From: z5121@apache.dtcc.edu (ZAMBRANO)
Subject: Intro to Tripwire
Date: 4 Feb 93 09:04:18 GMT
Hey all you kids out there... it's Crusty the Clown Time again!!!
Where else can you see Sideshow Bob be torn apart by automatic weapons
fire? Where else can you see Crusty's nude cheerleading squad? Where
else can you see actual Matrix footage? Only at Crusty's!!! Just GO
CRCLIST at Channel 4's Hub, pick a show, and view!
Note: In some states (such as AK, AZ, AL, CA, CO, CT, DE, FL, GA, HI, IA, ID,
IL, IN, KS, KY, LA, MA, MD, ME, MI, MN, MO, MS, MT, NC, ND, NE, NH, NJ, NV,
NY, OH, PA, PR, RI, SC, SD, TN, TX, UC, UT, VA, VT, WI and WV), a nominal
charge of $4.96/min viewing time will be applied. Kids, ask your parents
first! (HA!)
_______________________________________________________________________________
In the year 2018, there are still children. Sorry, guys, as much
as I worship Cyberpunk, I am getting sick and tired of a rather large
omission from the leading novels and stories. I'm talking about kids;
juves, teens, shorts, minors, punks, youngins, assholes, whatever you call
them, they're still there, and they're still morons with an attitude and a
reputation to establish in that big new thing called life. In a CPunk
world, all the better. So here goes -- to begin, installment uno of
Tripping the Wire.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1. Steve
* - | - *
UCDepot is a statewide service database provided (by the taxpayers) to
the Department of Transportation. Given the proper keycode, one could
access the next month's bus schedule. With another, one could see the
flight schedule or the DMV records. Still another would allow the user to
change any of these. Of course, not everyone has these. If you don't
have the right keycodes, you have to find another way in.
* - | - *
From a dark ground floor apartment, Steve had jacked in. Twelve hours
later, he jacked out. He felt the system grids fade and blur about him, a
cellular transit into the cold room. The lines gently faded, leaving only
a trace of afterimage on his eyes. He'd always felt like the transition
from the freedom of the nets to the cold reality of breakfast was a harsh
one, and now he was certain of it. Steve blinked twice and sat up, pulling
the optic line from the cream colored deck on his lap. The gore-fill in
his sleeping bag crunched softly as he coiled the silver cord with a fluid
practiced motion. The room flooded with disconcerting light as a semi
rolled slowly past. As the glow faded and the truck left Steve alone in
the pitch, he rose, wearily rubbing at his eyes. Hypnotic patterns danced
on the insides of his eyelids as he peered out the window. The purple
diamonds and the red spheres ravaged war across his retinas. The spheres
were winning. As the last of the purple diamonds escaped from the corners
of his vision, Steve could make out a handful of civ cars shifting around
in the early morning, their drivers fumbling for keys and door handles.
The sun had yet to break the early haze; the streets were awash in
pink-grey, marked here and there with rust-orange growths. The shadows of
vehicles offered him a sullen good morning.
At the other end of the room, Steve took a pair of blue tablets from
the edge of the sink and swallowed them dry. He traced their blue chalky
paths down his throat and tried not to choke. Kneeling down, he tossed the
deck and the line into a black knapsack in the corner. He rolled up the
sleeping bag. The filling snapped and crunched like soft gravel might as
it shifted towards the foot of the bag. Another pair of lights swung
past, swathing the room in halogen glare. The light haloed off the
freezer and the sink fixtures, and it bothered Steve's eyes. His head
throbbed softly, a pulsing static channel that refused to make a
connection. He stood and grabbed the knapsack, and left the apartment.
Steve had already made it out to the street before he realized that
he'd forgotten his jacket, so he didn't bother with it. He walked the
three or so blocks to his stop, staring in the shop windows as he went by.
Five minutes later he was greeted by the soft whine of the bus. He waited
until the bus had finished its ritualistic stop, until the airbrakes had
whooshed and the door had clanked open. He climbed in. The bus driver,
short and fat and looking as if he'd become molded to his foamcore seat,
took Steve's student ID and ran it through the magnetic sanner built into
the door, stripe down. Steve took back his card and stepped toward the
rear of the bus. He scanned the truck for friends in the same way a
shipwrecked sailor might on a deserted island. As the bus began to move,
he was thrown a little off balance, and the jarring revived the purple
diamonds. Looking around he took in the ugly green foamcore, and saw pews
lined up neatly to give homage to the scruffy driver. Maybe he was a
parttime preacher. Steve waded through the seats, watcing the ridges in
the aisle rubber crawl the length of the bus. About halfway toward the
back, he was pulled down abruptly onto one of the hard benches to his
left. He looked back up to face his assailant but vision had left him,
replaced by lithium green squares, converging and separating in regular
patterns. They reminded him of armies in formation.
"Steve man, you kay? You're shot again, man, lemme see your eyes."
Gina grabbed his face and pushed back an eyelid with two fingers. She saw
a loose networking of interlaced vessels ont he surface; he saw it too,
rush hour on Fourth and Scott.
"Shit, boy, you should keep off that kaleidoscopin' shit. Lucky you
didn't get hit by a car walkin over." Steve could see Gina now. Pink
eyes were the first attraction, pale violet ringed her pupils. This
framed by unnaturally long and dark lashes, urged him to look at something
else. Full lips wore bright gloss, giving a glow to the rest of her face;
in its paleness it contrasted sharply with her puffy lips and eyes. It
showed a chemically-induced complexion, smooth and lucid all around. She
carried a history soft in a clear plastic sack.
"Fuck you Gina" he managed to whisper. His mouth was amazingly dry and
parched; he hadn't spoken in roundabout sixteen hours.
"So. You pull another all-nighter last night? I bet you weren't
studying your spanish for that test today." Gina smiled bittersweetly,
and patted her chromed wristjack.
"Lucky guess. I was jacked in fulltime. Woulda been late for the bus,
but I set an alarm to shoot at quarter of."
"What the hell you gonna do? Man!"
"Fail, I guess. I mean, shit, Geen, I _got_ shit to do. If they think
they can rule this fella's time, fuck 'em!" The bus grinded to a halt.
"Well, you're who's gettin fucked, man!"
"Aw shit, Geen, without that jack, you'd blow, too!"
"But I do, Steve, man, I do, see, an I ain't strung out twenty-four on
a hundred cee's of flame, either!" The bus started rolling again, a lame
duck that couldn't decide if its odds were better staying put or running
the gauntlet. As if on cue, the chimera of diamonds, squares, reds and
other mandalas started up again.
"Fuck you." It was a lame word, spit out from the fog in his skull,
but it was a word.
"Steve, man, you kay? Shit, you better not take that test. Miz
Largo'll haul yer ass down!"
To Steve all of this was indistinguishable. The red army was returned
from a successful campaign, and was employing what must have been cannon
against the second wave of purple. The intense pyrotechnics of the battle
consumed him in a web of cascading shells in Dynacolor. Steve smelled
burning plastic, like the Experimental when you walked past but were
afraid to look inside. A fiery ribbon arced overhead, decimating a
platoon of purple diamonds. The reds advanced amidst flaming napalm,
dodging support fire. All the while the sun consumed the battlefield.
"Steve!"
He jumped back in shock; he felt a sudden urge to vomit. The bus was
stopped, and the kids were filing out inline, chromed rings and jacks and
IDs drifting by. Gina was standing over him, with a butane lighter under
his nose. Steve pushed it away.
"Man, you're _fucked_."
He was fine. That was the problem; too short a high and too brisk a
low. Otherwise, flame was the way to go, albeit a tad pricey. He stood,
and filed with the rest out the door, Gina in tow. They shuffled through
the hallway and its throngs, looking everyplace while not looking anyplace
too long; seeing everything and seeing nothing. It was the way. Survival
demands. A fight had broken out in the stairwell; they took the side
staircase.
- * | * -
Steve bombed the spanish test.
- * | * -
Lunchtime. The opiate of all schoolkids. In the plastic-littered
courtyard Steve ate [damn the line noise!] with Hayao; Sher and Nick were
of course not too far off. Their complementation was all but necessary.
They shot bull about the spanish test and wolfed grilled cheese. Hayao
brought up the UNLV game.
"Steve - check out Rebels verse Georgetown. Oh - line, man it go Hoyas
up by four." Hayao Chen was tall, and distinctly not at all Japanese;
people often wondered whether he was specifically so to be _non_ Japanese.
He wore his twisted brown locks in long spikes; he wore his newest pair of
Nikes loose. He had an old eighties, or eighties-replica bomber, brown
suede; Steve joked that he lived in that jacket.
"No shit, man? Put me thirty on for Vegas."
"You got yen?" Hayao's penchant for basketball, it was rumored, was
outlived only by one thing: his penchant for cash.
"Naw, fuck, but you know I'm good. Hey, buddy," he added at his
friend's look of disapproval, "We, like, _been_, man, since kids..."
Steve raised two intertwined fingers.
"Fuck no, Steve, know? No yen, no Chen, sayin goes."
"You'd fuck me, Hay? Blow, friend, blow. How much."
"Yeah... three lines of silk gets you thirty far."
Steve thought for a sec; "Deal." He rummaged through the sack, and
came up with a clear pipette and the blow to go with. He'd wanted to have
it for himself after school, but he figured he come get some more. Hayao
took the vial and the glass tubing, and after a thought passed them to
Sherry. She looked up from her chocolate milk and beamed. They had been
going for three weeks, now. The cocaine disappeared under Sherry's
jacket, and she returned her attention to her milk. Hayao liked her
because she ignored him. 'Status without the hassle,' he'd said.
Steve grinned. Nick punched him. The buzzer echoed across the
courtyard, and the students began the trek back to their classes.
Somewhere in the south hall, on his way to calc, Steve noticed Ann. He
grabbed her ass, and quickly sidestepped so that she nearly slapped some
other guy before she picked up on Steve, standing to her left and looking
pretty amused with himself.
"Kiss off, dick!" To which she added, "What up?"
"Yeah. So, keepin yourself busy?" He eyed her appreciatively and
intentionally insinuatingly. Ann had the hourglass to die for, a bronze
so rich it looked tinted, and the moves to match both.
"Pretty much, yeah." She didn't think Steve was bad looking, but his
image wasn't really up to par. Ann liked to tease him.
"Check. Seen Marcus 'round, lately?"
"No, actually. Asshole that big's gotta be round here somewhere. Been
like a fuckin week." Steve knew Marcus was gone -- Marc told him he was
going to take a microlight into Reno -- but he wouldn't tell her that. It
gave them something to talk about.
"So, what you doing morrow night?" He tried to sound casual, but it
sounded more like he had a cold.
"Nothing. Why?" She taunted him so innocently.
"Good. Come with to the Rebel game at six."
"Who else is going?"
"Maybe Hay and Sher. Goin?"
"Dunno. You show up at five three oh and maybe I'll be there." Ann
batted lashes twice and stepped into her class, leaving Steve out in the
hall, near-drool. The halls were almost deserted now; he had to run to
make it to math.
- * | * -
Seriously, though. What does anyone think. It's my first time writing,
like this. I need some input. Granted, no plot yet, and no flash yet,
but just the characterizations. Don't worry -- it's not a romance. It'll
probably be pretty gritty. Things get ugly for Steve and 'is boys. Also,
Steve will go running (as in net) with me looking over his shoulder, this
time. The foci are probably the dugs, the decks, and the pals. Survival
is a tough thing, and it always helps to have friends. You hope.
--z5121Simkin
c MCMLXLIII, CPZambrano
"And the sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel."
From: z5121@apache.dtcc.edu (ZAMBRANO)
Subject: Tripwire2
Date: 5 Feb 93 10:38:31 GMT
Well, I got some response, so here goes (maybe you guys are gluttons for
punishment). Tripwire1 is available from me anytime.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2. Jinx
- * | * -
Steve rode high that day, the circles still paraded through his mind
now and then, but he didn't really need them. He didn't have the flames
like he might have normally, but he was psyched for himself, and his
hedonistic imaginings. Most of them involved Ann, and the rest didn't
matter. Steve was going to enjoy himself.
- * | * -
Even Fulbrights need cash, so when medtech didn't open doors, Janice
found what would. In the higher vision she had, she saw herself as an
"independent entrepreneur", making up the rules as she went along. The
opaque plastic cover was warped, so she had to take a hammer to it. It
took three good blows, but the case finally shattered, raining white
knives. Inside, sheathed in packing foam, were three millilter nibs, four
of them, and a rubber stopper, size 00. Janice carefully removed the
glassware, cradling them as if her breath alone might steal the bounty,
and set it on the worktable. She prepared a flatscan to her left, and set
the MAGNIFY (00) to 3. Her body went rigid as she used a microfilament
hook to sample one of the nibs, and relaxed once she had set it on the
culture plate. She slid the flatscan over to the right and turned off the
house lights. The magnification controls seeped an amber backlighting.
The orange meticulously worked its way into all of the shadowed areas of
the room while Janice adjusted the focus.
Like the eye of horus itself, the scan revealed to her the marvelous
intricacies of the microbe on its lithium display. Janice worked in a
familiar manner, scanning and reimaging the cell, interrupting herself
only to mumble notes or to hit the print key. Her subject was an E.
Mikasius, a January 2018 mutation of an intestinal bacteria. Harmless in
air, the Mikasius was found to be ninety-nine point nine per cent lethal
when placed in one's wallbanger.
"Janice." The uniden sputtered and the doorguard's voice flooded the
room. She looked up.
"Not now, Cal."
"Janice, it's Steve Hollob. He says it's business."
"Aw, hell, let im in." She flicked the light on, anf turned down the
flatscan. The door slid open and in suantered Steve, in denim and a parka.
"Don't you go anywhere without your deck, man?" She nodded toward his
knapsack.
"Jan, hey! Been time."
"No shit. What trouble you in now? Not like you're here to bull, man,
I know you better."
"No trouble, Ja, just thinkin we could do a trade of sorts." Steve
shifted his weight uneasily to his other foot; he was only now suddenly
aware of the fact that he'd interrupted something.
"What have you?"
"Uh, I picked up the latest on the PedTech trial last night. Times,
dated tomorrow..."
"Don't shit me, man, I got that last nigh, too. Sides, it'll be sold
off by now. What are you looking for?"
"Well, I was hopin you'd have one o those KRI Grade7s." Steve gave a
weak smile.
"None such, man, but I gotta KRI clone, says it'll jump points and has
constant smoke, just like that Grade6. But listen, friend, you're gonna
pay out your ass."
"Not bad. What company?"
"Some Korean deal. Real unclassy, but it should work, man. You dealin?"
"Yeah. Jan, I got two more o those government samples, know."
"No shit? Where do you pick this up?" Janice extended her hand to
receive the sample; it was military issue biologicals, dated June '17.
"I dunno. It just falls into my hands, know?"
"Deal, S, but you watch your ass. Playing the big leagues, now."
- * | * -
Steve hit the rocker switch, and the light in the corner reluctantly
cast its beams on the floor. He pulled open the freezer as he dropped his
sack, and grabbed a vanilla yogurt.
When he finished it he rinsed out the culture left clinging to the cup
befor he discarded it. [_Damn_ that noise!] he knelt down by his bag, and
opened it up. He got out the deck and Janice's unmarked package. Someone
had printed on the side, "magnetic media do not xray".
The UCDepot received all of Steve's outgoings. He still couldn't figur
out why, but it was like he was trapped inside their system whenever he
fell in from his apartment. But the UCD's security was none too hot, so
it didn't pose a real problem. Steve waited as the reference lines
solidified about him, the Misha weaving the net slowly and painstakingly.
His deck was unbearably cheap, and so it normally took about thrity second
just to get online and running. But he'd had to preload the software into
the bus, bogging down his system to a near halt. He'd picked up an
interface accelerator at a Radio Shack on his way over, but it didn't seem
to be helping too much.
Their matrix was blue today. The blue that comes out of the bottoms of
spectrums, deep and stern. Steve walked his pointer through the UCD
system, following his pre-mapped route. A friendly yellow line follwoed
his steps. At the jump to the street 'trix, Steve stopped. The UCD had
an old Microsoft Watchdog posted. Steve was running the lowest resolution
he could support, so it looked more like a grey triangle than a bulldog.
He executed Janice's jumper.
}Noquan
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international nah he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing......
.......Jumping!
The matrix outside of the UCD was city-maintained, and it showed. This
side of town got infrequent foreign access, and there were weak points
here and there. These points, datasinks, (he called them potholes) Steve
watched out for; he knew that he could lose the Korean soft if he wasn't
careful. At least now he knew the thing worked.
}time
01:33:47 EST
}set al
time? }6:30
}weave /f/a
Weaver1.01 c 4:1:17
Give x,y/keyname[000,000]: }mem park
Plotting course, good catch.
}
Steve was outside the college matrix, now. UNLV could afford security,
Steve new, so he'd decided to go out and get that software.
}in
The construct, even in low res, was impressive. Someone had sculpted the
doors; they were like those old gothic archways. A guard in full
ceremonial platemail waved his halberd menacingly. Steve approached the
VR cathedral.
}sig /a
denied!denied!
**>rebelnet: Welcome to RebelNet. Give student login ID please.
}MI55
denied!denied!
**>rebelnet: Check ID code or buzz 9-404.help for guidance. Net detect: ill
**>rebelnet: egal entry detected. Give student login ID please.
}
Shit. None of his utilities were going anywhere. Steve gulped and
tried the software.
}Noquan.sub1
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing........
Running sub1........
................Jumped!
}
Steve almost burst. The UNLV matrix was red, of course, and he was
bewildered by his address options.
}weave /f/a
Weaver1.01 c 4:1:17
Give x,y/keyname[000,000]: }stadium
Plotting course, good catch.
}in
His luck must have been geting worse. Before him was an image af the
arena, quite inviting, but there was this problem. The front door made it
look like a bank vault; high and wide silver, with a little vid screen on
the handle.
**>rebelnetstad: Give student login ID please.
}
It worked the first two times, why not now?
}Noquan.sub1
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing........
Running sub1........Noted! sub1 aborts
**>rebelnetstad: Net detect: illegal access attempted. Give student login ID.
}
It didn't say please, this time. This looked bad.
}list a/s
No label on a:
Noquan <dir> ds-2,011,603
Noquan exe fs-4,049
Total files:2 Total size:2,015,652
No label on a.Noquan:
Sub1 app fs-30,913 Sub5 app fs-67,890
Sub2 app fs-25,885 Resource src fs-1,066,477
Sub3 app fs-107,002 Dump app fs-626,622
Sub4 app fs-86,814
Total files:7 Total size:2,011,603
**>rebelnetstad: Give login ID NOW.
}
Steve wished he'd taken the time to figure out what all the subs did
_before_ he needed to use them.
}Noquan.sub4
Noquan III v1.02 copyright internaional na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing.......
Running sub4.......findrange=000000-A
sourcepass=orig
files=70,822
permutations=2.4*10^7
PASS1 010101-C020202-T404040-A505050-A999999-Z000001-N
888888-G455455-Q717171-F*765655-P700000-B730001-A
759595-R778880-E**770101-Y772020-L***772444-S772550-T****
772500-A772520-C772540-J772560-D******
PASS2 note"rebelnetstad"Localarm
772560-A772560-C772560-E772560-G772560-I772560-K
note"rebelnetstad"Loctrace
772560-M772560-Obingo
note"rebelnetstad"Hitrace
}in
**>rebelnetstadtix: Can I aid your purchase?
note"rebelnetstadtix"Localarm
}Go tix
**>rebelnetstadtix: Section?
note"rebelnetstadtix"Locreview
}Mid2
**>rebelnetstadtix: Sorry, reserved. Section?
note"rebelnetstadtix"Hitrace
note"rebelnetstadtix"Lotrace
}Noquan.sub3
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing........
Running sub3........illegal: can't be used in dead end
Sub3 aborted note"rebelnetstadtix"Scanning
**>rebelnetstadtix: Excuse me? Section?
<<Noquan.sub1 kicking.>>
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing........
Running sub1........
...................................Trace stalled!
}
The software was intelligent, and a hell of a lot faster than Steve.
The UNLV system trace had been averted, somehow.
**>rebelnetstadtix: Excuse me? Section?
}mid5
**>rebelnetstadtix: OK. Tix are 38.00 yen per. How many?
}2
[break][break]$"Sgrmr^"[break]
Damned line noise. You'd think their ticket system was protected.
**>rebelnetstadtix: OK. Tix are 76.00+4.55 service. Charge to account?
}y
[break][break]$"Steve!"[break]
What the hell?
**>rebelnetstadtix: Enter account passcode, please.
<<Noquan.sub5 kicking>>
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing........
Running sub5........
.......Success!
[break][break]"Mk ;hd^ Gfhn Mkq lkid~"[break]
**>rebelnetstadtix: Account(772560-O) charged. Purchase complete. Have a n
**>rebelnetstadtix: ice day!
}out
[break][break]"Yo man! What you doin?"[break]
}comm /rebelnetstad "Who izit?"
[break][break]"Hayao, slick!"[break]
}comm /hayao "No shit, man?"
[break][break]"No shit. The system's all fucked, man, wher'd you get id?"[br
eak]
}comm /hayao "I broke the mother, man, got this Korean black program, know?"
[break][break]"God, you suck! What, _you_ armed?"[break]
}comm /hayao "Right, Chen. How'd you get in, anyway?"
[break][break]"Steve, you ass. I just got some guy to gimme his ID. Paid hi
m in advance. Don't you got friends?"[break]
}
Steve felt the color drain from his face, back home. He knew lots of
people. The thought just never crossed his mind.
[break][break]"Ya can't run with the big dogs if ya pee like a puppy, man."[
break]
}comm /hayao "There's gotta be a better way to get a date, man."
- * | * -
Well, there's installment 2. Enjoy, and don't forget to write(Mail). If
no one writes, I won't post a third. Have fun, all.
--z5121Simkin
"I wanna die just like JFK... With the radio on..."
From: z5121@apache.dtcc.edu (ZAMBRANO)
Subject: Tripwire3
Date: 9 Feb 93 10:22:17 GMT
Hee hee...
- * | * -
3. Blow
The game fairly kicked. Steve and Hayao cashed in on the 98 - 90 UNLV
win, and Ann had actually sit next to Steve the entire game. He brought
home sixty yen, of which he blew half on dinner. The four of them stopped
at Jasper's, a mainstream class act on Fourth that actually sold decent
food; unfortunately they charged what they were worth. After Hayao had
dropped off Ann at her house, he let Steve off. He watched the little
Toyota whine away, red taillights fading, and then went in.
He should have sensed it before. It should have been obvious to him
from the moment he'd hit pavement. He should have noticed the car
outside. But he hadn't. There were four in his flat, and two in the hall.
The first joe had him by the collar before he'd stepped into it, and the
second was coming from behind. Steve elbowed low on the guy holding him,
who promptly grabbed his arm behind his back and locked it there. With
his other arm, he fumbled behind him and grabbed hold of his ear; this he
pulled. The joe yelled and let go. Steve spun right into the second joe,
who was trying to linebacker him into the room. This one got
double-knuckled under the chin. As he reeled back, more in shock that the
punk had hit him than in pain, his lenses darkened and his hand reached
for something. Steve broke, down the stairs and into the guy coming up
with groceries. He jumped over him and got to the door.
"Shit!" The butches were down and out of the building in seconds, the
second guy waving a semiauto. In the darkness Steve was gone, they knew
it and he knew it, the hunt had ended. He got on the first bus to the
burbs.
- * | * -
"I still don't see it. How'd they know where you were? A million
fuckin' people in this town, fella, and I just don't see your parents as
that quick." Hayao's family owned a two-story colonial a mile north of
town, loaded with the latest in home amenities. Steve had gotten there a
little after four. He'd run the whole way.
"I know, man, I guess they just got profesh help to do it for them. I
know it was them, Hay, I saw the fuckers in my room smilin!"
"Yeah. But it's still like a screw, after a whole year, they probably
gave up, you'd think. Shit."
"Look, Hay, they'll look here, I guess, if they've got brain cells left,
man. I should go. I think that fucker actually shot at me!"
"No shit? No, but man, it okay. My parents wouldn't even show em in.
Not a big deal. Stay forver, Steve, it blows here."
"Kay. Thanks, Hay." Steve didn't know the Chens, Mr. and Mrs., but he
knew that they let Sherry stay over all the time, so why not. They had
to be okay if they let Hayao fuck whoever wherever. He was drained, and
they turned out the lights and slept. He wouldn't believe it in the
morning, but Steve actually slept, and well. He dreamt of Ann.
- * | * -
That was a Friday. On Saturday, they slept in until Hayao's mom came in
at about eleven. By half past they were eating breakfast, and by twelve they
were downtown. They went up to the courts, and down to the Arcade. At
Janice's, something turned up.
- * | * -
The lights were out again inside, so Steve was hesitant to interrupt her
again, but the guard had seen him already, so he asked for her.
"Yeah, I'll call her. [Why is the noise so bad all of sudden?]"
"She says you can go in." Cal was colorless, but reliable, as door
guards went. It was difficult to find a good merc willing to go salary,
these days.
They stepped in, and were separately aware of the ultrasound scan built
into the door frame. Janice greeted them in the lab.
"Hey."
"Jan, look, this is my pal, Hayao Chen. So we're just comin through to
ask a question. Have you heard anything --"
"--about UNLV going red sys, and that they are online for the culprit's
ass? No. Why?"
Steve was silent for a moment, and said, "Anything about my parents
looking for me?"
"No, actually, but I couldn't believe you fucked up on the game
tickets, man. That Korean deal was fuckin military!"
"Really?"
"No. But it was damn close. It was foolproof."
"It was intelligent."
"What? Man I knew I shouldn't have sold it to you. I coulda made a
killing, Steve!"
"You almost did, lady. One o the fucks Steve's elders brought along
shot at him." Hayao was unsure of whether he crossed into dangerous
territory here, but he figured that there wasn't much to lose.
"Oh, shit, man, it wasn't my fault! It's _this_ loony who came in here
and traded around, man. But damn I coulda sold it to someone else. That
does rather blow."
"'Sno big deal. But you think Vegas tipped off my parents?"
"Now there's a thought. Probably. But Steve, it doesn't matter as
much as that now they're looking, man." She looked around nervously. "You
stayin with him, Steve?"
"Yeah. Hay's got those godly parents, Jan. They said I could stay as
long as I want."
"Good deal, man. Stay there. And I'm warning you, I would avoid
netting anywhere, Steve. My latest says that UNLV is still hot."
"Thanks, Jan. Hay, we goin?"
They departed with no further words. Together they drove to Hayao's.
- * | * -
Around threeish and in the dark, Steve leaned over and opened his
knapsack. A minute or so later, he was all rigged to go. He leaned back
some, and bumped into the nightstand next to Hayao's bed. Atop the
nightstand, a pile of softs began to fall. All of the plastic cards slid onto
the floor, making lttle clicking sounds as they bounced, except for one errant
memory soft; this one Steve watched as it fell onto Hayao's face. He
rolled over and stirred a bit, then remained still. Steve let out the air
he'd drawn in shock. More carefully this time, he leaned back against the
bed as he hit the power.
}Direct loc
Scan complete 02/04/18 03:13:30 MT
Local grid name: UpperNewtFalls
40750 files in 18006 directories
Uplink NewtFalls; dir UNF,
Total storage 18600751 bytes under NewtFalls*->UNF
}uplink NewtFalls
done
usralert: hostile intrusion countermeasures in runtime, no sigs
}weave /a
Weaver1.01 c 4:1:17
Give x,y/keyname[000,000]: }mem park
Plotting course, good catch.
}
usralert: hostile intrusion countermeasures at site, no sigs
}sig /a
Screening out inactive IC...
Maxell Bulletrace2 inst 1.1.17 area local
Mitsubishi ADRAM TB inst access denied! area local, immobile
denied!denied!
denied!denied!
denied!denied!
done, c 9/15/17 Xortech Indus.
note"rebelnetvenge"Hitrace
note"rebelnetvenge"Lotrace
}
The Noquan was kicking in again; it looked like the outgoing UNLV tracers
had caught up to him.
}Noquan.sub1
Noquan III v1.02 copyright international na he woun industries 02:07:18
Initializing.......
Running sub1.........................
.........Trace evaded, still active!
}shit!
OSX:OpSysErr 1001:Illegal command/file not found.
note"rebelnetvenge"Tracelocked!
}
Steve saw it now; it was large and red, with teeth, and it said
"Rebels" on one side, and "Conference Champs" on the other. And it got
closer very quickly.
}out
note"rebelnetvenge"Traceburning!
}out
note"rebelnetvenge"Traceburning!
}out
The whole world was static. Steve couldn't associate all of the images
he'd seen jacking out so fast; he sat dazed and wondering where he
had gone wrong. He noticed an acrid steam rising from the Misha's plastic
casing. Hayao sat up, noticing it also.
"What the fuck, Steve!"
"I see too, Hay. What the fuck happened?" Just then the hard chassis
started to peel back in layers of melting polymer. Hayao jumped off the
bed, pulling his sheets with him. He smothered the deck with his comforter.
"Shit, Steve, what if the smoke detector goes off?"
"Then we're screwed, Hay, that's a pretty dumb question.
"What the fuck were you pulling, anyway?"
"Just buzzin the UNLV system. You know their shit was running all the
way out here?"
"You're blowin... what the hell would they pay that kinda cash to
support that kinda ice all the way out for fuckin miles for, Steve?" Hayao
stood. He picked up the comforter. Under it lay the old Misha, one of
its corners a charred bubble of plastic. Silicon oozed from it, in a
green paste. The comforter had been burned too; it looked like a huge
nicotine stain.
"No, man, serious. They fucked my ass up." He felt somewhat
self-conscious, and, now that the distant imagery of the scene impacted
upon them, they started giggling. They fell asleep laughing.
- * | * -
The next day, excluding when Hayao's mother commented that
they shouldn't have had the windows opened like that in the middle of
winter, and they relapsed into paralytic laughter, was thoroughly
uneventful. Monday, though, was a bitch.
- * | * -
They showed up around five in the morning. Ha&yao's father opened the
door and told the joes that no, there was no Steve Hollob here, and they had
forced their way in. Hayao and Steve woke up just as the hitmen were
ascending the stairs, chased by the screams of Hayao's mother. They were
almost packed and out the window when they came crashing through the door
to Hayao's room. Steve jumped out onto the roof. The first guy charged
forward and tossed Hayao aside. Hayao spun and knife handed the joe in
his neck. He collapsed, and his legs spasmed. Hayao turned to face the
second guy, but he pulled a 9mm Browning. Not fair. The first joe was
getting up now, and he took personal delight as he immobilzed Hayao,
locking a wrist behind his neck. The second joe climbed out onto the
shingles, pistol in hand. Steve was sliding down a gutter drain. his bag
got caught halfway down, so he left it. All came to no avail, however, as
the joe jumped off the roof, executing a midair tuck and landing two feet
in front of him. Steve surrendered.
- * | * -
So goes the story... as I mentioned earlier, you'll have to wait for
Tripping the Wire Four until after I get back from New Orleans... Thanks
for waiting... Anyone who needs to catch up can email me for the first
two... of course, I leave Thursday and won't be back until Sunday nite so
you might have to wait if you don't due haste... how I wish I was teapot.
As always, input is appreciated (demanded, actually...).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So I finally got around to making a footer. Whoopee. | @ @ |
These things are such a waste of time. This space for r| * |
ent. Email me. Go ahead. I dare you. Why am i doingthis| z5121Simkin |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hate sig files so i dont use em.
join us sometime on irc #rpg.
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