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BEGIN LINE_NOIZ.23
I S S U E - @ # N O V E M B E R 1 5 , 1 9 9 4
<LiNE NOiZ<<< >>>LiNE NOiZ>
<<<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>
<<<2 3<<<< : : : : : : :-L-I-N-E-N-O-I-Z-: : : : : : : >>>2 3>>>>
<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>
<<<<<< - - - 1 - y e a r - - - >>>>>>
<<<< >>>>
CYbERPUNk I N f O R M A t i 0 N E - Z i N E
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< L I N E N O i Z >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I S S U E - @ # N O V E M B E R 1 5 , 1 9 9 4
: File !
: Intro to Issue 21
: Billy Biggs <ae687@freenet.carleton.ca>
: File @
: Square One - Part 8
: Kipp Lightburn <ah804@freenet.carleton.ca>
: File #
: Heavy Duty - Chapter 4
: C.McLean-Campbell <cmc@cs.strath.ac.uk>
: File $
: Nibbles of Information
: Billy Biggs <ae687@freenet.carleton.ca>
: File %
: Chiba City Blues Poll Results
: Joshua Lellis <joshua@server.dmccorp.com>
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--<----<----<----<----L - i - N - e ----- N - o - i - Z ---->---->---->---->--
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
File - !
Well, I can't hold off this issue any longer so I'm sending it out now. I had
planned to include an interview with Bill Leeb of Front Line Assembly but
since it hasn't happened yet, it'll have to wait till next issue. Sorry.
Meanwhile, we have the results of the Chiba City Blues Poll and some other
neat stuff. Here's to one year running...
-Billy Biggs, editor.
***** N o T E ******
- We have been experiencing problems with our subscription list. If you
find that the following subscription instructions are not working then
e-mail me at ae687@freenet.carleton.ca and I'll see what I can do....
=-*-= Subscription Info =-*-=
o Subscriptions can be obtained by sending mail to: dodger@fubar.bk.psu.edu
With the words: Subscription LineNoiz <your address>
In the body of the letter.
o Back Issues can be recieved by sending mail to the same address with the
words BACK ISSUES in the subject.
=-*-= Submission Info =-*-=
o Please send any submissions to me: ae687@freenet.carleton.ca
o We accept Sci-Fi, opinions, reviews and anything else of interest.
o Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit! Submit!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--<----<----<----<----L - i - N - e ----- N - o - i - Z ---->---->---->---->--
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File - @
From: ah804@freenet.carleton.ca (Kipp Lightburn)
Subject: Square One - Part 8
Square One - Pt. 8
------------------
Peices of green, in a dead world.
Small patches of grass jut out from between concrete slabs. Green with
life, identity, and soul.
I sit on the steps to one of the tall buildings that remind us just how
small we really are.
Mirrored windows from top to bottom, so that the people in the street
might see what they'd look like if they were looking out at themselves.
I look in those windows. I'm there but I can't see myself. There's
no-one to see.
"Okay Kyle it's all set up."
She emerges from the building with a briskness to her walk. I can only
stare.
Stick looks down at me,"What?"
"I'm not Kyle remember?" Losing your identity before you even find one
is a cruelty that little else can match. I have no sense of self. No feeling
of green.
"Well what do you want me to call you then?" Her eyes have a hardness.
"I don't know." I stretch to my feet, "Don't call me anything."
My new leg feels a little odd. It's exactly the same length as my old
one, but this one is more muscular. Stronger. If I run, my other leg will have
to try and keep up.
Her boots echo off of the concrete as she steps towards the car.
I have to kill some more now I suppose.
The grass looks at me with a pale stare.
I slam the car door beside me and sink into the seat. Stick pushes the
car into drive, and my seat begins to vibrate.
Vibrations. Dancing around my quiet insanities. Rubbing the occasional
thought with warm friendliness.
"I'm going to drop you off two blocks down." She never takes her eyes
off the road, "The guy you want is supposed to be at home now. We need his
wallet and his uniform."
Brief. As if she feels she's talking to someone she has reason to hate.
She hates me. She hates the idea of me. I am evrything that Kyle Raimi was.
Almost. I'm walking around but where is he? The man who is both my father and
my twin.
We drive in silence. She wants nothing to do with me, and all that I
want now is her. Not her love, not her touch. I just need her to see me and
know that I'm alive. That I'm sitting next to her.
But to her I'm just the shadow of a man she may never see again. And
you don't normally talk to shadows. Shadows are all around us, but we never
actually see them.
I shuffle in the seat and break the silence, but she doesn't even throw
me a sideways glance. I was her friend. I'm her tool now.
The car slows to a stop and she unlocks my door from her side, "Get out
here. I'll be waiting at the diner across the street."
"Stick..."
"We're running on a time limit here." She hasn't looked at me once.
I'm well aware that I don't exist, but she doesn't have to cram the
idea down my throat.
I step out of the car and onto the sidewalk. As the car door swings
shut, she's already got her foot on the gas. I feel like hurting something.
The door buckles then snaps under the weight of my foot. Instinct
becomes my guide. And I hunt.
"What the hell?!?" He staggers into the hall with a magazine in one
hand and a television remote in the other. Death will thank me for my gift.
My new leg pushes me into a sprint as his eyes grow wide. Shock. I
don't want shock, I want terror. I want fear.
The magazine hits the floor. He spins and bolts into another room. I
hear a door slam when I round the corner.
"...oh god oh god oh god..." The sound creeps under the door and into
my everloving arms.
He's not going anywhere, so I look around for something to use on him.
Something painful. Raw.
I find it. I grab it. She hates me now. She doesn't know me. She
hates me.
Another door falls in front of me. Anger spurns a giggle from my deep
inside of me. Rage. Rage. Rage. I focus on it. He sees it.
"Please, just take whatever you want." The boar cries.
The metal ruler spins in my hand.
"I'll give you anything you want..."
And I'm on top of him. My weight forces the air out of his lungs with
a wheeze. When he squirms and flails, I know I have terror. I have that fear
that has become my fuel.
"...please..."
I sit there. For some reason I simply wade in the moment. It ripples
around me.
"...please..."
She hates me. I'm not the Kyle she wants.
"...I haven't done anything..."
His squirming stops as my eyes leave him and survey the room. A bed.
A dresser. Photographs.
Square memories. Boxes of captured time.
I feel him move beneath me but my eyes fix onto the pictures. Scenes
of him. Scenes of others. Catalyst's for memories.
I get off of him and walk over to them. They hold my fascination. I
don't know why. They just do.
I hear the drawer to the nightstand drag open. He wouldn't dare. I
turn on my heel and find myself looking at my prey. My armed prey.
He cocks the hammer on the gun. It's then that I notice the wet stain
in his pants. The gun shakes.
I have to drop him. Instincts are screaming now. They want to smell
the warmth of red. The loss of green.
When I leap towards him I hear the shot. Loud. Rigid. Hot metal
pulls it's way, furiously, through my shoulder. Though I bleed red, I can
never bleed my green.
My hands clasp the gun and yank it free.
He watches me bleed on him for a few seconds.
I smash him with the gun's back end. His eyes roll and conciousness
seeps out of him.
The uniform hangs in the closet, and the wallet rests on the dresser
next to the photographs.
I look from the photos to him, and back again.
I take what I came to get, but I leave something behind.
I leave him his life.
--
Kipp Lightburn (ah804@freenet.carleton.ca)=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
"One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them
all, and in the darkness bind them. In the land of Mordor where shadows lie."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
----------------------L - i - N - E ----- N - o - i - Z ----------------------
File - #
From: C.McLean-Campbell <cmc@cs.strath.ac.uk>
HEAVY DUTY
C.McLean-Campbell
Series Editor: Peaches
Copyright 1994 Toaster Books. All Rights Reserved.
CHAPTER FOUR.
It was early evening in the Moscow suburb and Major Violet Jones
reset the little geiger counter for the third time that night, by holding
it out the window and pointing it at the sky. She was watching for a light,
a red laser light that would appear from the top of the telegraph pole
outside the garden wall. Jasmine Ellis, the civilian operative would shine
the communications laser down to her when she had neutralised the house
security system. Jones glanced along the high wall shrouded by tall cypress
conifers and waited. In the dark she could just about make out the
silhouette of Ellis on top of the pole. As she peered out of the car
window, the detector on the dashboard bleeped very quietly and Jones
realised she'd missed the thin beam. She toggled the icon in her visor
head-up and spoke.
"Ellis? That was quick?" she said.
Ellis' voice sounded tinny. "Jonesy, it's already been neutralised. I
haven't touched it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean someone's already been here. I think the cupboard is probably
bare. I have a warm mass in the study that isn't hot enough to be more than
a small cat. And there isn't any movement on the detectors, either in the
house or grounds," she said.
" But that can't be right, Ellis. What about the dogs?"
The line was silent for a second, Ellis must have turned her head out
of line. Then the detector bleeped again and she was back.
"No dogs, no movement at all. It's all quiet in there. There's a
bypass hardwired into the box that's been feeding the house system happy
signals, but everything else is working fine."
Jonesy weighed the topamine dart gun in her hand and placed it on the
passenger seat. She flicked the local Unipol file onto the head-up, checked
again all the details that she had already memorised, then flicked it off.
"How sure are you about this, Ellis? The Unipol file has four Dobermans
listed and licensed. Are you going to be scraping me off the gravel if I
walk in there?"
"It's totally defo on that, Jonesy. If there was anything alive in
there it would register. Bet you all you'll find is a cat. If you walk in
there the system won't even respond. I can open the gate from here and you
can drive right up to the front door."
"Are you sure?" asked Jonesy.
"Do me a favour," was the curt reply.
"Okay Ellis, listen. I want you to open the gate as soon as I reach
it. The minute I go in the front door I want you to contact Angelwing. Tell
them to touch down immediately, Tell them to put everything on the deck in
the grounds as soon as I pop the door." She started the car and waited till
Ellis responded.
"Copy that," said the operative.
"And get us back on the satellite," she added. Instantly, the comms
icon changed colour.
The gravel drive was a substantial distance from the front gate,
perhaps two hundred meters through open lawns and well tended flower beds.
Jones eased the car gently up to the door, searching the grounds for the
dogs. A graphic in her head-up indicated any change in electrical activity
in the area; a tell tale of any alarm system. It remained static. Parking
the car tight against the door to provide additional protection, she
unholstered her beretta and slipped out, leaving the engine still running.
She crouched beneath the keypad but the front door was already open.
Jones flung herself against the wall parallel to the door and
gingerly pushed it open. She aimed the geiger counter in the door and
scanned up and down. The graphic in her visor stayed at background level
and clicked slowly on audio. The hall was still. All the lights were on and
she could see the persian carpets and an antique mirror over a Georgian
side table on the right hand side wall. The study door was the second of
three heavy oak doors along the hall. It was the only one open. Inside the
hall a vile, ripe odour caught the back of her throat and she gasped
quietly before pushing her face mask on. Inside the hall she systematically
checked the two closed doors. Nothing. An empty lounge and a deserted
kitchen full of expensive gadgets. She eased the study door open fully and
stepped in. A thin, elegant persian cat was fast asleep in front of a
traditional style gas fire. A delicate china cup and saucer filled with
soured tea sat on the edge of the desk. To the left of the cat, slumped
face down, was the body of an elderly man still dressed in his silk
pyjamas. A large puddle of blood had spilled out of the exit wound at the
back of his neck and created a miniature lake on the carpet around him. It
had turned a murky, gelatinous black. The rest of the carpet was a lace
work of coagulated bloody paw prints that terminated at the sleeping cat.
Suddenly the room was filled with the deafening pounding of the
Angelwing helicopters directly overhead and Jones shuddered involuntarily
as the sound cracked the silence. The teacup rattled in its saucer and the
cat awoke, leapt across the room and rushed out of the door. The major
self-consciously looked around, expecting someone to have spotted her lapse
and then swore out loud, cursing her own weakness. She wanted to wash her
hands but took a seat on the floor and waited.
Sergeant Fisher stepped over the body of Marshall Leonid Shavyrin,
Hero of the old Soviet Union and ex-commander of the Long Range Strategic
Rocket Forces. Jones was standing beside the ornate mantelpiece. Around her
the specialists from the Angelwing team were painstakingly taking the place
apart. "We found the dogs in the yard," said Fisher, "poisoned according to
the pathologist. And Wintrobe's on the landline," he pointed to the
traditional phone on the study desk. "Path says he's been dead at least a
week," he added.
"Fisher," she said, coughing slightly, "Don't you think I managed to
guess that for myself?"
"They said the cat had eaten some of him."
"Now how did I know that you were just gagging to tell me that?"
"Bit pervy, though," continued Fisher, "shooting a guy in the throat
like that. You ever see anything like that before, Jonesy?"
She shook her head and deliberately walked around the body to pick up
the phone. Wintrobe sounded as if he was having a conversation out of shot.
"Hello," she said.
"Jonesy," Wintrobe sounded hoarse, the way he always did when he was
excited," so we didn't get Shavyrin then?" Wintrobe pronounced it like
Shavay-rin.
"Well we did, but unfortunately he has a couple of large,
inconvenient holes in him," said Jonesy.
"Don't worry about it. I want you to leave the SCARP case to Fisher."
"Leave it?" she protested. "Did you say leave it? I'm almost on top
of it!"
Wintrobe responded tersely but sympathetically. She could hear him
chewing on the cigar that was a permanent feature of his face. "Jonesy,
just leave it. With the Marshall dead we draw a blank on the search." He
paused, expecting another retort from her, but she stayed silent. "I want
you back here, this morning. Angelwing will drop you at The Moscow Skyhook
in twenty minutes. The embassy has a change of clothes ready for you and
the diplomatic passes."
" So what's happening?" she asked.
"Bishop will give you a brief at the terminal. Ditch all that
hardware. We'll have a new kit ready for you when you land."
Jones pulled the Beretta out of its holster. She'd had it for two years.
"What about my team, boss? Have I just to ditch them like that?"
" Fisher and Ellis can top and tail the thing and then catch up with
you later. Meanwhile you just go get in the 'wing now Jonesy. I need you
here. Understood?"
"Understood." She was trying not to sound reluctant.
He cut off as soon as she answered.
Major Jones peeled the helmet off and clattered it onto the desk.
"Shit!" she said and dropped the webbing belt with the comms
equipment beside the helmet.
Fisher looked up at her, an inquisitive expression on his dark face.
"Problem Jonesy?" he asked.
" Yeah. Don't ask. Listen you still packing that Heckler?" she asked
him.
" Yeah" he responded by peeling his jacket aside to show her the
holster.
Jonesy beckoned him to come closer and he did. She pulled the Heckler
out of his holster with a finger and thumb, as if it was something soiled
and unclean. She dropped it on the desk with a clang amongst the other
hardware. Then she took hold of his hand and pressed the Beretta into it.
"Look after the shop while I'm away."
Fischer nodded. Sometimes he reminded her of an old hound dog that
her grandfather used to own.
Eight minutes later she was boarding the Skyhook.
----------------------L - i - N - E ----- N - o - i - Z ----------------------
File - $
From: ae687@freenet.carleton.ca (Billy Biggs)
Subject: Nibbles of Information
[ This one I just felt like putting in... it's o so true... :-) ]
:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:><:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:
Subject: fw:Evolution of a Programmer
The Evolution of a Programmer
-----------------------------
High School/Jr.High
===================
10 PRINT "HELLO WORLD"
20 END
First year in College
=====================
program Hello(input, output)
begin
writeln('Hello World')
end.
Senior year in College
======================
(defun hello
(print
(cons 'Hello (list 'World))))
New professional
================
#include <stdio.h>
void main(void)
{
char *message[] = {"Hello ", "World"};
int i;
for(i = 0; i < 2; ++i)
printf("%s", message[i]);
printf("\n");
}
Seasoned professional
=====================
#include <iostream.h>
#include <string.h>
class string
{
private:
int size;
char *ptr;
public:
string() : size(0), ptr(new char('\0')) {}
string(const string &s) : size(s.size)
{
ptr = new char[size + 1];
strcpy(ptr, s.ptr);
}
~string()
{
delete [] ptr;
}
friend ostream &operator <<(ostream &, const string &);
string &operator=(const char *);
};
ostream &operator<<(ostream &stream, const string &s)
{
return(stream << s.ptr);
}
string &string::operator=(const char *chrs)
{
if (this != &chrs)
{
delete [] ptr;
size = strlen(chrs);
ptr = new char[size + 1];
strcpy(ptr, chrs);
}
return(*this);
}
int main()
{
string str;
str = "Hello World";
cout << str << endl;
return(0);
}
Master Programmer
=================
[
uuid(2573F8F4-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)
]
library LHello
{
// bring in the master library
importlib("actimp.tlb");
importlib("actexp.tlb");
// bring in my interfaces
#include "pshlo.idl"
[
uuid(2573F8F5-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)
]
cotype THello
{
interface IHello;
interface IPersistFile;
};
};
[
exe,
uuid(2573F890-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820)
]
module CHelloLib
{
// some code related header files
importheader(<windows.h>);
importheader(<ole2.h>);
importheader(<except.hxx>);
importheader("pshlo.h");
importheader("shlo.hxx");
importheader("mycls.hxx");
// needed typelibs
importlib("actimp.tlb");
importlib("actexp.tlb");
importlib("thlo.tlb");
[
uuid(2573F891-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820),
aggregatable
]
coclass CHello
{
cotype THello;
};
};
#include "ipfix.hxx"
extern HANDLE hEvent;
class CHello : public CHelloBase
{
public:
IPFIX(CLSID_CHello);
CHello(IUnknown *pUnk);
~CHello();
HRESULT __stdcall PrintSz(LPWSTR pwszString);
private:
static int cObjRef;
};
#include <windows.h>
#include <ole2.h>
#include <stdio.h>
#include <stdlib.h>
#include "thlo.h"
#include "pshlo.h"
#include "shlo.hxx"
#include "mycls.hxx"
int CHello::cObjRef = 0;
CHello::CHello(IUnknown *pUnk) : CHelloBase(pUnk)
{
cObjRef++;
return;
}
HRESULT __stdcall CHello::PrintSz(LPWSTR pwszString)
{
printf("%ws\n", pwszString);
return(ResultFromScode(S_OK));
}
CHello::~CHello(void)
{
// when the object count goes to zero, stop the server
cObjRef--;
if( cObjRef == 0 )
PulseEvent(hEvent);
return;
}
#include <windows.h>
#include <ole2.h>
#include "pshlo.h"
#include "shlo.hxx"
#include "mycls.hxx"
HANDLE hEvent;
int _cdecl main(
int argc,
char * argv[]
) {
ULONG ulRef;
DWORD dwRegistration;
CHelloCF *pCF = new CHelloCF();
hEvent = CreateEvent(NULL, FALSE, FALSE, NULL);
// Initialize the OLE libraries
CoInitializeEx(NULL, COINIT_MULTITHREADED);
CoRegisterClassObject(CLSID_CHello, pCF, CLSCTX_LOCAL_SERVER,
REGCLS_MULTIPLEUSE, &dwRegistration);
// wait on an event to stop
WaitForSingleObject(hEvent, INFINITE);
// revoke and release the class object
CoRevokeClassObject(dwRegistration);
ulRef = pCF->Release();
// Tell OLE we are going away.
CoUninitialize();
return(0); }
extern CLSID CLSID_CHello;
extern UUID LIBID_CHelloLib;
CLSID CLSID_CHello = { /* 2573F891-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820 */
0x2573F891,
0xCFEE,
0x101A,
{ 0x9A, 0x9F, 0x00, 0xAA, 0x00, 0x34, 0x28, 0x20 }
};
UUID LIBID_CHelloLib = { /* 2573F890-CFEE-101A-9A9F-00AA00342820 */
0x2573F890,
0xCFEE,
0x101A,
{ 0x9A, 0x9F, 0x00, 0xAA, 0x00, 0x34, 0x28, 0x20 }
};
#include <windows.h>
#include <ole2.h>
#include <stdlib.h>
#include <string.h>
#include <stdio.h>
#include "pshlo.h"
#include "shlo.hxx"
#include "clsid.h"
int _cdecl main(
int argc,
char * argv[]
) {
HRESULT hRslt;
IHello *pHello;
ULONG ulCnt;
IMoniker * pmk;
WCHAR wcsT[_MAX_PATH];
WCHAR wcsPath[2 * _MAX_PATH];
// get object path
wcsPath[0] = '\0';
wcsT[0] = '\0';
if( argc > 1) {
mbstowcs(wcsPath, argv[1], strlen(argv[1]) + 1);
wcsupr(wcsPath);
}
else {
fprintf(stderr, "Object path must be specified\n");
return(1);
}
// get print string
if(argc > 2)
mbstowcs(wcsT, argv[2], strlen(argv[2]) + 1);
else
wcscpy(wcsT, L"Hello World");
printf("Linking to object %ws\n", wcsPath);
printf("Text String %ws\n", wcsT);
// Initialize the OLE libraries
hRslt = CoInitializeEx(NULL, COINIT_MULTITHREADED);
if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt)) {
hRslt = CreateFileMoniker(wcsPath, &pmk);
if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt))
hRslt = BindMoniker(pmk, 0, IID_IHello, (void **)&pHello);
if(SUCCEEDED(hRslt)) {
// print a string out
pHello->PrintSz(wcsT);
Sleep(2000);
ulCnt = pHello->Release();
}
else
printf("Failure to connect, status: %lx", hRslt);
// Tell OLE we are going away.
CoUninitialize();
}
return(0);
}
Apprentice Hacker
===================
#!/usr/local/bin/perl
$msg="Hello, world.\n";
if ($#ARGV >= 0) {
while(defined($arg=shift(@ARGV))) {
$outfilename = $arg;
open(FILE, ">" . $outfilename) || die "Can't write $arg: $!\n";
print (FILE $msg);
close(FILE) || die "Can't close $arg: $!\n";
}
} else {
print ($msg);
}
1;
Experienced Hacker
===================
#include <stdio.h>
#define S "Hello, World\n"
main(){exit(printf(S) == strlen(S) ? 0 : 1);}
Seasoned Hacker
===================
% cc -o a.out ~/src/misc/hw/hw.c
% a.out
Guru Hacker
===================
% cat
Hello, world.
^D
New Manager
===================
10 PRINT "HELLO WORLD"
20 END
Middle Manager
===================
mail -s "Hello, world." bob@b12
Bob, could you please write me a program that prints "Hello,
world."?
I need it by tomorrow.
^D
Senior Manager
===================
% zmail jim
I need a "Hello, world." program by this afternoon.
Chief Executive
===================
% letter
letter: Command not found.
% mail
To: ^X ^F ^C
% help mail
help: Command not found.
% damn!
!: Event unrecognized
% logout
:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:><:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:
Date: 12 Nov 1994 00:39:27 GMT
From: David_Dei@cyberden.com (David Dei)
Organization: The CyberDen - 415.472.5527
Reply-To: David_Dei@cyberden.com
Subject: RAVERS' INTERNET INVASION WEEK ONE
Distribution: world
INTERNET INVASION of BRITAIN WEEK ONE
brought to you by THE ZIPPY INVASION TASK FORCE
AIM: TO VOICE OUR OUTRAGE AT THE VIRTUAL BANNING OF RAVE IN THE UK
METHOD: USE THE INTERNET TO SEND PROTESTS TO UK GOVERNMENT AND ITS CITIZENS
This week we up the intensity as this thing goes GLOBAL!!!
The Internet Invasion of Britain has Spread WorldWide with Australia, South
Africa, Holland, Sweden and Japan entering the fight.
We are still awaiting word as to exactly what effect the Invasion has had on
UK networks. By all accounts there is a concerted attempt by British
Authorities to keep this story quiet. BUT word has already gotten out to our
cyberactivists within the UK (ground zero) who are monitoring the extent of
the "collapse". Their message: KEEP UP THE PRESSURE, THE INTERNET INVASION OF
BRITAIN CONTINUES
TARGET SURRENDER DATE: December 1st 1994. THIS COULD BE THE WORLDS FIRST
INTERNET ORCHESTRATED "COUP DE ETAT" Any guesses as to the exact timing of
John Majors resignation announcement?
"This is not just an INVASION, it's an INTER-VASION" - Dr Timothy Leary
PROTEST BACKGROUND
[A World Wide Web site for info on the Criminal Justice Bill is available
at the following URL:]
http://www.bath.ac.uk/~bs2ajs/CJ.Bill.html
The United Kingdom Govt's Criminal Justice and Public Order Act (its now no
longer a Bill) THREATENS THE RIGHT OF ALL GLOBAL CITIZENS TO ASSEMBLE. With
legal developments in Western countries increasingly interconnected, THIS
ASSAULT, IF WE IGNORE IT, WILL ULTIMATELY THREATEN INTERNET "ASSEMBLY" ITSELF
Unlike the 1989 Fax for Freedom in support of Chinese students in Tienanmen
Square, the Internet community is now empowered to vote on GLOBAL ISSUES by
electronically "assembling" to voice actual world opinion. Vote with your
fingers to affect world history!
What to do / How to spread the meme.
1. REPLICATE: Alert your Internet cybercommunity by distributing this message
as far as possible. This is an exercise in both information dispersal and
GLOBAL VOTING.
2. E-MAIL your PROTEST: E-mail the attached protest or your own personalized
response to as many key UK addresses as possible (Government Depts,
Companies, Company Presidents, Ministers, Media, and your UK Friends as well
as your own national/local government officials.)
[United Kingdom Commercial e-mail addresses are available via publications
such as New Rider's Official Internet Yellow Pages and other resource lists.
UK Government Web Site: www.open.gov.uk, President Clinton:
president@whitehouse.com]
3. PARTICIPATE: Discuss the implications of this issue and the concept of
a GLOBAL VOTE in as many forums as possible or organize your own
Data-Gathering. Call 415-281-KNOW for invasion details.
Note: We are not attempting to gridlock the ENTIRE system but to rather bring
pressure to bear upon the United Kingdom and its citizens.
SUGGESTED PROTEST MESSAGE:
Recognizing that the principle involved in the British Criminal Justice Bill
now being written into law, involves the banning of "gatherings of more than
10 people on public land" and may eventually be introduced into my home
country and eventually may prohibit Internet "gatherings" in the public land
of Cyberia, we, the Undersigned, protest with all our hearts and will. And we
implore you to do all in your power to erase this shameful bill and its
intention from planetary consciousness.
Signed: [your e-mail address]
BACKGROUND TO THE Public Order section of the Criminal Justice and Public
Order Act of GREAT BRITAIN
At 1:30 am [Friday 4 Nov, Pacific Time] the Queen gave her Royal assent to
most of the clauses in The Criminal Justice Bill. The Bill seeks to change a
number of aspects of the British Justice System.While rectifying overdue
legal loopholes, it also contains some unpopular measures that erode basic
human rights.
These rights are:
1. The right to ASSEMBLE in groups of ten or more individuals ON PUBLIC or
COMMON LAND. In other words, hanging out in a group of ten or more people in
a town square, a park, or the sidewalk becomes potentially illegal.
2. The right to ASSEMBLE on PRIVATE LAND if the gathering is for the express
purpose of listening to music typified as "sounds wholly or
predominantly characterised by the emission of a succession of
repetitive beats". In other words, engaging in the act of drumming, listening
to rockn roll or any music form containing a high number of repeated beats
SPECIFICALLY TECHNO now becomes illegal
3. The right to TRAVEL within the borders or ones country WITHOUT UNDUE
HARASSMENT or threat of arbitrary arrest. The bill gives British Police
increased powers to question and arrest people based solely on their
appearance. In this case the mere fact of looking like you might be on your
way to a party involving the playing of repetitive music is a basis for
harassment.
COMMENTARY
The people most directly affected by this bill are those who are most likely
to attend private or public gatherings in the UK [especially British Ravers].
But we are all affected by this move. The setting of this PRECEDENT in a
western democracy such as the United Kingdom is grave cause for concern. What
we are seeing is a western government destroying the fundamental human rights
of its people. Specifically the right to assemble, which has its
philosophical pedigree in the French and American Revolutions and which has
long been considered the cornerstone of western style democracy
The question we are asking you is this: "If WE do not voice OUR protest at
these developments in the UK, because we are not concerned that the right to
assemble in physical space in Britain might be taken away, and we do not at
the very least make ourselves heard in this battle, THEN WHO MIGHT there be
left to do likewise when our rights to assemble in our own geographical
regions as well as the virtual geographies of cyberspace, are threatened?
BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE ZIPPY INVASION TASK FORCE:
"Cyber Commodore" Dr Timothy Leary
Chaos Strategist: Prof. Ralph Abraham
Reality Technician: David Dei
Zippy Guerilla: Fraser Clark,
Rave-u-Gees: Michael John, Frank Weetjens
Internet Intelligence: Captain Crunch
Pirate Radio: Stephen Dunifer
Look for our posts in the following forums: Alt.Rave & Alt.Music.Techno
:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:><:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:<:>:
Date: Wed Oct 19 01:39:43 1994
From: atomrec@primus.COM (Atomic Records)
Subject: RMI CD #2: FINAL RESULTS!!
Well! Here they are, after all these months! I must say I was
very surprised by the final results. A lot of songs that I had
hoped would get on there didn't. But I willingly defer to the
collective wisdom of the hard-working reviewers (who deserve to
be commended and patted on the back and showered with all sorts
of nice things) and so, here is the track listing for Mind/Body
volume 2.
Keep in mind that the ordering of these tracks is up in the
air. In the lists below, they're arranged in order of
decreasing total score (so the first track is the highest-rated
track on the disc, and the last one is the lowest-rated track
that made it onto the disc (which is nothing to be ashamed about
or anything)). Here we go!
(Note: I don't have time to generate individual letters to the
artists who made it, and all. If you're an artist, and you see
your name here, you know what to do.)
Mind
----
Cameron Lewis - Clusterfuck
Scar Tissue - Failure
Arcana - Where The Shadows Lie (Heart Of Darkness Mix)
Noisia - Get The Fork '94
Soma Holiday - Frisk
Fuzzboy - Sacrificial Lamb
Not Breathing - The Shogoth Walk
Ciborium - Good Christians At Dachau
Graveyard Cafe - The Industrial Blues
Area_39 - Actum Ne Agas
Spleenclutch - Sketches Of Pain
The One - Phase Shift
Circular Firing Squad - Pointer To Void
Verge - The Metal Countdown
In case any of the above artists cannot fulfill their duties
(i.e. they procrastinate in sending me their final master, the
bums) then one of the next four songs will take their place:
The Unit Circle - Miling Direction Is Illegal
D.A.C. Crowell - Risk
Mikael Hillborg - Heart Of Steel
h+ - Heaven
And now...
Body
----
informatik - Autonomous
hex80 - XL
Virus - Flesh
30 Helens Agree - Industry
Bureau Of Control - C^3 I
Etherring - Split
Struktur - Ether
Smothered Hope - Synaptic Circle
ATD Convention - My World
Electronic Counter Measures - Suicide
Dark Network - The Innocent
Sphere Lazza - LD 50
Crawl - Straightrazor
Drone - Ectogenesis: The New Flesh
Shape Factor Moment - The Empty Clown
Cyber G - Spaceloop
As on Mind, these are the reserves:
Wonderland - Seeker
Decomposing Poets - Slide On Shadows
Brian Thomas - Deathro
And finally, the cover art winner is Arts Industria, who beat
their nearest competition by 10 points! As soon (if) I get
their permission, I'll make it available by anonymous FTP.
I'll be flying to Champaign, IL and mixing the final master tapes
with D.A.C. Crowell from November 4th-7th. The CDs will be out
in late November or early January.
Many thanks to all who participated, and another big round of
applause for the reviewers!
Steve Boswell
atomrec@primus.com
Take it to ze bridge, Rolph... und blow it up!
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File - %
From: joshua@server.dmccorp.com (Joshua Lellis)
Subject: Chiba City Blues Poll Results
CHIBA CITY BLUES
Editor: Joshua Lellis
How sad is it when we wake up in the morning and the day has ended.
Hi All. And welcome to the first annual CCB poll results. Before we get
to the winners, let's take a brief moment in respect to the people that
voted and the people that are involved in all of this stuff.
...
...
...
Ok. Now I'm sure you're all waiting for this moment... so... without any
further interruptions, the WINNERS of the CCB poll...
In the category of:
Best Short Story:
1) A Future We'd Like To See (13)
2) Drivers (5)
3) Streets of Snow and Fire (3)
Best Novel (5+ Chapters):
1) Puma (8)
2) The Alaskan - Joshua Lellis (6)
3) Loki's Gun - Phyllis Rostykus and Mark Friedman (5)
3) Something To Be Done - Mike Acar (5)
3) Silk and Steel (5)
Best Poem:
1) Shattered Glass and Broken Dreams - Phyllis Rostykus (5)
Best Writer:
1) Stefan Gagne (11)
2) Mike Acar (5)
3) Mark Friedman (3)
3) Kipp Lightburn (3)
3) Hubert Bartels (3)
Favorite Character (male):
1) Freddy (5)
1) Argus (5)
1) Tuesday Mourning (5)
2) Spaxter (3)
2) Dyne (3)
Favorite Character (female):
1) Puma (10)
2) Niko (5)
3) Shadowcat (3)
3) Saraquel (3)
3) Nekeko (3)
Congratulations to all the winners. Untill next year, that's all for the
CCB poll....
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>> Scheduled 4 upcomming issues: <<
<< Phone interview with Bill Leeb (finally) >>
>> Heavy Duty Chapter 5 <<
Submit! Submit! Submit! --- We need submissions!! --- Submit! Submit! Submit!
END LINE_NOIZ.23
--
+ Billy Biggs Ottawa, Canada | =itwouldbetheultimatetriumphofhumanreason=
+ ae687@Freenet.carleton.ca | =forthenwewouldknowthemindofGOD= S.Hawking
