From: strake@coos.dartmouth.edu (strake)
Subject: Riding High
Date: 23 Jul 92 20:50:37 GMT

feedback is welcomed, I've put some time into this, and would honestly
like to know how I could make it better.

			Riding High

	God, he could feel it now. He was seriously tuning himself in.
 There was nothing that compared to being rigged to a bike.  Absolutely
nothing. It was better than any of the hundreds of drugs Kidd had taken
in his seventeen years. When he was rigged, he was the bike. The bike
was he. The engines blasted through his blood, his heart pounded in
time to the pistons, and his head swirled in the flood of information fed
directly into his brain from the bikes sensors. He didn't need to see or
hear The real senses were those fed to him by the bike's computer.
Engine efficiency, tire stress, terrain readings, traction evaluations, auto-
cannon firing configs, you name it. It was all there. He knew it all. He
knew exactly what his vehicle could do, exactly what its limits were. He
expected to push every single one of those limits and make that bike do
things that had never been seen before.

	Starting by blowing these rebels he thought as a new squad of the
off-roaders came into view over the top of the ridge. They were finally
getting smart in their attack plans. This time the six trucks came
crashing down the rocky face in a wide arc making it impossible for him
to face any single one without giving the rest some great shots at his ass.
His scanners fed him all available information on the trucks. They were
six wheelers, reasonably armored, and carrying rocket launchers and
machine guns.  Slower than he was but better armored. One hit from one
of their rockets, and he was history.  He didn't plan on getting hit. The
RL's were useless if he was within fifty meters,  and he was certain that
he could manuever his bike faster than they could keep their MG's
marked on him.

	Deciding that traditional tactics were not going to work in this
 situation, (especially since they currently had all the advantages -- more
 guys, higher ground, better fire power) he figured it was time to show
 them rebels what a rigger could do when strapped into the proper
 vehicle. With that thought, in fact almost before he finished thinking it,
 the bike was reacting. Turning almost in mid-air, he leaned low towards
 the downside of the hill to keep the bike from flipping when it touched
 the ground. Kicking the booster as soon as the tires touched, he ramped
 off a rock to gain some airtime, and flew out over the truck guarding the
 right flank. Doing a half-roll in the air, he lined himself up and sent a
 single rocket into the cabin of the truck. The truck blew as he went
 sailing over it. The flames engulfed him and the bike and he thanked
 whatever gods convinced the engineers to make everything, including his
 bodysuit, fire-proof and heat resistant. One down, five to go.

	Finishing his roll, he hit the ground facing the rest of the trucks.
 The bike paused momentarily while his spinning tires dealt with the
 change in momentum.  He smiled at the his good fortune.  Four of the
 last five vehicles were laid out in vague line directly in front of him.  Talk
 about easy pickings.  Making a reminder to keep an eye on the last one,
 he jumped forward as the tires grabbed, and let loose with a long
 sustained round from his auto-cannon.  It felt better than taking a piss
 you've held in for too long.  Within seconds, he had disabled the four in
 front of him. Six guys wanted him dead. Now five of them weren't
 wanting much of anything anymore.

	Avoiding the blast after desting the fourth one he turned his bike
 to face his last opponent. The truck was still trying to adjust to his new
 position. There was no way these slower trucks could turn fast enough
 to keep a bead on him in this rough terrain. He was surprised that this
 guy was still trying to turn and face him. If it had been him, he would
 have long ago surrendered or run away. He couldn't understand why
 these rebels insisted on fighting these losing battles. Especially this guy
 in front of him. As soon as he detected a hostile motion from the truck,
 the poor guy in it was dead. The truck had been locked in his sights for
 almost five seconds now. Still no move from it. This dude's a cool one he
 thought.  Refuses to give up, but knows he can't win, so he's just going
 to stand there and die. Kidd's scanners reported that the truck
 disengaged its weapons.  He pumped the nitro, and sent the bike flying
 over the truck. What the hell. One rebel left alive isn't gonna make a
 difference, he thought as he cruised off, leaving the truck behind him.

*****

	Back in the Corp's racks he had some dinner, gave his report, and
 headed straight for his room. He was already a little late for his "date" on
 the StimCon. There was this really incredibly cool girl he had been
 talking to lately,  and yesterday she had told him that she would have a
 surprise for him today. Maybe he'd finally get some StimSex. She'd
 kissed him once or twice and that was amazing.  He was almost afraid to
 think what something more might do to him.

	He lay down on his cot, and plugged his terminal's i/o line into
 his jack.  This always felt strange to him after rigging.  The rig interface
 was always clean and clear.  No interference at all.  Facing into the Net
 after a day of being rigged always felt like walking into a zero-g room
 with the initial clumsiness and slowness that comes while the body
 adjusts to the change in environment. Just an older technology he
 supposed.  It was cheap though.  Just about anyone couild afford a jack
 and a connection to the world-wide Net.  Not that money was an issue
 with him.  PanaSony Corp had already invested more money in him than
 they gave to some of their research facilities.  He had learned early that
 there was very little he couldn't get if he continued to do as the Corp
 requested.  So far, the only thing they ever requested was for him to rig
 and enjoy one of the best highs he'd ever found. Certainly sounded
 reasonable to him.

	If he didn't stop his mind from wandering, he was going to miss
 his meeting with Diana.  He made his connection, asserted a couple of
 thought patterns and found himself on the StimCon.  He walked into the
 entrance of the Freetron Plaza.  This was one of his favorite pre
-programmed hangouts.  The majority of the personalities that hung out
 here were single and and took on human or mostly human appearances.
 His own net-form was that of an old fashioned biker.  He had ran across
 a collection of old movies, and had watched all the ones dealing with
 motorbikes.  They were really poor quality, some were even black-n
-white.  He couldn't stand to watch more than a few minutes of those.
 He loved the look of the bikers, thoough. Black leather, dark glasses, the
 attitude that they were going to die, and they were going to have fun
 doing it. And of course the babes loved a biker. There were always three
 or four beautiful women hanging off their shoulders. He wondered if he'd
 ever have real sex.  Not this StimSex, but real honest skin to skin sex
 with a girl.  Certainly not today.  Maybe if he could get this Diana to tell
 him who she really was.  Maybe they could meet in person.  Of course
 she might not like him then.  His five foot six 120 pound frame did not
 compare to the six foot 180 pound net-form. Someday maybe, until then
 the StimCon would have to do. Now if he could only find Diana.

	There she was. She was watching two guys go head to head in
 some combat hologame. He couldn't really tell what it was from his
 position. Apparently the two were pretty good since a sizable crowd had
 gathered around to watch. She spotted him as he came near, and
 smiled. Making a show of looking at the watch she didn't need to wear,
 she made some crack about his being but a measly fifteen minutes late
 and thus according to his standards almost punctual. She shushed his
 apologies and told him to follow her. It was time for the surprise she had
 promised him. They traveled into what appeared to be an elevator.  She
 pressed a long series of buttons which he absently recorded.  Habit he
 mused.  Always store away information that might be useful. The doors
 closed and opened again within microseconds.

	The scene he saw before him was like nothing he had ever seen
 before.  He recognized it as a forest from some books he had read once
 upon a time.  He had never seen one before, but this one certainly
 seemed realistic enough.  Especially for a personal program.  He was
 nearly blown over by the assault on his senses. So many new things he
 had never sensed before. He smelled what he assumed were the trees,
 and heard a strange chirping trilling music in the background. A story
 triggered his memory, and he realized those He could smell the trees,
 and hear birds, and when he put his hand down to touch the water
 splashing over the rocks he jerked his hand away quickly from the cold,
wet sensation he felt.  This is a really well-programmed stimulator, he
 thought.

	He asked her if she had done it.  Nodding, she asked him if he
 liked it.  "This is amazing, I've never actually experienced anything like
 this. I know that there are places left on earth which still look like this,
 but I've certainly never seen one.  How did you know what to program?
 Have you ever been into the wilderness?"

	"Yes," she said. "I've lived not too far away from a place similar to
this, and if I have my say, I'll always live in "the wilderness" as you call it.
 It's far more beautiful than this weak stimulation, but I wanted you to
 see it.  I wanted to know if you could actually enjoy something like this.
 I am very happy to see that you like this." She grinned and slid
 seductively up to stand next to him. "Maybe there's hope for you yet."
 Tilting her head up,  she kissed him long and hard.  He felt like he must
 be in heaven.

*****

The next day he was doing a simple perimeter recon. Since there was
never much going on, he enjoyed these as a chance to just cruise, pipe in
some music, and have some fun. Today he was flying. He was still on a
high from the StimSex with Diana the night before, and the way he rode
reflected that. He was spending as much time in the air as a ground
vehicle could. She had been so creative. It had felt so good. He hadn't
realized that a stimulation could make him feel so strange and wonderful
and happy to be alive. He couldn't even think about it without sending
his bike's systems haywire.

	He slammed on the brakes and came to stop at the edge of a cliff.
He could of sworn he had just seen an explosion to the south.  Yeah,
there was another one.  Switching his visuals to magnify, he took in the
fight taking place about a mile away.  There were three of the standard
rebel trucks being chased by ten PanaSony trikes. He noticed that the
trucks had already disabled at least four trikes that he could see,
probably more. It looked like these were some very competent truckers.
One of them took a sharp turn, and did an apparently purposeful roll
down an embankment into an old river bed.  Slamming it into reverse,
the trucker was quickly out of sight of the trikes which cruised by
unknowing that their prey had very nicely outsmarted them.

	Wondering if he could nail the rebel with a rocket from where he
was, he sized up the distance. Barely within range, but he was fairly
certain he could at least get close enough to it to do it some damage.
Besides, if he didn't know, he obviously needed to test it and find out.
Fthoom! Wow!  Couldn't get much closer than that. He chuckled, poor
guy probably never even knew what hit him. Just goes to show what a
properly equipped rigger can do.

	He was still feeling good when he drove into racks. He couldn't
wait to finish his report, and connect, and tell Diana all about the great
day he had had.

*****

Two days later he still hadn't been able to find her, and was really
starting to worry about her. He started asking around after her, but none
of the people that knew of her had seen her either. He had tried
accessing her files, and was surprised to learn she was living in one of
the rebel-protected areas. However, nothing else was available to him.
The ice guarding her accounts was too good for his novice hacking
attempts. He was trying to decide if he should contact a runner and pay
him to get to her files when this girl approached him in the lounge of the
Freetron. She had heard that he was looking for Diana, and she knew
that he was kind of special to her. Diana had talked to her a lot about
him. She didn't want to tell him this, but she figured he had a right to
know. Diana was currently classified MPD -- Missing Presumed Dead.
She and two other trucks had never returned from a raid the day before
yesterday.

	He jerked away from the news so fast he yanked his connection
right out of the wall and his reeling senses found him back in his room
curled into a ball. He tried to convince himself it was a bad dream or
something, a stimulator malfunction. He couldn't. He lay there for what
seemed like a long time before he got up, stiffly, and walked out of the
room and out of the racks.  He mounted his bike and rode into the night.
He never did report to work the next day.

*****
copyright July 1992 by Sean Jameson
strake@dartmouth.edu
Kidd is my creation (he's loosely based on a shadowrun character)
However since he's seventeen, and just had his world pulled out from
under his feet, he's currently wide open for interpretation.  I'm
always open to suggestions if you want to use him.


--
   _____________________                 strake@dartmouth.edu
  /  __/_ __  __     __  | "And finally, to these two who are about to wed,
 `--, /  /_/ /_/ /, /_   |  may he always have the last two words in any
 __/ /  / \ / / /\ /_    |  argument -- 'Yes dear'.  - Best Man's speech