From: kat@bacchus.esa.oz.au (Kathryn Andersen)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Virtuals (1) - Tarren
Summary: Tarren finds he's not all there
Keywords: Tarren Dragon REPOST
Date: 9 Sep 92 06:47:20 GMT
Organization: none

Tarren (1)
===========

	"I'm drifting down the street
	Asking of all I meet
	Don't you know me from somewhere?
	Hazel eyes and curly hair
	Have you seen me anywhere?

	Look at me I'm blending into the wall
	And I wonder if I'm really here at all..."

Tarren groaned.  What happened?  He'd been on a Run, that was it,
slicing the ICE, gliding through so elegantly.  Then shadows, hard
dark arms grappling for him, his craft of thought, his icebreaker.  A
jolt, a jerk, but he kept going.  Takes talent to fly a dead ship...
But at least he was alive.

<Sharp spear of green.  Flash!>

Tarren shook his head, eyes shut.  Something playing hell with his
peripheral vision.  He opened his eyes, stared at bare ceiling.  Must
have fallen asleep.  Huh?  The crate seemed bigger, somehow.  Must be
the perspective.  He'd rented this tiny room before the Run, should
still be good for another day or two.

He rolled up off the temperfoam mattress... <He rolled up off the
temperfoam mattress - He rolled up off -> There was his Deck.  Good.
Lovely, babe.  You'n me, we gonna go far, with what you got locked
inside you.

<Target.  Red concentric circles, cross.  Bullseye!>

He shook his head again.  Weird headache.  Mebbe should'na taken so
many stims.  Still, he was alive.  Tarren didn't remember getting out
the door.  The street was cold, grey, dreary.  Everything seemed thin,
somehow.  Empty.  Nah, that's just your belly speakin'.  But he wasn't
hungry.  A drink.  That's what you need.  Drown those friggin' pills.
Find a buyer.  Someone who'd want -

<Frayed grid, blue on black. Spark!  Decay...>

Yeah, a buyer.  A place with the biz hummin'.  He nodded at Candy on
the corner, who ignored him.  Funny.  Must be up herself, to ignore
such an old friend as himself.  Old associate.  Well, didn't matter,
he was going to be rich soon.  Rich rich rich.

<Display counter whirling.  Whiz!  Whiz!  Sproing!>

Odd how it was so cold.  Wasn't raining, street wasn't wet.  No snow
neither.  He ambled on towards his drink.  The Chat, that's a good
place.  Turned a corner, people melting away before him, never
staring, never looking.  Can't they see me?  Hey! You!  None of them
took any notice.

<Fizzt!  Crack!  A smell of burning.  Tik. Tik. Tik. Tik.>

Don't ignore me, dammit!  He took a swipe at the nearest, and didn't
connect.  No, he did.  No he didn't.  He didn't see that.  No, he
didn't go through -

Tarren started running, his duffel bag banging against his back.
Running from the fear, the fear that was clawing at his heels.  As if
he could run fast enough to make it go away.  God damn, no.  Not
drugs, not a fucked head, please!  Seeing things.  Just faint, that's
all.  Get a good drink under my belt - See, that's the Chatsubo.
Good, familiar Chatsubo, with its flickering neon -

<Flicker.  Flick, flick, flick.  Fizzzzzzz.>

He went through the door.  He went THROUGH the door!  Like it wasn't
there.  No, you just don't remember.  Of course you opened the door.
Of course you did.  He looked around at the patrons.  There was the
usual muted hum of conversation, street samurai, Lonny Zone and his
girls, and in one corner -

<Sine wave curve, jagged spikes.  Blue-white.  Flatline.>

"Welcome to the Chatsubo," said the Dragon.

--------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1991, 1992 by Kathryn Andersen

Disclaimers:
The song above was by the group Bread,  can't remember what album,
it was on one of my brother's tapes that weren't labelled, long ago.
Reproduced without permission - obviously!

Kathryn Andersen	<kat@werple.apana.org.au>
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
When you wake up in the morning and nothing hurts, don't assume you're dead.
		   You could have leprosy.
-- 
 _--_|\		#include <std/disclaimer.h>
/      \	Kathryn Andersen		<kat@bacchus.esa.oz.au>
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