tomas Yosif Svoboda,” Elsa supplied.

“Yeah, him,” Tanner said. “The back-to-nature nut.”

Code Six was one of the “blue codes,” police designations for threats to public health and safety that required the intervention of law enforcement officers, in this case designating that the person causing the disturbance appeared to be mentally defective and should be approached with caution. Haggerty dimly remembered headlines from decades ago regarding this man, Svoboda — a physicist who supposedly found God, denounced society and founded a cult of subversives called — what was it — the “Indivisibles?”

Tanner lifted his fork to his mouth and another scrap of breakfast hit his grays, making a third spot bloom on the cloth. Haggerty’s mouth tightened. Like so many others, Tanner didn’t look deeply into the nature of things, or care about anything unless the telemonitor warned him to. Perhaps Tanner’s failure to see below the surface was the reason he was merely a trace and dispatch operator, while Haggerty was a reviewer.

“Who and what?” Haggerty asked now, giving up speculation and turning to the job at hand.

He stepped into the pulpit and powered it on. Elsa’s fingers blurred in motion on the transparent board. Data streamed before Haggerty: holo-reps of both pushers, one male, one female, their lives in coded bytes listing below them.

“The dearly departed,” Tanner quipped. “His name was Gustavo Nyuga, one hundred and four, and she was Maria-Christina Rosenberg, one hundred and thirty.” Tanner smiled nastily. “Guess he liked older women.”

To the eye, they both seemed nubile, ageless. The remark was another of Tanner’s crudities: with people living well into their second century and no one looking much over thirty, age gaps between couples were commonplace. What did a few decades matter when everyone had so many of them to look forward to?

“He was a retired investment banker; she was his client, then boss, and then lover,” Tanner continued.

“When and where?” Haggerty asked, moving into the scaled continuous-update holo-rep of the cityscape.

“Oh-eight forty-two,” Tanner read aloud. “The Hodkins Building.” An amber pinlight fixed on a Southside compartment. Haggerty knew the building; he’d been assigned there on a number of occasions. “Looks like they pressed together. Very sweet,” Tanner said.

Who, what, when, and where duly answered, it was Haggerty’s job to find out the why and make sure it was clean. The how he knew all too well.

“Elsa, code us last rites and warrants and get me a thermos of coffee, won’t you?” he requested as he returned to the pulpit.

* * *

The Southside was thick with buildings, stalk after stalk of hypersteel, plasticine, and permaglass rising in square columns of sandy beige and yellow and tan, as if the desert had merely redistributed itself vertically rather then been swallowed whole by Man. In this desiccated garden, the Hodkins Building was the one notable bloom, an exclusive residence, a superior example of the Karin Li school of architecture that had flourished in the second half of the previous century. The building curved around itself, spiraling upward in a graceful sweep, its permaglass surface gradations of blue, from deepest navy at the base to light aqua that seemed to fade into the sky at the upper reaches. The inside was as elegant as the outside. They entered the tube and Elsa typed the pass code to allow them entry to the floor they needed. As they approached the compartment, Haggerty raised the flashing yellow police tape and they passed beneath. A uniformed officer halted them.

“Sorry folks, this is a press scene.”

The man had to be new on the job, not to distinguish between the gray suits of ordinary citizens and their regulation grays. Haggerty flashed his BBI identiplate and the officer, with an embarrassed apology, waved them on.

The door was ajar. Inside they found a well-dressed man seated calmly on an esplanade couch drinking a glass of blue liquid, maybe KeepAwake. Dark-haired, tanned, handsome in that bourgeois way that plastiche seemed to have made everyone’s birthright, he placed his drink on a coaster on a delicate antique end table and rose to greet them.

“The name’s Primrose,” he said. “Haggerty, right?”

Haggerty reached to shake hands. “You’re the adjuster? Never seen you before.” He’d also never seen anyone who’d chosen to keep his physical appearance at early middle age, though he knew the trend was gaining popularity with some businessmen. Primrose sported a frost of silver at each temple, stark and handsome against his dark hair, and the barest suggestion of lines around his eyes. His athletic build had a hint more solidity than the usual thirty-year-old look. Primrose’s look was distinguished, striking, sophisticated, intended to convey authority and experience — invaluable in an adjuster’s work, Haggerty thought.

“Just got assigned to NewVada,” Primrose said. “Transferred from New York.”

“You must be excited,” Haggerty said.

Primrose appeared confused.

“The game?” Haggerty added.

“Oh, the Superbowl. I won’t be there. I’m not much of a football fan,” Primrose said with a self-deprecating smile. “Don’t appreciate violent sports.”

Haggerty nodded. He had his own reason for not being there, beside the fact that tickets cost a small fortune and were near impossible to come by. He’d shared a love of football with his father, and had painfully let it go in his absence. Pressing the night before the big game would itself be an act of defiance for Haggerty. The fact that NewVada was finally a contender made it all the more ironic.

“Mind showing us the press site?” he asked Primrose.

“This way.”

Primrose’s swaggering walk suggested confidence, another asset in an adjuster. Who wanted to leave their final affairs in the hands of someone who didn’t have absolute faith in what he was doing? But, Haggerty thought, Primrose overdid it a bit. Like Tanner’s love affair with puberty, Primrose’s idealized middle-aged man rang false. From the clothes he wore and the jewelry he affected, Haggerty read Primrose to be not much older than the appearance he maintained, a youngster of fifty or so. Most likely he was an up-and-comer with great prospects but a minimal track record in his field, for which his appearance was calculated to compensate. He couldn’t blame Primrose for trying to gain advantage. Everyone started someplace.

He really is young, Elsa told Haggerty through their link. I can tell.

So can I, Haggerty sent back.

Primrose led them into the bedroom, a healthy-sized chamber nearly eight-by-eight, half the size of Haggerty’s but still indicative of wealth, as were the room’s furnishings. Before he’d pressed, Nyuga had indulged a taste — his or his lover’s — for antiques. Real wool carpets covered the floor; bureaus, end tables, and armoires of genuine wood stood against the walls. There were lighting fixtures on tall, elegant poles with fluted crystal glass bowls to deflect the illumination — torch lamps, Haggerty vaguely recalled, his mother had owned one, inherited from a great-aunt. The bed was not the standard platform but a carved fantasy designed to look like a Russian sleigh from at least three centuries back. The wood was natural, though Haggerty couldn’t say from what kind of tree, and against the dark frame a set of mauve silk bedclothes had been twisted by passion, not slumber, and heaped together like discarded flower petals. Drool-tinged blood was evident on one pillow, urine and fecal stains on the sheets — typical evidence of a press. One KV unit lay half hidden beneath a coverlet; Primrose pointed out the other one on the floor, under the bed.

Haggerty cleared his throat. “Do you have the DCs?”

“Right here,” Primrose said, holding up his com and hitting the recall codes. He withdrew the two strips of plasticine the com disgorged. “Do you have the warrants for the boxes?”

Haggerty nodded, following suit with his own com. The two men exchanged documents that were neatly encoded on plasticine cards. Haggerty scanned the death certificates, observing that they were affixed with the proper coroner’s seals, then asked, “How long since the bodies were removed?”

“Half an hour,” Primrose said. “They took all the necessary samples. The detective, I believe his name was —”

“Woyzeck, I know him,” Haggerty interrupted. “He called it a love-spawned clean double, pending our review.”

“His exact words,” Primrose said.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Haggerty said. “Record on.”

Elsa leaned against the bedroom door, casually smoothing blonde hair from her face and folding her arms. “Recording,” she said.

“Eulogic proceedings for Gustavo Nyuga and Maria-Christina Rosenberg. Jason P. Haggerty, representative for BBI, presiding.”

“Oliver Wendell Primrose, adjusting agent for the insurance firm of Cromwell and Sons, prepared to review,” Primrose added in a more officious tone.

Haggerty went to the bed, pulling on black duratex gloves. “Elsa,” he said, “please note: By the authority vested in me by legal warrant of the State of Nevada, I am taking possession of, and responsibility for, two KV black button units that are, to the best of my judgment, the property of BBI and assumed to be the devices of record assigned to the deceased.”

“So noted,” Elsa responded.

Haggerty picked the first unit off the bed and read out the serial number engraved on the casing, then got down on his knees, retrieved the second unit, and repeated the process.

“Serial numbers confirmed as those registered to the deceased,” Elsa said a few seconds later.

“Units appear fully intact and previously armed,” Haggerty continued. “Tabs popped clearly indicate that both buttons have been pressed.” He tipped the boxes up for Primrose to inspect.

Keeping a safe distance, Primrose eyed the tabs and called, “In my best judgment, I confirm that both buttons appear to have been pressed.”

Post-press, the units were, at least in theory, toxin-free, but Haggerty was careful as he handled them, anyway. BBI protocol required that he not put the theory to the test. He brought them over to Elsa. “Mind closing the curtains?” he said to Primrose, who located the console and dialed them shut.

Elsa stood motionless against the door, waiting for Haggerty to reach her. She gave him a look; he supposed she’d smelled the celtrex lacing the coffee on his breath. As he handed her the first unit, she unfastened the tab at the collar of her jumpsuit and pulled the zipper down to her waist in one smooth motion. Primrose watched with an avidity bordering on the salacious as she pressed her thumb hard against her sternum, snapping open her breastplate and exposing her ported upload center, then deftly inserted the unit.

“Analysis?” he asked.

Elsa was silent a full minute, then, “Serial numbers as previously confirmed. Residue on unit confirmed as a BBI toxin. Prints on unit confirmed as belonging to the registered owner. It is established that this is the device of record for Maria-Christina Rosenberg.”

“Play recording with full room projection,” Haggerty said. “Adjust for the light.”

Behind Elsa’s irises, twin beacons whirred into motion, projecting onto Haggerty’s face. He stepped aside. A duplicate holo-image overlaid the room, with the notable inclusion of Gustavo Nyuga and Maria-Christina Rosenberg nude in bed, KV units in hand. Hers was armed; tears wet her cheeks as the soft male electronic voice announced, “Recording,” and went on to give the date and time. The unit cast a violet light across the couple’s bare skins.

Primrose stood mesmerized, as if this were his first post-press viewing. Haggerty had encountered that sort of prurience before. Some adjusters never got tired of the show; it was almost indecent. It seemed to Haggerty that the final moments of the deceased should be observed solemnly, with respect. He turned his attention back to the review.

Gustavo Nyuga took Maria-Christina in his arms, peering over her shoulder as he armed his unit. “Recording,” it droned, bathing the curve of her back in pale green light.

“Quickly, Gustavo, before I change my mind,” she wept. “I love you forever.”

“God, I love you too,” he said, and pressed. She moaned when she heard his unit pop. Then hers popped as well.

Her unit continued to record as they crumpled against each other onto the pillows, euphoria in their eyes. Their bodies trembled and gave a final spasm as their hearts seized simultaneously. Looking at them, Haggerty wondered if having someone to press with made it better. Was there comfort in being so close to someone that the decision could be made, and acted upon, jointly?

Primrose stood by the bed, so near he looked comically like a participant in the scene, his hand to his mouth as though holding something back. Nausea? Excitement?

Haggerty didn’t want to know. “Judgment,” he called.

Primrose took a breath. “Cromwell and Sons declares the cases of Gustavo Nyuga and Maria-Christina Rosenberg to be legitimate presses, their actions apparently the result of joint bankruptcy and inability to secure future income. As neither Mr. Nyuga nor Ms. Rosenberg has any living relatives or heirs, the settlement of their affairs will be posted to the State.” After, of course, Cromwell and Sons took their cut, Haggerty thought. Certainly there were enough antiques in the bedroom alone to cover the normal fees, dues, and charges such firms exacted for their services, before the client’s creditors and heirs — in this case, the State — got to wrangle over what was left.

Haggerty had listened to Primrose stoically. Properly speaking, they ought to have waited for the second review before signing off on both cases. “In the case of Maria-Christina Rosenberg, death by press judged clean,” Haggerty pronounced. “Stop projection.”

The couple vanished. Elsa removed the unit, and Haggerty took it from her, handing her Nyuga’s, sliding Rosenberg’s into a minthizine case for transport back to headquarters. Elsa had already run the analysis, confirming the second unit as Nyuga’s device of record, and begun uploading his final recording, when Primrose spoke.

“Don’t see any need to play the other recording,” he said, fetching his drink from the end table.

Elsa looked at Haggerty. I don’t understand why adjusters are always so impatient, Jason, she sent across their link. Shall I proceed?

Elsa was right: adjusters never wanted to hang around a press scene once the unit was reviewed. They preferred to have the formalities handled as expeditiously as possible so they could go about the business of securing assets, finalizing arrangements, and determining their percentages. A year ago, Haggerty would have ignored Primrose’s comment and told Elsa to proceed with the projection. Adjusters might not like the additional delays and attrition of assets that accompanied the exceedingly rare finding of a criminally manipulated press, but Haggerty had always been scrupulous in carrying out his duties. As a result, he found those exceedingly rare criminal manipulations a less conscientious reviewer would have missed.

But he was a different man today than he had been a year — a lifetime — before. Fewer and fewer manips had been found over the past few decades. These two clients certainly had reason to press and — unless Governor Benfield had suddenly acquired a passion for torch lamps — no heirs to benefit from hurrying them along their way. What was the point of looking further?

It’s all right, Elsa, Haggerty sent across their link. I think the first projection told us everything we need to know. Aloud, he said, “It’s clear what happened. Record epitaph: Regarding the case of Mr. Gustavo Nyuga, one-hundred-four, and Ms. Maria-Christina Rosenberg, one-hundred-thirty, consecutive presses observed and both judged clean. Eulogic proceedings convened on March eighth, Twenty-one-fifty-six, by BBI senior agent Jason P. Haggerty. Life insurance settlement to be placed in trust to the State.” Formalities taken care of, he gestured for Elsa to return the second unit. “Go ahead and open the curtains,” he told Primrose, and secured the second discharged unit in another minthizine case.

The other man dialed the curtains back open, rubbing his eyes as sunlight flooded the compartment. “Is that all?” he asked Haggerty, pulling out his com and flipping it open to record the BBI agent’s verdict in the appropriate files.

“Yes,” Haggerty said, concealing his distaste for Primrose’s cavalier attitude. “That will be all as far as BBI is concerned.”

Primrose closed the com again and put it away. “Nice working with you, Mr. Haggerty.” He extended his hand, realized Haggerty was still wearing the duratex gloves, and settled for a nod. “Have a good day.”

Primrose left the room.

Haggerty went into the bathroom and ordered the sink, “On, hot.” Elsa helped him out of the gloves, which she put in a minthizine biohazard bag, before they began sterilizing their hands as BBI protocol required once discharged units had been contained.

“Jason, I have a question,” she said, looking up from her cleaning.

He saw that she was addressing his reflection in the mirror, and found it odd. “What’s on your mind?” he said.

“The decision those two people made to press together. It was premeditated, wouldn’t you agree?”

Haggerty nodded.

“Please explain to me why two healthy people, in no apparent jeopardy, would decide that they have had enough of life at precisely the same time.”

Haggerty stopped scrubbing and looked at her reflection, perplexed. They’d worked together a long time, reviewed hundreds of double presses together. Why this question now? He thought about how to summarize, knowing that inevitably his answer would fall short of acceptable to her logic board. He knew Elsa was perpetually reprogramming herself, to better understand the nature of those she served, but this was a difficult query, perhaps important to her development. He selected his words carefully.

“Two people can grow together, share so much together, have such a commonality, that they begin to make decisions as one,” he explained, or hoped he did.

Elsa gazed into the mirror, unblinking. “So if the drive to press is based primarily in despair, I should assume they shared the exact same level of despair?”

Haggerty toweled his hands, aware he was not doing a very good job of explaining. “Sort of,” he said. “Let’s say they were committed to each other and circumstances led one of them to decide that pressing was the right choice. Even though the other may not have been suffering the same level of despair at that moment, the strength of their commitment, coupled with the fear of being separated from each other, the person who is the main reason and purpose for living, compounds the despair.” Haggerty scratched the back of his neck. “That could bring them to a decision to press together.”

“Despair by osmosis,” Elsa stated flatly.

“Something like that. Does this shed any light on the human condition for you?”

“I’m going to digest it,” she said, using one of the phrases Haggerty employed in rare moments of uncertainty — or, more usually, to mask defiance toward his superiors. “I’ll run it parallel against previous input and observe the variable shift.”

Haggerty smiled, ever astonished at her desire to learn, to understand. The bulk of androids produced these days were suited only for the most menial or dangerous work no human wanted to do. Intelligent, intuitive androids like Elsa were few and far between, too expensive to produce in quantity, the jobs they were suited for too badly needed by the burgeoning human population. Haggerty took the extra time and effort with her because she had, in many ways, been raised by him, a standard perk in his department long before the impact of androids in the workforce had become an issue with the unions. Her personality, distinctly machinelike and artificial when she’d arrived to replace the earlier model he’d been assigned, had evolved over time, largely in response to his influence. While she was, perhaps understandably, a little too protective of him and inclined to nag, he was happy to have had a hand in her development.

“You do that,” he said.

* * *

Excerpt from The Killswitch Review, published by Yard Dog Press. Copyright 2011 Steven-Elliot Altman.

Steven-Elliot Altman is a bestselling author, screenwriter, and videogame developer. He won multiple awards for his online role playing game, 9Dragons. His novels include Captain America is Dead, Zen in the Art of Slaying Vampires, Batman: Fear Itself, Batman: Infinite Mirror, The Killswitch Review, The Irregulars, and Deprivers. His writing has been compared to that of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Michael Crichton and Philip K. Dick, and he has collaborated with world class writers such as Neil Gaiman, Michael Reaves, Harry Turtledove and Dr. Janet Asimov. He’s also the editor of the critically acclaimed anthology The Touch, and a contributor to Shadows Over Baker Street, a Hugo Award winning anthology of Sherlock Holmes meets H.P. Lovecraft stories.

Steven also bares ink on his body, and is bi, as in bi-coastal, between NYC and LA. He’s currently hard at work writing and directing his latest videogame Cursed Love, an online free to play gothic horror RPG from Dark Hermit Studios, set in Victorian London. Think Sherlock Holmes, Jack The Ripper and Dorian Gray mercilessly exploit the cast of Twilight. Friend Cursed Love (Official Closed Beta) on facebook and you can have fun playing out this tawdry, tragic romance with Steven while the game is being beta tested!

Diane DeKelb-Rittehouse spent several years in Manhattan as an actress before marrying her college sweetheart and returning to the Philadelphia area where she had been born. Diane first worked with Steven-Elliot Altman when they created the acclaimed, Publisher’s Weekly Starred-Review anthology The Touch: Epidemic of the Millennium, in which her story “Gifted” appeared. Diane has published a number of critically acclaimed short stories, most notably in the science fiction, murder, and horror genres. Her young adult fantasy novel, Fareie Rings: The Book of Forests, is now available in stores or online.

Interested in buying a printed copy of The Killswitch Review? Well, Steve’s publisher Yard Dog Press was kind enough to put up a special page where SuicideGirls can get a special discount and watch a sexy trailer. Just follow this link to KillswitchReview.com and click on the SG logo.

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(image) by Bob Suicide Being the old man that I am, I remember gaming back when we used simple controllers with a limited amount of buttons, sat on our butts for days on end –– without a single save point in sight –– and I liked it. When DDR came out, I was suspicious of this "new" interactive... more

by Bob Suicide

Being the old man that I am, I remember gaming back when we used simple controllers with a limited amount of buttons, sat on our butts for days on end –– without a single save point in sight –– and I liked it. When DDR came out, I was suspicious of this "new" interactive format, and wholeheartedly believed it was part of some giant government conspiracy to get me off my couch. Not being particularly "rhythmically coordinated," the government's devious plot failed.

However, little did I know that this set a dangerous precedent, and that something far greater was looming on the horizon of interactive gaming: the Wii. I was actually working at GameStop when the Wii came out. Those were dangerous times on the front lines of the war of retailers vs. consumers. Many a man was lost, either trampled by the hordes of moms trying to bag "the ultimate Christmas gift" or nagged to death with the sonic onslaught of "is it in yet?"

But, after the dust settled and we finished mourning the loss of our beloved brethren, the Wii didn't really live up to the hype. Ok, I know that's not an entirely accurate statement to make considering the sales of the Wii and the ground it has made in expanding the casual gaming market. But, as a hardcore gamer, has the Wii ever really provided a satisfying gaming experience? Not really. Sure, Zelda was fun and the console lends itself well to rails shooters like Resident Evil. However, I have two Wiis and I can say with certainty that mine have been used as doorstops more than they have served as relevant gaming consoles.

Needless to say, when the PS3 Move was released it seemed like Sony had missed the marketing mark yet again, since their sad "EyeToy with a wand" failed to capture the hearts and minds of the consumer the way the Wii did. And I joyously snarked –– as any fanboy does –– at their lame attempts to regain relevancy.

So when the Kinect made its debut I sneered at the projections people were making. And I wasn't alone. Even Penny Arcade gods Mike Krahulik and Jerry Holkins scoffed at the idea of a motion-sensitive gaming experience that could galvanize the hardcore market.



Even upon playing with Kinect at E3 I was not converted. There was no amount of cute animals that I could pet that would keep me from insulting what I saw as a "glorified peripheral" that was sure to fade from gaming relevance as soon as it was released.

Surprisingly robust sales proved us curmudgeons wrong, but it still didn't make us like the motion-sensitive gaming genre. However the potential for the Kinect outside the gaming world was interesting. Wii and Kinect were fun at parties, and great for making fools of casual gamers, but the ability to pet ponies all day long never circumvented the desire to capture the flag or fragg 12-year olds online. It would take a powerful, adult title to replace those joys.

House of the Dead: Overkill almost did it for me. The Grindhouse-esque addition to the franchise that I knew and loved was a welcomed adult addition to the over-abundance of candy-coated titles available for the Wii. But at its core, the rails shooter wasn't enough of a "heavy hitter" to win me over. And, after I beat it, I quickly lost interest in my Wii once again...never to return.

However, Sega and the pre-Overkill team behind House of the Dead seems to be hitting the nail on the head with the upcoming survival horror game, Rise of Nightmares. I was able to preview the game myself at a recent screening event and I was surprised that I went home excited by my gaming experience. The gameplay is contextual and immersive. Taken off the rails, the player is able to freely navigate and interact with the environment, and the environment is filled with a host of horrific denizens. Rise of Nightmares is the first "adult" game for the Kinect, and while people often scoff at the over-abundance of blood, undead, and implements of destruction, I for one love the clear tongue-in-cheek homage to the slasher/torture horror genre.

So how does all of this come together? Well, upon playing the Rise of Nightmares demo, my heart grew an unprecedented three sizes that day.

In the middle of my Kinect-piphany, I was reminded of the joy I had playing Heavy Rain. It's titles like these that I hope and pray will revolutionize the gaming experience. Titles that find the perfect blend of engrossment and interaction (placing the gamer both in and amid the game and reality) to create a new and exciting gaming experience. However there’s all too few of these. After experiencing titles like Rise of Nightmares and Heavy Rain, I can see where other developers can take the hardcore gaming experience –– and the true immersion that could be had –– and I get excited.

Three months post-Heavy Rain, playing through my next interactive fiction purchase, Alan Wake, I was disappointed that my contextual interaction with the environment did not have the same resonance that Heavy Rain did. I was ruined for life. When I pressed "x" to grind some coffee for example, I was disappointed, since I felt that winding my analog joystick in a "grinding" motion would have immensely added to my gaming experience. But, sadly, Heavy Rain failed to influence the gaming market the way I expected/wanted it to.

I therefore hope Rise of Nightmares gets the recognition it deserves, that my excitement for this title is shared by others, and as a result my predictions regarding the game’s rightful place and subsequent effect on the gaming world come true. But given my track record, I may be grudgingly petting more Kinect puppies in my future than zombies. And that's a damn shame.

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(image) by Blogbot SG / Artist Name: yOyO Suicide

 (image) Mission Statement: Sugar & Spice DIY kind of describes the person I am. I’ve always been drawn to cute and colorful things, but at the same time dark and creepy as well. So just like the name describes there’s lots of sweet sugary... more

by Blogbot

SG / Artist Name: yOyO Suicide





Mission Statement: Sugar & Spice DIY kind of describes the person I am. I’ve always been drawn to cute and colorful things, but at the same time dark and creepy as well. So just like the name describes there’s lots of sweet sugary items residing in my shop but also items with a bit of edge and spice as well. And I’m all about the ‘do it yourself’ aspect of things. I hand make all the items and the entire shop is run solely by me!





Medium: Beads, buttons, fabric, ribbon, glitter, charms, paper craft, wood, and more! Pretty much anything I can get my hands on and create with.





Aesthetic: Bright colors, dark themes, and music related style. I grew up going to concerts and raves so I try to incorporate all the things that have influenced me over the years into my pieces. I’ve always been a big Kandi Kid and rave bracelets are the first items I opened my shop with. They’re still a huge feature in the store and the overall theme of my work. I also try to create little works of wearable art, original compositions on different kinds of charms and pendants.





Notable Achievements: I’ve gained a decent sized online following for my jewelry. It’s a great feeling to know that people out there like what you do and support you in your efforts.





Why We Should Care: I try hard to come up with items you can’t find anywhere else! Lots of my creations are unique and one of a kind.





I Want Me Some: Stop by SugarAndSpiceDIY.etsy.com for all your Creepy Cute jewelry needs. Or visit the Sugar & Spice DIY homepage to buy and check out some of the Sugar Junkies (ie. models who rock my jewels!).







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When we ask for feedback regarding what tattoo artists should be interviewed, it never fails that the name Ryan Mason will be mentioned two or three times. There's a good reason for that too, as Ryan's work stands out. Living in Portland, OR, that isn't an easy task with the number of high... more

When we ask for feedback regarding what tattoo artists should be interviewed, it never fails that the name Ryan Mason will be mentioned two or three times. There's a good reason for that too, as Ryan's work stands out. Living in Portland, OR, that isn't an easy task with the number of high quality tattoo shops and artists in the city. We caught up with Ryan and talked about his work, tattoos, and his general outlook in the industry.



TattooSnob: Let's break it down: your name is Ryan Mason and you live in Portland, Oregon. You're working at Scapegoat Tattoo four days a week, enjoy bagels daily and have a blog you update on a pretty regular basis. What are five other things you'd like both potential clients and mere admirers of your work to know about you?  
Ryan Mason: Well, it's funny to think about what kind of things I could say here.... there's a lot of crap I could try and include. I guess I'll just say I'm 26, I’m really good at scrabble, I've never barfed in my entire life, my dog is my favorite thing on the planet, and most of the time I'd rather just be playing basketball. I know this is like a tattoo-related interview, so I should probably be talking about that, but the truth is I'm not much of an artist and, aside from being my chosen profession, tattoos don't play such a huge role in my life. I love tattooing, I am dedicated to it, and it has been incredibly rewarding, but it doesn't define me or my lifestyle at all. I'm just another nerd on an island of misfits.



TS: I know you've been tattooing for roughly six years--most of the tattooers I've spoken with talked about a time when it all came together for them artistically. When was that for you and what was it like?
RM: i don't think it's ever "come together" for me. i am very bad at remaining content with myself or my work, and every time it seems like i might have found my focus, i feel the need to move on to something else.  finding my place in the world of tattoo has proven to be a never-ending, retarded quest of futility... it's like i'm a dog chasing a laser pointer. i'll never catch it, or even smell it, but i will chase that stupid little dot until i get bored or die.
i will say that, far and away, moving to Portland and starting work at scapegoat has done more for both my career and personal well being that i would ever be able to measure. it's a wonderful place among amazing people and i'm so thankful for the opportunity to be where i am and do what i do.



TS: How would you explain your progression as not just a tattooer but as an artist over the course of your career thus far?

RM: as i said before, i'm not really much of an artist so it's kind of weird to answer that one. i did go art school for a year after high school, and cultivated more of a sketchy/messy way of drawing/composing. then i didn't draw at all for a few years. then i fortuitously landed an apprenticeship, and really had to dig down to learn how to tighten up and refine for tattoo drawings, as i was both trying to remember how i drew at all, and on top of that drawing in a very different way. i then consequently spent the first few years of my tattooing career with a very weird aesthetic.... which is a nice way of saying i sucked and had really poor taste in tattoo design. eventually, with further study of traditional tattooing, coinciding with a move to the west coast into a city full of awesome tattooers, i had to learn how to not suck if i wanted to stay afloat. it seems that lately, i've been able to make my own natural tendencies for making a total mess of my drawings into something tattooable. so basically, first i learned how to be a mess, then i learned how to be clean, so i guess that means now my style has developed (or devolved, depending on how you look at it) into a clean mess. like a tornado in a room full of desk-drawer organizers.



TS: Recently on your blog you addressed the fact that the time may be fast approaching when you're less inclined to tattoo pet portraits, lest you wind up pigeonholed. That being the case, what kinds of tattoos would you like to be doing more of?

RM: i'm going to go ahead and say that i want to do the same things that tons of other tattooers want to do... large-scale japanese and traditional americana. giant backpieces and sleeves with tigers and dragons and snakes and skulls and assorted badassery.  i just want to do it all differently.... in a way that's still making the tattoos unique and stand out from the crowd, but without all the worry about having the subject matter be transcendent or something.  i have a tendency to get pretty illustrative, and i'd like to have the opportunity to apply that to some more common tattoo themes so people can better see that it's not as much about what you're doing as much as it is about how you do it.
in regards to pet portraits, it's not that i particuarly hate them as much as i just think people have gotten the wrong idea in thinking that's what i'm best at. i feel like at this point, i just don't think i'm going to get any better at them, and it feels like i'm going backwards and hindering my improvement by spending the time on them. i want to move onward and upward, and it's hard to do that when people keep asking for them. i'd just like to encourage folks to be adventurous, because that's where i think my best work has come from.




TS: Are there any tattoos you've done so far this year you'd consider to be a personal favorite?
RM: i'm not going to answer that one, because whatever i pick out, i will probably hate it by the time anyone reads this. however, i will say that this otter here is the most recent thing i finished and therefore is currently what i'm most stoked about. but that will probably change by the time i go back to work tomorrow.



TS: You've stated you try not to book yourself out more than two months in advance. That has to make for some serious legwork on your end when it comes to staying in touch with new clients--what's the motivation behind this? Do you think your clients perceive a tattoo differently after a two month wait?
RM: it can be a time-consuming, yes. i wrote out this giant FAQ thing on my website being all specific and clear in order to reduce the time spent answering emails... but still, half the time people don't read it anyway. two months is just as far out as i'm willing to go because if i set up appointments out any further than that it will severely stress me out if i ever need to reschedule somebody or if there's an opportunity to travel, etc.  and i'd say yeah, a two month wait will certainly require people to be dedicated to their idea and to having me do it. there's not much room for indecision or flakiness from my customers... which is definitely a blessing, even as it puts more pressure on me to really make the tattoo awesome. i do keep thinking at some point everybody is just gonna be like "fuck it, this guy's not worth the wait," but for some reason more and more people keep piling up. for now, i guess it's working.

TS: Speaking of which, let's talk about the last time you were tattooed - who did it, and what was it?
RM: i just recently had the top half of my left arm finished by lewis hess at atlas tattoo here in portland.  it's a japanese baku, or "nightmare eater," and it looks awesome... i tend to really take my time with tattoos ideas for my own body and this was an idea i had debated on getting for quite a while, but now that it's there i have no idea what took me so long. lewis is a great tattooer and super nice guy, and he killed it on this thing.

TS: What about other artists out there you'd like to be tattooed by, space and time permitting of course?
RM: filip leu, dan gilsdorf, grez, tim biedron, mike wilson, mike rubendall, steve moore, scott sylvia, eli quinters, jarno kantanen, amongst others.



TS: What are some of your favorite tattoo conventions to attend/work at? Do you have any you specifically like to work, or any new ones you'll be checking out this year?
RM: london and reno are really the only ones left  that i have an interest in traveling to, and i'll be working both this year. maybe austin next winter, and i'll probably do the seattle and portland shows this coming fall as well. other than that, i'm pretty sick of conventions. i may take part in some more overseas conventions eventually, but for now i'm all set.




TS: I think anyone that's been tattooed for a few hours has fallen under the spell of their own endorphins and maybe let loose with a few funny stories from their own lives to you. Do you have any particularly memorable experiences with a client you'd like to share?
RM: it'd seem a little strange for me to be telling one of my client's personal stories, so i won't tell any of those. but one time we had the power go out at night while i was in the middle of a tattoo on a traveling client, so i had to finish the damn thing in the pitch dark with a battery and bike light. it was actually kinda fun!



TS: What are you involved with aside from tattooing?
RM: i am involved in being awesome. friends, stupid hobbies, dogs, bikes. that's pretty much everything i do.

TS: Any last minute plugs?
RM: I guess my website goes here, huh? RyanMason.com.  anything i do will be mentioned there.





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