>From: wyang@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu (William D Yang)
Subject: The Night Alone
Summary: Something written to soothe the broken heart...
Date: 31 Oct 91 21:01:59 GMT

Here it comes.  Another 'Nightrunner Investigations' story.  But before it
comes about, that tradition: the author's introduction.  I mean, how could I
pass up this perfect soapbox opportunity?  :)

I once read that life isn't all cyberware and corps, blocking out the light...
that there's a humanity to it all (or a lack of a humanity, in many cases of
Cyberpunk writings... as one of the dominant themes is a lessening, or
reduction, of humanity... which in itself refers to humanity, creating a "human
element" which is truly what I'm talking about).

Anyways, something I've learned about writing...  it's not so much what you
say, but why you say it.  The meaning behind what's written is far more
important than the actual words... the feelings are what are 'real' in a story.
And those feelings, those emotions, are what's important.  Something you can't
ever forget is that characters need to be "human," too.

This story's not bad... not much for action, strange on continuity...  but
it's also intense, in its own way.  As always, let me know what you think...

.  .  .

Name's John Black, but I'm called 'the Nightrunner' in the Shadows; I'm
private heat, workin' as a PI to survive in a world that don't respect honesty
or integrety anymore.  Honesty, truth -- that drakh can get you clottin' killed
out there.
.  .  .

They say the first night's the roughest, that it's the hardest one to get
through...  Survival, be it from wounds of the flesh or wounds of the
heart, is decided in those first few hours, that first night alone with the
injuries and the pain.  The toughest time a man can spend is the time he
spends alone, that's what I was told.  I didn't listen to them.  I didn't
listen to their warnings that you shouldn't be alone with a broken heart.
See, they might've been right; they might've been wrong.  I didn't know,
and I didn't care...  That night was my first night alone in over three
years... it was time to discover the truth.

.  .  .

The Night Alone
.  .  .

The sheets clung to my skin, my weary muscles pounding to the beat of my
heart.  The ceiling was lit by the shadows, the patterns in the plastic
casting long lines across the almost level surface.  All around, there was
silence.  My legs moved underneath the blankets, shocking my flesh with
silky coolness, fading into soft warmth.  There was only silence around me,
broken only by the sound of my own breathing.  My head turned, showing the
empty eternity that was my bed, devoid of the woman who had shared it with
me for the last three years.  I was alone.

Alone.

My body ached to hold Amber again, to feel her love near me again.  It was
only yesterday we'd held each other close, the darkness around us dispelled
by our love.

It was over.

She'd left earlier that day, for good.  Her things were gone from our home,
the only reminders of her: a few trids, a few unremembered trinkets... her
smell in the bed I laid in.  And the memories.

The memories....
. . .

The mists of my dreams parted, and I was in the past...  I was still a
decker, still at MatrixTechnologies.  Silver spread around me, the mists
forming the electronic world on the Grid.  Lines of electricity arced
across the world, datalines ran from silver pyramids to silicon and optical
chip doors, corrundum metachips blending into a data vault.  The walls
shimmered, bending as the Black ICE came again, unstopped by either my
passcodes or defense programs.  Lances of electricity struck me, pain ran
across my electronic body.  Bright lights, excrutiating agony running like
acid through optical veins....

In my dream, I awoke: cold sweat pouring off my naked body.  Four years,
and I still hadn't shaken the flashbacks from that freak Black ICE attack.
I reached over to hold Amber....  My hands touched her shoulders, and her
form turned around.  The face... that face... the vampire I'd killed on my
first run in the night...  Out for my blood, just like she had been years
ago.  My hands closed around the knife, and I stabbed her chest with that
silver spike, just as I had before.  Blood spurted over me, and she
collapsed, dead.

"Why did you kill me, John?"  Amber's voice.

No choice -- kill or be killed.  Survival.  Instinctive.

"You drove me away, John Black," Amber's ghost formed from the mists of my
dream, "You drove my love away."

Survival.  Instinctive.  Repent.  No!

"Take me back, John...  take me."

The succubus, the Amber of my dreams, reached for me and I plunged into her
depths...  Her eyes, those beautiful amber eyes....

Those glowing black eyes, the face of that Black ICE construct, before mine.

The ICE struck for me again; pain, agony, acid, fire.

   ***
   Your passcode has expired.
   ***

I turned, trying to run...  the ICE construct chasing me, a nebulous form
of my worst fears and nightmares.  The gateways closed as I rushed, but my
form passed around the datalocks, moving at the speed of light through
optical lines.  The silver pyramid... my access route back to my body...

Clot and frag it!  Didn't disengage the datalogs!

   I looked around, the wagemage watching over my cyberterminal, her eyes
   locked on mine.

   "Hi.  My name's Amber... first day on the job?"

   "Yeah...  Name's John -- John Black."

   Life locked in fast forward, blurring as Amber and I fell in love....

The world of my dreams shimmered as I jacked out.  Amber, the wagemage,
watching over my cyberterminal, her eyes locked on mine.

As I watched in horror, she turned into the Vampire...  the Cyberterminal
quivering as the Black ICE struggled to break free.  I turned and ran.

My gun... that's the only answer.  The only solution is the final solution:
it was time to take control of my life, and my dreams.  I lifted my pistol, the

blue targetting triangle leveling on the Amber-Vampire.  It kicks through my
arm, the recoil of the Flichette pistol spreading through my body...
"JOHN!"

"AMBER!"

Her bleeding body fell, her dying form poisoned by my Fletcher.  My deeds
killed her.

The world became blurred by my tears, the mists beginning to burn away in
the heat of the winters night.
. . .

The streams of dawn's light caressed my tear-streaked face.  I'd made it
through the night.  I was still alone.

But I survived.

.  .  .

copyright (c) 1991 by William D. Yang.
. . .

WANTED:  Collaborative storyline to join in on.  If you've got a good
magipunk line that could use a cynical PI....  For the incredibly modest
fee of 800 creds a day, plus reasonable expenses, your satisfaction is
guaranteed.  For more details, contact Nightrunner Investigations, via
wyang@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu
--
William D. Yang         wyang@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu         Yang.25@osu.edu
It's really -JUST- my opinion.         "State the obvious: it confuses people!"
"If you've gotta lurk, you may as well lurk with class... or, in my case,
Semi-demi-quasi-pseudo Class...."            [Quotes by Ray, SDQP-Lurker@Large]