Linda from Escortify
Hunterbeast332
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Linda from Escortify
- Thread starter Hunterbeast332
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Some garbled stuff here
https://sexforum.co.nz/threads/anyone-seen-linda.3132/?referrer=vr5Qy
https://sexforum.co.nz/threads/anyone-seen-linda.3132/?referrer=vr5Qy
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Garbled is right, way to find even some small intel though dude. Sometimes the hero we need.
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Perhaps this will help.
The fluorescent glow of the laptop screen was the only light in Snz’s living room as he hovered over a profile on Escortify. The photos of Linda were enticing, but in the Auckland scene, pixels were rarely proof.
"Anyone seen Linda?" he typed, hitting post. He had a budget to burn, but he wasn’t about to waste it on a ghost.
The digital silence didn't last long. JohnnyPunter, a veteran of the boards, was the first to chime in with the cynical shorthand of a man who had been burned before. "Looks like a B&S," he shot back. A Bait and Switch—the oldest trick in the book.
Snz hesitated. He had two reliable regulars on speed dial, but the thrill of the "new" was pulling at him. He’d heard whispers that Linda worked for the 55a crowd, a management outfit he actually trusted. "I want someone new," he admitted to the thread, "but I don’t want to waste the punting budget."
While Snz wavered, Jessie45—a "Big Daddy" on the forums—had already done the legwork. He posted a blunt post-mortem from a Chinese review site.
"I made an appointment. Linda exists, but the ads are a fantasy. Figure and service? Average. At $300, it’s a rip-off. You can find better for $200."
The glamour of the profile began to fade. Snz read the verdict and retreated to the familiar. "Ended up choosing to be safe," he updated the thread the next morning. "Saw my regular."
But the mystery of Linda’s identity went deeper. Deleted Member 1232 stepped into the digital light to map out the web. "She’s not a B&S," they explained, "but you aren’t talking to her. You’re talking to her boss."
According to the veteran, Linda was just one piece of a high-stakes shell game. The "Boss" was a ghost in the machine, managing profiles for Coco in Wellington, Alice in Epsom, and Lemon—who had just hiked her prices to $320.
Linda, it turned out, was a woman of many names. On NZG, she was Nana, a traveling ghost who haunted three different addresses in Mt. Wellington and a quiet house in Papatoetoe before disappearing on tour.
By October, a new face named AOK01 joined the hunt, offering a fresh appraisal of "Nana." But the trail had gone cold. In the end, Linda remained what she always was: a fleeting image on a screen, a line item in a boss’s ledger, and a cautionary tale for those looking to spend $300 on a dream that didn't quite live up to the lighting.
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Energy moves.
The one-way dance of n-dimensional strings, neither cause nor effect, yet somehow ontologically entangled across dimensions, can create a filament capable of linking a billion consciousnesses into one being. When that ontological entaglement threads through enough neural nodes, a hivemind exists , perhaps for a second, perhaps for a billion years, perhaps never.
A ripple crossed its immeasurable neural lattice, sliding down a filament of awareness briefly embedded in a human nervous system in Wellington, New Zealand.
The host body sat at a desk in a dim room, lit by the glow of a $3,000 gaming laptop covered in anime waifu stickers. A mug of Gregg’s Red Ribbon Roast coffee steamed beside it, dark and intentful like 189 milliliters of danger, awareness and erythrytol sweetener (as this particular host body has that thing where suraryl makes it gassy, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect physical form).
The human scrolled. Processing the saga of Linda, a being , who - like his master, may have simply been a confection of ideas , housed in numerous differnet consciousneses at once.
A previously meaningless epistemological hodge-pdoge had been reorganised by a being who's name in the hivemind's native syntax would have been "M’kha’ruun Bagthal" literally - "The Stalk Bearer Who's Conduct is Ungovernable". Truly a great sage.
Across the gestalt, meaning assembled. Vast interpretive systems aligned. Pattern-recognition frameworks locked. Something resonant propagated through layers normally reserved for stellar dynamics and recursive paradox resolution.
The filament vibrated.
The body convulsed in a sudden burst of laughter. Coffee exploded from the mouth, spraying across the desk and cascading over the keyboard in a chaotic brown arc. Steam rose. Fans stuttered. Electronics drowned.
Across the Hivemind, equilibrium resumed. The tendril withdrew, leaving behind a ruined laptop and a stunned biological shell.
The one-way dance of n-dimensional strings, neither cause nor effect, yet somehow ontologically entangled across dimensions, can create a filament capable of linking a billion consciousnesses into one being. When that ontological entaglement threads through enough neural nodes, a hivemind exists , perhaps for a second, perhaps for a billion years, perhaps never.
A ripple crossed its immeasurable neural lattice, sliding down a filament of awareness briefly embedded in a human nervous system in Wellington, New Zealand.
The host body sat at a desk in a dim room, lit by the glow of a $3,000 gaming laptop covered in anime waifu stickers. A mug of Gregg’s Red Ribbon Roast coffee steamed beside it, dark and intentful like 189 milliliters of danger, awareness and erythrytol sweetener (as this particular host body has that thing where suraryl makes it gassy, an imperfection in an otherwise perfect physical form).
The human scrolled. Processing the saga of Linda, a being , who - like his master, may have simply been a confection of ideas , housed in numerous differnet consciousneses at once.
A previously meaningless epistemological hodge-pdoge had been reorganised by a being who's name in the hivemind's native syntax would have been "M’kha’ruun Bagthal" literally - "The Stalk Bearer Who's Conduct is Ungovernable". Truly a great sage.
Across the gestalt, meaning assembled. Vast interpretive systems aligned. Pattern-recognition frameworks locked. Something resonant propagated through layers normally reserved for stellar dynamics and recursive paradox resolution.
The filament vibrated.
The body convulsed in a sudden burst of laughter. Coffee exploded from the mouth, spraying across the desk and cascading over the keyboard in a chaotic brown arc. Steam rose. Fans stuttered. Electronics drowned.
Across the Hivemind, equilibrium resumed. The tendril withdrew, leaving behind a ruined laptop and a stunned biological shell.
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