From: timk@tdkcs.waterloo.on.ca (Tim Kuehn)
Subject: THE POINT (Re: geez, this group sucks)
Date: 8 Jun 93 20:19:08 GMT
In article <C86Bso.Lp4@csi.compuserve.com> crimson@ihz.compuserve.com writes:
>In article <1unj3l$km0@uniwa.uwa.edu.au> fabianb@tartarus.uwa.edu.au
(Fabian Le Gay Brereton) writes:
>>Yeah. What, actually, is the point ?
>The point is to write.
With a scarred fist, Cognos grasped the dirty glass and downed the rest of
the vile-looking liquid it contained. As the last of the liquid hit what
passed for a stomach, the chemicals it contained hit his nervous system like
a sledgehammer. Abused past its limit, his already maxed-out neural
processors started to break down.
It was t-15 seconds.
>And to write.
Synapse upon synapse fired in his tortured skull in a display that
would put any former Independance Day fireworks to shame. The cascading
action/re-action within his brain quickly spread into his embedded
hardware. Interactions between "wet" and "hard"-ware developed as
organic and synthetic intelligences vied for supremacy of the shell
that contained them.
It was t-2.5 seconds.
>And to write some more.
t-0 seconds. Some of the patrons within the battle-scarred barroom noticed
the complete absence of movement from the darkened corner. Some of the
more perceptive ones sensed the hightened activity within Cognos's mind
and 'casually' activated hidden weapons systems in anticipation of what
may or may not happen next.
Behind Cognos's now-screaming mind, the battle between organic and
synthetic was decided.
The synthetics won.
>The Chatsubo is a wonderful environment to practice your skills in.
>People read it just for fun, so there's no real pressure involved.
>Let's take a look at your sig to show what I mean...
Throughout Cognos's body, all his muscles went rigid as the synthetic
intelligence took over control. Augmented, yet natural-looking eyes
scanned the room. When they came to a pair of patrons holding a quiet
discussion in one end of the bar, all motion stopped. Ever watchful,
those of the more perceptive patrons relaxed a little. What happened
next might just prove amusing.
>> Fabian Le Gay Brereton "content is overrated --
>> fabianb@tartarus.uwa.edu.au style is everything"
>
>To the contrary of your quote, in the Chatsubo (as with other fiction
>and "pub" groups on Usenet) more emphasis is placed on *content* than
>on style. A polished work with no soul means less to us than a work
>bristling with imagination but lacking slick execution.
Having locked on a discernable target, some of Cognos's muscles relaxed
while others reached a higher state of preparation. Then, in a blur the
man launched himself at the quietly talking pair.
The pair consisted of one part No-Nonsense and one part Flamboyant. For No
Nonsense, every part of him spoke of the biz, his attire disclosing nothing
outside of the normal scuffing and battered look from obvious prior use,
and the way he carried himself told more of his background than what he
wore. Flamboyant was easily summed up as having an outfit and attitude
straight out of some Madison avenue sim-stim rip-off. What a street-wise
operator like No Nonsense was doing with something with more money than
experience or ability as Flamboyant could be was anyone's guess.
As Cognos launched out of his seat No Nonsense pushed back on his chair
backwards and rolled into a somersaulting tuck, enabling him to not only
get out of the way but also take cover behind another table. As he came
out of his tuck a weapon appeared in his hand, targeting information at
the fore.
Ignoring No Nonsense's motion, Cognos headed straight for Flamboyant. He
had already taken two steps before the Flamboyant noticed Cognos was
coming, by which time No Nonsense was already ten feet away and most of
the surrounding patrons had scattered for safer ground to watch the fun.
While Flamboyant's hyper-enhanced embedded AI processors interpreted the
charging Cognos's action, made threat assessments, and produced advice,
it was Flamboyant's inexperience that made his next fateful decision. He
reached inside his jacket and started to get up from from his chair. Still
pulling on the object within, Cognos's rampaging form struck him full force.
Large fists closed on his clothing and pulled him up off the ground into
air as table and chairs scattered like toothpicks.
By this time No Nonsense had pocketed his weapon and was swiftly circling
to approach Cognos from the rear.
While it was only t + 3 seconds, it seemed like an eternity to Flamboyant
as the inertia from Cognos's charge carried the pair into the wall of Ratz's
bar. Flamboyant's battle processors continued to make advice and produce
reams of data on his attacker, but he had no self-discipline, control, or
experience that would enable him to act on of the expensive implants'
advice.
Flamboyant was still recovering from the force of Cognos's attack when
he hit the wall with a shuddering thud. Only a custom re-inforced skeletal
structure saved him from having every one of his ribs crushed as wood and
plastic crumpled under him and splashed on some of the closer patrons.
Then Cognos pulled Flamboyant over and tossed him like a rag doll across
the room into a metal table. This time it was Flamboyant's titanium-
reinforced skull that saved his brains from being scattered across the room.
In the meantime No Nonsense had palmed a small metallic device and
leaped onto Cognos's back. As Cognos turned to react to this new
threat, No Nonsense slapped the metallic object on the side of Cognos's
skull. Cognos reached around, pulled No Nonsense off his back, and
threw him after Flamboyant. No Nonsense took the fall in stride,
rolled with the blow, and came up on his feet next to the dazed
and bleeding Flamboyant a crumpled table, and a large puddle of debris.
Cognos followed, one foot heavily in front of the other. In return No
Nonsense looked him casually back in the eyes as Cognose slowed, and with
a glazed look in his eyes fell to the floor.
>'Course, we always look for pieces with style *and* substance, and
>this is what the Chatsubo is here for. A beginning writer can throw
>out an idea to a worldwide audience and get immediate critical
>feedback. Readers can say what they liked and disliked about it, and
>other more experienced writers can give tips on where improvement can
>be made.
After watching to make sure Cognos was no longer a threat, No Nonsense
stepped over to the groaning Flamboyant and pulled him out of the rubble.
It was t + 15 seconds. Time once more slowed to a more normal pace.
"You ok?" asked No Nonsense.
Flamboyant gave No Nonsense a nasty look.
"You didn't need to interfere. I was about to take care of the
villian myself."
No Nonsense gave Flamboyant a long look, then
"This isn't some Fifth-avenue wannabe corner chummer. This is
real life, and that man was like as not've taken your head off
with his bare hands, and eaten it whole, titanium and all."
Then, leaning against the punctured wall, he crossed his arms and
continued.
"However, if you like I can always let him pick up where he
left off."
Flamboyant got an ashen look, then said
"No need."
No Nonsense looked deep into Flamboyant's eyes, then said
"As I was saying before muscle-boy interrupted, content and
experience will tell over style and attitude any day that
counts, chummer."
Then to Ratz,
"You want me watch this man over 'till the medics arrive?"
"No need," said Ratz.
Reaching under the bar, he pulled something out. Then, putting down his
drying towl, he walked around to the still form, placed the medallion
on Cognos, then pulled No Nonsense's silver disk off and tossed it back
to him.
"The boys will take care of him when they get here."
With a noticable limp, Flamboyant got up, stiffly walked over to the bar,
and ordered some of Ratz's stiffest pain-killer while some patrons dragged
Cognos's form to an unoccupied part of the bar's floor.
A half hour later, the only response Cognos' prone form got was people
occasionally stepping over his bulk on the floor as life carried on as
normal in the 'Chat. However, within his skull organic and synthetic
intelligence interacted in conjunction with the chemicals in his body
and the artificial sleep inducer on the side of his head to keep him
immobile.
>So *that*, IMHO, is "the point". I hope you can see where we're
>coming from now: just repeat to yourself, "it's just a newsgroup:
>I should really just relax!" :-)
As time passed, his kidneys worked to clear the various drugs from his
system, and the organic side of his mind began to regain control.
Recognizing the electrical interactions of the sleep inducer as a foreign
substance, it reacted. Blood surged through his veins, placing pressure
on his abused skull resulting in pulse after pulse of excruciating pain
shot through his head.
Those nearest his prone form heard a low moan, then a scruff as he moved
his hands to his head in an effort to assauge the pain. One leg pulled up,
then another as Cognos rose to to his knees, still holding his head
tightly, the pressure from his hands wrinkling the skin of his head.
Conversations stopped as he stumbled to his feet, then staggered heavily
into a nearby wall. A multitude of eyes and sensors followed him as he
somehow managed to make his way out the door.
Flamboyant and No Nonsense watched Cognos's progress from a corner they
had taken up in order to continue their conversation. Still wincing from
the bruises in his body, Flamboyant observed
"There goes a man with neither style _nor_ substance."
No Nonsense said nothing but smiled grimly as he privately wished the
stumbling, suffering man luck. Then again, if that lumbering brute met
anyone else on his way to wherever he was going, they might be the ones
who needed the luck.
>Mark "Klone Crimson" Friedman is crimson@ihz.compuserve.com....................
Tim Kuehn
Just relaxin' in the breeze. :)
Cognos is availble for "practice" if you feel so inclined, but be warned,
in the state he's in he's mighty unpredicatable.
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