QR Codes: Editing Bay

With the addition of new editing software, Yawquishs drooled. The equipment sat on the cutting edge of technology. Every bit of her editing bay presented to her a challenge and an ability for her to do better work. The audio was crisper. The video was sharper. She rivaled professional studios all in the comfort of her bedroom in her walk-up.

She sat down and looked at three different screens. Keys looked like candies had spilled on the keyboards. Buttons drew her attention and she could command like a captain of a sea vessel all of the material she had gathered over the past day.

Kim inspired her to be even more squared away about her property. She took to the controls and fell in love with electronic property. She peered at the center screen. She looked at the same footage for only three minutes instead of thirty minutes in previous sessions. She had made long strides.

The money she earned from her videos provided for her day-to-day expenses but the bulk of it went into her equipment. The finest camera and microphones all contributed to her high value output.

Yawquisha spun around to the screen on the right. She removed annoying shadows and shooed away uncropped images. The expulsion of the assonance and sibilance from the audio signified that she could rule over the pieces and bits of data entered into the system.

Tapping became a constant in her bedroom, but you couldn’t hear her selecting the pieces of the screen that corresponded to her soft fingertips. Her composure was like an airplane pilot who could make sure the aircraft could keep flying over the land. By keeping her mind on her goal of providing the best quality content for her millions of subscribers, she ensured that the serious subject matter was palatable through the ban on grainy, inaudible, and ugly visuals.

The left screen only held images of the QR code tattoos and graffiti. Dozens of rappers had been laid down by gunfire mostly, and their tattoos were the window into who they were and what they stood for in life. They had parents and siblings. Some had kids. The graffiti and tattoos allowed for these artists to live on forever and for their advocates to lend dollars so that their work could still support them.

Yawquisha’s brown face still looked austere going through the codes. Her software detected them and the videos kept popping up in varying degrees of quality.

Some of the rappers who had made more money produced better videos. It didn’t matter too much. In a few seconds, the images appeared like daylight. She pressed keys and screens with equal aplomb. Her nights at First State Community College that taught her how to do all of this movie magic made sure that the students it wasn’t magic. Ideas applied to tech granted them the power to shape footage and bring it to the level of a professional.

As she looked at hours of footage, she wasted no time in stitching together the pieces like a mosaic portrait all adding up to a single frame. Beauty amongst the wreckage of lives could be seen even though she knew it was not art. It had a closeness to it aesthetically, but knew there was no recreation of reality. This was reality. Yawquisha took about two hours in what would usually would have taken two days before her new set up.

As she wrapped up the process, she continued to pay attention to every detail that demanded her to be an independent journalist. Her camera was her M-16 and the editing gear were her Humvees and fighter jets. Kim’s military career had really made an impression on her. She felt that her stories had infused in her a feeling of being more direct, of being more clear. When she listened to the stories, she soaked up the blood and seriousness of it. She derived understanding from the boring parts of combat. Yawquisha even rejoiced at the victories claimed by US forces.