From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: The Arrival
Summary: Someone new is about to arrive in a familiar place...
Date: 5 Dec 92 21:31:59 GMT
Lines: 80
I've had this idea for a character for some time now.
The theme is somewhat of a departure from the street samurai stories that I
have found on this board over the last couple of weeks.
I do hope you like it...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ARRIVAL.
Chiba City, with Ninsei at its heart, lay glowing before him.
And he found himself dancing, tumbling towards the black waters.
He looked down at his slim body. Naked. The wind lashed around him in a
frenzied storm. Furious waves licked at the soles of his feet, and he began to
walk.
Walk on water.
Now the docks were close. Inviting lights.
He stopped and looked down at himself again. Black slacks flapping around
his legs. A long coat whipped in the wind. He kicked at a floating styrene
block with a booted foot.
Turning once again to Chiba, he leapt. In a breath, he alighted softly on
the dockside, feeling the firm ground beneath his boots.
He plucked a pair of shades from the air and settled them on his face. To
see his eyes would be to know his identity. To have one's soul reflected in
one's eyes was a weakness, but it was the one feature he could not change.
He turned to the streets where the neon shone brightest and began to walk.
And he formed a smile on his face.
He passed a throbbing amusement arcade. At that moment, inside someone won
the jackpot on Holo-Bandit. One hundred New Yen. The winner would get high on
pinks that night and knife seven people before being shot by the police.
He walked by a grimey block of flats. In room 384, a proficient cowboy flat-
lined. For no apparent reason. He would be discovered at the end of the month
by the eighty year old landlord when he came to collect the rent.
He skirted near a neon hotel. On the top floor every computer simultaneously
instructed a high ranking zaibatsu director to sell all stocks in hormones.
Half a minute later, it was found that the instruction had sourced at a freak
software error. The zaibatsu had already lost half a billion New Yen. The
suit would commit suicide before the night was through.
He wandered close to a large building with what looked like some kind of
umbilical cord of cables heading up to the geodesic dome far above. He could
feel the technology inside. Minutes later it began to snow. The dark man
held out a finger. A solitary flake fell onto his fingertip. It sizzled.
And he smiled.
What he was searching for was here somewhere, cloaked in the overpowering
odour of technology. Hidden from sight, but it would reveal itself by its
action. That was in its nature. It might take some time, but he had plenty of
time. Perhaps it knew that he wanted it. It could make it difficult for him.
But in time...
Alone it would take longer. He needed some help. Who would help him?
A gaudily flashing sign beckoned to him. It hung over the smokey doorway to
a bar. Perhaps help was in here. A toothy young man with blue streaked hair
and a multitude of microsofts behind his left ear came out.
The dark man smiled at him. "I love this place to death already." His voice
was silk. Soft and rich in the icy air.
The streaky guy couldn't think of anything to say. Mainly because all of his
communication microsofts had just malfunctioned and in the process had caused
permanent damage to the part of his cortex correspnding to language. He would
survive only two days as a mute, unable to voice activate the lock to his room.
Dying of hypothermia.
The man who had arrived over the water went into the bar.
The sign read CHATSUBO.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments please.
And oftentimes to win us to our harm, | Contact at -
The instruments of Darkness tell us truths, | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's | Carry out random acts of kindness
In deepest consequence. - W.Shakespeare. | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: The Naming.
Date: 7 Dec 92 20:49:20 GMT
This is the second installation of the chronicles of a certain mysterious
character who was first seen in THE ARRIVAL.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE NAMING.
He came in from the cold.
Warm jets of air greeted him from above as he entred the doorway. The snow
caked to the side of his boots melted and dribbled away into the grating under
his feet.
Smoke hung thick in the room before him. A heavy neo-funk beat pervaded the
atmosphere, as did the murmour of many voices - some English, some Spanish.
He smiled and made his way over to a waiting empty stool at the bar.
The room didn't quieten on his entrance. A multitude of faces didn't turn in
synchrony to look over this stranger. To be classified as a stranger in the
Chatsubo, one had to be very strange. If those eyes had turned at the sound of
the door opening, they might have seen a man of medium height and build. Long
black coat reaching to his shins. Heavy boots, glistening wet. Pale face.
Young or old? Hard to tell. Fair hair hanging down, partially obscuring a
pair of small round mirrorred shades. And a smile - almost verging on a grin.
He took his seat and soon one hundred and twenty kilos of shaven barman named
Ratz was with him.
"Can you believe this weather?" asked Ratz as he wiped a glass.
"Its not always like this?" a luxuriously warm voice. Somwhere underneath,
sarcasm lurked, unnoticed.
"Shit no. Just today, something happened to the environment control on the
Ninsei Geodesic. So long since I seen snow, I can't help but hate the stuff."
"I like the snow. Where I come from, it never snows."
"I'll get me a one way ticket." Ratz smiled his ugly yellow toothed smile.
"Anyways, its always good to see a new face in here. I'm Ratz. This is my
joint."
"Pleased to meet you." The newcomer made it sound like "meat you".
"What can I getcha?"
"A bourbon would be excellent."
Ratz duly supplied the request which the man readily consumed. Later Ratz
tried to recall the newcomer - coat, dark grey shirt (silver stud on each
breast pocket), silver chain that disappeared down into the neck, but his
face, what had he looked like? Ratz couldn't remember, just that almost innane
smile and those goddamn mirrorshades...
The man turned in his stool and observed the room. Fair locks had once again
strayed in front of his lenses and he deftly brushed them away. What a field
in which to play! His gaze settled on a lone kid at a table. He was just
dying to meat him.
"This table free?" The man sat down anyway, placing his newly acquired
bourbon on the table. He smiled (or rather he turned it up a notch or two).
"Um, sure." The kid was lanky and his face had a gaunt look about it.
The stranger knew where the conversation was going to go. He didn't even
have to try. He reached for his drink.
"Say, thats some crazy piece of wrist you got there mister, whaddya do for a
living, de-ice the federal reserve?"
The man glanced down at the titanium analogue watch that had been revealed.
"Amoung other things..."
Bullshit. "C'mon man. I'm in the biz too. Don't give me that crap.
Every cowboy in Chiba knows that that ice is too cool to touch. Some say
there's even some black stuff in there."
"Oh, there is. I've seen it. I've touched it."
This was dangerous talk in the heart of Ninsei.
"Get outa here. You're just talkin' so much..."
"I could show you if you don't believe me. I have my software with me if
you have a reasonable deck." He reached into an inside coat pocket and
produced a small fist sized package, wrapped in foam. "I could let you try
it."
Morbius Fletch was still a joeboy. His cowboy (or cowgirl to be precise)
had never let him sit up front on a run. The kid felt his temperature rise.
What he would give to use some real software, instead of just doing Janet's
digging around. A sense of giddyness almost overcame him. It suddenly struck
him that he didn't even know who this guy was. "Say, what's your name?"
"I don't think you want to know that."
"Aw, c'mon dude. Everyone's got a street name." Morbius suddenly felt
that he shouldn't have pushed the point.
The nameless man didn't say anything for a while, he just looked straight
back at Morbius, which made the kid feel uncomfortable, not scared, just
uncomfortable.
Morbius did get scared when he found that he couldn't move his eyes from the
dark man's gaze. He could feel all the muscles in his neck working overtime,
just to drag his eyes away from those mirrors, over the man's omnipresent smile
and down to his drink on the table. Now he felt embarassed again, but he
wasn't going to look up at that dude's face again, those mirrorshades...
The kid noticed that his digital read 00:00:00. It had stopped too.
Suddenly the man spoke and Morbius did look up. He could feel a light sweat
breaking out all over his body.
"Just call me whatever you'll remember me by."
Not often you get to give someone a street name. Morb had never had a
good imagination. After a few intense seconds he said "Okay, Shades."
Shades' eyebrows flinched briefly, possibly in pity.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
Men loved darkness rather than light, | Contact at -
because their deeds were evil. | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
- ST.JOHN 3:19 | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: Enter The Jester.
Date: 8 Dec 92 22:46:08 GMT
This is the third part of the story which began with THE ARRIVAL and then
continued with THE NAMING.
Kent, Merlin, Jaeger, Ed, Charles - thanks for the appreciative comments.
I'm writing this stuff as you ask for it (perhaps I should spend more time
working on my degree).
There may be time for one more installment after this before the Christmas
vacation, but I'll be back...
THE PLAYERS:
The principle character of mysterious origin has been named as Shades.
Morbius is an aspiring cowboy.
Read on...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
ENTER THE JESTER.
There was a disturbance over the other side of the bar. A young woman was
busy being manhandled by a large spanish sailor (muscle grafts for sure).
Raucous laughter swept through the other sailors crowded round - there was
always a profusion on Friday nights in the Chatsubo. Shore leave, whilst their
titanic cargo ships rocked silently on the murky waters of the Chiba docks.
Suddenly the sailor stopped in mid-grope. An expression of dumb surprise
on his face. He collapsed onto the floor, like a carcass that slips off its
hook in the abatoire. The woman replaced a slim high current shocking device
in the thigh pocket of her blue jump suit. Laughter once again rocked the
sailors.
She walked calmly over to the table where the kid and Shades sat. Dark,
short cropped hair unruffled.
Ratz could be heard at the bar, "Someday they'll learn..."
Morbius got up out of his seat, looking slightly flustered. He presented
the dark man to the electric woman. "Janet, this is Shades. Shades, this is
Janet Lester aka The Jester - best female decker in the Ninsei."
"Best decker, period." As she spoke, she smiled, but it paled into
insignificance next to Shades' expression. She looked him over. Not
attractive. More like compelling to look at. Well, he was kinda horny... She
guessed he was looking her over. She couldn't tell. His eyes were hidden.
"What do you do - grin for a living?"
"From where I'm sitting, I don't need to get paid to smile."
"Who is this joker Morb?"
"Says he's got some ice-breaking software."
There was some kind of disturbing rapture in that face, Janet decided. His
long golden fringe had fallen across his face, obscuring one lens of those
mercury shades - leaving the other mirror to frame the reflection of her face
in a cycloptic prison.
"So talk. I'm listening." She grabbed a young latin-american looking boy as
he passed by, stacked up with empty glasses. "Couple of Tsingtaos over here
Kurt." Kurt nodded. Janet turned back to Shades.
"What I have here in this packet will break any ice you care to throw at it."
"Oh yeah, an' I'm Tally Isham. Any ice thats worth cracking has probably
been AI constructed, and you need an AI sourced breaker to get through without
frying. That kind of software gets carried round in nuke-proof trucks, not in
a foam packet."
"If you would only try it, then you would see."
"Sure, I might as well chew on nitro-G! You think I'm stupid enough to try
out software I haven't seen in action?"
"Trust me." The words enticing, rolling like honey from his tongue.
"What are you on?" The Jester had no time for people like this.
There was a tense pause. Janet scowled. Shades smiled.
"I'll try it." said Morb. Janet gave him a glare - a mixture of anger and
surpirse. Admiration? Not quite. The kid had balls. Maybe she never did
give him enough credit.
Shades pushed the software across the table towards Morbius.
"Take it. All I ask in return is that you find something for me."
There had to be a catch. Morb had had doing other people's digging up to his
eyeballs. "If you've got such neat softs, why don't you go looking for it
yourself?"
"No more questions. Go. Try the software. I'll see you back here in one
week. If you don't like it, then we'll leave the matter there and then."
"And if I don't show?"
"You'll show." grinned Shades with certainty in his voice.
"Jester -" Janet and Morbius turned to see Kurt winding his way towards the
table loaded with two bottles and two glasses.
They took the drinks and settled the credit with Kurt.
Shades had gone. The software sat heavy on the table.
Techs had been working overtime on the unprecedented hardware failure that
had occurred at the Ninsei Dome EnvStat Centre earlier that day.
As he walked away from the Chatsubo it began to rain. An oily rain slushing
and blackening the mini-drifts of glittering snow.
It was all so easy.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments please.
Man, false man, smiling, | Contact at -
destructive man. | phufk@csv.warwich.ac.uk
- NATHANIEL LEE. | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: The Arrival
Date: 5 Dec 92 21:31:59 GMT
I've had this idea for a character for some time now.
The theme is somewhat of a departure from the street samurai stories that I
have found on this board over the last couple of weeks.
I do hope you like it...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ARRIVAL.
Chiba City, with Ninsei at its heart, lay glowing before him.
And he found himself dancing, tumbling towards the black waters.
He looked down at his slim body. Naked. The wind lashed around him in a
frenzied storm. Furious waves licked at the soles of his feet, and he began to
walk.
Walk on water.
Now the docks were close. Inviting lights.
He stopped and looked down at himself again. Black slacks flapping around
his legs. A long coat whipped in the wind. He kicked at a floating styrene
block with a booted foot.
Turning once again to Chiba, he leapt. In a breath, he alighted softly on
the dockside, feeling the firm ground beneath his boots.
He plucked a pair of shades from the air and settled them on his face. To
see his eyes would be to know his identity. To have one's soul reflected in
one's eyes was a weakness, but it was the one feature he could not change.
He turned to the streets where the neon shone brightest and began to walk.
And he formed a smile on his face.
He passed a throbbing amusement arcade. At that moment, inside someone won
the jackpot on Holo-Bandit. One hundred New Yen. The winner would get high on
pinks that night and knife seven people before being shot by the police.
He walked by a grimey block of flats. In room 384, a proficient cowboy flat-
lined. For no apparent reason. He would be discovered at the end of the month
by the eighty year old landlord when he came to collect the rent.
He skirted near a neon hotel. On the top floor every computer simultaneously
instructed a high ranking zaibatsu director to sell all stocks in hormones.
Half a minute later, it was found that the instruction had sourced at a freak
software error. The zaibatsu had already lost half a billion New Yen. The
suit would commit suicide before the night was through.
He wandered close to a large building with what looked like some kind of
umbilical cord of cables heading up to the geodesic dome far above. He could
feel the technology inside. Minutes later it began to snow. The dark man
held out a finger. A solitary flake fell onto his fingertip. It sizzled.
And he smiled.
What he was searching for was here somewhere, cloaked in the overpowering
odour of technology. Hidden from sight, but it would reveal itself by its
action. That was in its nature. It might take some time, but he had plenty of
time. Perhaps it knew that he wanted it. It could make it difficult for him.
But in time...
Alone it would take longer. He needed some help. Who would help him?
A gaudily flashing sign beckoned to him. It hung over the smokey doorway to
a bar. Perhaps help was in here. A toothy young man with blue streaked hair
and a multitude of microsofts behind his left ear came out.
The dark man smiled at him. "I love this place to death already." His voice
was silk. Soft and rich in the icy air.
The streaky guy couldn't think of anything to say. Mainly because all of his
communication microsofts had just malfunctioned and in the process had caused
permanent damage to the part of his cortex correspnding to language. He would
survive only two days as a mute, unable to voice activate the lock to his room.
Dying of hypothermia.
The man who had arrived over the water went into the bar.
The sign read CHATSUBO.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments please.
And oftentimes to win us to our harm, | Contact at -
The instruments of Darkness tell us truths, | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's | Carry out random acts of kindness
In deepest consequence. - W.Shakespeare. | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: The Naming.
Date: 7 Dec 92 20:49:20 GMT
This is the second installation of the chronicles of a certain mysterious
character who was first seen in THE ARRIVAL.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE NAMING.
He came in from the cold.
Warm jets of air greeted him from above as he entred the doorway. The snow
caked to the side of his boots melted and dribbled away into the grating under
his feet.
Smoke hung thick in the room before him. A heavy neo-funk beat pervaded the
atmosphere, as did the murmour of many voices - some English, some Spanish.
He smiled and made his way over to a waiting empty stool at the bar.
The room didn't quieten on his entrance. A multitude of faces didn't turn in
synchrony to look over this stranger. To be classified as a stranger in the
Chatsubo, one had to be very strange. If those eyes had turned at the sound of
the door opening, they might have seen a man of medium height and build. Long
black coat reaching to his shins. Heavy boots, glistening wet. Pale face.
Young or old? Hard to tell. Fair hair hanging down, partially obscuring a
pair of small round mirrorred shades. And a smile - almost verging on a grin.
He took his seat and soon one hundred and twenty kilos of shaven barman named
Ratz was with him.
"Can you believe this weather?" asked Ratz as he wiped a glass.
"Its not always like this?" a luxuriously warm voice. Somwhere underneath,
sarcasm lurked, unnoticed.
"Shit no. Just today, something happened to the environment control on the
Ninsei Geodesic. So long since I seen snow, I can't help but hate the stuff."
"I like the snow. Where I come from, it never snows."
"I'll get me a one way ticket." Ratz smiled his ugly yellow toothed smile.
"Anyways, its always good to see a new face in here. I'm Ratz. This is my
joint."
"Pleased to meet you." The newcomer made it sound like "meat you".
"What can I getcha?"
"A bourbon would be excellent."
Ratz duly supplied the request which the man readily consumed. Later Ratz
tried to recall the newcomer - coat, dark grey shirt (silver stud on each
breast pocket), silver chain that disappeared down into the neck, but his
face, what had he looked like? Ratz couldn't remember, just that almost innane
smile and those goddamn mirrorshades...
The man turned in his stool and observed the room. Fair locks had once again
strayed in front of his lenses and he deftly brushed them away. What a field
in which to play! His gaze settled on a lone kid at a table. He was just
dying to meat him.
"This table free?" The man sat down anyway, placing his newly acquired
bourbon on the table. He smiled (or rather he turned it up a notch or two).
"Um, sure." The kid was lanky and his face had a gaunt look about it.
The stranger knew where the conversation was going to go. He didn't even
have to try. He reached for his drink.
"Say, thats some crazy piece of wrist you got there mister, whaddya do for a
living, de-ice the federal reserve?"
The man glanced down at the titanium analogue watch that had been revealed.
"Amoung other things..."
Bullshit. "C'mon man. I'm in the biz too. Don't give me that crap.
Every cowboy in Chiba knows that that ice is too cool to touch. Some say
there's even some black stuff in there."
"Oh, there is. I've seen it. I've touched it."
This was dangerous talk in the heart of Ninsei.
"Get outa here. You're just talkin' so much..."
"I could show you if you don't believe me. I have my software with me if
you have a reasonable deck." He reached into an inside coat pocket and
produced a small fist sized package, wrapped in foam. "I could let you try
it."
Morbius Fletch was still a joeboy. His cowboy (or cowgirl to be precise)
had never let him sit up front on a run. The kid felt his temperature rise.
What he would give to use some real software, instead of just doing Janet's
digging around. A sense of giddyness almost overcame him. It suddenly struck
him that he didn't even know who this guy was. "Say, what's your name?"
"I don't think you want to know that."
"Aw, c'mon dude. Everyone's got a street name." Morbius suddenly felt
that he shouldn't have pushed the point.
The nameless man didn't say anything for a while, he just looked straight
back at Morbius, which made the kid feel uncomfortable, not scared, just
uncomfortable.
Morbius did get scared when he found that he couldn't move his eyes from the
dark man's gaze. He could feel all the muscles in his neck working overtime,
just to drag his eyes away from those mirrors, over the man's omnipresent smile
and down to his drink on the table. Now he felt embarassed again, but he
wasn't going to look up at that dude's face again, those mirrorshades...
The kid noticed that his digital read 00:00:00. It had stopped too.
Suddenly the man spoke and Morbius did look up. He could feel a light sweat
breaking out all over his body.
"Just call me whatever you'll remember me by."
Not often you get to give someone a street name. Morb had never had a
good imagination. After a few intense seconds he said "Okay, Shades."
Shades' eyebrows flinched briefly, possibly in pity.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
Men loved darkness rather than light, | Contact at -
because their deeds were evil. | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
- ST.JOHN 3:19 | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: Enter The Jester.
Date: 8 Dec 92 22:46:08 GMT
This is the third part of the story which began with THE ARRIVAL and then
continued with THE NAMING.
Kent, Merlin, Jaeger, Ed, Charles - thanks for the appreciative comments.
I'm writing this stuff as you ask for it (perhaps I should spend more time
working on my degree).
There may be time for one more installment after this before the Christmas
vacation, but I'll be back...
THE PLAYERS:
The principle character of mysterious origin has been named as Shades.
Morbius is an aspiring cowboy.
Read on...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
ENTER THE JESTER.
There was a disturbance over the other side of the bar. A young woman was
busy being manhandled by a large spanish sailor (muscle grafts for sure).
Raucous laughter swept through the other sailors crowded round - there was
always a profusion on Friday nights in the Chatsubo. Shore leave, whilst their
titanic cargo ships rocked silently on the murky waters of the Chiba docks.
Suddenly the sailor stopped in mid-grope. An expression of dumb surprise
on his face. He collapsed onto the floor, like a carcass that slips off its
hook in the abatoire. The woman replaced a slim high current shocking device
in the thigh pocket of her blue jump suit. Laughter once again rocked the
sailors.
She walked calmly over to the table where the kid and Shades sat. Dark,
short cropped hair unruffled.
Ratz could be heard at the bar, "Someday they'll learn..."
Morbius got up out of his seat, looking slightly flustered. He presented
the dark man to the electric woman. "Janet, this is Shades. Shades, this is
Janet Lester aka The Jester - best female decker in the Ninsei."
"Best decker, period." As she spoke, she smiled, but it paled into
insignificance next to Shades' expression. She looked him over. Not
attractive. More like compelling to look at. Well, he was kinda horny... She
guessed he was looking her over. She couldn't tell. His eyes were hidden.
"What do you do - grin for a living?"
"From where I'm sitting, I don't need to get paid to smile."
"Who is this joker Morb?"
"Says he's got some ice-breaking software."
There was some kind of disturbing rapture in that face, Janet decided. His
long golden fringe had fallen across his face, obscuring one lens of those
mercury shades - leaving the other mirror to frame the reflection of her face
in a cycloptic prison.
"So talk. I'm listening." She grabbed a young latin-american looking boy as
he passed by, stacked up with empty glasses. "Couple of Tsingtaos over here
Kurt." Kurt nodded. Janet turned back to Shades.
"What I have here in this packet will break any ice you care to throw at it."
"Oh yeah, an' I'm Tally Isham. Any ice thats worth cracking has probably
been AI constructed, and you need an AI sourced breaker to get through without
frying. That kind of software gets carried round in nuke-proof trucks, not in
a foam packet."
"If you would only try it, then you would see."
"Sure, I might as well chew on nitro-G! You think I'm stupid enough to try
out software I haven't seen in action?"
"Trust me." The words enticing, rolling like honey from his tongue.
"What are you on?" The Jester had no time for people like this.
There was a tense pause. Janet scowled. Shades smiled.
"I'll try it." said Morb. Janet gave him a glare - a mixture of anger and
surpirse. Admiration? Not quite. The kid had balls. Maybe she never did
give him enough credit.
Shades pushed the software across the table towards Morbius.
"Take it. All I ask in return is that you find something for me."
There had to be a catch. Morb had had doing other people's digging up to his
eyeballs. "If you've got such neat softs, why don't you go looking for it
yourself?"
"No more questions. Go. Try the software. I'll see you back here in one
week. If you don't like it, then we'll leave the matter there and then."
"And if I don't show?"
"You'll show." grinned Shades with certainty in his voice.
"Jester -" Janet and Morbius turned to see Kurt winding his way towards the
table loaded with two bottles and two glasses.
They took the drinks and settled the credit with Kurt.
Shades had gone. The software sat heavy on the table.
Techs had been working overtime on the unprecedented hardware failure that
had occurred at the Ninsei Dome EnvStat Centre earlier that day.
As he walked away from the Chatsubo it began to rain. An oily rain slushing
and blackening the mini-drifts of glittering snow.
It was all so easy.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments please.
Man, false man, smiling, | Contact at -
destructive man. | phufk@csv.warwich.ac.uk
- NATHANIEL LEE. | :O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: WARP: THE HIDDEN VALLEY
Date: 13 Jan 93 00:03:09 GMT
I'm back from vacation. My apologies for not posting any more chapters over
the last month or so.
It has been pointed out to me that I don't have a name for this story yet
(thanks Doug), and also that there is no consistency in the titles (thanks
Peter).
I have decided to divide this series into books (the overall name is yet to
be decided). What you have been reading so far is:
Book I - THE WARP.
Contents: THE ARRIVAL. } If you are missing any of these
THE NAMING. } chapters, please feel free to
ENTER THE JESTER. } e-mail me at the address given at
TO TOUCH BLACK ICE. } the bottom of this posting.
All future chapters in this book will appear as WARP: <chapter>
Don't worry, I'll tell you when I'm going to start a new Book.
THE PLAYERS:
- Shades, the ever-smiling.
- Morbius Fletch (Morb), a juvenile cowboy who has just lived through an
encounter with some black ice.
- Janet Lester (The Jester), an experienced, but suspicious decker.
Here's part five...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE HIDDEN VALLEY
Morb was oblivious. The hand led him up and away. His mind was still numbed
with pleasure. Up, away from the chaotic matrix of data. Up.
The military web. Gigantic spirals of dread, but Morb felt no fear - he
could touch black ice. The unseen hand coaxed him towards the outer mesh of
threatening ice.
It was like pushing through wave after wave of black velvet curtains
Surging to the focus. To the precious banks of data beyond. It seemed an
eternity to Morb. The software before him, leading the way. Turning this way,
and then that - in what appeared to be a random pattern. Accelerating. The
invisible forbidden core was close at hand.
Suddenly, beyond the dark, there it was - the hidden valley.
After stumbling blind through the jungle of ice for so long, Morb suddenly
broke through into a vast space, dropping away on all sides. El Dorado.
Golden pyramids, like Maian temples - as far as Morb's perception would carry.
Cyberspace alive with data transfer. Swarming around him - like he wasn't
there.
"This is bad shit Shades. That was just too easy. How many people can
access the military net like this?"
"Just two."
"Two - who?"
"Why you and I of course. What would you like to do?"
"Oh sure, let's start a medium sized war in the Middle East."
"If you like."
"If I like! Of course I don't like! Get us out of here Shades. This is
just too bad for my ass."
"We don't have to start a war Morbius." Shades made it sound like it was
something that could be done tomorrow instead. "You do much Stim Morbius?"
"C'mon Shades. Haul ass."
"Just let me show you this." Coaxing. "Just this, and then we'll go."
Morbius gave in. It was easier. He connected data links as Shades
instructed him. The military system flowed around him - ignorant.
"Now activate the stim-module in your deck."
"I don't have one."
"I believe that you do..."
Morbius found that he had. He toggled the switch to on. Cyberspace
dissolved.
Morb shreiked as he found himself scudding along a valley at high velocity,
just above ground level. Wind roaring past him. The end of the valley was
racing up to meet him. Dead meat.
Shades' voice.
"Internal."
The rushing sound stopped abruptly. Morb's ears were left singing. The end
of the valley was still approaching fast, but there was someone sitting next to
him. Eyes hidden behind the bug-eyed visor of some kind of perception-
enhancement head gear, but that smile was unmistakable.
"Navajo stealth chopper Morb. Latest sim. Better than the arcades huh?"
The chopper eased to a halt, just metres from a sheer rock face.
"You scared the shit out of me Shades."
"External view only has audio-visuals. Air friction at that speed isn't very
pleasant." Shades indicated outside the cockpit window. The Navajo had been
steadily rising. They hovered, just peering over the ridge. A vast city-
sprawl spread out before them. Domes. Towers. Puget Sound and the Pacific
Ocean beyond.
"Ever fancied strafing Seattle, Morbius?"
From above, Seattle was a sparkling spider's web. All streets covered in UV
reflective shells - pre-geodesic technology. Protection under the vast
Northwest 'zone hole. Glassy domes sprouting at intervals - dew.
"You have control lieutenant Morb. Everything is wired directly to your
cortex. You think it - it'll do it."
Morb tentatively rotated the Navajo chopper through three-sixty on the spot.
No sweat. Seconds later he was buzzing the roof tops of the Northeast Sector.
"We've got bandit Navajos, Morb. The instruments say they're four blocks
west. Three of them."
"Four blocks! How come we didn't see them coming?"
"Stealth morb, stealth - like a thief."
And Morb was diving. ECM flaring. Stealth useless at short range. Weaving
through the canyon of streets. Cars and people milling about in their glassy
tunnels. Such detail.
Then the enemy were above, and in front and behind.
A communication - "Surrender the helicopter."
Shades flashed a wry smile across at Morb. "Looks like Game Over."
"No way. Let's see them follow me now!" The end of Morb's sentenced was
punctuated by two explosions and a spray of glittering shards as a pair of
ASMs punctured the street shell below.
The Navajo ducked through, the breach barely large enough to accomodate the
rotor blades. People scattered. Paper and burger cartons were sent cart-
wheeling along the sidewalk. Morb pushed the chopper forward, just above car
level. Shops and office blocks racing by. A pedistrian bridgeway loomed.
Morb guided the craft down and under.
Proximity sensor circuits flashed neural warnings...
The truck parked beneath made the gap too small...
Too late to pull up...
The blades clipped and the helicopter was sent spinning.
Searing static behind the eyes.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
The ice was here, the ice was there, |Contact at:
The ice was all around; |phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
- S.T.COLERIDGE |:O)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: WARP: NEEDS AND FEARS
Date: 16 Jan 93 00:34:44 GMT
Welcome folks, its time for some more cyberfear.
Here follows part six of the book known as THE WARP.
Previous chapters are available by request over e-mail.
THE PLAYERS:
- Shades.
- Morbius Fletch (Morb).
- Janet Lester (The Jester).
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
NEEDS AND FEARS
Screaming. Scorching chaos scratched at his eyes, bombarded his ears.
More screaming.
Morb cried out again. Janet forced her way into his pokey room, trashing
the lock. The screen was snow-storming. Morbius had a white-knuckle grip on
his deck. Sweat pouring over his neck and hands.
Janet ran over and jacked him out, mid-cry. His eyes stared blankly at the
screen. His breath was rapid and deep. He choked on something liquid and
coughed. His breathing slowed.
"Morb?" She got no response. Now she was shaking him by the shoulders -
"Morb! Answer me, godamnyou!"
He slowly looked up at her. At first his eyes unseeing. His nose was
bleeding heavily.
The pain ceased. He was blind and deaf. Not deaf - "Morb". Someone asking
for him, calling him. He was mute. He felt his body return to him. A gift
from the darkness. Hands on him, gripping his shoulders. And now there was a
dim light. Something moving... A person... Clear now - the Jester. He tasted
bubbling wet salt on his lips. He licked it away.
"Answer me, godamnyou." she said.
Morbius turned to face her. Was that expression concern? He dragged a
sweat-damped shirt sleeve across his upper lip. It came away blood stained.
She reached towards his face, a cloth in her hand.
"Here, let me..." she said.
He spoke. "I don't need you!" And he pushed her away with a harshness that
she found unexpected. She tried to say something but he shouted over her.
"Leave me! Get out!"
She left.
Morb sat for a while.
He licked more salty liquid from his lips, but this time it was tears.
The EnvStat Centre was still down. Today it was hailing.
Janet tugged the hood of her coat over her head and stepped out into the
storm. Hail thundered onto the street. She weaved her way through the traffic
flow, making for the Chatsubo. Still hurting from where Morbius had pushed
her. She should have left him in there - ungrateful bastard. Who needed him
anyway? Plenty more where he came from. What the hell had gotten into him?
The train of thought was broken as she thought she heard her name called.
"Jester."
She turned and looked up. Perhaps she saw the flash of a smile or the sweep
of a dark coat in the crowd. Hail stung her face and swept into her eyes,
making them water. Blinking the hail away, she saw no-one, but a young green
eyed hooker, standing shivering in a doorway. As Janet walked away, the girl
dropped to her knees clutching blue hands over her eyes. The Cheap Sendais
tearing up her optic nerves, distorting the input on the retina. Terrible
warped images forcing her to close her eyelids. Then twisted images from
within, the eyes playing back her own horrors, and there was no lid to close
over them.
The Chatsubo was warm. Janet nursed her Tsingtao bottle.
There was something seriously wrong. A lot of what was wrong involved Shades
somewhere along the line. Who the hell was he? Everone had a past, even if
they tried to hide it. If it could be hidden, the Jester could find it. It
would just take some time.
She looked up at the monitor above the bar in time to catch the minor news
at the end of a bulletin. GeneSys BioCorp buys controlling shares in the
satellite station Freedom III... The Bolshoi Ballet to visit Chiba... Twenty
dead in U.S. military helicopter hijack disaster....
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1993. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
I think if the devil doesn't exist, but man | Contact at:
has created him, he has created him in his | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
own image and likeness. | :O)
- F.DOSTOYEVSKY | CYBERFEAR rules.
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: WARP: GENESYS
Date: 30 Jan 93 13:03:03 GMT
I don't know what you were doing with the WARP header on your post Joshua,
but don't worry - Shades is most forgiving...
Thanks to all of you who send me comments and typos - much appreciated.
This is chapter seven of BOOK I - THE WARP.
The previous chapters are availbale by email (see contact below).
I hope those of you who started out with THE ARRIVAL are still there...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
GENESYS
Masato Minobe didn't want worries like this one. What GeneSys planned to do
was highly illegal. Maybe the law shouldn't worry him - GeneSys could buy
themselves above the law. There was still something wrong. What GeneSys
planned to do was immoral. Immoral? What kind of a zaibatsu exec worries
about morals for God's sake?
Masato drummed his fingers on the desk before him.
The HGI-Project had been bad enough. Fortunately, not even he knew all the
details about that one. Still secluded in the depths of some GeneSys
engineering centre, eating up money from the "special projects" fund. No
results as of yet.
That was bad, but this... GeneSys stood to make billions.
Forget it - the decision had been made by Honinbo and ratified by the High-
Exec council - not that they would ever dare to vote against the AI.
Perhaps he should tell someone. Who? Nevermind. If something was to be
done, it would be done later. The German was on his way up. Calm down.
Honinbo had picked the German out from some small operation in Europe that
Minobe had never heard of. Apparently his profile indicated a dedication to
the GeneSys cause that was beyond question. What did it matter where he was
from? The blood would be on his hands, and not Minobe's - that was what
mattered.
Perhaps Honinbo had seen that Masato was not comfortable with the new
project. Maybe Honinbo planned to replace him with the European.
Minobe retrieved a micro-hypodermic from a mahogany-look draw and pressed it
against his taught neck. With a dizzying rush of relaxants, all the worry left
his body.
Mr Sebastian Hades was announced over a communicator set into the desk. With
a soft whining the door opened and in he walked.
Honinbo's man was dressed in a sharp grey suit. He wore a data terminal on
one wrist and dark glasses on his nose. A severe haircut surmounted a face
with a tense expression.
Minobe shook a leather gloved hand and indicated a chair. The German sat,
removed his gloves and slotted his glasses into an inside breast pocket.
The zaibatsu exec stood stunned. Thinking quickly. Trying to regain his
composure. This man that Honinbo had sent had no eyes. The upper and lower
lids had been carefully and neatly fused together. The lashes gone.
"Please do not concern yourself Mr Minobe. It is merely the unfortunate
result of a failed artificial eye implant operation. It is no longer any
cause of discomfort to me." Sebastian smiled broadly. The thousandth time he
had recounted his story thought Masato. "Let us talk about the project. That
is why I am here."
"Certainly." A direct man. Honinbo had researched well. What else would
you expect from an AI?
The project was discussed. The German had been well briefed - every detail,
from the gene-dispersal phase to the final process of therapy introduction and
patent deals. He seemed satisfied with his designated role - reporting to
Minobe every month or so, Minobe relaying reports to the High-Exec.
"It seems we have a most fruitful working partnership ahead of us." concluded
Masato as he stood and activated the whining door.
"Mr Minobe, I see you have a synthetic heart." Sebastian smiled and extended
a hand.
Before Minobe could say anything, he found his own hand in the European's and
he felt the blood. And there was something touching his palm. Something small
and hard and slick.
"Goodbye Mr Minobe. It's been a pleasure." He left.
Masato Minobe died of a heart attack two weeks later, before he could inform
anyone of the GeneSys plan. Mr S.Hades took his place as head of project...
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1993. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
All that we see or seem | Contact at:
Is but a dream within a dream. | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
- EDGAR ALLAN POE | *8)
From: phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk (Mr B Thomson)
Subject: WARP: THE CALLING
Date: 4 Feb 93 22:50:42 GMT
Sorry if you're desperate to know what's happening to Morb and the Jester,
but there are some other characters I've got to introduce.
Don't be disappointed if there's no tech in this chapter.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CALLING
The foaming sea washed right up onto the rocks, filling mini-pools - worlds
that came alive at the touch of water.
Meyrick McBride felt the spray on his face. He closed his eyes and took a
deep breath of salty air. This was no consensual hallucination.
Young steps flip-flapped across the stone behind him.
"Father, Muriel says you're leaving us." The voice accused.
Meyrick turned on his haunches to face a young boy shivering in T-shirt and
shorts. "Does your mother know you're here Aaron?"
"No Sir." Aaron guiltily looked at his feet and shuffled, still shivering.
"Are you going?" he said, looking up.
Meyrick stood and taking off his jacket he wrapped it around Aaron's small
frame.
"I have to. There's people need me. More than you do here." Aaron didn't
seem convinced. "Come on, lets go back." He ruffled the boy's hair and tried
to smile reassuringly.
Together they walked the path back to the village, Aaron skipping
occasionally to keep in step with Meyrick's strides.
Muriel was waiting at the gate as the pair walked up Main Street. Pink
cheeked and her hair a mess, she'd been frantically running around the village
for the last hour, looking for Aaron.
"Where have you been young man?"
Aaron looked up at Meyrick for support.
"It's alright Miss Patrick, He's been with me all morning."
"Thankyou. I don't know, one of these days he's going to go off and that'll
be the last we see of him." She stopped, embarassed at what she had said.
"Aaron, give Father McBride his coat back and go on inside."
Aaron did so, stopping to wave from the doorway. Meyrick waved back.
"Don't be too harsh on him Muriel. He's just worried."
"When do you go?"
"Tomorrow." and then he added "My flight is booked." - As if he needed to
convince not only Muriel, but himself too, that there was no turning back now.
"Will you be coming back?"
"I don't know. I'm not even sure what it is I have to do once I get out
there. I just have to go."
"Aaron adores you, you know. He wouldn't ever forgive you if something
happened." She looked him straight in his warm hazel eyes. It was useless
projecting her own fears onto Aaron. "Meyrick, just you take care." She
turned before the tears broke.
Climbing away on a JAL jet, Father McBride hoped he would return.
...to be continued...(perhaps)
Copyright 1992. Ben Thomson. ------Comments Please.
Are you willing to wait for the miracle | Contact at:
Or don't you believe they're true? | phufk@csv.warwick.ac.uk
- MARC COHN | :O)
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