From: A.W.Hughes@bradford.ac.uk (AW HUGHES) Subject: The Cancer Within Lines: 354 Date: Tue, 16 Nov 1993 03:42:51 GMT THE CANCER WITHIN This is something I wrote back in 1988 in my first u/grad year, in fact it was my first ever story. So understand, I was 18 and inexperienced. Only now, when I'm doing a Masters, have I started to get a grip on the Inet and so am submitting this. There are possibly some errors in it but thats due to the conversion from M Word for Windows to text and then to DOS2UNIX, etc. I skimmed through once and it seemed alright but still you never know. Any crits can give, or, (heaven forbid) encouragement, would be greatfully received to: A.W.Hughes@uk.ac.bradford Here it goes _______________________________________________________________________________ A neon glitter turned to blur as the Nakiro convertible ac- celerated down through the busy,thronging streets of Nightcity.Kaisha Yach-kiroto sat back in the plush hide seats,cooly confident of his driving ability.A driving ability somewhat enhanced by the ultra fast reflexes boosted from the sizeable hardware buried deep in his thin angular head.Messages poured out of his brain,a waterfall of information crashing down onto the rocks of his neural paths,the glittering pads on the palms of his hands passing the information onto the car.The Sar- inek audio-deck burst into life at Kaisha's bidding,quadrophonic synth-amps thudding their beat,street music to suit his mood.A grin of purest pleasure broke over his face,washing away the in- scrutible mask of the yakuza. He watched the people skimming past in fast forward flickering in and out of existence with the cars speed. He could feel the influence of his father, like a god in the sky, the streets and people living and dying, fading away in instants whilst the sky was always there. Like the pictures that adorned many galleries, time lapse photographs of monolith tower- blocks, cold and steady whilst flickering nothings and thin streaks of red barely showed the passing of the people that made them what they were. The smile faltered somewhat in thinking that each flickering person symbolised another instant in his fathers fascination with longevity. Each passing showing an overdose on his powdery revenue. The car jerked to a stop in a tall grey parking facility,the doors sliding gracefully open like a butterfly unfurling it's wings and Kaisha steped out, his own smooth movements betraying hours of reflex surgery. A door opened automatically as he ap- proached, the gateway to his very own special fantasy The glass door had a gilt inscription which read 'Kaisha Kenar -spacial investigator'. Behind it sat an impressive office, all matt black and cold steel. The north wall was all television, glowing eerily, filling the dark room with a swirling snowstorm of grey. As Kaisha marched in the room came to life, a vampire feeding on the power of fantasy, and in turn boosting the addic- tion of it's owner. The television wall flickered, the white noise of static filling the room and then fading as the wall displayed it's macabre message. Each screen shone magnesium white, gradually darkening as crimson poured down from the top, a continous waterfall of blood. Accompanying this downpour, Sarinek speakers issued forth the continuous sound of heavy rain, mingled with the moans and screams of the dying, painfully alone and without cause. Kaisha was proud and fond of his 'toy'. To ensure that the voices put exactly the right inflection into their screams, he himself had concocted two hundred types of murder to be recorded by the manufacturer. It was nearly as expensive as the pyramids in terms of loss of life for a piece of art. The other properties of the office appeared less obviously....... in- dividualistic. The black desk at the far end of the room, back pointing to the plasteel window, was the varnished-over altar of the recently disbanded Kirachee cult, it's blackness coming not from paint. Through the door on the east wall was a complex chamber of madness, holopics of the product of the electrocity craze which still swept nightcity adorned the wall. This was the kind of perversion afordable only to the very rich, lying on the bed in the centre of the room was a young woman,naked,her skin black in patches marked with electrodes. Her body would jerk sporadically, the sign of a puppet, paid millions of New yen for a years services, which, if they survived,they could spend. The girl on the bed would have her memories, and nervous system wired so that she only woke for sessions of debauchary. She would remember nothing of her year and would hopefully live to have her body and life rebuilt. Kaisha marched over to the steel bar set in the corner of the room, he grasped a bottle of Glenlivet and a fine crystal glass and sat down on the leather sofa. The trickling,splashing sound of the whisky hitting the glass mingled with the rain, a morbid toast to the eternally dying. A double fizz, a muffled gulp and the smell of Sprire filled the room. He dropped the small plastic cartridge to the floor where it lay, spent, the last of the huge dose shining oily blue on its pointed edge. Be- fore the burn of the whisky had faded, the melting , twisting feeling of the Sprire hit, the body spasmed and the mind died for a while. The door made a small electronic squeal, finally,bowing to greater force, it creaked,then charred and finally disintegrated. A darkly tanned figure slipped quietly past the smouldering remains of the portal, and paused for a moment as if in a silent contemplation of the full implications of this small act of tresspass. The figure jerked upright and swiftly walked across to the couch on which lay the perverted son of power. With practised precision the figure unpacked a number of electronic scanning devices and proceeded to use them on the sleeping detective 'Wired reflexes,rig control,IR vision,eyecam,',muttered the spectre seemingly to himself ,'display link,radio splice. Huh, same as mine, but linked to secure system, this guy's had real professional help. Hang on, he's got 50 mu's of memstore as well, like to be on the safe side don't you?' He nodded his head at the comotose Kaisha, who moaned lightly, as if acknowledging and equal in the complicated world of staying alive. The equipment was packed away with the same speed as it's removal. A quick in- spection of the prone body, brought about the emotional outburst. 'Sprire! Stupid bastard, doesn't he know what that does to people?' Professionalism quickly reasserted itself. 'Well...... it also gives us insight into his security system, he must have danger sensitive doc-cards, taking Sprire is alright, but if I so much as kiss him this room will have him down to cryogenic sleep in 2 seconds.' The man exhaled in a sigh of admiration, 'guess it's over to plan B, which has more justice to it anyway.' He giggled in a low hiss and creakily readjusted his leather coat over the devices. The buzzing of the doorbell sprang the room into action, a monitor rose up from it's niche in the desk, the screen flickered and displayed a picture of a man leaning non- chalantly against a door jamb. Kaisha groggily lifted his head, his eyes a blur of red,and stared intently at his watch. 'come', he called weakly, feeling the pressure in his head already beginning to grow past that caused by his last reduction surgery. A whirring click indicated what the monitor showed, the door opened and the man stepped inside. 'You look awful, no, don't get up,just stay there and listen', the speaker, strode across the polished black floor and settled into the high backed chair at the desk. 'The corporation I represent needs a confidential matter to be cleared up.It's an offworld matter which is why we need a spa- cial investigator,'the man pulled a memchip out of his pocket and placed it on the desk,'all the information is held on this chip including downloads for i.d,NT access and 25,000 nuyen payment.' He spun around the chair until he faced out over the glaring city and its waves of light. He knew already the money would have pro- voked no great response. The ordinary never surprises anyone. 'We'll know if you've done the job, no further contact is neces- sary, good-day.' In a flurry of dark cloak, with his head buried deep inside, the man left. The grid's datajacks slid smothly home into the interface plugs situated on Kaisha's forearm. His soul lurched, his vision danced and transformed into a myriad blaze of colour intersected by a million shades of jet. Sharpness of definition beyond belief made the unreal, real. A feeling of darkness enfolds the discon- nected mind in an armour of neon. A mental command moves the samurai persona that is Kaisha across to the vast pyramid at the end of one line. Burning cherry red, the Yach-Kiroto coprporation's central computers sit amongst the computers of other large multi-nationals, where size counts and the pyramid was massive. Entrance is easy, Kaisha's construct gives off au- tomatic ident codes permitting high level access. Disconnecting, Kaisha plugs the memchip on his desk into the grid terminal and re-joins the grid in time to see the memchip bursting forth into a stream of data, its wormlike body twisting through streets of mirror. By manipulating the computers he sees before him a spec- tacular light and sound show, depicting the life of Mitchell Lechevre. One by one, like a block puzzle game, the background behind the greatest scientist of the decade falls into place, his loves, hates, successes and failures, the wall on which hangs the rich tapestry of biomolecutronic engineering. The end of the do- cument details current affairs of his life, the hounding by the multinationals and his subsequent decision to work for Sarinek. A computer generated figure appeared and began to issue a briefing. 'As Mitchell is meta-human he is able to leave Earth at will, unlike true humans who, cannot leave the planet due to the bac- teria inflicted on this planet during the corp wars.',Kaisha nod- ded, all humans breathed the bacteria which filled the atmosphere and couldn't leave without a contaminated air supply. The figure continued. 'Taking advantage of this, Mitchell has removed him- self from earth and left for one of the L6 orbiting colonies. You have been hired to locate Mitchell and terminate him, an extrac- tion is NOT required.' The man disolved and was replaced by three glowing dots, Kaisha mentally instructed his terminal to down- load, and jacked out. A great feeling of loss hit him as the fan- tasy world disappeared to be replaced by the real world where limitations existed, but thoughts of the mission ahead and the sight of the newly downloaded items drove out loss and brought in excitement. Sitting in the output hopper were three plastic smart cards; the first, an ident card in the name of Narada Kwok showed a perfect digitised holopict of himself, the second card virtual- ly identical except for the letters NTA embossed in red accross it's opaque white surface. The last card was larger and in the pearl grey colours of the Renarda Bank of Japan, it's small plas- ma display currently registered at 25,000 Nu-yen. Kaisha threw all three onto the sofa and started pulling off his clothes, the sprire was entering it's second hit, adrenalin rushed and a manic smile split his lips as he pushed open the east door and the gen- erator powered up. Kaisha stood in the shower, water pounding off his well- muscled body to fall in a foam of pink around the plug hole, his mind on more important things than the disposal of the puppet. Kaisha's father was the head of the Yach-Kiroto corporation, and, as son of such a powerful man, Kaisha would never need to work. He lived a life of many fantasies, all of them extensive in their effects on others. Currently, in keeping with the recent trend for the written word, Kaisha had set himself up as a spacial in- vestigator and was enjoying it immensely. Investigators were chosen from the toughest, but most honest individuals in the city, almost religiously zealous in their duties. They could car- ry heavy calibre weaponry and were not held resposible for any accidents caused, their viewpoint being that in jihad casualties happened although intentional error could give them only one op- tion... Twice, Kaisha had entered a school and, using his i.d, had taken two small boys back to their homes, there had beaten and raped them in front of their mothers. A single two billion Newyen payment from his father to the city hall assured him a constant supply of activity, food for his baser appetite. Walking the streets as an investigator did not worry him, death did not concern him, as a member of a powerful family he had implanted docards which constantly monitored his vital signs, in an emer- gency they would keep him alive for the two minutes it took for a medical hopper to arive. Kaisha realised that his employers were willing to pay a lot of money for Mitchells death, but could never afford the cost of sending an investigator into space. As the instructor had re- vealed, humans had to breathe the bacteria that had infiltrated the atmosphere during the corps war. In the human races constant search for something to get addicted to it had found something permanent and irrerversible. At the same time Kaishas fathers shrewd business mind had known enough to see that he and all his family weren't protected from the first strike. Clean air was about to get more expensive. The Yachiroto Laboratories had shown in testing that the bacteria was impossible to compress without killing it, neither could it be genetically engineered once Kai- shas father had destroyed the formulae, this meant it was impos- sible for normal humans to leave the planet except for very short periods with a carriable quantity of contaminated air. This, Kai- sha knew, was why they had come to the only corrupt investigator in the city, even with his very limited training. The alternative to leaving the planet was to use the Neural Transmitters held at the city centre. On placing themselves inside the transmitters their minds were,using a neural connector similar to that on the grid, boosted out into space. On the desired planet, the data that was the persons neural pattern was caught and beamed into the circuits of a robot host. Using this host the traveller could move around and had posession of all faculties such as speech and movement. Spacial investigators specialised in carrying out in- vestigations through neural transmissions. Two weeks later Kaisha entered the tall building owned by the Neural Transmission Agency, he displayed both ident cards and was allowed in. A pret- ty, young nurse led him through into the transmission chambers, and efficiently stripped and dressed him in a white robe, whilst resisting his advances. All his clothes, i.d, weapons and his briefcase were bundled into a locker marked Narada Kwok.This did not worry Kaisha, he had known that it was impossible to transmit items and so had sent forward some items on the inter-orbital shuttle. Following the nurse's gentle pursuadings, Kaisha lay down on a padded couch inside one of the many cubicles lining the room, creating an atmosphere, not of a technical establishment, but of one of the many 'coffin hotels' which filled the streets of Nightcity. As he lay on the couch a feeling of numbness overtook Kaisha's body. He lay in silence with a broad unsuitable smile on his face as robot arms moved down, placing electrodes on his skull where laser scanners indicated. A steel pin slid into the interface plugs on his wrist and a sharp prick on his neck from a syringe sent Neurethrene racing through his veins, severing con- nections with his mind, which floated upwards through a mist of reality. Electronic plugs sent raw neural data from the mind to the giant biocomputers which translated thoughts and commands into signals which were boosted by hyperwave transmitters into the blackness of space. The thought fog span. colours flashed, light flickered, neon grey sea spray hitting his mind. Visions of gun-metal grey spinning toward unmoving, pleading eyes, a knowing smile and an explosion of splattering crimson raced through the fog. A surge of pure pleasure burst through the cloud as the crimson dried to rust brown and then to black. A cool smoothing of steel stifled the pleasure as the dirty sheets of the fog lifted, arrival sequences began and with a click atificial eyes opened on a world strange and new. The robot eyes of Kaisha Yach-Kiroto took in many things,some in different spectrums, but failed to register the obvious causes to alarm. So many different views were visible as the robot span around and upwards on it's rostrum, until a darkly clad figure bacame visible and the world stopped all movement. Kaisha's host attempted to move until it discovered the bindings which it had previously disregarded. 'Kaisha Yach-kiroto,'the figure spoke with venom, 'we of the Society for the restabilisation of moral attitudes have sworn to rid the world of sick, power crazed individuals. Power and Perversion do exist and are exemplified by you and your father. Not only are you opressors and misusers of your power, you in- dulge in sick and depraved practices of all sorts in order to fulfill deep seated perverse needs. As the beginning act of our crusade we are going to cause your death to set and example and to bring about the confusion which our cause needs. Your murder was difficult to plan, as the richest individuals such as your- self are well guarded and we soon realised that it would be im- possible to kill your body because of your implanted docard system.However on offering this mission you disregarded all sense of security, no doubt because of your diseased anticipation of a real kill. 'Neural transmission completely seperates the mind from the body, therefore severance of the hyperwave communications can ef- fectively kill off the mind , neural data scattered throughout the universe. All that is needed is for me to press this button.' The robot lifted it's head,and said ,with open mockery. 'There are recordings of my neural makeup in the computers. I cannot be killed. A simple download and I'll be back, back to en- sure your end. End this foolishness and at least your granchil- dren won't suffer.' The dark figure smiled wrily throughout, with a look of disappointment at a difficult child. 'ah. On that I think your body may also have a bit of a shock. goodbye.' The hand lifted a matt black box, it's only adornment a single blue button. The speech synthesiser managed to produce a voice of pure malice. 'If you remove and assassinate all the sickos, the power- crazed and the perverts, whats going to happen to the organisa- tions and government. Whos' going to run the world?' The finger closed over the button. The robot slumped in the chair and the mind that was Kaisha Yach-Kiroto ceased to exist. In the transmitting agency, the body of Kaisha Yach-Kiroto sat up, no intelligence lay behind it's eyes. A colour of gunme- tal grey turned to the unmoving, pleading eyes, the nurse smiled a knowing smile and an explosion of splattering crimson hit her fair, innocent face. Dropping the pistol she left for the begin- ning of revolution. -- | Alistair Hughes | 'F*ck you, | | A.W.Hughes@Bradford.ac.uk | you do what I told you.' | | Computing Msc. | Rage Against The Machine |