From: rsf@cs.nott.ac.uk (Rich Fannon (Tricky))
Subject: Real World (first attempt)
Date: Sun, 12 Dec 93 16:46:49 GMT

Ok, this is my first attempt at anything like this, so be gentle.....

Fragment of something in progress - comments, kudos and flames to
rsf@cs.nott.ac.uk

And Harliquin is _supposed_ to be spelt like that :=)

                          Real World

"Welcome to the Technotraz.", said Harliquin, kicking the door closed.  Jenny
smiled from the centre of the room and spun delicately on her heel, taking in
the sight.

Two murals, one half-completed.  A third wall covered in posters of cult movies
and stims.  The fourth wall was glass, looking out over the twilight Sprawl.  A
lower corner had been shattered at one stage and patched with a piece of
yellowing translucent plastic.  Contents: shabby, but clean - a heavily patched
sofa and a table with a crate somewhere in its ancestry.  Floor cushions were
scattered liberally around.  The room could seat a dozen - in comfort if not in
ceremony.

Harliquin moved over to the window.  Smoke, glowing red at its' base, curled up
from the middle distance.  He estimated it at about a mile.

"Queens Park burns again.", he murmured.  Jenny joined him and slipped an arm
round his shoulders.  Harliquin absently hugged her, his lips moving
soundlessly, uttering a prayer of protection and peace.  He looked down,
cocking his head quizzically.

Harliquin abruptly broke the embrace and turned into the centre of the room.

"Lights." he stated, "And some mellow music.".  The overhead light flickered
into dim life and the music centre hummed selecting a track.  A slow complex
rhythm filled the room, an unidentified instrument swooping high over the
stave and then diving into a growl.

Jenny turned towards him, head slightly tilted, questioning.

"Bruce Cockburn," he answered the unasked question, "Mid to late twentieth
century."

"I didn't know you were into classical."

"I only found out about this guy 'cause a mate at the Kings Arms was into him."

They fell silent as the vocalist began, speaking about dawn on a Tibetan
hillside, the instrument - what was it? - accompanying his monotone.

Without warning, a piano entered - a descending appeglio - before the speaker
burst into song.

	"Weavers fingers flying on the loom,
	 Pattern shifts to fast to be discerned.
	 All these years of thinking,
	 Ended up like this,
	 In front of all this beauty,
	 Understanding Nothing."

Jennys' breath caught in her throat as an solo began.  The piano joined the
other instruments, producing a beautifully, complex, interwoven, rhythm that
the unidentified instrument - it must be a synthesiser - danced around.

She suddenly found tears running down her cheeks, the atmosphere, the music and
her tired, emotional state conspiring make her lose control.  Jenny stopped
analysing and let the music take her.

Harliquin watched silently, almost impassively as the music drew to a close.
Then he grinned.

"It has that effect on me too.", he said.

Jenny was surprised; men in her world didn't usually admit their emotions and
she was sure that it was the same on the street.  Her assessment of Harliquin
was changing rapidly with each new revelation of his personality.  She thought
she preferred this sensitive, compassionate version, but she was less and less
certain of exactly who she was going out with.  He hadn't even made a pass at
her...

"Pizza?" Harliquins' voice jerked her out of her muse.  He was holding the
phone and looking at her.

"Actually," he said, dialing, "I'd better phone the clinic - with the riot and
everything I might be needed."

He pressed a couple of buttons, and was answered on the second ring.

"Hi Dave, it's 'Quin," Harliquin spoke into the handset, "How goes it? So it's
a bit early yet? Hang on."

He covered the mouthpiece with one hand and looked up at Jenny.

"Do you have any medical training?" he asked.
"A bit of first aid."
"You said you wanted to learn how to help people..."
"A-ha..."
"We needed down at the clinic - it's not going to be pleasant."
"Ok."

Harliquin uncovered the phone and spoke again

"Dave? Jenny'll be there as well."

		*		*		*

The flak jacket was bulky and uncomfortable, but Harliquin had insisted that
Jenny wore it.  He'd replaced his customary jacket with a long, dark coat.
Jenny had been shocked when he pulled a gun case and a box of cartridges out
from under his bed - she thought that Harliquin only ever used the dart-gun.
The shotgun was now concealed underneath his coat and Jenny was carrying a pair
of stun grenades stuffed into her jacket pockets.  Their weight felt strangely
comforting.

More gunfire - she flinched unconciously.  Even Harliquin seemed disconcerted
by this exchange of fire and he quickened his pace.  Jenny found herself
breaking into a skipping walk to keep up.  She glanced at his face - an
impassive, emotionless mask that chilled her.  He hadn't spoken a word since
they had left the apartment, his vocabulary reduced to grunts and gestures.

Her parents had hit the roof when she rang them.  It had taken Harliquin at his
most loquacious to persuade them that there was absolutely no way that he could
get her home through the riot and she would be safer at the clinic than
anywhere else.

She wasn't sure any more.  Harliquin seemed to have as many faces as his
namesake had colours.  This latest one scared her more than the rape gang had.

Fifty metres ahead, a warm glow issued from a converted tenement building.
With the clinic in sight, Harliquin seemed to relax, but as they neared it his
body tensed.  Voices echoed from the garage that had been converted into a
reception, upraised angry voices.

He motioned for Jenny to say put and stepped slowly and carefully towards the
clinic.  After a moments indecision, Jenny hurried after him.  Harliquin shot
her a dirty look, but said nothing.

The voices grew more distinct as they grew closer, both corperate accents.  One
had the Anglo-American vowel sounds of Gentech, the other was oriental.
Gentech was shouting at the calm, confident oriental.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just blow you're fucking head
off and just come in here anyway!"

"I would advise you in the strongest terms not to do that sir.  Your voiceprint
has been recorded and may be used to convict you if you commit any illegal
act."

Harliquin picked his way through the shattered glass and drew a bead on the
shouter.

They were five of them, dressed in the white suits and hoods of Ks'.  They were
definately armed for bear - the first few seconds of this confrontation were
going to be critical.  Harliquin recognised the oriental as Mariko, a woman he
knew vaguely.  Her eyes widened at the sight of him - damn.

Gentech through back his head and roared with laughter.  "Come on," he laughed,
 "Lets trash this place!"

The shotgun roared, startlingly loud.  Harliquin rocked with the weapons kick
as the tip of Gentechs' hood was shredded by buckshot.

"Harliquin thinks that will be very difficult; with nothing but bone fragments
where there should be knees..."

For a moment no-one moved; time froze.  Then, the K next to the leader suddenly
blurred.  Harliquin had always alternated buckshot and solid shot in the
shotguns' magazine and the slug struck the half-drawn pistol, ripping it out of
the mans' hand.

"Unless anyone has a reaction time higher than 34 on the Voight-Cambert scale,
I suggest that you place your weapons on the floor."

Harliquin always exaggerated his offical score.  It had always given him an
edge and this time was no exception.  Gentech dropped his pistol and ripped off
the remains of his hood.  He was black.  Harliquin knew enough history to
appriciate the irony.

"Ok, hands on heads."

The mob had started to comply when David burst in.  Harliquin nodded
curtly to him.

"I thought I'd told you to get rid of that thing!", David was
definately in no mood for pleasantries.

Harliquin scowled, but said nothing.

"The police say that they are on the way, David", Mariko spoke
quietly, visibly shaken.

David nodded and turned back to Harliquin, "And when they get here you
can hand that gun over to them."

"No.", Harliquin still spoke in that same quiet, emotionless voice,
his eyes still fixed on the Ks',  "We've been though this David.  If J
was a pacifist then he would have told the soldiers to lay down there
weapons rather than just to stop taking bribes."

David sighed.  "Ok.", he said resignedly and looked towards the still
frozen woman, "What sort of medical training do you have, Jenny?"

Jenny started.  Her mind was still playing, in slow motion, the moment
when Harliquin and the K had both blurred.  Her ears still rang from
the shotguns roar.

"Jenny?"

She blinked and tried to answer.  "Um, a first aid course.  Mostly
scalds and home emergencies."

David nodded.  "That'll be fine.  We've probably got about five
minutes before the casualites start arriving so I'll try to get you
through the basics.  'Quin - you'd better stay on security since
you're so attached to that weapon."

Harliquin coloured, but said nothing.

David beckoned and walked towards the curtain that separated the
reception from the clinic proper.  As Jenny started walking, someone
started screaming.  It seemed like an omen.

Behind her, Harliquins' eyes flicked over the group of disarmed Ks' -
passionless and emotionless.