From: gearris@aol.com (Gearris)
Subject: Network 1.1  "Pilot"  (0/2)
Date: Sun Mar 26 19:20:36 MET DST 1995

The future: it's supposed to be bright and sunny.  No wars, no poverty,
everyone is content.  Mankind has decided to better himself through
learning.  Life is full of promise and hope.

Get real.

It's almost the twenty-second century, and life has never sucked as much
as this.  In the nameless masses of New York City lives Weiland Stone, a
network spy for The Operation.  His assignment is simple, swipe a product
database from a weapons manufacturer.  Bonnie Nemmel, Weiland's girlfriend
and television reporter, has been hearing rumors on NewsNet of a
conspiracy.  As she digs for the truth, she's unknowingly digging her
grave.  Can Weiland save her?  Can he save himself?


It's the first episode in a new series.  Remember--in the future no one is
innocent.


From: gearris@aol.com (Gearris)
Subject: Network 1.1  "Pilot"  (1/2)
Date: Sun Mar 26 19:20:46 MET DST 1995

Network
Epsiode #1--Pilot
By Josh Puetz
Comments welcome at gearris@aol.com

 "Please enter password for voice verification," came the voice from the
door speaker.  Weiland Stone looked up from the mail he had grabbed.
"Just open the damn door."
 The door processed the voice for a moment.  "Voice approved.  Welcome
home, Mr. Stone."  Weiland grunted and went inside.  He threw his coat on
a nearby chair, and dumped the bills into the incinerator slot in the
kitchen.  The lights in the apartment's living room powered up slowly,
casting a dim shadow over the sparse furniture.  Weiland glanced at the
wall clock and turned on the TV.  Eight o'clock.  Just in time for
Bonnie's story.
 The empty apartment wall came to life with the images of the nightly
news.  Weiland stood near the window and looked out at the city at night,
enjoying his 30th floor view of the downtown district.  Being a NetSpy had
its advantages, one of which was the sizable income.
 "And here's Channel Four's Bonnie Nemmel with a special report."  Weiland
turned back to the TV and sat down on the couch.  Bonnie had made him
promise on their last date to watch this report.  "You'll love it," she
had said.  He had just rolled his eyes and agreed.  The things a guy did
for love.
 Bonnie's face appeared on the wall screen.  She was outside, her blond
hair was being violently thrown around by the wind.  "I'm in front of the
corporate headquarters of Dansmu Inc.  The discovery of Dansmu CEO Lyle
Aaron's body two weeks ago has set in motion a federal probe of Dansmu's
operations.  The Justice Department announced today that it would be
shutting down Dansmu's headquarters for an indefinite period while federal
agents try to sort out this and other murders of high level Dansmu
officials."  The camera panned upward to get a shot of the 120th floor of
the tall black building.
 Bonnie continued her report as the camera closed in on the window of the
former Dansmu CEO on the 112 floor.  "In an exclusive interview, an
informant who asked not to be identified said that recent Dansmu dealings
with NetSpys may have lead to Aaron's death.  This is Bonnie Nemmel,
reporting from the Business District."
 Weiland hardly had time to blink before his system was signaling an
incoming connection.  He picked up the headset from the table near the
couch, and slipped it over his head.  He leaned back into the couch as the
headset's interface plugs went into his ears and connected with his brain.
 Weiland's heart skipped a beat and he had to breath deeply as his system
connected with his brain.
 In a few moments, everything went black.  Weiland couldn't see much, but
he could feel everything in his apartment.  In a few more seconds, he
could see any part of his apartment through the internal home security
cameras.  As the system computer became integrated with Weiland's mind, he
could feel information flow into his soul.
-SystemOn-
-CheckingForViruses-
-VirusesNoneInitiatingStartupRoutine-
-StandBy-
-IncomeRequestForConnectionFromRotoNetAnonymousUser-
 His system was informing him of an incoming request for communication.
Weiland made sure that his system's virus filter was active, and then
connected himself to RotoNet, an international network for communication.
Just the fact that he was receiving a call from an anonymous user was
enough to peak Weiland's curiosity.  He thought the commands to his
system.
LogOnRotoNet
-RotoNetStart-
-WelcomeToRotoNet-
AcceptIncomingCommRequest
<WeilandHereWhoIsCalling>
<<Beetle21>>
<WhatDoYouWantIToldYouNotToContactMeHere>
<<DidYouWatchTheNewsOnTVYourBonnieWasBlamingANetSpyForDansmu
CEOsDeath>>
<ItWasntHerFaultSheWasJustCoveringAStorySheDoesntKnowAboutMe>
<<IHopeNotIfSheFindsOutYouAreANetSpySheCouldDoALotOfDamageTo
TheOperation>>
<LeaveBonnieOutOfThisSheDoesntKnow>
<<KeepItThatWayIWouldHateToHaveToEliminateHerSeeingYouCareForHerJustDontSt
artUsingYourPantsToThinkInsteadOfYourHead>>
-ConnectionAnonymousUserAtRotoNetTerminatedAtRemoteEnd-
 Weiland severed his connection with his system, and felt the slow release
of the computer on his mind.  As the apartment became clear around him
again he closed his eyes, thinking about what to do next.


 Bonnie Nemmel loved her job.  She was fortunate, not many people like
their careers.  Unfortunately, her feelings for her boss were another
matter.
 "What do you mean, I tried everything to get a comment from Dansmu.  They
just aren't talking!" she shouted across the office at Joe Monson, her
boss.  "With the government calling the shots, nobody's going to make a
statement."
 Joe leaned back against his desk and stared long and hard at Bonnie.  She
was the station's best reporter and she knew it.  He really hated to deal
with these ego types.  "Listen, all I'm saying is maybe you aren't talking
to the right people."
 Bonnie pounded her fist on the desk in anger.  "No, you listen.  Get off
my case about this story.  Yeah, I could go talking to the Justice
Department, but I don't want them to start investigating me.  You know how
it goes, as soon as some reporter starts snooping in the Government's
business, they mysteriously get a knock on the door from the Population
Control.  Remember Sandy?"
 This gave Joe something to think about.  When he didn't say anything
back, Bonnie stomped out of his office and down the hall to the elevator.
Sandy Bertris had been an up and coming reporter Joe worked with when he
was first promoted to producer.  But she got in too deep with a story on
government waste.  A few days later, she was missing.  The official report
said she was kidnapped, but to everyone in the industry it was no secret
that Sandy had been marked for extermination by the Population Control
Agency.
 The Population Control Agency had been established to find solutions to
the problems of overcrowding.  They had found one all right, Population
Control Agents were used to kill people in their apartments to make room
for more political and socially important tenants.  The Government had
also been secretly known to send Population Control Agents to silence
anyone who badmouthed the Government.
 Joe stared at the elevator doors as they closed behind Bonnie.  A good
story was one thing, but not at the cost of your life.  He hoped she knew
what she was getting into.


 Weiland got up from the couch and rubbed his forehead.  He had been a
NetSpy for almost two years.  He would use his headset to connect with
corporate computers and steal sensitive files and inside information.  He
then passed these files along to the Operation, a group of secret
businesses that paid high prices for the information Weiland stole.  In
exchange for the files, the Operation paid Weiland and worked to hide him
from the sight of the authorities.
 None of that was public knowledge, however.  To the public, NetSpys were
seen as a high tech folk hero.  Ordinary people seemed to identify with
the concept of somebody giving the sometimes unfair network authorities
the slip.  It gave them someone to cheer for.  The idea of a NetSpy
killing the CEO of a powerful corporation like Dansmu was unthinkable.
 Weiland heard the doorbell, and found Bonnie standing behind the door.
"Hi."
 "Hi.  Did you see my story?"
 Weiland grinned.  "Yeah.  Death by NetSpys?  Was there a hidden message
in there?"
 Bonnie grinned back, walking into the apartment and shutting the door
behind her.  "Not really, but you know how I feel about you using that
headset all the time.  I just wanted you to know what happened to that CEO
because of that stupid network stuff."
 He sighed and set down her coat.  "It's not stupid.  It's not like I'm a
NetSpy or anything."  He hoped she didn't see through the lie.
 "I know, I know.  Let's just drop it," said Bonnie.  She held up two
small containers.  "Besides, I brought Chinese for dinner."


 Bonnie had to leave for work at seven o'clock the next morning.  Weiland
groggily got out of bed, and sat on the couch with a cup of coffee.  He
slipped the headset on.  Time to get to work.
-SystemOn-
-CheckingForViruses-
-VirusesNoneInitiatingStartupRoutine-
AccessNetMailBox
-EnterPassword-
InputPassword235.26.54.264.26.66.56565.78974.25768.38683
-PasswordVerifiedCheckingMailBoxStandBy-
 Weiland waited for the list of his messages to come up.  Normally his
contact from the Operation, Beetle21, would send him the assignment for
the day by electronic message every morning.  Weiland could always refuse
a job, but not agreeing to retrieve a file for a client could cost him
more profitable assignments from the Operation in the future.  The Net
MailBox was a sort of computer answering machine, overnight Weiland's
system kept track of all incoming messages.  Beetle21 didn't like to
communicate during the day, he was afraid the net police would be tracing
his signal.
-1MessageAtNetMailBox-
ReadMessage
-MessageStart-
---RecievedFromAnonymousUserAtWesternExtentNet---
---Good Morning, Weiland.  I've only got one job for you today.  Copy---
---file #884598 from the network at Sugezi Corp.  You can access their---
---data base via WesternExtentNet, make sure you aren't traced by the
feds.---
---Be aware that Sugezi's system may try to tag you.  Deposit the copied
file---
---at TriNet, Node 784.  That's all I got for you today.  Good Luck.  By
the way,---
---make sure that Bonnie doesn't start snooping around the nets.  I
heard---
---a rumor out of NewsNet that she was going after the Dansmu story.---
---Trust me, a NetSpy was not responsible for Aaron's death.---
---Beetle21---
-MessageEnd-
 Weiland deleted the message after reading it.  He went over the
assignment in his head.  Getting on to WesternExtentNet was easy enough,
it was a low level network out on the west coast.  TriNet was no problem
either, it was easy to sneak a file through that network without getting
caught.  The problem was the security system at Sugezi.  If the system
there tagged him, the net police would be able to trace him anytime in the
future he logged on to a network.  It would be a serious setback to work
that would cost Weiland several thousand credits to fix.  Beetle21 didn't
mention a payment, which meant the standard rate of five thousand credits
per file.  Not bad for work that was going to take an hour to complete.
LogOnAtWesternExtentNet
-WesternExtentNetStart-
-WesternExtentNetSystemRequestPasswordForLogOn-
InputPassword4582.3213213279138978.7885.78278.6988.272.87582
-PasswordVerifiedWelcomeToWesternExtentNet-
AccessCorporateDatabases
-EnterTargetCorporation-
InputSugeziCorporation
-StandByProcessingRequest-
 Milliseconds later, the list of database access routes for the Sugezi
Corporation came up.  While Weiland could have just gone directly to the
Sugezi databases, going through a few smaller networks would make it hard
for anyone to trace him.
ConnectToSugeziNode112932viaWesternExtentNetRouter832
-StandByRoutingConnectionRequest-
-EnterNameForRouterRequest-
InputAnonymous
-ConnectionOpen-
CopyFile884598SugeziNode112932ToTriNetNode784
-AccessToFileRestricted-
TransferSubProgram911ToSugeziNode112932
 The Sugezi system had blocked his access to the files he needed.  Weiland
smiled to himself and slipped a snooper program in the Sugezi system.  It
would give him all the access he needed.
CopyFile884598AtSugeziNode112932ToTriNetNode784
-AccessGrantedFileCopied-
-SecurityRequestForConnectionGranted-
<<ThisIsSugeziCorpSystemAdministrationPleaseIdentifyYourselfYouAreIn
ViolationOfFederalNetworkLaw>>
EmergencyDisconnect
-SystemOff-
 Weiland gasped as he was suddenly dropped out of his system and back into
normal consciousness.  Normally, his system would prep his body for exit,
but his detection by the Sugezi administration forced him to bail out
early.  The physical strain of a sudden disconnect was enormous.  Weiland
leaned back into the couch against the increasing waves of nausea.  At
least he hadn't been traced by the Sugezi system.  He stumbled to the
bathroom to get some aspirin.


 Bonnie sat down in her office at Channel 4, WGZQ.  "Noreen," she called
to her secretary over the speakerphone, "can you get me the Justice
Department?"
 "No problem, on line three now."
 "Thanks."  Bonnie picked up the phone and hit the button for line three.
"This is the Justice Department, how may I help you?"
 Cute thought Bonnie, a nice friendly voice at the Justice Department.
How ironic.  She took a deep breath and tried to drop into a southern
accent.  "Yes, hello, this is Della Roberts at Channel 6, Atlanta.  I'd
like to talk with someone about the recent probe of the Dansmu
Corporation."
 "Hold on for a moment, Ms. Roberts.  I'll connect you with Public
Relations."  The receptionist put Bonnie on hold, and some mellow music
came over the phone.  On hold while you connect me, yeah, right.  More
like while you trace my call, thought Bonnie.  She glanced down at the
phone display and hit a discreet button on the underside on the phone
case.  Instantly, a chip inside the phone rerouted Bonnie's call signal
through a station in Atlanta, Georgia.  Trace that, she smiled to herself.
 After a few more minutes of light new age music, someone took her off
hold.  "Good morning, Ms. Roberts.  I'm Lt. John Gibson.  I understand you
wanted to talk about the federal probe of the Dansmu Corporation?"
 Bonnie made sure her call was still being rerouted through Atlanta.
"Yes, Lt. Gibson.  I'm doing a story on the recent deaths at Dansmu, and
would like a statement from the Justice Department on the matter.  I've
heard that NetSpys are involved.  Is that true?"
 She could hear Gibson ruffle some papers on the other end of the line.
"Ms. Roberts, I'm sorry but the Justice Department isn't ready to make a
statement to the press at this time."  Bonnie's heart sank.  Another dead
end.  "However, I'm interested in this rumor about NetSpys.  Where did you
hear it?"
 Uh oh, he's getting suspicious, thought Bonnie.  "Well, I can't really
reveal my sources, now can I?  You all just have to trust that it comes
from a reliable informant."  She hoped her southern accent wasn't sounding
too rehearsed.
 Gibson laughed.  "I understand fully.  If you give me your number, I'll
call you when my department has more to say."
 "That's all right.  I think I'll just give you all a ring some other
time.  Thank you."  Bonnie hung up the phone.  Gibson didn't sound too
surprised about the NetSpy rumor.  Actually, she hadn't  expected anyone
at the Justice Department to talk to her, southern accent or not.


 Lt. John Gibson of the Population Control Agency hung up the phone and
turned to the young officer who had been monitoring the incoming call.
"Did you get her?"
 Officer Mendez smiled and brushed her long black hair out of her face.
She looked up from the workstation display and smiled.  "No problem, sir.
Ms. Roberts from Atlanta is actually Bonnie Nemmel in New York.  Dumb
reporter, she only rerouted her signal through one station in Georgia.  I
got a signal lock in thirty seconds."
 Gibson took a look at the workstation display.  "Good work, Mendez.  Who
is she?"
 Mendez touched a few more keys at the workstation.  "Her file is coming
up now, sir."  On the screen, the details of Bonnie Nemmel's life were
being summarized in a few paragraphs.  Born in Ohio, moved to New York
four years ago.  Reporter for Channel Four in New York.  Made 100,000
credits a year before taxes.  Heterosexual, no transmittable diseases,
type 0 negative blood, last hospitalized for a broken arm at age 14.
"Looks pretty normal," commented Mendez.
 Gibson sighed.  "Yeah, it's looks that way.  Then again, it's always the
quiet ones that get nosy.  Is there a current address for her?"
 Mendez logged on to the National Postal Directory.  "Yeah, I've got it
right here.  Want me to notify Investigations?"
 Gibson shook his head.  "No, I'll take care of this personally.  Get me a
ticket to New York."  Mendez nodded as her superior left the room.  It was
going to be another "unofficial" operation.


 Downtown New York was typically busy for a Friday morning.  It was about
eleven in the morning, and Weiland was trying to navigate the streets
through the pouring spring rain.  A block away he saw his destination, the
G Street Bar & Grill.
 The decaying building was tucked away in one of New York's inner city
neighborhoods.  NetSpys from all over the city came here to talk, relax,
and evade the network police.  Behind the bar was a 25 year old red headed
woman serving drinks to the typical bar slime and vermin.
 "Roxie, how ya doing?" asked Weiland after he found an empty stool.
 "What are you doing here?"  laughed Roxie.  She set down an empty glass
in front of him.  "What'll it be?"
 Weiland shook his head.  "Nothing for me.  I just came to talk."
 Roxie laughed and threw back her long hair.  "Talk, huh?  Not exactly
your strong suit.  Ok, spill it, what's up?"
 "Can we talk somewhere a little more private?"
 Roxie's eyes grew large.  "Oh, one of those kinds of talks.  Awfully
serious for a Friday morning.  Ok, let's go, you know the way."
 Weiland, followed by Roxie, maneuvered his way to the back of the bar.
Inside a small broom closet, he pushed back on a false wall and shuffled
through into Roxie's back office.
 Roxie was a programmer, an illegal programmer, since she didn't belong to
the programmers' union.  As such, the Government had no way to monitor
what she programmed or where she put her software.  Illegal programmers
like Roxie were constantly avoiding the police, but to NetSpys she and
other programmers were the key to staying one step ahead of the
authorities.
 "Okay, what's the deal?  It must be pretty important if you came in here
during the day," asked Roxie as she carefully slid shut the false door to
her back office.
 Weiland took a seat on a stack of outdated computer magazines.  "I need a
patch.  I came too close to being tagged on the network by the net police,
and I think I picked up a low level tracking virus."
 Roxie rolled her eyes.  "How the mighty have fallen.  I'll see what I can
do, but it'll cost ya."
 "Of course it will," laughed Weiland.  He took out his headset from his
coat pocket and handed them to Roxie.  "I was hooked into WesternExtentNet
when it happened.  It was a routine copy job from a node at Sugezi Corp."
 She took the headset and plugged it into a small diagnostic device on the
nearby workbench.  "Your headset is a little fried.  Nothing my software
can't handle.  Now let's check you out."  She handed Weiland a small
earplug.  "It's not the custom headset you're accustomed to, but it should
do.  Sit still while I hook you up."  She plugged one end of the earplug
into a workstation while Weiland put the other end in his right ear.
 "Not the padded room!  How long is this going to take?"  he asked as
Roxie finished hooking up the connection.  A padded room was an
unnetworked workstation like the one Weiland was being hooked up to.  They
had no connections to the outside world, making them the perfect place for
tracking down computer viruses and other problems.
 "You won't be in there for long.  I need you to be in the padded room
while I check your body out.  I wouldn't want to damage your mind if I
find a virus."  Roxie set down his headset and picked up another hand held
device.  "Here's a prober connection.  Put it in your free ear, and lay
down on the table over there."  Weiland stuck the round black plug in his
left ear, and laid down on the cold steel table.  "Have fun!"  Roxie
turned on the small workstation as Weiland hooked into the padded room.
 Weiland tried to feel around, but couldn't connect with any part of the
darkness around him.  It really was a padded room.  It had been awhile
since he had to be in one of these.  The feeling was frustrating, out of
habit he constantly wanted to connect with a network.  He couldn't, he was
stuck in a single system while Roxie examined his body for viruses.  If
she found one, it would be easier on his mind if he stayed here while his
body was cleansed.  After a few minutes he felt something, Roxie was
starting up a program.  Weiland looked around and was surprised to find
himself standing on the shore of a forest lake.  He realized that his
surroundings were computer generated as he felt the cool water of the lake
splash at his ankles.  Roxie had started up a virtual reality program for
him, a program that simulated real sights and sensations through a
connected user's brain.
 Weiland hardly noticed the slight hum of the computer generated scenery
as he waded into the lake.  A small part of him hoped that Roxie would
take her time.


 Roxie set down the diagnostic pad and started to pass the medical scanner
over Weiland's body.  There it was, the retrovirus she had been chasing
around Weiland's lower brain stem for fifteen minutes.  A detailed
analysis of the virus was printed on the screen of the nearby workstation.
 She took a syringe and injected several milligrams of antibiotic into
Weiland's neck.
 It was a good thing she had found the virus before he connected to a
network.  Viruses worked in people much the same way as they did in
computers.  They were transmitted over networks, and modified a user's
headset to produce additional organic viruses in the body of the connected
user.  Their purpose was to impair a person's connection to the network,
slowing him down just enough for the Government to track his signal and
get a fix on his location.  Other viruses simply dissolved the user's
neural connections, resulting in a painful death.
 Roxie sat back and waited for the antibody to destroy the virus inside of
Weiland.  She hoped that she had found all of them.  She would have to
take blood samples to get a more accurate reading, but she doubted that
Weiland could afford the time and cost of such a procedure.


 "Ms. Nemmel, John Derick from post-production on line four," said
Bonnie's secretary Noreen from the doorway of her office.  "He's been on
hold for five minutes."
 Bonnie looked up from the rough drafts of news stories on her desk.
"Take a message.  Tell him I'll call him back next week."  Noreen nodded
and turned to leave.  "Noreen, hold all my calls and cancel my
appointments."  Bonnie watched Noreen leave, then took her coat off the
coat stand near the door.
 On her way out, she stopped at Noreen's desk.  "I'm going out for a
while.  Just use the usual excuse, okay?"  Noreen nodded and smiled.
"Right, Ms. Nemmel.  You're out doing research for a story."  Bonnie
smiled back.  "Thanks."  Today, the excuse wasn't far from the truth.


 "Sir, I have her now.  She's leaving the building."  Lt. Gibson sat back
in his chair while his junior officer continued to track Bonnie Nemmel
through a pair of binoculars seven stories up at the New York Hilton.
"She's trying to get a cab."
 Gibson took a sip of coffee out of the nearby styrofoam cup.  "Is Smith
in position?"
 The junior officer checked a nearby computer pad.  "Smith reports that he
is in position and standing by to execute the pickup."
 Gibson got up from the chair and raised his own pair of binoculars down
to the street.  "Tell Smith to go now."  The junior officer relayed the
order over the communicator.  Moments later, a single yellow cab pulled
over next to Bonnie Nemmel on the street far below.  Gibson watched with
intense interest as she got into the cab.
 The door to the cab shut, and the vehicle left the curb to join the rush
of midday New York traffic.  Behind his binoculars, Gibson's lips curled
into a slight smile.  "Gotcha."



From: gearris@aol.com (Gearris)
Subject: Network 1.1  "Pilot"  (2/2)
Date: Sun Mar 26 19:20:53 MET DST 1995

 "Hello, Mr. Stone," Noreen said into the phone receiver.  "I'm sorry, Ms.
Nemmel is in an important meeting right now.  If you'd like, I could have
her call you back later."
 Weiland sighed on the other end of connection.  "No, that's okay.  I
guess I'll see here tonight.  Just tell her I called."
 Noreen nodded.  "Alright.  Good bye."  She let the receiver of the phone
slide into the hand of the nearby officer.  Lt. Gibson took the receiver
and hung it up.
 "Very well done," he said to Noreen.  "Did you track it?" he asked the
junior officer behind him.  The junior officer nodded.  "I apologize for
this interruption," he said, turning to look directly at Noreen, "and I
appreciate you not telling anyone about this incident.  You have my word
your family will remain safe."
 Noreen looked on somberly as Lt. Gibson and his men from the Population
Control Agency disappeared into the nearby elevator.  Mrs. Nemmel's
boyfriend would have to take care of himself.


 Weiland had been logged onto RotoNet for about two hours before he
finally contacted Roxie's system.  He left her a message to come by the
apartment later and do some checks on his equipment.  He wanted to make
sure his entire system was free of viruses.
-CheckNetMailBox-
-0MessagesAtNetMailBox-
 Weiland's eyebrows raised in curiosity.  Since he hadn't checked his
network mailbox since yesterday, he had been expecting a message from
Beetle21.  This was the first time in two years that he didn't have an
assignment for the day from the Operation.
 Weiland took the unexpected break from work to cruise some of the news
networks.  He was scanning a couple of files about the recent war in Japan
when he heard breathing.  Deep, harsh breathing, it sounded like someone
was standing right behind him.
 "Weiland."
 The soft whisper almost made Weiland jump in his seat.  He quickly
checked the security cameras inside of his apartment.  Nobody was there.
 "I'm not there.  I'm on the network."
 "Who's there?" he asked, not really expecting an answer from the
disembodied voice.
 "Log on WesternExtentNet Node 983."
 Normal human voices were hard to transmit over network connection, but
Weiland had heard of signals from cellular telephone transmissions
drifting over the networks sometimes.
LogOnWesternExtentNet
-WesternExtentNetStart-
 "Node 983," the voice urged.  Weiland opened a connection to the node.
As his system open the transfer lines, he thought the female voice sounded
familiar.  He tried to remember where he had heard it before.
 The answer hit him suddenly.  "Bonnie?"
 The connection to Node 983 opened, and a rush of information poured out
into Weiland's system like a break in a dam.  Weiland was quickly knocked
out from the overload of data.


 It took Roxie a total of ten minutes to pick the lock to Weiland's
apartment.  She had gotten suspicious after ringing the door bell for a
couple of minutes with no response.  The door opened,  and she saw Weiland
passed out on the couch with his headset on.
 She quickly pulled a medical scanner out of her backpack and stuck a
prober connection in Weiland's free ear.  As the medical specs came up on
the screen, she silently swore to herself.  Tactile sensations in his
brain were three hundred percent higher than normal.  It could only mean
one thing, Weiland was inside of a virtual reality program on the network.
 And by the look of the stress reading, he was being held there against
his will.


 Weiland's eyes slowly opened for a minute before squinting from the
bright light.  He tried to open them again, and then got up from the sandy
ground.
 He brushed the sand out of his face and looked around.  Towering dunes of
sand surrounded him and stretched to the horizon.  A harsh wind was
gusting towards him, blowing up swirls of sand in the air.  The entire sky
glowed with a brightness that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
 Weiland knew that all of the scenery around him was fake.  His headset
was still on, and he could hear the hum of computer generated scenery all
around him.  He tried to open a connection with his headset, but nothing
happened.  The headset was now just a piece of plastic.
 "You're sealed in here," said someone.  Weiland spun around to see a man
in his thirties standing a few feet away.  The man was wearing a green
uniform that made him stick out among the yellow dunes of sand.
 "Who are you?"
 "Beetle21.  I need to explain a few things to you," said the man.  He
started to walk towards Weiland.
 "Who are you really?" asked Weiland with increasing sarcasm.
 "Lieutenant John Gibson.  I'm with the Population Control Agency.  We've
been pretty pleased with your work so far.  Many of the files you've
gotten for us have been invaluable."
 Weiland tried to find the words to convey his surprise.  "The government
knows?  Why?"
 Gibson laughed.  "You didn't really think you could waltz into a
company's computers, did you?  Who do you think runs the Operation?  It's
us, the government.  We need the dirt to blackmail companies, and computer
vermin such as yourself get it for us nice and clean."
 "What does any of this have to do with me?" asked Weiland, slowly backing
away from Gibson.
 "Actually, it didn't have anything to do with you up to a day ago.  We
are very satisfied with your performance.  But we have some concerns about
the people you've been hanging around with.  Namely, this particular young
lady..."  Gibson motioned behind him, where a swirl of sand revealed a
column of light that stretched up to the sky.  Suspended in the stream of
light was a lifeless body, a woman whose long hair was twisted and tangled
by the force of the stream of light.  Weiland looked closer.  It was
Bonnie.
 Weiland's face grew red with anger.  "You monster," he muttered while he
took a swing at Gibson's face.  His fist passed though Gibson's face, and
the image started to laugh.
 "That virtual reality stuff, it'll get you every time."  Weiland moved
closer towards the column of light that held Bonnie.  "I wouldn't get to
close if I were you," advised Gibson.  "Ms. Nemmel is being suspended in a
data stream from the WesternExtentNet.  If you shove her out of alignment,
the column of information will rip her mind apart."
 "Let her go," Weiland demanded.  "She isn't involved in all of this."
 "But she is!"  The image of Gibson started to flicker as he talked.  "She
was snooping, investigating the death of a CEO at the Dansmu Corporation.
She had almost tied the Population Control Agency to the murder.  I can't
let her go public with that kind of information.  And I'm afraid I can't
let you go either, Weiland.  I'm sorry, but as of now your contract with
the operation is canceled."
 The hot wind started to gust, whipping sand up into Weiland's face.  He
kept his eyes on Bonnie.  She didn't seem to be in pain, she simply looked
frozen.
 "Weiland, can you hear me?"  The voice was familiar but soft as a
whisper.  He instinctively turned around to see who had called him.
Nobody was in sight, the image of Gibson had disappeared.
 "Weiland, it's Roxie.  Are you still there?"  Weiland put one hand up to
his headset.  It was working again.  Roxie's voice was coming through the
ear piece, full of static and barely recognizable.
 "I'm fine Roxie.  Where are you?"
 "Inside of your apartment.  I had to break the lock on your door to get
in here.  I've been analyzing your system, the net police are have almost
tracked your signal.  Get out of there now!"
 Weiland continued to survey the column of light that held Bonnie.  "I
can't.  My contact from the Operation has turned on me.  I'm trapped in a
virtual reality program.  And somehow, Bonnie is in here with me.  She's
been encased in a data stream."
 Inside Weiland's apartment, Roxie was busy using her equipment to tap
into Weiland's system.  "Okay, I understand.  I'm going to try to run a
snooper program and get you out of virtual reality."  Roxie plugged in a
small device to Weiland's system and started to transfer the snooper
program.
 "I've almost got you," said Roxie over the headset a few minutes later.
 "Roxie, get ready to pull me out of here.  I'm going to do something I
know I'll regret."  Before Roxie could answer back over the headset,
Weiland jumped into the data stream that suspended Bonnie.  He connected
with Bonnie's body and gave her a shove, pushing her into the center of
the column of light.  The stream of information instantly carried her body
up to the sky, like a stick floating downstream in a river.
 The data stream flung Weiland up into the air like Gibson said it would.
Weiland's headset shorted out and sent sparks showering into the air.
Weiland looked upward and watched the data stream carry Bonnie out of
sight before he hit the ground.


 Suddenly, Weiland woke up.  He pushed aside the thin cotton sheets from
the bed and rubbed his head, trying to wash away the memory of his latest
nightmare.
 It had been almost four months since he and Roxie left the city.  He had
flatlined while Roxie was trying to pull him out of virtual reality, and
later suffered a minor heart attack.  She had been able to stabilize him
and get him out of the apartment before the net police came.  Then she
took him to the place he was in now, an old cabin in the wilderness far
from the city.
 He got up from the bed and went to the window.  Slowly he opened it,
letting the cool night air be drawn into his body.  His head still hurt
from the shock of being pulled out of the network.  Roxie said it would be
another couple of months before his inner ears healed and he could try to
connect with the network again.  Using a headset with his damaged ears
could result in brain damage.
 Weiland stared out of the window into the trees that surrounded the
cabin.  The pale blue moonlight illuminated the tops of the forest nearby,
giving it a surreal glow.  He looked up at the sky and saw the large moon
shining down on the land.  His felt more empty at that moment then he ever
had in his life.  He thought of Bonnie, wondered where she was.  He liked
to think that wherever she was, she was looking at the same moon and
thinking of him.  Weiland hoped that somehow she could hear his thoughts.
 He never saw Bonnie again.




Next time on Network:
 On the run from the authorities, where do you turn?  Who do you ask for
help when your first plea could be your last?  Weiland and Roxie thought
anyplace would be better than the clutches of the government.  In the
ghettos of the future they find The Underground, a band of terrorists
fighting for freedom against the government.  Now Roxie is going
undercover to plant a bomb at a government installation, and Weiland is
guiding her to the target.  Will he wait for his friend to get to out, or
push the button when ordered?



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