From: prwork@zeta.org.au (The Work's)
Subject: Re: !!!!! WAKE UP !!!!!!!
Date: Thu, 12 Oct 1995 02:43:37 GMT


        'jackal is laughing. A lot of assumtions have been made, most of them
wrong. It has been interesting, for once, to listen to the rant, and
even to the commands the other initiated. He is still stark naked but
has dropped the "scared little white boy act." Which coincidentally,
he doesn't happen to be. Either a little boy nor white, at least in
recent days. More of a napalm victim's charred black and greyish
white, a third degree burn left in the sun too long, actually,
Byproduct of the times.  But in a world of infinite mutability, it
amuses him to be seen as such. Esp when he hasn't worn cowboy anything
at any point in his life. 
        In the bathroom, the noise has slowly trailed away, lost in the static
of the bar.  Bodyjackal smiles, looks at the solo that has just
entered the bar. "Cheap shot? Not really. Just reminding someone of
the facts of life, something they shouldn't have forgotten. Something
any two year old knows. Unfortunantely, this individual chose not to
take the warning like a man. Have a seat, please. You'll find that
much is still the same, just not as many people bothering to come by."
Points to the figurines frozen in place at a corner table. "You're
welcome to make your additions, however. I'm starting to get annoyed
at some of my old contemporaries. It's easy to post chatter about how
the group ain't what it used to be... but not so easy to make it worth
something again. But, please, sir, have a seat. Try your hand at a
little improvement."
        Turns to GE, There's something in his hand, now. He hold it up, fist
closed tight. Opens it. Allows what was trapped within to fly free.
        Tiny creatures, glimmering with their own light. Delicate wings,
humanoid bodies. Beautiful. Definiately not just a child's toy. Faint
sounds of song float up from where they hover, circling.
        "You like these? Seems to me you would, seeing how you are on such
good terms with the late Fabian. My regrets, by the way. Next time,
I'd advise you to make sure your pet peverts have some means of
ensuring the passivity of their intended partners.  I'm sure these
little creatures are just what you were hoping to find when you woke
up. Too bad all your dreams don't come true. You really should pay
closer attention. You seem to miss a lot of the details. And in this
little world of ours, the little things are the ones that kill."
        Cocks his head slightly, listening to the song. Smile still on his
face. "Y'know, that's two. Seems you really have abandoned the
so-called 'cyberpunk paradigm'. Your mistake... for all it's repition,
it does teach many things. And still can, I might add.
        "Look closer...."
        Glitter masks burnt flesh stretched starvation thin over malformed
bone. Blackened feathers, diseased and rotting, form tufted clumps
over leathery mebranous wings. Minute eyes gleaming, hungry. Demonaic.
        "But you see, it's not just the details. They are symptomatic of one
of your greatest failings... the failure to recgonize anything at all
about what you are dealing with. And no, I'm not talking about your
little ego contest, either. It's the entire manner by which one
chooses to view the chat... or the world in general for that matter.
You deal only in  abuse, profanity, violence. You deal only the
symptoms, not what lies beneath. Your blindness is staggering, and the
fact that you insist assuming that others share it is what makes you
such an irritation. If you would bother to learn the underlying
principles before spouting off, you might yet show promise. If not,
then the only evaluation anyone will ever make of you will be from the
'tire marks you leave across other's fiction.' 
        " I, for one, want no part of that.
        "Also, seems you forgot one other thing, No one makes an overt move
without a little insurance." Reaches over, grabs the small box into
which he wrung out the brush. Pulls out a pinch of the sand that lies
inside. mixed full well with the blood of many, Rubs it between
forefinger and thumb. "But I've decided not to use this quite yet. You
want to continue this in the bar, maybe I'll have to. But if you want
to drop it now, and learn the lessons, maybe I won't. Or if you want
to take this outside (and I don't care if it's just outside the door
and halfway to hell), privately or publicly, we'll play it that way.
It's not that important to me. The writing's already on the wall. "
        Picks up his pants and shirt from the pile on the floor. Doesn't
bother to put them on. Just shrugs himself into his coat, grabs his
jump boots. Looks at them, then back at the semi-comatose form of GE.
almost laughing.This time, though, the man behind that marionette is
certainly watching.. Cowboy boots indeed.
        Sits back down in his usual place, well worn from long occupation. 
Looks at Ratz, who is strangely subdued. Bad taste to flame the
bartender, actually. Come to think of it, pretty piss poor taste
indeed. And to follow it up with a general flame because no one else
was going to bother complaining that someone *gasp* took advantage of
someone else's obvious stupidity...  some people never learn.
        Runs the sand through his fingers again. Looks around, wondering if
anyone else would like to join in on this one. Knowing others already
have, in the privacy of their own systems. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

        This one wasn't a warning, Had this even been carried through to it's
conclusion, y
        <transfer interruped by the beating of tiny wings, the shrieking of
tiny skulls>