>From: snarler@MAPLE.CIRCA.UFL.EDU (Drifter...)
Subject: REPOST: Suddenly...
Date: 10 Jul 91 08:19:02 GMT


    As Drifter reclines against the bar, picking at his fingernails with a
small pocket knife, Ratz slowly rubs at the worn surface of his bar top with a
damp rag, his arm whirring in a rhythmic fashion. The bar is crowded, but not
too loud this evening. Nekoko moves methodically between tables, a bored
experession on her face.
    When the door to the Chatsubo opens, there is the usual turning of heads
to check the new arrival, either out of curiosity, cautiousness, or a nervous
twich in a few cases.
    Nekoko, picking up an empty glass to place on her tray, glances up. She
shrieks and drops the glass. Ratz's plastic arm freezes while his other
reaches under the bar. He's not the only one reaching for a weapon. Drifter is
frozen, staring with anger and fear at the Chatsubo door.
    There is a large, shiny black collection of twigs in the doorway,
twitching. A small sphere can be seen at the center. It bears virtually no
resemblance to any of the ARES HK's.
    With the sound of a hundred ping-pong balls dropped onto the floor, the
thing rattles into the bar, like some giant sea urchin. The tips of its rods
are glowing softly. It moves rapidly but without much grace.
    "Shit," Drifter says and starts looking around, as if trying to find a way
out. It is a reflex action that allows him to see Ratz pulling out the large
Nagasaki assault rifle. "NO!" Drifter yells but the thing is already flipping
through the air over the heads of the intervening bar patrons, to land with
faint crunch on the bar top. Ratz blinks as part of the machine suddenly
twists and two black, angular arms tug the gun away from him.
    Others have begun to react by now, but the machine is to fast. It jumps
into the air, spinning as it does so, and the gun fires. The explosive blasts
fill what had been a rather quiet, shocked silence. When the machine lands, it
stands on projections like legs.
    It has no head.
    "Get the hell away from it!" Drifter yells. Nekoko has already scrambled
away, nearly tripping over chairs. The machine clicks in her direction, than
swerves and heads towards the back of the bar. It is being followed by several
street samurai, with their weapons drawn. None of them seem to eager to attack
the robot, however. It reaches the table at which Pestilance sits without
interuption.
    "'ssppen, man?" the strange, blotchy man says, peering up at a collection
of black, shiny tubes in the vague form of a human. Clattering again, the
robot latches onto Pestilance and wraps the man's torsoro with some of its
many strange, flexible limbs. Now Pestilance is encumbered with almost a sort
of jacket, from which extend long, unnatural arms and legs.
    The gun is still held in one of it's pseudo-hands.
    Drifter has spent the intervening few moments headed for the door, only to
run into a second machine, a duplicate of the first. It blocks the way out.
He glances back at the one at the other end of the bar, which is trudging a
bit slowly forwards. The Street samurai are discouraged by several more
blasts from the Nagasaki.
    Someone, perhaps an ex-ninja or a wannabe or even the real thing, takes the
moment of distraction to fling several laser sharpened blades made of woven
steel. One manages to knick a limb of the machine in front of Drifter. The
other two are snatched out of the air with inhuman speed by the robot. Each is
returned to the sender. Accurately and at high speed.
    Fortunately, the man seems to have worn his armor, and lost only an eye
for his trouble.
    Drifter backs up a bit from the machine, which clicks its way towards him.
"God damnit! Get away from me!" He starts to turn around, but he is snagged
by several limbs acting as a pincer. In another moment, he is pulled around and
encased much like Pestilance. Drifter's eyes are wide and very, very angry.
His mouth is sealed by the end of a slender, short limb.
    Now with their cargoes, the machines shuffle rapidly towards the door,
which is still open, swinging slightly on its hinges. A small mound of snow
has built up on the floor just inside the doorway. The black, spiny mechanisms
pause at the doorway, as if studying everyone in the whole bar. Then they
dissapear out the door.
    Several seconds later, a black, shiny limb reaches in and pulls the
Chatsubo door shut with a firm 'click'.
    There is a whirr in the mild noise as Ratz lowers his arm.
    It was a very hectic minute.


==============================================================================
"The only thing trapped in my body is my mind."
                              --Rico Rodreguez, when confronted with a small
                                group of virulent Christian Scientists.


 -------------======>>>>>>>>>>>>*** Drifter ***<<<<<<<<<<<<======-------------
"Well ser."  Benjamin licked his lips.  "First off, there's the fact that you
 aren't wearing any clothes."  Robert nodded.  "Good, go for the direct.  I'll
 even posit,  for now,  that the simplest,  most parsimonious explanation for
 my nudity is that I've gone bonkers.  I reserve the right to offer an
 alternative theory,  though."              --The Uplift War by David Brin