blah-039

eZine lover (@eZine)

Published in 

BLaH

 · 5 years ago

  

              Ü ÜßÝ   Ü             Ü   Ü 
               ßÝ ßÝ   Ý             Ý   Ý 
                Ý  Û   Ý             Ý   Ý 
    BLaH        Ý ß    Ý      ÜßÜ    Ý   Ý 
    File        ÝßÜ    Ý        ÜÝ   ÝßÝÜÝ        Written March 23rd, 1993 
    #039        Ý  Ýig Ýong  ÜßÝ Ýnd Ý   Ýairy 
                Ý  Ý   Ý    Þ    Ý   Ý   Ý 
                ÝÜß    ÝÜÜÝ  ßÜÜßÞ  ÜÝ   ÞÜ 
                 
                         Presents 
         Ú                  ÄÄ                   ¿ 
          "Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Pt. 2" 
         ³                  by                   ³ 
                        Constantine 
         À                  ÄÄ                   Ù 

                   Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Pt. 2 
                             (What?  Me Alex?) 

 
        ...My head was swimming as I woke up, feeling like a ton of bricks 
had hit me like a freight train.  I reminded myself to stop mixing my  
metaphors as I struggled against the ropes that tied me to the chair. 
        "You're not tied up," a voice said.  I opened my eyes and looked. 
I was pulling on my shoelaces. 
        "Sorry about that," said the young man standing in front of me. 
In a pair of jeans and an old Metallica tshirt, it could only be James 
Hetfield. 
        "Why'd you hit me?" 
        "I had to get your attention." 
        I stood up and looked around the sawdust-covered nightclub.  The 
workprograms had all gone out for lunch, leaving the two of us alone. 
        "People are talking, Hetfield.  They say you're going K-RaD.  Like 
you've got a files complex." 
        "The files?  FUCK the files." 
        "Yeah, so you say." 
        "Listen," Hetfield said, looking around the room nervously, "This 
isn't my choice.  PeNiS forced me to go 14.4 and put in the file vaults 
for them-- they're doing it all over the Net.  I can't be seen with you, 
man, it's just too dangerous." 
        "Tell me who your PeNiS contact is." 
        "PeNiS is big, Connie.  If I talk, they'll format me for sure." 
        "Then tell me who WILL talk about PeNiS." 
        "Just get out while you can." 

        I stepped outside, the fresh air of the Net cooling my face and  
making the lump on my head throb.  I was walking down a phoneline, cursing 
my lack of leads, when a derelict shuffled up behind me.  He had a mean 
look about him and a big tagline. 
        [Historical Note-- "Big Taglines" were a temporary fad of recent 
origin, characterized by very short messages and very long bluewave 
signatures.  Starting with one-line posts and two-line tags, the trend 
escalated to one-LETTER posts and paragraph-long tags.  The fad died 
suddenly when a notorious user posted a wordless message followed by the 
collected works of Charles Dickens as a tagline.  A hoard of Bluewave 
users, infuriated by the 48-hour download, lynched him.] 
        "PssT!" he said. 
        "No spare change, buddy." 
        "You're looking for PeNiS, right?" 
        "Hey!" I said, turning to face him, "My sex life is none of your 
business!" 
        "My name's NeX," he said, winking at me, "This is just a disguise. 
I can help you get to someone high in the organization, but it'll cost 
you." 
        "I hope YOU'RE not looking for--" 
        "I want file points.  Lots of file points." 
        "Yeah, I can do that.  What do you know?" 
        We stepped into a vacant host computer to talk, huddling behind 
a pile of file caches. 
        "You want to talk to Nyarlathotep," NeX said, "He knows the whole 
operation.  Look for him at--" 
        The wail of sirens outside cut him off.  Through the windows I 
could see a dozen squad cars surrounding the building. 
        "Shit!" he said, "SPA cops!" 
        What seemed like hundreds of goons in Software Publisher's  
Association uniforms poured out of the cars and took up position, aiming 
wicked-looking magnets at us. 
        "Attention!" a voice shouted through a bullhorn.  "This is the 
SPA!  Come out with your hands up, or we'll erase!" 
        "Nooooo!" NeX cried, "It was just a copy of Little People Farm! 
I was going to buy it eventually!  Honest!" 
        There was silence for a moment, then the bullhorn squawked again. 
"You know, the least you could do is shoot at us." 
        "Shoot at you?" I shouted, "Why?" 
        "Well," the officer said, "We can't bloody well kill you if you 
come out with your hands up, can we?  I mean, we have a reputation to 
uphold.  We'd have to go and call the NSA and get THEM to shoot you in 
the back, and then there's all the red tape that comes with that.  If 
you'd just be so kind as to fire a warning shot or two, we could waste 
you and go get lunch." 
        "Don't even think about it!" I said, "I've got a Whore Virus 
in here!  It could shut down this entire area code!" 
        There was a long pause. 
        "Nice try," the bullhorn responded, "But we've got Patty Hoffman 
out here, and she says you're full of it." 

TO BE CONTINUED... 

[Will Connie and NeX escape from the SPA?  Will Patty Hoffman ever get a 
life?  Will a coherent storyline develop any time in the near future?  For 
the answers to these questions and more, stay tuned for Fear and Loathing 
Part Three:  Superman's Rotting Corpse!] 

{---End Of File... Connie, these are too SHORT.. urk..----} 

Looks like SOMEONE'S been reading too much Ambush Bug.. 

BLaH <sigh>ts 

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