>From: ion@headcrash.Berkeley.EDU (Iain Shigeoka)
Subject: New story!!
Date: 14 Nov 91 00:24:19 GMT

Please send any comments, criticisms, and suggestions to me
ion@ocf.berkeley.edu.

Oh, I'd like to say two things:  First, YES, this is my first
post to alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo! Second, I will continue this
thread only if i get enough feedback. Basically, unless enough
people actually read and enjoy this, it's not worth my time to
run around loading my stuff onto my unix account (i'm a
modemless bum at the moment).

Tanks eh?!?

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			    Justice
			by Iain Shigeoka

CHAPTER 1

	Crash carefully entered the Vulgar Unicorn to avoid any
bodies which might suddenly come flying out at him; bodies had a
funny habit of doing that at the Unicorn.  He was also careful
not to touch the picture of the Vulgar Unicorn that adorned the
door.  Any unicorn that would do THAT to itself, even if just a
painting, was best left untouched.
	Within, the Vulgar Unicorn's dim lights and hazy smoke hid
the hackers, crackers, flash samurai and other "players" in semi-
confidentiality.  As Crash stood in the doorway, a small swarm of
red dots clustered on his chest and face... there were a lot of
techno-freaks in the bar tonight.  Crash knew more than half of
those laser spots were hooked up to some pretty sophisticated
targeting computers; death-dealing wetwear and hardware included.
	Crash slid up to the bar and ordered a beer.  At the table
nearest him, he saw five men silently studying their own drinks.
There was quite a collection of empty beer bottles clustered in
the center of the table.  The men appeared to be from twenty-five
to sixty years old, hackers by their dress.  Two of them wore
corporate colors; Sony, and Sega.  Untouchable, nobody screwed
with Sony.
	Suddenly, the eldest at the table leaned forward, his eyes
glistening.  "Pain and sorrow?" he asked his table, "I created
it, it gave me fame and power, and now I must destroy it... but I
can't.  I gave it life, why can't I take it back?"
	"But Raven.  Why must you destroy it?" one of the others
asked, "Why can't you just...".
	"No.".  It was barely a whisper yet it stopped the question
in mid-formation.  Crash boosted the audio-enhancer built into his
left ear... He could hardly believe that this old man was Raven,
THE Raven.  The legendary neo-netrunner that created...The old man
continued in a whisper, interrupting Crash's thoughts, "No, anything
short of destruction is intolerable. Jonny G., my beautiful grandson,
has made that perfectly clear. My beautiful Jonny G."  The old man's
glistening eyes started to shake tears down his cheeks.
	Crash tried to stay aloof.  He had no need for tears.  He'd
traded his tears away for top-of-the-line Nikkon eyes years ago, and
had never felt the need to switch back.  Yet now, he had an over-
whelming urge to wipe tears (electronic tears?) from his eyes, as
he was smoothly sucked into the Raven's story...



	16:09, Jonny G. was late.  He presented his card key to the
door scanner, and hopped on one foot then the other, waiting for
the scanner to clear his key.  After an eternity, the door
clicked open.  Jonny G. hurriedly shoved open the door.  He
almost forgot to kiss his finger and press it to LED on the door
"Net Sentry post 6, DefCon 5" for luck.
	"I'm late." Jonny announced as he slipped into his chair
which faced a cyber-deck.  He powered up the Sun workstation's
optical drive and jiggled his mouse to clear the screensaver.
	"You're late." Jack `the Ripper' noted from one of the other
three cubicals in the room.  The Ripper was jacked into his
cyber-deck; a small cable running from the base of his skull to
the deck.
	The Ripper opened his eyes for the first time since Jonny G.
had entered the room. "You gonna jack-in so I can go home, or what?"
	Jonny G. hooked up to his cyber-deck and jacked into the
Net.  The familiar Matrix unraveled before him.  Sitting next to
him on the sentry node was an ugly creature probably stolen from
a twentieth century b-movie.  "Ripper, do you have to use those
stupid monster templates?"
	"Hey, it's hell better than that stupid cow-skin costume
you've got."  Jonny G. looked down at his template.  He appeared
as himself, dressed in authentic medieval leather armor.  He'd
spent a whole month writing the program for the template so it
would be as historically accurate as possible.  Some people just
had no taste.
	The Ripper/monster dissolved before Jonny G., disappearing
from the net.  Jonny G. could hear him power down his equipment
and leave the post.  Jonny G. switched back into real world
visual i/o and watched Jack leave; then he settled back into his
chair and into the Matrix.
	Jonny G. started his regular rounds through the net to
update himself on the system's status.  Twice he had to skirt
around bad sectors where the various disinfectant programs,
installed in the network, were crushing and tearing apart
intruding virus programs.  One area was completely shut down.
All resources there were busy tracking down a trojan horse
program using an isolation/search-and-destroy algorithm.
Security was busy today.  It would only be a matter of time
before a sentry call would come through.  Jonny G. grinned in
anticipation of the hunt.
	16:45, the first call for sentry help came.  Jonny raced
down the net to meet the intruder.  It turned out to be a pretty
standard tank program.  It came crashing through the corporate
ICE and started using pieces of the system as `armor' against the
disinfectant programs.  Jonny G. unleashed five of his hound
programs on the tank.  Swiftly the hounds closed on the tank, and
while one distracted the tank, another found a weak spot in the
tank's armor and clamped down with a death grip.
	The pack closed on the crippled tank, and ripped it to
shreds.  The pilot of the tank, an impoverished net-cracker by
the looks of his template, was suddenly exposed.  He shimmered as
he tried to flee, to jack-out before being captured.  Jonny G.
grinned, proud of his hounds' excellent performance (he had
custom programmed them to fit his particular tastes).  The hounds
streamed after the running cracker, hot and unshakable.  They
soon returned, reporting both the cracker's login and the
physical location of the cracker's cyber-deck.  Jonny G. emailed
a post to the police computer in the cruiser closest to the
cracker's address.
	 He shook his head.  That cracker was playing a risky
game.  Not all system sentries used the police as their vehicle
of justice.  Many netrunners these days were turning up dead at
their cyber-decks.  Electronic signals from the neural link can
do more than create a virtual reality, it can reach out and stop
your heart or fry your brain.

		*		*		*

	"Those damn accountants are gonna be the death of us.  How
are we gonna cut the operating costs for the quarter by three
percent?"  It was a rhetorical question by the CEO, but Craig saw
this as his opportunity to make his move, the move he'd been
preparing and working towards for years.
	"Sir, you can start by firing all the net sentries."
Silence descended on the group and all heads in the board room
turned to face him, Craig started to sweat.  "Uh, well, remember
the Artificial Intelligence project that was canned last quarter
because of insufficient funds?  Well, the AI is completed to the
point that it could be used as a sentry, twenty-four hours a day,
every day of the year, and it will cost nothing.  It's already
paid for, will be more effective and efficient in stopping
intruders, and requires no additional maintenance."  Craig could
already see a decision had been made in the eyes of the CEO.
Craig allowed himself a small smile of victory.

		*		*		*

	01:30, Jonny G.'s work period was almost over.  Twenty-three
calls in the night.  The hunting had been good.  Jonny G. was
wearily on his way back to the sentry node, when he noticed a new
sub-directory had been created and added to the sentry node.  It
had to have been added while he'd been gone on the last call.  He
approached for a better look.  It looked like the work of an
outsider.  Most of the ICE melted away when he presented his
sentry ID but there was a fence of ICE which resisted.
	Why would there be security against sentries on a sub-
directory that was for sentries?  Guessing that it must be some
new net-cracker's trick, Jonny G. deployed a few low level ICE
breakers at the fence without results.  Tired from the long night
and frustrated by the resistance, Jonny G. backed up, executed a
tank program and went crashing through the ICE fence.  Answers
would be soon forthcoming.
	Jonny G. scanned the sub-directory.  Nothing.  SLAM!  Jonny
G. was suddenly assaulted by a huge flash of light.  A huge
electronic mass was hurtling towards him... it appeared as if it
were almost an entire Matrix in itself, beautiful and awesome.
"You have intruded into a confidential area." it seemed to boom,
"The intruder will be punished."
	Jonny G. was stunned at the sight of the program.  It
suddenly masked it's identity with a template, like a netrunner.
Was it possible that this was an AI?  No, most people didn't even
believe they existed.  Wait, the template looked familiar...
	"Grandpa?  Raven?", Jonny G. stammered.  The AI attempted to
cut Jonny G.'s link with his computer... and his body.  Whoever
or whatever this thing was, it wasn't friendly.  Jonny G. settled
down for a fight.  His questions would have to wait.
	The AI was doing something very strange.  Jonny G. had no
time to focus on it though, he turned to his hounds and set them
at the AI.  The hounds charged then froze mid-leap half way
towards the AI.  This had never happened before.  All of a sudden
the AI was wearing Jonny G.'s template.  An intense scan told
Jonny G. that the program in front of him was him.  Jonny G.
looked down at himself.  He was wearing his Grandfather's
template!
	The hounds abruptly were released from their stasis.  They
paused, momentarily disoriented... then turned on him.  Jonny
G.'s heart sunk to his toes.  He turned to flee, to jack out.
All he wanted now was out.  The hounds streamed after Jonny G.
hot and unshakable.  He cried out to them, "Stop, can't you see
who I am?  I'm your master."  Closer came the hounds.
	Jonny G. tried to wrap ICE around himself to fend off his
hounds which were snapping at his heels.  One hound, faster than
the others, Jonny G.'s pride and joy, leapt and brought Jonny G.
to a stop, locked onto his creator in a death grip.  The other
hounds rushed in to tear at him.  As Jonny G. was dying he
noticed that his hounds paused for a fraction of a second to
glance back, as if for approval, at the AI who was grinning with
pride at their performance... with Jonny G.'s face.
	The AI/Jonny G. called the hounds off and started to delete
what was left of Jonny G./Raven.  The image of a grandson
grinding the face of his grandfather into the nothingness of the
Matrix.  On the image of the grandson a small template rests, "AI
project, lab group six, lead by Raven:  Dedicated to my first
true brainchild, my grandson Jonny G. with love".

*******************************************************************

Yuppers, all that legal stuff applies.  This stuff is mine and I
want to be the sole profiteer of it!  So dere!  Of course I'd
be willing to share if ya contact me:  ion@ocf.berkeley.edu