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BLaH Ý ß Ý ÜßÜ Ý Ý
File ÝßÜ Ý ÜÝ ÝßÝÜÝ Written March 24th, 1993
#041 Ý Ýig Ýong ÜßÝ Ýnd Ý Ýairy
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ÝÜß ÝÜÜÝ ßÜÜßÞ ÜÝ ÞÜ
Presents
Ú ÄÄ ¿
"Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Pt 3"
³ by ³
Constantine
À ÄÄ Ù
Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace, Part 3
(I've Never Read Ambush Bug)
"What are we going to DO?" NeX screamed as the SPA cops
outside started rigging up what looked like an enormous magnet.
"Can we plea-bargain?" I shouted out the window.
"Well," the cop with the bullhorn mused, "You could
plead a little, I guess. It wouldn't help any, but we'd get a
kick out of it."
This wasn't working. Outside the window, a small crowd
had gathered behind the police blockade. The BLaH News Network
was covering the whole thing, but I knew by now that all I could
expect from BNN would be an obituary on the 11PM news and a bad
photograph. Alan Solomon and a consortium of anti-viral experts
were sitting across the parking lot in their Lamborghinis and
Porshes, throwing peanuts and cheering the cops. One called
out, "Hey! As long as you've got the cannon set up, wanna go
to Lemuel's house?". I couldn't see Patty out amongst them, but
I figured she was sitting under SOMEONE's seat...
NeX startled me out of my zenlike state of concentration
by grabbing my lapels and screaming, "WE ARE GOING TO DIE!".
"You startled me out of my zenlike state of
concentration," I told him, "Don't do that. Makes me nervous."
"This is your last chance," the bullhorn squawked, "Do
you want to die in there, or leave the building and die out
here?"
"Do you mind if we die in here?" I shouted, "I'm rather
comfortable."
"Have it your way."
There was an enormous rumbling sound as the magnet
cannon's barrel lowered to point at the warehouse. Silence
descended upon the crowd, except for the far-off cries of one
of the BNN reporters.
"Hey!" he shouted, "Does anyone know how to work this
camcorder?"
Suddenly, something happened.
It wasn't a good thing.
We weren't dead.
It still wasn't a good thing.
There was a single sound, from over the Net hills...
A sound like deep bass, produced by a human throat.
It was followed by another, and another.
It was a rhythm.
The BNN team was the first to realize what was going
on-- the van left in a blaze of baudsmoke, leaving the rest of
the crowd to look around and wonder what the sound was.
Suddenly, a wide form came over the horizon.
"Dear Gods," I breathed, "It's HIM."
Like an unholy cacophony, one unified shriek of terror
rose up from the police and bystanders alike, a cry of pure
horror echoing two solitary words over and over again...
"HEFTY HERB!"
"RUN!" I shouted, shoving NeX out the warehouse door.
He vanished in the scramble of people and vehicles as the dark
figure approached.
"Yo! Yo! Yo!" the Meistro of Malice chanted.
"I'm rappin' this rhyme, 'cause it's been a long time,
Just hangin' out in your telephone lines.
I'm the deadly CyberRapper, the baddest of the bad,
If ya thought I had left then, son, you been had.
I'm bigger and badder than ever before,
D'you like this rap? I got a million MORE!"
The SPA cops left were wailing and holding their heads,
writhing on the concrete under Hefty Herb's rhythmic onslaught.
I whipped out my Official BLaH Earplugs and shoved them in,
hoping they'd keep the worst of his rhymes out until I could
get away. My life flashed before my eyes as I staggered away,
hearing the horrendous sound getting louder and louder. A jet-black
Qmodem with an "I Don't Brake for Nuns" bumper sticker screeched
to a halt in front of me.
"Get in!" the familiar Italian/Mexican/Alien driver said.
I managed to pull myself inside the limo just as we tore off into
another area code, leaving the Herbmeister far behind.
"You don't look too good," Guido Sanchez said, cocking his
stylish black fedora.
"I'm really sick of this 'Perils of Connie' crap," I muttered,
"What's next? Two-thousand ton pink elephant gonna fall on me?"
Somewhere, far away, Potted Plant looked at the hardcopy of
the latest BLaH file with disgust.
"You know," he said to nobody in particular, "This BLaH stuff
ranks pretty high on the lameometer."
Suddenly, a two-thousand ton pink elephant fell from the sky,
obliterating him instantly.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Guido told me as we pulled into the
main node at Evermore.
"So," he said, "What have you got?"
"A trail of dead informants, a tangled web of mystery,
and one hell of a migrane."
"You'll have to do better than that; I hear that Phrack
has contacted PeNiS representatives in Waco, and they're working
on securing an exclusive story as we speak."
"Listen," I told him, "If you want me to find the head
of the PeNiS, I'm going to need something from you."
"You can't mean--"
"Yes."
"No! Not--"
"I need it, Guido."
"Anything but that!"
"Guido, I need the BLaHmobile."
We stood in the shadows of the old /GARAGE directory.
"What a relief," he said as he wiped his brow, "I
thought you were going to ask for money."
"I'd never do that to ya, Gweed."
I worshipfully ran a finger over the hull of the
BLaHmobile. Cherry; supercharged 14.4 with custom design; a
hacker's dream come true. Designed to interface anywhere,
anytime, protocols be damned. It could tear through the Net
like a bat out of hell and stop on a dime. It had air
conditioning. It had a tape deck. I was in love.
"A dream come true," I murmured.
"Yeah," Guido said, "Too bad it doesn't work."
"WHAT?"
"Something wrong with the circuitry, never worked right
after Lemuel spilled coke on it."
"So what DO we have?"
/GARAGE2 was noticably smaller.
"This is ridiculous."
"It's not that bad," Guido said, "It has a roof."
The BLaHmobile II was a Yugo.
"Where are you going?" he shouted over the whining
screech of the BLaHmobile II as I kicked it into gear.
"Beyond the veil of sleep!" I said, "To the Court of the
Elder Gods, where the blind daemon-sultan Jerry Lewis--"
"Wait! How are you going to get there? That's some
major long-distance charges!"
"Hmmm... I'll need a box..."
"Too far to blue box it," Guido mused, "Red box wouldn't
help, pearl box is too low-powered, beige is too easily
detected, ivory only works on low-speed lines, urine is just
plain icky... No, you need something special for that kind of
work."
"What can get me there fast and cheap?"
"You need the Puce Box."
"Where can I get one?"
"There's only one place in the Net that would have it.
A den of iniquity, so vile and remorseless--"
"Congress?"
"No, not THAT bad. The Hell Pit."
"Wish me luck," I said, hoping the BLaHmobile II wasn't
as much of a death trap as it looked.
"You don't need luck!" he shouted as I lurched out into
the Net, "You need a--"
The rest of his sentence was cut off by a sputter of
static. As the onyx and red-veined marble spires of the Hell
Pit neared on the horizon, I hoped it hadn't been anything
important.
[Will the Puce Box be found? Will the BLaHmobile II
run long enough to GET to the Puce Box? And what does Hefty
Herb have to do with all this, anyway? For the answers to these
pressing questions, stay tuned for Fear and Loathing Part Four:
Superman's Rotting Grandmother!]
{---End of File. -- Talespin! Friends for life through Thick And Thin!--}
EXTERMINATE ALL RATIONAL THOUGHT.
BLaH <sigh>ts
The Battle Of Evermore <312>476-1508
The Obloid Sphere <708>965-3098
Nun-Beaters Anonymous <708>251-5094
"Oh, he IS a bastard, isn't he?"
{---I'm Blacker than Black and I'm Black, Ya'll...----------------}
