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.* * \ /\
.* O . . .. ..O .. 365 27 May 2001 ) ( ')
.* O O* o o o o o o o ( / )
* ***O O O O O O O O O \( _)|
* O o o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net "Back To the Geek Future, *
* O Part I" *
*. o |\ _,,,---,,_ *
* /,`.-'`' -. ;-;;,_ *
* |,4- ) )-,_..;\ ( `'-' by Pavement *
* '---''(_/--' `-'\_) *mE0w* o
*. .......................................*
'Anada is cat-friendly..o*`
I turn my ancient, bottom-of-the-line computer on. In a fit of
nostalgia, I decide to dial up the last remaining local BBS in my area. I
haven't called for years.
atdt2612184
CARRIER 14400
PROTOCOL: LAP-M
COMPRESSION: V.42BIS
CONNECT 14400
WILDCAT! Copyright (c) 87,96 Mustang Software, Inc. All Rights
Reserved.Registration Number: 90-1330.v4.20 M10(MultiLine 10)Node: 1.
Connected at 14400 bps. Reliable connec
+++ATH0
OK
NO CARRIER
Nevermind, what's the use? Why do I even try? It's just not the
same and never will be.
Boy, the old days when BBSes were king were the best. I wish I could
go back, I wish I could go back, I wish I could go back, I wish I...
*.....*
Suddenly, I find myself in Waikiki. The throng of tourists is gone.
The streets are empty. The multitude of yuppie shops have their doors wide
open, but there doesn't appear to be anyone inside. It's almost as if I'm
the last person left alive on Earth.
I see a man in a white lab coat with matching hair. He's standing
next to a black Delorean, patting the hood like you would pat a pet.
>talk mad scientist
"What the hell... Where am I? What's going on here?"
"You, my boy, are in an alternate reality! My name is Doc. You
might remember me from such films as Back to the Future, Back to the Future
II, and Back to the Future III. As you know, the BBS scene is dead.
The internet has destroyed it."
"Very true."
"But all is not lost! The BBS scene can be saved!"
"Oh, man. Don't play around with me like that. The time for the BBS
scene to be saved is long gone. It's not possible anymore."
"No, Pavement, it IS possible! Due to the thereom of static time
negativity, I postulate that if the legends of BBSing are present in the
same room in the year 2001, a chaos effect will ensue, thereby liberating
the Triforce from the evil clutches of Gannon and greatly increasing the
power to Stephen Hawking's wheelchair."
He looks serious. Maybe that's why I'm frightened.
Doc continues:
"This expansion will create an anomaly in the Milky Way, which, in
turn, will cause the Triforce to create a ripple effect in time; a wormhole,
if you will! Einstein's Theory of Relativity will then return the BBS scene
to its former greatness!"
"Uh, Doc, that doesn't sound very scientifically sound. Where
exactly do you come up with these crazy ideas?"
"I dunno, it's just a text file. I gave the same stupid explanations
in the movies, remember?"
"Yeah, Good point."
"We haven't much time! Hurry, Pavement, get in the magic Delorean!
You're going back... back to 1986!"
I get in the Delorean. I start the engine. I give Doc the thumbs up
signal. He is running around in a circle, jumping every second step,
ripping and tearing at his white hair, and babbling about the space-time
continuum.
My foot pushes the accelerator. 5... 10... 20... 50... 80.. 90000000
A light brighter than the sun flashes in front of my eyes. Sparks
fly as I leave deep, smoking skid marks on a 2 mile stretch of Kalakaua Ave.
My body feels like it's being ripped apart from every direction at
once, then I sense nothingness for a flicker of a second.
The chaos suddenly ends, and I feel normal again. The windows are
all fogged up. The inside of the vehicle is filled with smoke. I start to
cough. I've gotta get outta this Delorean before I asphyxiate.
I roll down the windows, then cautiously open the car door and look
at my surroundings. It appears that I'm in a suburban subdivision. A hear
a bird singing in the distance. A older man jogs past me. There's a little
girl jumping back and forth in the spray of a lawn sprinkler a few yards
away. This could easily be any suburban street in the present, from the
looks of it. Yet, still, I have the feeling that maybe Doc wasn't so crazy,
after all. Maybe I'm really in the year 1986.
My head still reeling from the smoke, I feel myself drawn to a
Tudor-style home in front of me. I walk through the well-manicured yard and
up to the front door.
knock
knock
knock
"Hello, what can I do for you, young man?"
"Um... is he home?"
"Frankie?"
"Uh, yeah, Frankie."
"Frankie! One of your little friends is here!"
"Hold on a sec, mom, I'm on my computer!"
"My Frankie is a computer whiz-kid. He's going to grow up and work
for IBM one day. He's going to... Oh! You look hungry, dear! Don't worry;
I've got some cookies in the oven with your name on them! Frankie usually
eats them while he's watching ALF, but I'm sure he won't mind sharing. It's
been so long since he's had a friend over."
"Please don't keep your friend waiting, Frankie!"
"Jesus Christ, mom! You know I'm busy!"
"I'll thank you not to use that type of language, young man! I'm
going in the kitchen; if you don't get your butt out here to the door,
buster..."
A rotund figure wearing a denim jacket, an Iron Maiden t-shirt, and
skintight, stonewashed jeans waddles down the hall. He appears to be about
16, has bad acne, a crude pentagram scrawled on his left hand in ballpoint
pen, and looks like he hasn't bathed for several days. He is carrying a bag
of potato chips. He is shoveling the potato chips into his mouth; most of
them don't make it to their intended destination and litter the ground,
seemingly ignored.
"Hello, Frankie. My name is Pavement."
"I ain't never heard of you, pal."
"I'm here from the year 2001. My mission is to bring you back with
me and start the BBS scene anew."
"Dweeb, don't you know who I am?"
"Doc didn't tell me that."
"I am The Blade of the Neon Fucking Knights"
A chill goes through me. Could it be?
"YOU'RE THE BLADE?!"
"The one and only."
"Oh, wow! I didn't--"
"Look, lamer. What are you here REALLY here for? If you want access
on MetalliLand, you ain't gettin' it. We've already got too many leeches.
So why don't you get the hell out of here, huh?"
"Frankie -- I can call you Frankie, right? I'm seriously here from
the year 2001. The BBS scene is dead in the future; you're the only one who
can save it, please --"
"You think you're really bodacious, don't you? Well, I'll tell you
what: I'm bored, so I'll let you come inside. But don't expect me to talk
to you; I've got stuff going on."
"Thank you."
"Yeah, fuck you. Just get inside."
I follow The Blade. He is still gorging himself on the potato chips.
We enter his room. I see a Quiet Riot poster on the wall. Next to the
poster, a neon-green bandana is tacked up; a laughably hokey skull and
crossbones, and the words "Twisted Sister" are printed on it. There are
several empty cans of New Coke randomly discarded on the floor. Frankie
plops down in front of his computer.
"Oh, wow! You're actually using a Commodore 64! I can't believe it!"
"Most people can't. I'm the only one in this entire area code with
10 Megs."
"Uh, well, that sounds pretty elite."
"Damn right it is! Do YOU have 10 megs?"
I just stare at The Blade. I thought legends weren't supposed to be
such cocky motherfuckers.
"So, you say you're from the future? I don't believe you, but I'll
play along. If you're lucky, I might include you in "What Assholes Do III."
And that's if you're lucky. I'll tell you something else, Future Boy: there
ain't no way the BBS scene is gonna be dead in 2001. Shit, 16 years from
now, EVERYONE's gonna have a 10 meg hard drive and a light pen like I do."
"Frankie, in the future, we have this thing called the internet that
has virtually wiped out BBSing. Everyone is on the internet. Even people
like your mom."
"Let me ask you a question, Pavement. But, first, let me say that
you have the gayest handle I've ever heard."
"Gee, thanks. Okay, go 'head."
"Didn't you used to call yourself 'The Masked Masher'?"
The Blade laughs hysterically. Potato chip crumbs fly out of his
mouth, hitting me in the face. He was, of course, referring to a made-up
BBS lamer from one of his text files.
Frankie takes a giant gulp of New Coke, and lets out a loud belch.
"You know, you're really off the deep end, dorkus. Just tell me one
thing -- are The Neon Knights still around in the future?"
"No, I'm sorry, they're not"
"Well, that's how I know you're bullshitting. The Neon Knights are
gonna be around forever. We're the biggest text file and anarchy group of
all time."
"Not as big as Cult of the Dead Cow."
"You mean those lamers who type up Suicidal Tendencies lyrics?! You
expect me to believe that THEY are gonna be the baddest group?"
"Hard to believe, but true."
"How many distro sites do they have?"
"Just one -- their web site on the internet."
"Ha! Neon Fucking Knights has 20 plus distro sites all over the
country, in all of the most elite area codes! Get the fuck out of my room!"
"Please, Blade. Please, come back with me. The future needs you!"
Frankie's face reddens and balls up. He's looks as if he's about to
explode with rage. I don't think I've seen true anger, until now. He
starts to scream.
"You know something? I'm tired of leeches. 'Gimme Leisure Suit
Larry, Blade!,' 'I've gotta have Pools of Radiance, Blade!,' Well, I'm
fucking sick of that shit! I'm fucking sick of it, you hear me!"
And then the rage turns to tears. The Blade withers, his head in his
hands. I give him a hug. Not a big one. Not something he'd accuse me of
being "gay" for. Just one of those "guy to guy" hugs that you give your
buddy when his girlfriend just broke up with him.
"I can't do everything, you know! I'm just one person!"
"I know, Frankie. Don't worry, man. No one expects you to do it
all."
He cries and cries.
"Yes, they do, man. You don't understand. I... I can't stop
bragging. And people actually believe it! They BELIEVE that I'm a legend.
And I have to live up to that. This computer world is all I have."
I feel really bad for this kid. Here he is, playing the role of Mr.
Tough Guy, but deep down, he knows it's all a facade.
I leave the Blade's room and take LONG walk around the block, so he
can have some time to himself.
When I get back, he looks at me and starts to talk.
"Hey, listen, man. Um, you're not gonna tell anyone I was crying,
right?"
"No, I won't."
"Good, I don't think my friends would let me be a Neon Knight anymore
if they knew."
"Don't worry, Blade. It happens to the best of us."
"Okay, cool. Hmm, Let's see, where were we? Oh yeah, you said you
were from the future, and I said that was bullshit. Well, I still think
it's bullshit."
"No, it's true, Frankie. I can understand that you don't believe me;
I barely believe it myself. But what would it hurt if you came along with
me? Maybe you could write about it for one your text files."
"I don't feel like it, that's what it would hurt. Before you so
rudely interupted my day, I was getting ready to go out to the mall so I
could smoke and test out some new anarchy for my latest text file. If
you'll come with me and can prove that you're not a lamer, I might consider
humoring you. And that's only because you've got a bitchin' set of wheels
out there."
"You actually DO what you write about in your files?"
"Of course. Doesn't everybody?"
I smile. This guy really is one of the greatest.
"What new anarchy technique are you testing?"
"A fertilizer bomb."
"Isn't that sort of dangerous?"
"Jesus Christ! You really are lame! Out, out, out! And don't even
think about eating some of the cookies my mom baked for me; those are for me
to eat while I'm watching 'She's a Small Wonder'."
"Alright, Blade, I'll leave. I respect your privacy. Well, it's
been great talking to you. No one in the future is ever going to believe
me."
"Fuck you. Why are you still here?"
The Blade flips me off. I hear a modem screeching and an Anthrax
record start to play as I leave.
Outside, I take one final look at the house before I get into the
Delorean. I rev the engine, and depart.
Back in the present, I pull the vehicle into my driveway. My
roommate, Fuminori, runs out of the house, an excited look in his eyes.
"Evan, you have nice car! Where you get? You now date many of girls
have, how you call, big boobies!"
I sigh and go inside.
"I is loving big boobies! Let for me to borrow car!"
The red light on my answering machine is blinking. I press the "new
messages" button out of habit.
I get into bed. I cover my head with my pillow. I, out of everyone
in the universe, was given the privilege of meeting The Blade and bringing
him back to the future. I failed miserably. He was just a scared kid with
low self-esteem, not the legend everyone thinks him to be. I guess life
just isn't fair sometimes. But, there's always tomorrow. Tommorrow, I will
meet another legend. Tommorow, I won't fail.
I don't hear the message as it plays.
"Fri. Day. March. Twun. Tee. Fifth. E. Lev. En. Oh. Five. P. M."
"Pavement, this is Doc! Don't get in the magic Delorean tomorrow!
By meeting The Blade and not bringing him back, you've created a rip in the
very fabric of time! Any more contact with the past will cause unspeakable
damage. I repeat, do not --"
"Mem. Oh. Ree. Full. Now. Dee. Lee. ting. Mes. A. Jiz."
..................................................................
/\_/\ *
( o.o ) (c) Anada e'zine anada365 by Pavement o
> ^ < o
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