From: friedman@news.cis.ohio-state.edu (Mark  Friedman, Crimson)
Subject: 21st Century Schizoid Man [part 02/21]
Organization: The Ohio State University Department of Computer and Information Science
Date: Mon, 17 Aug 1992 07:00:42 GMT

	SybreSpace was a hangout for most of the downtown Seattle
console jockeys.  Freddy played there often in the prefered musical
style: heavy pounding rhythms.  It seemed deckers didn't have the
notion that all music should be played in 4, and that suited him fine.

	Tonight he wasn't playing, but he was still hard at work in a
sense.  He was sitting alone at a table in front of a half-empty
bottle of tequilla, a giant pile of partially chewed lime slices, and
an ashtray full of Xigarette butts.  He was working hard on
forgetting.

	Hell, he hadn't smoked in ages.  It seemed he picked up the
habit every time he was under heavy pressure.  He started in grad
school, since most of the foreign students did it anyway.  Besides, he
had very busy hands, and it gave him something to do with them when he
didn't have an instrument around.

	He was lighting up another Xigarette when he happened to glance
up at the front door.  "Ahhh, shit...here comes the welcome wagon..."
He sighed and took another swig of tequilla, straight.  He'd need a
little more liquid courage to deal with this crap.

	Xavier stalked up to Freddy's table, accompanied by two
cloaked figures.  One was obviously female (and not that badly
"equipped", Freddy thought), and the other was a stock body-guard
type, about the same size as X (though a little lighter in build). The
latter flashed something to the bartender, who nodded in turn.

	Freddy mumbled, "Mr. Moran, so glad you could make it.  Have
a drink on me..."  He pushed the bottle forward.

	Xavier pulled out the chair opposite of the decker and sat
down.  The female figure walked around the table once, surveying the
room, and finally stopped at Freddy's side.  The other man simply
stood firmly behind Xavier.

	The ex-company man pushed the offered bottle of liquor away
and answered flaty, "No thanks."  He sat back in his chair and
straightened up the collar of his longcoat.  "Tough Day?"  He reached
into the coat.  "Well I'm here to make it tougher."  Xavier pulled out
his Ares and pointed it at Crimson's chest. "Care to cash in on your
clone, Crimson?"

	Freddy thought hard for something witty to say.  Usually the
snappy rejoinders came to mind instantly, but they tended to come
slower in the presence of guns.  Or maybe he was just scared shitless
that Xavier apparently knew something he was hiding.  Or maybe it was
the tequilla.  Nahhh...

	The patrons of the bar soon quieted down and turned towards
the happenings at the table.  He muttered, "How would my friends here
take their favorite musician getting geeked?"  At least he *hoped* he
was high up in their books.

	Xavier nodded and the woman held up a hand which quickly was
surrounded by visible electricity.  The man behind X turned around and
held up an M22A2 Assault rifle.  "No trouble," Xavier whispered,
"We're only here to talk."

	A host of deckers pulled out small arms and snickered.  One
called out, "Well maybe we'd like to listen in too, eh?"  The crowd
laughed loudly.  The bartender sighed and walked into the back room.
Crimson smiled, relieved that the people were on his side.  It paid to
buy a round of drinks for them earlier, in spades.  He licked his hand
and then salted it.  He then grabbed a lime slice in the same hand and
the bottle with the other.

	Xavier swatted the bottle away.  Freddy watched it
incredulously as it shattered on the floor.  Xavier leaned closer,
"Dammit listen you weasel.  We are all in some trouble."  He growled
under his breath.

	Freddy simply licked the salt off his hand and went directly
for the lime.  His face screwed at the taste: "Man, I swear this fruit
has more kick than the booze..."

	Xavier grinned "friends" to the crowd and pulled back the Pred
II.  The man behind him lowered the rifle, but the woman continued to
concentrate hard in his direction.  X spoke again, "I believe you owe
some people a lot of money."

	Freddy nodded to the surrounding deckers, who relaxed their
weapon posture, but didn't go completely off guard.  The vid-gamers go
back to their playing, breaking up the tense silence in the bar.  "So,
X-man, for what reason do I owe the honor of this visit?"  He picked
up another Xigarette and lit it, stubbing the old one out in the
ashtray.

	Xavier said, "Heh...you did some serious damage to good old
Bob.  In addition, I did some damage to the TC.  Now they want all our
heads.  I was first: they grabbed my girlfriend.  You'll be next."  He
paused for effect.  "Do you care?  I'll bet there on their way here
now.  I'm sure they have a resourceful decker like mine.  You left a
trail of bowling balls behind you.  I think you'd like to end this as
much as the rest of us, quiaff?"

	Freddy looked perplexed.  "Just what are you talking about?"
Play dumb, that's the ticket!  Ignorance is bliss...

	Xavier answered, "Look here.  The TC are probably on their way
and they'll want the money more than I do.  Come with me if you want
to live..."

	Freddy swore he heard a slight German accent coming through,
but shrugged it off.  So he knows about the money: "It all boils down
to money, doesn't it?  I can assure you, I don't quite have the mint
you think I have..."

	Xavier said, "I know that now.  My friends tell me you spent
it...heh."  He laughed almost half-crazily, "You know, I don't even
care!  All I want to do is end this.  If you aren't in it, you'll be
dead by midnight."

	Freddy laughed, "Well, if you've been keeping tabs on me, you
should know that I couldn't frankly care less about death anymore!
I'm bloody well immortal now!"  He quickly jumped up and stood on his
chair.  "I AM THE LIZARD KING: I CAN DO ANYTHING!"  The crowd gaffawed
at his Jim Morrison tribute and and went back to their own drinking.

	When he sat down again Xavier snarled, "Well if you're not
worried for *your* safety, how about that of your friends...maybe a
certain woman who recently received 'a dozen dozen deep crimson roses
with attatched anonymous letter'?"

	Freddy turned on his PR-128 and quietly played the melody from
'If I only Had a Brain' when Xavier spoke.  A few in the bar
recognized the ancient tune and chuckled at the musical joke.

	Xavier continued, "It's happened to me, you know, or haven't
you received my message?"  He seemed to grow a little more angry.
"Hence my friends here..."  He motioned to his associates, who
brandished their deadly powers menacingly and gladly.

	Freddy looked down at the table as he spoke, "Well, it doesn't
seem that I'm currently attatched at the moment."  He hadn't heard
from Kelly in days. The bartender at Penumbra told him she was taking
a vacation.  Why she hadn't told him, he didn't know.  Well, actually
he did know, but didn't want to admit it.  He stubbed his Xigarette out
forcefully, visibly upset.  He looked up at Xavier again. "So what else
do you have to threaten me with, pastey-boy?"

	Xavier chuckled, trying not to let his anger get the best of
him.  "Look, I'm not here to leave you limping.  Nor do I want to
scare you...even though right now I'm considering beating you into a
bloody pulp..."  He grinned evilly.  "Look, throwing all that money
around wasn't smart."  The man behind him laughed out loud, and Freddy
gave him a piercing glare.  X continued, "I know you're visible in the
Matrix now.  Perhaps a really bad credit rating concerns you.  Well,
whatever the case, you've got two choices and I'm running out of
patience.  Come with me if you want to live.  Or risk it on your own."

	Crimson smiled broadly at this one.  "Now wait a sec, I'm not
a bloody novice: I did head the Maas-Neotek Matrix Security Division
after all.  This *money* you apparently know of isn't exactly going to
be easy to track.  What I've established is essentially a mix of a
pyramid-chain letter scheme, a global hash-table system, and a
Super-Lotto payback method...

	"So what if your contact has been keeping tabs on me?  Why do
you think he didn't just take *my* money himself and give it straight
to you?  It's cuz he can't bloody find it himself!  Cryminee, even *I*
don't know where it all is..."  Xavier and the man behind him looked a
bit more intrested after hearing this statement.

	Freddy grinned and continued.  "When I ran into this credit, I
split it up into a few pieces.  These I sent out in time-encoded
black-box constructs to some of my associates in the Matrix.  What
they did then is essentially 'press a button' on those boxes,
whereupon the box split in two.  One copy was then passed down the
line to their associates.  This pyramid covers most parts of the Earth
by now..."  His visitors didn't appear to like his particular form of
genius.  Good.

	"So now I'm left with a few credsticks of my own and a
'life-after-lifetime' clone contract down at GSM.  But soon, those
little virtual black-boxes all over the Matrix will go 'bing!' and the
credit will gradually be sent to my Australian account in waves as
'anonymous donations'.  Untraceable?  You bet.  And the people who're
holding the boxes for me get all the interest off the money for as
long as they're baby-sitting them."  Xavier didn't look any happier,
but Freddy did even moreso.

	He was on a roll now, his thoughts cutting through the alcohol
like a monofilament whip through...well, anything!  "Sure ole T-Bob
will be after *someone*, but he won't know who: Mortis had me rigged
through a satellite uplink, which is only only traceable up to the
receiving station and no more.  Bobby-boy won't know who to send the
Crushers after.  Of course, he saw you guys up in the arcology: he
proabably has distributed your ugly mugs on trideo by now."  He
snickered, angering the silent Xavier even more.

	"So unless *someone*," the inference was obvious, "connects me
with you guys, I'm off scott free.  T-Bob won't contact any security
force since the money was illegally obtained in the first place.  And
who would be so unprofessional as to actually nark on me?"  He lit up
another Xigarette and leaned back in his chair.

	Xavier spoke up again, "Speaking of professionalism, I believe
you have a contract to fulfill.  Are you renigging?"

	Freddy laughed, "There *is* no bloody contract!  I'm not
honour-bound in any way at this point.  You see, contract law says by
definition that you need two parties for an agreement.  And have you
seen Bitchy Travis anywhere lately?  That crazy whore probably set you
guys up anyway: someone did us a favour by 'voiding he warranty' for
us.  I'm my own man now, Moran.  Period."

	Xavier shugged and pulled out his chair.  "I guess you're
right."  Freddy smirked at him.  "Sorry for troubling you with my own
petty little problems.  Goodnight..."  He stood up and turned around.
His associates gathered around him and he muttered (intentionally
audibly), "Lets forget him. 'Savior' is better anyway..."

	"SAVIOUR?!?!?!"  Freddy tried very hard not to take the hook,
but he was too hopped up on mexican delights.  He stood up at the
table and cried, "That drek-brain couldn't punch good deck if you
stuck his fingers on the right keys with Xuper-glue!"  He was
breathing heavily and his face was flushed in anger.

	Xavier grinned.  He knew what button to push.  "So, are you
saying you're in now?"

	Freddy knew he'd been weaseled, but frankly didn't care.  What
was life, after all, but another trip to the clone bank.  "Yeah, you
know I'm in..."  He stared hard at the ex-company man, "But remember,
the money is mine.  You may as well forget about it."

	"That's fine with me, but the others..."  Xavier shrugged and
looked at his chrometer, "They'll be here in a bit to decide for
themselves.  I'm just in it to get Ariel back...and a little revenge."

	Freddy sat back down at the table and things got a bit
fuzzy...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Comprehensive scripting and color commentary here is Copyright by Mark
Friedman 1991, all rights reserved.  Basic story plot  and Matrix help
was by Jerry Weiler, but he won't mind: I'm giving him all the profits
from the venture. Let's  see,  what's 100% of  $0.00?  :-) Also, basic
Shadowrun backdrops are in extensive use, so them FASA dudes might get
a small cut as well...

Any questions, comments, requests, criticisms, and Chapman Sticks will
be accepted and appreciated at the address in the sig.

					- Mark "Crimson" Friedman

Mark "Klone Crimson" Friedman is friedman@cis.ohio-state.edu .................
"There is nothing former   "Beat poets,    "If you put a hungry ferret in your
 about King Crimson."       not children."  trousers, he'll run around..."
 - Robert Fripp, 5/11/90    - anonymous     - Nigel Tufnel (Spinal Tap)