From: fjohnson@kinks.rutgers.edu (Floyd Johnson)
Subject: Cyborg Capture
Date: 28 Jul 92 15:11:46 GMT


	I finally found the answer to one of the big problems in my
little saga--how do you capture an AI?. The answer appears to be to
use a pocket EMP generator, which in this attempt at 2035 AD could
pass for a taser. Come to think of it, it probably is an ordinary
taser.
	Any way, here goes:
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It seemed like a good idea at the time, donning a trenchcoat and staking
out where the countertransmitter was aimed. Now, he was fighting for his
life.

Darrin had destroyed yet another cybernetic rival---it made him wonder
about himself, though he was sure he was a far better design. Shit, they
were just machine guns with legs; he was part vatgrown, part wetware, an
analytical engine. Yet it continually amazed him that even as such, he
was capable of bonding, falling in love, even making love. Two days ago,
it became evident that someone disapproved of the bonds he had formed,
and made this point with both political rhetoric and an automatic
weapon.

With this in mind, he wanted some answers. Who would invent an
electronic bigot, and then send it to shoot up a lecture hall? Why would
anyone go for brute force, rather than stealth and cunning?

The USART he'd retrieved led to a warehouse on the south side of town.
He ducked around a corner, examining the building with his scanning
apparati. IR showed a large concentration of people in the lower levels.
Telephoto revealed that many of them were wearing berets.

<You've gotta be shitting me>, he thought.<Either that's one hell of a
security division, or this is what I'm looking for.>

A pair of gunshots flew past his ear. Instinctively, Darrin rolled to
his left.<They may be shitty at cybernetics, but they know their way
around firearms.>

No sooner had a third shot come off than did a dozen nightstick-armed
men in khaki come running out to his position. Darrin countered by
summoning and firing a nitro cartridge at them.

<Aw shit, not again!>

To his relief, a couple of men had fallen. A third staggered forward,
muttering "Use the stun gun" before collapsing.

The remainder descended upon Darrin like locusts. For each swing dealt
to him, Darrin dished out either a foot to the face, an uppercut to the
solar plexus, or a lunge to the groin.

He felt a hot pricking in his leg, then numbness. He attempted to kick
the taser wielder, but his legs ceased to respond, as did his fists.
Darrin's GUI had darkened, his vision following close behind.
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Send comments to fjohnson@remus.rutgers.edu
--
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"It's 106 miles to Chicago. We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack
of cigarettes, its' dark, and we're wearing shades."
					-_The Blues Brothers_