From: fjohnson@furs.rutgers.edu (Floyd Johnson)
Subject: more schwarze CP-part 4?
Date: 11 Mar 92 16:54:30 GMT


Yes, it's me again. If you've been following my spew so far (thank
you, BTW), you're familiar with the premise thus far: A cyborg gets into an
interracial relationship, getting into battles with super fascists
over that, an imminent takeover, and the murder of his inventor. This
installment attempts to portray Kate as the average American woman for
her time, though the folks in rec.martial-arts may be ready to flame
me for the lack of detail.

This one is a little more CP than the previoud ones, as there's some
VR usage, including my idea for the "trodeless" interface. Tactile
reception and transmission are performed by piezoelectric circuits
(the piezocrystal flexes when current is applied, and emits current
when flexed) in data gloves and ,in this case, sparring equipment.
Sight and sound are managed by an LCD-projection visor (remember the
automotive "Navigator"?) with small speakers in the earpieces.

>From here, I gotta see about having Darrin fess up to her, then get
into a fix where his NO2 cartridge backfires, KOing him, and then find
himself no longer in control of his body.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few days after that bike bit. Darrin has been off-and-on analysing
the cybergoon remains from there, and here's one of the "off" periods.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
	Darrin arrived at the gym, expecting to pump a little iron. He passed
by the wrestling room and happened to get a glimpse of Kate. She was
strapping on piezopads over her tank top and gi pants at the time, and
noticed him, in turn.
	"Hi", she began, "I'm just about to get into a match with someone in
Frisco." As she spoke, she adjusted her VR visor. "Care to watch?"
	"Yeah; I could learn a thing or two." He replied quickly, so
as to conceal his astonishment with her figure. His eyes located the
rack of visors from which she had drawn, and strapped one on.
	The room he saw resembled a classic Japanese dojo. On one
wall, he saw a diminutive Asian woman, dressed in a full gi, and sporting a
black belt. Across from her stood a figure about his height, encased
in samurai armor, a white hachimaki filling in for a helmet. Below the
headband was the Caucasoid face he recognized as belonging to Kate
Jensen, a look of determination playing across her lips. They parted
as she began the introductions.
	"Darrin, this is `Bloody' Mary Lin." The shorter woman
bowed. "Mary, this is Darrin Allen." He bowed in return, imagining a
gong sounding behind him. He realized, however, the gong wasn't inside
his mind.
	"Threw in everything, didn't you?" he asked.
	"It was her idea", Kate replied, "that's how we keep track of
bout starts and ends. She thought it classier than a digital referee."
	With that, they assumed their positions, and the gong sounded.
As they sparred, Darrin noticed that Bloody Mary threw mostly simple
techniques, though in funky combinations. Kate, however, applied more
intricate attacks. <It's a wonder she isn't on her ass by now>, he
thought, noting that despite the accoutrements of her persona, he
could easily make out the curves.
	What continually saved her from being scored on was that her
blocks kicked ass. Whenever she took too long to place a roundhouse
kick, she rushed a backfist. Darrin marveled at her speed; Mary hadn't
scored a contact by time the gong sounded again.
	"So, Darrin, how did *that* grab you?"
	"That has to be the best offensive/defensive combination I've
seen in a while."
	"My sentiments exactly",Mary added, "We oughta meet again
sometime; perhaps you might want to spar."
	"C'est possible."
	The three of them bowed, and "Bloody Mary"'s image elegantly
faded out, leaving Darrin and Kate in the virtual dojo.

	"He's too much for our cybertroops".
	The Order's command was in conference, determining what to do
about the super-cyborg. The slender, bespectacled Information Minister
replied to the Security Minister's observation, "Maybe he is a Brother
who just aint *heard*."
	The behemoth at the head of the table rose. "Whatever or
whoever he is, we'll have to send in something better." He turned to
the Minister of Production. "Work your ass off on the software;
produce an 'infiltrator'. It'll bring him to us, either by reason or
by parts. "