From: kapis-p@acsu.buffalo.edu (Kapi)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Re: Sib:  Looking for Mr. Good-Enough
Date: 16 Aug 92 06:13:25 GMT
Organization: UB

Hi Chatsubians.  This is the first time I decided to try to participate 
in the bar.  Please, bear with me.  All coments and flames will be 
apprechiated.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

     It was a stormy night.  Strong winds blew with such anger,
effectively removing all life from the streets.  Even the
scavengers looking for easy pray and possibly reusable part were
gone.  Sprawl has not seen weather like it in many years and
neither did a lonely many walking down the street.
     Night sky usually bursting with activity seem empty as well. 
Occasional blips of light here and there suggested that only
automatic traffic control Sentry Pods guided by AI were swiveling
by.  It began to rain heavily.  Old and broken drainage systems
could not deal with large amounts of water coming from the sky. 
Streets were submerged in water.  The radio-active variety falling
from crimson skies.  Their levels were not harmful.  At least not
in a short run.  Then again people who lived here could care less
about hard radiation.  More pressing problems on the surface kept
them busy.  They also kept Him busy in the past.  Now, however,
things changed and while walking and watching his boots soak he
wondered if anyone cared about the environment and would do
something about it.  No, probably not.  The rich lived in colonies
orbiting the planet and wouldn't spend their time nor money on
some useless environmental control.  Those who were left behind
did not have much to live for anyway.  And so the circle was
complete.  He remembered when many years ago he use to sit around
the fire.  He could not remember the faces around it, but then
again he could not remember much at all.  One thing he had
imprinted in his mind was the words to a now long forgotten chant;
"We dance around the fire and suppose but the spirit that awaits
inside knows...".  That was about all he remembered of it.  It
wasn't much but it was one of those few treasures from the past,
one cherished forever.
     As he walked the water splashed from underneath his steps. 
He noticed a flashing neon sign on the opposite side of the
street.  As he began to cross, making his way towards the light,
two figures appeared out of a side alley.  He did not notice them
at first buried deeply in his thoughts.  When they were a few
steps away one of the figures smiled "Got a match, bud?".  Very
slowly as if waking up from hybernation he raised his head far
enough so that his eyes made contact with two strangers.
     "I don't smoke" - the Stranger replied and made a slight
adjustment in his path to pass the two.
     By now it became obvious they were not looking for a light
but he chose to ignore it.  When one of the man raised his hand to
stop him in his path his attitude changed.  He sensed danger. 
With no weapons of any kind and in this state a five year old
would have been able to take him. There are times though when a
man has so little regard for his life he will look death in the
eyes and laughed.  A foolish laughter.  This has been one of those
times.
     When he got so abruptly stopped all on his mind was that
neon sign signifying a stool and perhaps even a drink or two if
the currency he had would allow him so.
     He once again raised his head and this time his eyes made
full contact with the strangers.  His cold almost inhuman stare
made the other reconsider.  Those were the eyes of a loner, one
who lost everything, including  implants and received others cheap
real ones in place of enhanced vision.  There was something in
those eyes.  Some say that by looking into someones eyes one can
see their soul.  Those who used to say that are all dead by now
and only their strange ways remained in very distorted
proportions.
     "How can I help you?" - a deep and calm voice filled the
night air.  He stood there facing two street samurai carrying
enough weaponry to turn this whole neighborhood into dust at a
moments notice without fear or nervousness in his voice.  His
calmness must have brought the respect in the two since the second
one slowly relaxed after performing a through scan for any
defensive weapons stranger could have been hiding inside his long
and worn coat.  
     "You obviously can't help us" - said the taller of the two. 
And started to walk away.  The other one shortly followed after
giving one last look as if to record the id of a stranger in one
of his implanted data-cores.
     And they were gone.  He was alone again.  Standing in the
street in front of a neon sign.  Two strangers disappeared as
quickly and quietly as they appeared leaving no trace of their
encounter.  He slowly turned around as if to see if anyone
followed.  A useless effort.  With his relatively poor eyesight at
night in the thunderstorm he could barely see the other side of
the street through the rain.  Once again he turned and looked at
the sign.  From this distance he could make out the letters.  It
spelled Chatsubo.  Strange he thought - a tea-pot?  However, since
nothing in sight looked familiar he decided to walk in.
     He opened a door and walked in.  His slow, calm steps seemed
to go unnoticed but he was well aware of the fact that most
patrons were analyzing him.  Watching.  It did not matter.  He
just wanted to sit down.  He looked tired.  Sight of an empty bar-
stool in his path made him feel better.  It was at the other end
of the bar in the dark corner right next to a stage.
     The moment he sat down a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. 
He turned around.
     "This is my seat, chum."
     Stranger was too tired to even make out most of the words. 
He just looked at the tall guy and turned back in his seat to face
the bar.
     Barman approached.  "What will it be?"
     "Will you take this?" - stranger replied withdrawing a roll
of oddly looking currency in front of him.
     Barman looked at the stranger, then at the bills.  "This
will not get you much, you know that don't you".
     A tall guy standing behind got impatient.  He shouted in his
ear "beat it man or I will have you feed the street.".
     "Give me a second, I am not done ordering yet" - stranger
replied.
     "So, barman will it get me a German beer?"
     "Yeah, it will get you two" - he replied looking at the guy
behind the stranger and trying to assetain the situation.  Then
turned away to get the orders.
     This time the tall guy pulled the stranger by his arms and
pushed him onto the floor between the tables.  
     "'told you to move, freak"
     Stranger got up slowly with a lot of effort.  Surprisingly
enough he did not turn away but approached him with his hands in
his pockets. 
     His deep voice filled the air. "I will not forget you,
chum."
     Tall guy was apparently fed up with this weird looking
stranger he reached out for his throat.  With his wired reflexes
he expected no resistance and was caught by surprise when
strangers hand jerked out of his pocket faster than anything he
has ever seen and caught his hand in mid motion.  He could not
have been wrong about this guys not being wired.  He ran a level 3
scan again to confirm his previous finding and found nothing.  Not
even a jack behind his ear.  How then could he have been so god
damned fast?
     "Do not ever take things for what they seem to be" - came a
reply to his unvoiced question.  Stranger was holding his hand
with a lot of power for a unenhanced muscle.  Frankly he was
impressed.  But it was time to finish this foolishness.
     "Till we meet again" - replied stranger.  Turned and walked
to the other side of the bar where Ratz had already furnished his
drinks.  He took both of them and walked toward a an empty table
where he began sipping his first beer.  The same thought started
filling his head, yet again.  Where am I?  Who am I?  The only
memories he had were those bits and pieces here and there from his
past.  He could not make a whole picture but there was one thing
he knew.  He was dead.  He died long ago and what he had become
later was not something he wanted to even think about.  He could
not quite explain the feeling but he knew that the reason for his
being here, now had something to do with recent event.  He felt
old, almost ancient.
     "May I join you" - a piercing sound interrupted his thought. 
It was a voice of a woman standing over him.  Smiling.  She was
one of Loneys girls.
     "Why?" - came a reply
     "Thought you might need some company" - she answered.  "My
name is Lisa.  So what do you say?"
     She must have been a bar girl, he decided.  Even thought he
could not quite tell what it meant he new he wanted to be alone. 
Undisturbed.
     "No"
     "Oh, a touchy guy, hah?" venom was easily audible in her
voice.  Lost client.  "So, what did you say your name was,
stranger?"
     He raised his head to look at her again.  "I didn't" was his
only reply.  And he went back to his beer, shutting out all of the
outside.
     What is my name, he thought,  unconsciously taking a small
crystal-like object from one of his pockets.  Stared at it for a
long while.  This must have some answers, he thought to himself. 
If I only knew what it was.  He remembered now the time when he
found it lying next to him on a foam in that old building.  It was
the only thing that caught his curiosity.  In fact it was the only
thing he found somehow unfitting the surroundings.  The foam on
which he found himself laying seemed to be made for him.  Like a
coffin, he thought then.
     At the time he was fully dressed in this long dark coat with
nothing else to explain his situation.  When he got up everything
around seemed old.  Very  old.  Rust and dust covered everything. 
He walked outside through a door without meeting anyone on the
way.  He knew the way out all though he could not understand why. 
As soon as he was outside he turned left and walked.  Walked for
many hours until collapsing from exhaustion.  He never looked back
and could not tell the way from which he came.  It must have been
made to be that way he thought to himself.
     He took out a cigarette.  Found a match and lit it, slowly
inhaling and enjoying thick smoke filling his lungs.  He stared
into space.  He did not even notice when the door to the bar
almost fell apart and a mech walked in, deeply submerged in his
thoughts.
     When the mech settled not too far from his table he came
back to reality.  Slowly as if he was waking up he looked around. 
For the first time he noticed the stage.  Some guy playing a slow
piece rang some bells in his head.  He couldn't quite put them in
place so he looked toward the bar.  There for a split second when
his eyes scrolled over a slim female figure a thought of
recognition filled his head.  He got up and approached the bar. 
From the side she looked so familiar, yet he couldn't remember her
name nor even meeting her.  She was talking to someone talking
apart some electronics.
     As he come to a stop right next to her and started to speak
she turned to face him.  "Oh, I am sorry... I thought you were
someone else" - he managed.  Their eyes met for a split second.  I
know you, he thought to himself but repeated again - "I am sorry,
I was wrong." and he walked toward an empty space at the bar.
     "Bartender"
     "Call me Ratz, that's what everyone else calls me" - came a
reply.  "What can I do for you?"
     He took out his crystal and put it in front of him.  "I need
someone who can tell me what this is."
     Ratz took a quick look around and covered the object with
his dirty rag.  "Where did you get this?" - he asked looking
Strangers straight in the eyes.
     "I think this can help me remember.  Do you know anyone who
can tell me?"
     "Huh, I don't know Stranger, but have another beer and I
will see what I can do".  He walked away to the other end of the
bar.
     Stranger took his second german beer, lit another cigarette
and went back to his table holding his only possible link to the
past in his pocket.  I must find out.  Must remember.
     He sat down.  Took another sip of beer and looked at the
woman at the bar.  He couldn't help noticing that the same girl
that come to him earlier was looking viciously at her.  Why? - he
thought.  Must be a local thing.  And he looked into his beer as
if looking for some inspiration.  One thing he was certain thought
was the fact that even thought his situation looked desperate he
had a feeling this was nothing compared to what he went through in
the past.  If I only remembered.  Then again maybe its better not to...

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stranger is mine and I would not like to see him killed right away.
However any suggestions as to his origins are welcome.  I have some 
ideas as to his whereabouts but would like some criticizm.
Copyright (c) Kapi 1992
-- 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A language that doesn't have everything is actually easier to program
in than some that do.
                -- Dennis M. Ritchie on C