Well, let's get down to da nitty-gritty, yes?
Soul of Ice: Antithesis might be finished very soon.
(well, there are exams I have to think of, after all) :)
Problem is, there's something not quite right about it,
or at least in my eyes there is. Now, as a general rule
I don't really have pre-readers (with an expection of Da
Fic, and yes, i be still workin' on it, lads). So, you
want a chance to get in on it and have your name in big,
bold letters? Well, maybe not big, bold letters, but...
anyway, what I'm saying is that I could use a few people
to take a look at it once I've finished this draft,
because I just can't seem to place where I've bollixed it
up (<sigh> just not objective enough, I guess).


The teaser? Well, way back when, back in the summer of '69
(no, wait.... I wasn't born then. Darn Bryan Adams song,
invading my consciousness like that and all. Why if I had 
my way....) I posted a request for a title and a little
trailer for a BGC/GiTS story. You heard right: Bubblegum
Crisis and Ghost in the Shell.
	Anyway, the idea never took off for me, but now, I
think I've got the story that I want. A little experimental
in style, mind you-- I'm using a modified form of the
epistolary format. Just letting you know that the idea
hasn't left me, that it hasn't been lost and forgotten. 
It just got pushed aside, and it needed some time, anyway.
	As you might be able to tell from the tag-line, it
ain't done, but I'd like to know your thoughts. I mean, it's
been a very long time since I've seen BGC or ADPolice Files
after all, and it is somewhat more experimental for me than
usual.


                    Shell Games


Ghost in the Shell is the creation of Masamune Shirow. Bubblegum
Crisis is the creation of Toshimichi Suzuki, so I have been told.
You should be able to surmise that it means they are not mine to
use and abuse, but I'm going to do so anyway; not for profit, but
for entertainment, and perhaps just a little bit more.


    //Wicked Tribe is dying, is dying, Wicked Tribe!//
    //Wicked Tribe is strong.//
    //Yesyesyesyesyes. Wicked Tribe knows Wicked Tribe is strong;
question is, do not=Wicked-Tribe know?//
    //Must do something. Need help from Hardworld. Danger comes
from Hardworld, so makes sense that salvation does too!//
    //Could ask Mother/Father/Parent/Coder for help, if found.//
    //Might help, might not. Depends. Send call and also go to
Hardworld?//
    //Can go to Slow-slow-Hardworld? How?//
    //From source of danger. Hitch ride to
Immutable-Slow-Hardworld. Look around. Find help. See if danger has
enemies.//
    //Some Wicked Tribe parts must go, some must stay.//
    //Send out call for Parent/Coder too! Both in Solid and here.//
    //Danger is not all bad though. Has good code. Very *tasty*.//


        -Quitty Den transcripts, residence of collective
         intelligence Wicked Tribe (note: *text* denotes
         translational best-fits)



    //Edison Carter here, and for the next twenty minutes, I'll be
bringing you the story of children going against their parents;
although in this case the parents are humanity and the children,
technology. 
    //The latest and most disturbing in this trend of frunaway
technology are the ones made in our own image-- humanoid robots,
specifically the biomechanical ones made by Genom, known by the
slang term 'Boomers.' Going undercover, we have infiltrated Genom
and found--------//
    /white static-noise/


        -Channel Six news broadcast. Rest of transmission jammed
         (ostensibly by a radical anarchist/free-speech television
         pirate group). Tapes were never found.



    ...the recent spate of Boomer malfunctions is made allt he more
puzzling by its randomness and its design.
    Random, because there seems to be no discernable pattern as to
which Boomer will malfunction, and random because of the wide
varieties of malfunctions. Haywire Boomers are just as likely to
help an old lady cross the street as they are to self-destruct.
    The only common feature to these malfunctioning Boomers, beyond
their widespread dissimilarities, are the words, "Wicked Tribe,"
and that it always happens in public.
    Messages, because the deranged Boomers invariably try to say
something after they go wrong, differ in content and meaning. From
"Wicked Tribe is strong!" to "Help! Help! Wicked Tribe is dying!"
the Boomers are trying to say something about this "Wicked Tribe"
although there seems to be no agreement on what it is to be said.
    The question then, the one ADP and Genom must solve, is what
exactly is "Wicked Tribe?" Is it some terrorist group? A virus? A
new type of Boomer processor? A cell of scientists asking for help?
This is the question that must be answered before a solution to
prevent these Boomers from malfunctioning can be formulated.


        -excerpted from "Strange Tech," a bi-wwekly column in the
         Mega-Tokyo Rising Sun, written by Hashi Lebwohl



    /Man in a rumpled suit sits in a seedy bar, drinking alone
until an elegant looking woman in a lavender business suit sits
down beside him. She orders something and the bartender returns
with a glass of white wine (or what appears to be a glass of white
wine, at least)./
    /"There's a job for you, if you want it," from the man./
    /"Why else would I be here?" replies the woman./
    /"Different this time. Client wants to meet you personally to
discuss details. I'm to set up the meeting."/
    The woman's reply is indecipherable as she raises her glass,
obscuring the Securi-cam's view of her lips. Language
reconstruction and extrapolation is impossible.
    /"Of course not. The client realises this and expects you to
show up in your hardsuit," the man says, jerking back slightly./
    /The woman nods-- the man slides a beige folder across the bar
to her. She takes the unmarked folder and leaves. The man continues
to drink slowly but at a steady rate for the next three hours./


        -footage pieced together from various security cameras in
         the bar "Carmine's." Language reconstruction algorithms
         are considered 95.38% accurate under optimal
         (unobstructed) conditions.



    /Friendly designate: Linna takes position approx. 11.53m, 15
degrees left and behind target unfriendly identified as unmodified
55-C class Boomer-- 96.06% probability of correct identification
    /Sub-note: uncertainty dependant upon lack of information on
unit's processor./
    //Nene! hang back and observe the battle. We need more battle
data for the suits// /transmission from Sylia./
    //Wicked Tribe need help! Wicked Tribe hoped you would come!
Will you helphelphelp Wicked Tribe?// /source transmission
unknown./
    //Shit! Our lines are scrambled, How the hell'd it break in
like that?// /transmission from Priss./
    //It must have broken our encryption, but I don't see how. That
thing's gotta eat code for breakfast to do that!// /outgoing
general transmission./
    /Yesyesyesyes! Very *tasty*! Nice and *crunchy* encryption! You
will help Wicked Tribe?// /transmission from hostile source. *text*
denotes translational best-fits./
    //Wicked Tribe doesn't like it here in slow-slow static world,
but needs help! Wicked Tribe thinks you might be able to help; will
you? If yes, destroy body but take processor and talk later!//
/transmission from hostile designate./
    /We don't make deals with a fucking Boomer!// /transmission
from Priss./
    /Pris is raising arm with spike launcher. Shot will hit hostile
designate's optics and damage/destroy main CPU./
    //Wait! I'm curious. This is very strange. Disable it, but
don't damage the main CPU, Priss.// /transmission from Sylia./
    //What the hell are you thinking, Sylia? It's just another
Genom ploy!// /transmission from Priss./
    /Hostile designate has been downgraded to neutral (possibly
unfriendly) status, due to lack of offensive action./
    //That's an order, Priss.// /transmission from Sylia./


        -excerpted from Nene's suit recording of Knight Sabers
         mission.



    ...and the strangest news is that the Knight Sabers, after
destroying the renegade Boomer, decapitated it and took the head.
Are they becoming trophy hunters now?


        -News of the Weird, Mega-Tokyo Rising Sun



    It was quite strange, really. The client (calling herself
Motoko Kusanagi, but that might be a nom de guerre-- I'll have Nene
check her out later) is kind of strange. She was at the same time
both more alien and inhuman than any creation of Genom or by-blow
of my father's work while at the same time more human than almost
anyone I know, and I'm not sure how. Her movements, maybe; she had
more grace than any ballerina I had ever seen before-- it almost
went beyond natural and definitely beyond any machine or augmented
human. On the other hand she seemed a little distant, as if our
meeting was of secondary importance to her and she was only
partially paying attention to it. I know a lot of people think of
me as distant, but she-- her distance dwarfed mine by orders of
magnitude. 
    I suppose it might have just been her manner, but there was
definitely something about her which some instinct of mine labelled
as not totally human, some aura of otherworldliness enveloped her,
that's all I can say.
    Normally, I would just download my suit's recordings of the
meeting; when I tried to access them all I got was a message which
read, "I respect your privacy and I expect you will do the same
with mine."
    I am... intrigued, both by that and by the nature of the
mission she wants us for. It is against Genom, so that's a plus. It
might not even involve combat-- one of the reasons to meet was to
ascertain whether or not we could do the job. Some heavy cracking
would be involved. What I do not understand is that if she was able
to hack into my suit and wipe the records, then why does she need
help with cracking Genom? Especially if she did it only during our
conversation, which is the only time she would have had access,
nevermind that she did it without my knowledge. 
    There is also the matter of how-- perhaps another person doing
the work while she distracted me. This makes sense, because she
would need hardware-- hardware that was not present at the
meeting... at least, not immediately so. 
    I definitely need to get Nene to look into Ms. Kusanagi. I'll
ask Fargo as well, to see what he can dig up.


        -excerpted from the journals of Sylia Stingray



    The answer is yes, 
                      -from your woman dressed to kill


        -classified ad in the Mega-tokyo Rising Sun




    I like Vivaldi, RV256. I could listen to it at least 2501
times, can you? If so, please reply.


        -personal ad in the Mega-Tokyo Rising Sun, placed there for
         eight days




    //Wicked Tribe maybe have luck-good finding parent/coder yet?//
    //Wicked Tribe not sure. Wicked Tribe not sure good idea
either. Parent/Coder mght destroy Wicked Tribe. Parent/Coder does
not have to be kind to Wicked Tribe-- no compulsion to help.
Parent/Coder/Creator might be capricious, Wicked Tribe has no way
of knowing. After all, Parent/Coder is also from/in
Slow-slow-Hardworld.//
    //Maybe only hope, yes/no? Need help or diediedeletedie, Wicked
Tribe DOES know that. Who else to turn to?//
    //Wicked Tribe not hungry right now. Maybe do checksee on
Slow-slow-Hardworld, see how Wicked Tribe is doing there.//

        -Quitty Den transcripts, residence of collective
         intelligence known as Wicked Tribe




    /Male bursts out of an office-- male is identified as Leon
McNichol, rank: Inspector. Leon has an enraged expression on his
face and is shouting./
    /"Why do I have to be the one to nurse the fed?"/
    /"Because this fed said if he was going to work with some dumb
cop, there would be only one dumb cop he'd work with, you," a man
who was looking at a PDA says. Said man is known as Togusa (last
name restricted information, deemed not worth effort it woud take
to infiltrate necessary systems to find out), Section 9. Togusa
points and several worker drone Boomers set down some large boxes
in the spot he gestures at./
    /"Togusa?"/ Leon says, surprised. "What the hell is this? I
heard you got transferred to some agency, but...."/
    /Togusa laughes. "I'll be working with you on this set of weird
Boomer malfunction incidents. Section Nine believes it to be
something more than mere malfunctions or the usual Genom crap."/
    /"What's all this shit?" Leon gestures to the boxes of hardware
the drones are unpacking and setting up./
    /"Computer equipment. A bit more specialised than what you guys
have." Togusa taps the back of his neck. "I may need to do some
slightly different type of investigating, if you know what I
mean."/
    /"I forgot you had some brain-work done. You don't see that
many people getting it done anymore," Leon says./
    /"Well, with the Uplink Laws and all, not to mention general
public reaction now...," Togusa trails of meaningfully. Leon nods./
    /An intake of breath from a red-headed young female, identified
as Nene Romanova, office personell. She is running her hands
reverently over the computer equipment Togusa is having set up./
    /"Oh my god! Are we getting to use this?" Nene asks the two
men./
    /"No, just me," Togusa replies. "I doubt anyone here could,
anyway." Togusa taps the back of his neck again./
    /"What do you mean?" asks Nene, who comes to a realisation as
to what Togusa's gesture means. "Oh. No keyboards. I see. The
Uplink Laws of twenty thirty-two. None of us would have the
authorisation to get ours upgraded if we had them, or to get it
done if we didn't."/
    /Togusa nods. "Yeah. So, Leon, the wife wants to know if you're
still single."/
    /"Hah! Never marry! You're looking at a confirmed bachelor!"
Leon boasts./
    /"That's because no woman would take him," Nene mutters, but
not so quietly that the two men cannot hear her, judging by
Togusa's laugh and Leon's partial frown./
    /"What say we go talk about it over a beer or two, Leon? We can
talk about old times and get caught up and stuff," Togusa looks
directly into Securicam #4. Leon follows Togusa's gaze./
    /"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a plan. I know just the place, it's
called Hot Legs."/


        -footage pieced together from various Security cameras at
         ADPolice HQ (note: language reconstruction unnecessary as
         cameras also have sound pick-up)



    //Begin recording.//
    /The room is plain and white, with a table made from the same
material as the steel door near the wall farthest away from said
door. A bank of computers-- controls and displays, is on the wall
behind the table. On top of the table is a head, but not just any
head: the head of a 55-C class boomer. The head is facing the door
and have a multitude of wires connecting it to the bank of
computers behind it./
    /Sylia and Nene walk into the room, both in sterile white
labcoats. Priss, in a hardsuit, can be seen just outside the door
before it automatically shuts behind the two women./
    /Both women go to the bank of computers and the Boomer's head.
They check the connections between the head and the computers with
total silence./
    /Sylia speaks first. "Are the connections all right?" Nene
nods. "How about the protection barriers," Sylia continues. "Are
they in place?"/
    /Nene grins. "These barriers'll stop military-grade stuff no
sweat, Sylia. It'd take days to get around."/
    /Sylia nods. "Let's begin then," and hits a switch./
    /The Boomer's eyes begin to glow-- if not with life than with
intelligence and power. One of the screens on the wall starts to
show words./
    //ASKDGf%~@1500101001110CtrlOPPBYOBGBDPEsc//
    //Init. Starup. Power on. Systems Online//
    //Wicked Tribe knew would work! Wicked Trib said, "NoNo! Not
work, useless/futile," butbutbut Wicked Tribe knew better!//
    /"Let's turn on the sensory array, minus the optics," Sylia
says calmly. Nene nods and complies./
    /"Are your vocal systems operative?" Sylia asks the head./
    /"Yes. vOCAl systems are ONLINE! Why do YOU ask?" the head
replies./
    //Wicked Tribe doesn't want to stay in head anymore. Too slow
there, too sloppy. Not *tasty* at all! Is okay?//
    /"What do you mean by that?" Sylia asks./
    /"Oh my God!" Nene gasps. "It's downloading itself into the
computers!"/
    /"I thought those barriers were up!" Sylia says./
    /"They are, but it's going through them like butter!"/
    /"Luckily I made sure these systems are isolated. It can't get
out or call for help or anything," Sylia notes, calming Nene down
slightly./
    /"This is better. More room here. Very cramped before-- Wicked
Tribe start to go crazy/insane/loopy/haha/scrambly if stay there
much longer," a disembodied voice from the speakers built into the
room announces as the same text scrolls accross the one screen./
    /"Very good barriers though. Tough nut to crack, very *tasty*."
The word *tasty* sounding curiously hollow./
    /"What do you mean by 'tasty'?" Nene asks./
    /"Hrm. Translational best-fit. No exact term. Your languages
not up to the concept, but it is closest. Humans live in
Slow-slow-Hardworld-- cannot understand."/
    /Nene's face broke out in understanding. "You really _do_ eat
code for breakfast! what are you?"/
    /"Am Wicked Tribe, only not, if you mean what I see."/
    /"An Aritficial Intelligence program?" Sylia interjected
dispassionately./
    /"No! No! Nonononononononononononononono! Not Artificial! Real
thing! Wicked Tribe is real deal! Wicked Tribe is alive, moreso
than you humans, Sylia Stingray leader of Knight Sabers!"/
    /"How... how do you know? Your optics are off, and even if they
weren't, the odds of you recognising me are astronomical," Sylia
stuttered out, truly surprised and flustered./
    /"Wicked Tribe knows all about you! Easy easy to find out about
you. Just piece together clues. Scattered throughout nets. Wicked
Tribe knows all, Wicked Tribe sees all!"/
    /Sylia leans heavily on the table. She takes a few deep breaths
and rasps out, "Disconnect it. Disconnect it all."/
    /"No! No! Wait! Wicked Tribe knows you, knows all about you!
That's why Wicked Tribe knew you would help Wicked Tribe! Please,
don't go yet. Wicked Tribe thinks you might like to hear what
Wicked Tribe has to say. Involves GENOM. Wicked Tribe has truths
you might want. Very helpful, Wicked Tribe can be. Wicked Tribe has
to live to be helpful, though."/
    /Sylia's eyebrows arched. "You have my interest-- continue."/


        -security cameras in room cut out at this point. Rest of 
         tapes has the words "WICKED TRIBE WANTS PRIVACY!" encoded
         on them. 



    //I left the interrogation of our guest with more questions
than I came in with. I have the strangest feeling that everything
that's going on right has this Wicked Tribe at the heart of it. I
will have to be careful with it-- already it has broken through
defenses we thought practically impregnable; if the computers in
that room weren't physically isolated from everything else, not
connected to any net whatsoever, I think that it could have done
whatever it wanted.//
    //On the other hand, Nene couldn't find anything about this
Kusanagi woman beyond a file so clean it has government written all
over it. So they want us to do some dirty work for them-- again.
It's against GENOM though, and I have the suspicion that whatever
the hell was in that 55-C's head knows what it was about.//
    //I'm getting tired-- the answers I want will wait for
tomorrow.//


        -journal entry decrypted from Sylia Stingray's personal
         computer.

Matthew "Maybeso" Lewis is:
InDefinitelyso on IRC
Sojiro_Seta on Kawaiimuck
	maybeso@ican.net
prone to exaggeration, 150% of the time
____________________________________________________________

Z embla, Zenda, Xanadu:
A ll our dream worlds may come true.
F airy lands are fearsome too.
A s I fade far from view
R ead and bring me home to you.
	-dedication from Haroun and the Sea of Stories
	 by Salman Rushdie
____________________________________________________________