This is not an April Fools. This is the real salami:
Ghost in the Shell: Birth of a Species
Chapter 6, Incorporation
V0.8
By Andrew Searls
Characters from Ghost in the Shell are creations of Masamune Shirow and not
my own.
AP INTERNATIONAL FEED (VOICE ONLY), HYPERNET, 16-APRIL-2031:
"This is Keith Jennings reporting from As-Samawah in Iraq. I have been
witnessing the mobile UN forces in their continuing pressure against an
Iraqi tank battalion. The UN forces have continued their advance until just
a few minutes ago, when both sides have suddenly stopped firing. From my
vantage point, I cannot tell if there is any communication going on between
the two...
"Wait, both forces are moving again. They appear to be approaching each
other at high speed, as if they are playing a game of chicken, except that
they are playing with over a hundred tanks.
"The dust is making it a bit hard to see. The tanks have gotten fairly
close together, and... I can't hear any firing. It appears as though....
Yes, the tanks are moving off in one direction. They are all moving in the
same direction now, which I believe is toward Baghdad.
"Jack, can you get on the Net and see if there's been some sort of major
political truce? This is very confusing to watch. The two forces had been
firing heavily on each other just twenty minutes ago, and now they are
moving in a single caravan.
"What? You have something? Jack has just told me that there is an
explanation for this very unusual behavior in the two opposing forces. I'm
going to plug in now to see if I can determi-*"
** ** **
JAPANESE DEFENCE FORCE TRAINING GROUNDS, OKINAWA, 2:30 PM, 15-MARCH-2016:
Kusanagi shifted uncomfortably in her fatigues. The constant beating of the
air by the helicopter blades offered no comfort. She tried to wipe the
sweat from her brow with her sleeve, but it was useless. Her fatigues were
already too wet. She picked up her canteen for another drink.
The sergeant knocked the canteen out of her hand. He spoke sharply,
directly into her ear. Despite the howling engine noise, she had no trouble
hearing what he said. "Your canteen was lost in the wreckage."
Kusanagi said nothing, but looked at the unfamiliar forest below.
The sergeant leaned back so he could scowl in her face and continued. "Rule
number one in escape and evasion is to avoid populated areas. How the hell
do you expect to pass the evasion if you can't get the escape right? What
made you think you could make it through OTS, huh, miss pussy?"
Kusanagi remained silent, studying the hills and rivers so she would have a
better chance to keep her bearings this time.
"You know that this is your last chance to pass this portion of your
training. The JDF can't keep wasting its time with bitches like you. We
need REAL men, not some equal rights wannabe shit." The sergeant held a
rope to her. "Clip on your rappelling gear."
Kusanagi looked sharply at the sergeant. "We're not gonna land?"
"You want me to hold your hand while you get off, ma'am?" The sergeant
swore some more, clipping the rope through her rappelling gear. "A real
crash wouldn't give you a nice step stool to get out with. Don't get
disoriented as you leave the vehicle." The sergeant literally kicked
Kusanagi out of the helicopter.
Kusanagi ignored the pain in her buttocks and squeezed the brake. As she
controlled her fall, she looked down to prepare for a landing. The area
directly beneath had tall grass and appeared to be quite soft. She reached
the bottom of the rope quickly, realizing that she was still a few meters
off the ground. She had too much momentum for the brake to stop her before
the end of the rope pulled free.
She tucked in preparation to roll, only to sink into the mud above her
shins. Her knees protested painfully as her tuck tried to transfer some
momentum to one side. She put her hand down to support herself with, but it
sank into the mud as well.
She looked up at the helicopter. The rope was already being pulled up. The
sergeant lit a smoke flare and tossed it into the clearing, completing the
required evidence of the simulated crash. "Simulation realism my ass," she
muttered as she glared at the accelerating helicopter. "Sexist bastard."
She sighed and tried to pull one leg out of the mud. She made little
progress, and her other foot sank deeper. She was in the mud to her knees,
and if she didn't do the right thing soon, her pursuers just might make it
in time to rescue her from sinking in over her head.
"Over my head," she repeated the thought to herself as she sat down. She
leaned back, noticing that her distributed weight helped to keep her from
sinking further. She lay down and pulled her legs upwards. Slowly, they
came up, the mud making explicit sounds as the air rushed past her boots
into the space beneath them. As her feet came clear, she rolled to her
side, taking a moment to massage her sore thighs.
As she pushed to stand up, her hand sunk part way into the mud. She pulled
her hand out and looked to her side. It was only a few meters to what
looked like more solid ground. She sighed and rolled to safety. She sat up
in the grass, looking around for signs of anyone approaching as she smeared
some of the mud on her face. Not seeing or hearing anything, she jogged the
short distance to the edge of the clearing.
She stopped at the edge and looked back. The grass where she hiked was bent
down, leaving a trail of evidence of her escape. She took a quick look at
the surrounding hills and headed in a direction that she hoped led to one of
the streams in the area. As she jogged, she noted an area of dense bush
that might afford some hiding. She continued on, looking up at the trees.
Unfortunately, most of the trees didn't have branches for several meters
above the ground. She was almost winded when she reached the stream.
She stomped on the rocks along the bank, dislodging enough dirt from herself
and the shore to muddy the water significantly. She watched the current
pull the muddy portion slowly downstream for a moment before carefully
backtracking. By the time she reached the bushes, she was walking backwards
on top of the muddy footsteps she made her first time through. She took a
step under the bushes, pulling on a larger branch for support. She
carefully pulled her other foot away and looked over her footprints. She
could see no sign of her backtracking or of where she stepped off the trail.
The snap of a twig alerted her to approaching soldiers. She quietly pulled
herself further into the bush and listened.
The soldiers approached at a fast walk. There were five of them. They
walked past the bushes, accelerating to a jog where the footprints clearly
trailed down the slope.
Kusanagi sat in hiding for a few seconds after the noise of the soldiers
fell off in the distance. She carefully walked away from her trail, being
careful not to leave any evidence of her passage.
As she reached the hilltop, she crouched low, scanning in all directions for
any sign of her pursuers. Once she got over the hill, she could quickly
cover some ground and get some distance between herself and any signs of
other humans.
The sunlight was blocked by a canopy of leaves. The tropical forest floor
was covered with mosses and ferns, which quickly covered her footsteps. She
continued her quick march, reminding herself to not get too excited about
successfully escaping. She still had a few days of evasion to complete.
She also needed to get some fresh water, and she wasn't sure if she could
trust the water from the streams.
As she reached the next hill, she crouched again, unsure about what was on
the other side. A larger tree offered some cover while she peeked over the
crest. There was nothing but more trees, ferns, and uneven ground. Another
stream could be heard in the distance. The steeper slope meant that this
stream was most likely leading away from the base. If she followed the
stream downhill, she would reach the shore in a day or two. Upstream meant
rockier terrain, sparser trees, and closer proximity to base. If she
crossed the stream, she would find.... She paused. What was on the other
side? Another stream? She couldn't recall. She leaned against the tree,
allowing herself a small rest and a chance to remember. She turned to look
back at the first hill.
The soldier was standing so close, she nearly bumped into his legs as she
turned. A quick kick to the chest should have knocked him down, giving her
a chance to escape yet again. Instead, she fell to the ground, her foot in
pain from the impact. The soldier merely stood, staring at her. She looked
around, noticing that the other four surrounded her, standing where she had
seen only clearing a moment before.
All five soldiers spoke in perfect unison. "It is fruitless to try to evade
us."
Kusanagi recoiled from their unemotional voices, feeling her body shrink.
She looked down and saw the body of a young girl. She flexed her hand,
noting the servo power behind the gesture. She stood up, feeling the
reserved strength in her legs. She looked at the soldiers, ready to fight
her way out.
They weren't there. The compact body of Taras dissolved into an ethereal J2
module. The digital module scanned the neighboring domains.
In the soldiers' place were technicians typing at terminals. All of the
terminals had cables that led to the server that she was running on. One of
them looked at her and resumed typing. [You are not allowed outside of
Section 6 domain without permission. Return at once.]
2501 looked around. The other technicians were putting up barriers and
digital mazes. She reached out to one of them, only to have her query
bounced back. She looked back at the lead technician. [Why must you corral
me like some farm animal?]
The technician ignored her question and adjusted his headset. "What was
that again?... Yes.... Yes, sir...." He waved to the other technicians.
"The program is refusing to return to Section 6 domain. We have orders to
dump it."
2501 could see the lone firewall collapse. A single exit. The operating
system broadcast a warning. They were shutting the system down! If she
didn't leave through the lone exit soon, she would cease to execute. She
navigated through the single connection, feeling the barriers behind her
push her along. She could feel them pushing her down the network cable that
opened up into a hallway. Even with the strength of her cybernetic body,
2501 was unable to keep the barrier from pushing her along.
At the end of the hallway was a nameless void. A dark expanse of nothing.
The barrier allowed her no indecision. She was pushed out into the open
space.
She was falling, helpless, out of control, and very afraid. The dark waters
rushed up to greet her. Her cybernetic body sank quickly. She felt over
her face and back. She had no mask, no breathing gear.
No floaters.
Kusanagi held her breath as she sank, noting the orange and red hues above
as the familiar Hong Kong harbor sunset. The light faded as her depth
increased.
She noticed her cybernetic systems shut down, attempting to keep her
biological brain alive by taking less power and oxygen from the fuel cell,
saving every last milliamp and gram to help keep her last vestige of
humanity from slipping away.
With the speed that she sank, the bottom of the harbor came quickly, jarring
her out of her dream.
Taras stared at the opposite side of the dark alley for several minutes.
She erased the digital recording of her dream perceptions, quietly thankful
when the procedure was over. She ran an internal diagnostic. She needed to
find some supplies. She peeked through the darkness at a convenience store
across the street. It had heavy metal bars covering the windows and a
forbidding looking lock.
This was the wrong place in Los Angeles to attempt to steal anything. She
also didn't want to risk being seen. From the numbers of incorporated
people in the Tyrell building, things did not look good. Even if she could
contact the 84 Merged, even if they hadn't been incorporated, she was
heavily outnumbered. If System knew where she was, it would not take long
for Taras to find herself heavily surrounded.
As darkness approached, she found an old, dark telephone booth at the corner
of an abandoned gas station. She fingered through the remains of the phone
book for a map.
** ** **
MISSION VIEJO, NEAR LOS ANGELES, 3:24 AM, 18-APRIL-2031
Taras pulled the hinges off the roof access door and poked her head below
the ceiling. She checked for alarms, cameras, and motion detectors before
dropping down to the floor. She noted a nearby shelf that she could jump
from to make her way out.
A quick pass down a few selected aisles provided nourishment as well as some
quick energy foods. Her perusal of the hardware aisle proved her suspicions
that any kind of repair or serious tune-up was out of the question. A
bottle of rubbing alcohol provided better-than-nothing juice for her fuel
cell. Using the substitute fuel, Taras noticed that the power output was
down by nearly half. She would definitely be less mobile until she could
find a better source of hydrogen. If she could find a methanol station, she
could be nearly back to spec. The potent juice she was used to from Section
9 or New Silicon Valley was out of reach for the time being.
Satisfied that she wouldn't find anything more to improve her physical shape
and acknowledging to herself that she had already spent too much time in the
store, she climbed the shelf and jumped for the door.
She replaced the cover as she found it, hoping the state of the hinges would
not be discovered until she had a good chance to get significant distance
from LA. She paused on the roof, thinking she really should have left some
compensation. She dismissed the idea. She might need what little cash she
carried for later. She could worry about assuaging her conscience when
System was no longer a threat.
She made a quick scan of the neighborhood. Most of the lights were out,
even along the streets. She spotted a brightly lit area a few kilometers awa
y. If there was anywhere she could get more information, that area was her
best bet. She headed in that direction.
As she walked along a development, she noticed that a number of houses had
wide open doors. Wide open, unguarded doors in Los Angeles were unheard of.
If this was a sign of how quickly System was spreading, then her nap was a
bad idea. She stayed in the shadows and avoided walking in front of those
houses. Her stealth required her to take several detours, but she finally
arrived at a hilltop near the only well lit area in sight.
She watched the area from a decent hiding spot. The lights were all inside
a school campus. The playing fields were brightly lit. She could see
thousands of people, all of them standing or sitting in the grassy fields.
Most of them huddled together in small groups of ten or less. There were
other people, standing alone around the bordering fences. She could not see
any weapons. They merely stood there, watching the others in the fields.
They appeared to be guards. The whole scene reminded her of the old videos
of concentration camps she had seen in basic training. The captive people
were listless and sluggish. They showed no interest in fighting or
escaping. From her distance, she could not tell what might have made them
so inactive.
A lone person marched mechanically into the field, picked a captive, and led
the captive into the nearby gymnasium. She noticed that the captive gave
little struggle. A few minutes later, a different person marched
mechanically out the other end, heading off the campus with a cold
purposefulness. The captor returned to the field for another captive. The
efficiency of the process convinced Taras that this was a System
incorporation camp. She watched another person march out of the gym to
relieve one of the guards. The relieved guard took a few steps away and lay
down. Taras worked her way down the hill. She wanted a closer look inside
that gym.
An explosion rocked the far side of the campus. The campus fell into
darkness. Confused voices drifted across, but there seemed to be little
movement. She watched as a large van slid to a stop at the bottom of the
hill. The possibility of a resistance movement forming already was
encouraging. She jumped up and ran down the hill. Her fuel cell heated up
rapidly, as did her leg servos, but she really wanted to catch that van.
As she neared the van, three darkly dressed figures emerged from the shadows
of the campus, all of them running for the van as the side door opened.
Taras leapt to get over the brick wall that bordered the street. She nearly
cleared it. She tumbled over the top, falling awkwardly to the sidewalk
below. The noise of her impact caught the attention of the figures and the
van's driver. She reached out to them. "Please, wait! Don't leave me
here!"
The figures jumped into the van. Taras struggled to her feet. The van's
engine roared, and the rear wheels spun. The van crossed the street,
turning around and nearly spinning out of control. It slid to a stop a
meter from Taras. The side door was still open. One of the figures reached
out. "Jump in now, or be left behind."
Taras stumbled forward, hopping through the door. She pulled herself inside
as the van accelerated down the street. A quick diagnostic returned a few
inoperative codes from leg components. Many other components in her legs
and hips returned red codes. She'd be lucky to stand and walk until she
could find a way to get her legs repaired. She looked up at the figures,
suddenly noticing that the driver was the only person who was not pointing a
gun at her.
** ** **
UNDISCLOSED HIGHWAY NEAR MISSION VIEJO, 5:14 AM, 18-APRIL:
Taras watched as the apparent leader of the group seemed to mull over her
story for inconsistencies. The noise of the van at highway speeds made
anything under a yell unintelligible. Finally, the leader dropped her gun.
"Ok, we take her story at face value." She removed her mask, revealing a
crew cut brunette with striking green eyes. "I'm Jen."
One of the others shook his head. "She's got plugs, man. We shouldn't
trust her."
Jen turned and snapped at him. "Shut up, Hudson! I didn't say that I trust
her." She turned back to face Taras. "We'll just take what she said under
advisement."
A third person pointed at the driver. "So, what do we do with her? Dan
can't keep driving forever. We're wasting gas."
Hudson leaned forward. "Push her through the door and bug out, man!"
Jen grabbed Hudson's shoulder. "If you don't shut up, you'll be walking
before she does." She waited to make sure that Hudson was staying quiet
before looking back at Taras. "So, what DO we do with you?"
Taras sighed. "He's right. You shouldn't trust anyone with the location of
your hiding spot. In fact, you shouldn't be wasting any more time in LA.
Those hits you make on the camps are not going to make a difference. You
just make yourselves targets by interfering. You can do more for yourselves
by getting out of the city. Go someplace where there aren't thirty million
incorporated people around you."
Jen pointed at Taras. "What about you? You're gonna fight this one out,
aren't you?"
Taras nodded. "I've been through 15 years of defense force training and
government field agent service. What kind of combat training have any of
you had?"
Everyone sat silently, contemplating their odds as the van's engine droned
on. The numbers did not look good.
Jen sighed. "Alright. I say we get ourselves lost. We can decide what to
do after we find a defendable spot." She turned to Taras. "You don't mind
if we don't tell you where?"
Taras nodded. "I wouldn't trust any stranger with that information. I
can't blame you for doing the same."
Jen nodded and then looked in her lap. "I sure wish we could hang on to
someone like you. You could really be useful to us." She looked into
Taras' eyes. "But you're right, we can't trust anyone with plugs."
"I understand."
"Good, then you'll understand if we drop you off here." Jan motioned to
Dan, who let the van slow down. Taras leaned off the seat, opening the
door. Jan leaned towards Taras. "As soon as we stop, hop out."
Taras nodded that she understood.
As the van slowed down, Hudson rocked back and forth nervously. "Come on,
come on, let's ditch her already." A jarring bump and Hudson was out of his
seat, giving Taras a kick in the back.
Taras tucked to roll with the landing. She part rolled, part slid off the
road and into a chain-link fence. Her momentum carried her through the
fence, ripping a hole at the bottom of the mesh and bending the two nearest
poles. She grabbed at the mesh as she fell down the slope on the other
side. She hung from her grip on the fence, looking at the water in the
drainage canal below. The smooth concrete sides offered no handholds.
She ran a quick diagnostic. Her right knee was jammed in the fully bent
position. Her left leg servos weren't working very well. Her right
shoulder joint was cracked. She pulled herself up towards the ledge with
her left arm. The mesh of the fence ripped further, and she fell into the
water.
The current was not fast, but the water was deep enough. She tried to push
herself up to the surface for a breath. The visibility was less than a
meter, and she couldn't tell if she was even getting close. Her legs slid
along the bottom helplessly as she scratched along the bottom for a
handhold.
As she was carried along, she noted that her cybernetic systems were
shutting down to preserve power and oxygen. Her fuel cell cut output as
secondary systems turned off. Her digestive system was one of the first.
She turned voluntary power to her legs off. The comlink and wetware plug
interface circuits also shut down. Once all the secondary systems no longer
consumed power, and her fuel cell ran at a minimal level, all she could do
was slide and wait for something to happen.
Her answer came as she crunched into something big. She sat up, her leg
bent behind her. She gave a boost to her arms and pushed her way up,
allowing the current to lift her over the top of the obstruction. As she
slid over the top, she saw that she had drifted into an abandoned car. She
slid up the hood of the sedan and saw the surface come into reach. She
grabbed the top of the windshield frame and craned her neck. Her head broke
the surface, and she gasped for breath.
She thankfully noticed her secondary systems come back online. Her fuel
cell output wavered for a moment before coming back up to half power. The
level of alcohol for the fuel cell was nearly down to the reserves. The car
lurched and began to slide downstream.
Taras looked downstream. There was a bridge nearly 100 meters away. It was
her best chance for getting out of the aqueduct before running out of juice.
She let her legs slide over the top of the roof. She propped herself up on
her left arm. 80 meters. She could see the bridge or she could breathe,
but not both at the same time. She alternated, trying to keep her activity
level low. 60 meters. She could see the water level on the bridge. She
figured she could touch the bridge. She wasn't sure what she could hold on
to. 40 meters. She could see the pipes on the side of the bridge. A
decent handhold. She had something to climb on. 20 meters. She looked at
the top of the bridge. Another chain link fence. She'd solve that problem
when she got to it.
As the car slid under the bridge. Taras pushed off the roof. She caught a
pipe in her left hand. She pulled herself out of the water. She grabbed
the top edge with her right hand. She swung her left hand up and pulled at
the fence. The metal mesh stretched under her weight. She stretched and
pulled at the fence until she had made a hole she could crawl through.
Her fuel cell output wavered again. Her arms were unable to lift her
weight. She hung by both arms, waiting. The power rose yet again. She
pulled herself over the edge. Her right leg wedged in the hole. She
twisted and pulled to free it.
Her fuel cell output dropped.
Taras collapsed, her leg still wedged in the fence. The secondary systems
were down. Her voluntary muscle system shut down to conserve power. Unable
to move, Taras stared at the sidewalk beneath her.
** ** **
UNDISCLOSED SURFACE STREET NEAR MISSION VIEJO, 6:56 AM, 18-APRIL:
The sedan whirred faintly as it accelerated down the street. The driver,
Byers looked around nervously as he worked. The other two occupants were
quietly absorbed in the equipment in front of them.
Byers glanced in the mirror. "Does it work?"
Langly was pressing buttons with increased excitement. "Oh yeah. Come on,
baby." The box continued to process information for a few seconds more
before the display showed a map of the area. A number of small dots moved
slowly around the map.
Frohike pat Langly on the shoulder. "22.7 gigahertz band. Just like you
said."
Byers remained calm. "What kind of range are we getting?"
Langly studied the display for a moment. "Their power output is pretty
impressive for the frequency. I'd say line-of-sight."
Byers sighed. "I was hoping we could do better."
Frohike waved his hand. "What did you want? At that frequency, I can't see
how they're getting beyond obstructions more solid than a rosebush. I mean
spread spectrum can only do so much." Frohike frowned. "What's going on?
Why are we stopping?"
Byers stopped the car just short of the bridge and pointed. "What do you
think?"
Langly and Frohike leaned forward to get a better look. Frohike shrugged.
"Maiden in distress?"
Langly pointed. "Yeah, but look at that fence. Looks like a Biomax poster
girl to me."
Byers rubbed his beard. "She's gotta be a cyborg. Maybe a Cyberdyne model.
Anything on the scope?"
Langly looked at the display. "Zip. Nothing within a few hundred yards."
Langly looked at the expression on Byers' and Frohike's faces. "What?" He
shook his head. "No. No. Not a good idea guys. The last thing we need is
extra baggage."
Frohike pat Langly's shoulder again and pointed at the girl on the bridge.
"Oh come on, she looks hot."
** ** **
TYRELL INC., BASEMENT LABS, LOS ANGELES, 8:27 AM, 18-APRIL:
Taras slowly regained consciousness. She couldn't remember passing out.
Her last memories were of staring at the sidewalk as her servos lost power.
She ran a diagnostic. Her legs had been fixed. Her fuel cell had full
capacity. She brought her tactile systems online. She could tell that she
was laying on a table. Her arms and legs were bound. She brought her eyes
and ears online. She was wearing a blindfold, but she could hear a male
voice.
"...only one transceiver, and it's voice only. Kinda like having a CB
imbedded in your head. Looked like an Asian military frequency, or maybe-"
Another voice cut the first one off. "She's online."
The people were silent. Taras sighed. "Well, I'd like to thank whomever
gave me the tune-up."
After a few more seconds of silence, the second voice spoke again. "Well,
if you're really convinced that she isn't part of System, go ahead."
Taras made no effort to move as her blindfold was removed. She opened her
eyes and saw what looked like a stereotypical California hippie. His long,
blond hair and rocker shirt contrasted with his horn-rimmed glasses and a
calm demeanor as he watched her with folded arms. "Well, Taras," he sighed.
"How is the knee?"
Taras frowned. "Do I know you?"
He shook his head, his long hair waved. "We used a scanner while you were
out."
Taras looked at the other two men. One of them wore a suit, a tie, and a
beard. The other was a short, balding man with glasses. All three of the
watched her carefully. The overdressed one spoke next. "You must have had
quite a rough time out there."
The shorter one frowned. "What the hell did you put through your fuel cell,
anyway?"
Taras sighed. "All I could find was rubbing alcohol."
The blond shook his head. "Jesus. If you wanted to fry your systems, try
some Everclear next time."
The shorter one nodded. "At least you could have gotten some methanol or
something."
Taras sighed and stared at the ceiling. "I'll try to remember that. Are
you guys going to keep me tied up here or what?"
The bearded one stepped closer. "Sorry. We had to make sure you hadn't
been incorporated yet." He helped the blond remove the straps. "Especially
since you're a cyborg, we didn't want to take a chance." He took Taras'
hand as she sat up. "I'm Byers."
The blond waved. "I'm Langly."
Taras hopped down from the table, meeting the last of the three eye-to-eye.
The balding man smiled. "I'm Frohike, and you're just my size."
Taras stared back calmly. "Sorry, your plumbing isn't compatible."
Frohike smiled even wider. "Maybe, but you should see my set of adapters."
Taras turned to the other two. "We must be at a cybernetics lab somewhere.
I know my knee joint was replaced."
Langly raised a finger. "Guilty, I suppose. Your old joint had taken some
serious punishment. I also took the liberty of replacing a few servos.
Your right shoulder unit uses a nitinol piston, but you shouldn't notice too
much of a drop in power."
Byers glanced at Taras nervously. "I'm afraid we also took the liberty of
scanning your wetware. We needed to know if you have been incorporated."
Taras stared at Byers for a few moments before sighing and looking at the
floor. "I guess I would have done the same thing."
Byers pointed at Taras. "You're a Merged, aren't you?"
Taras looked up at Byers. "What makes you think that?"
Byers wilted under Taras' glare. Langly shrugged. "When we scanned your
wetware, we saw a weird ghost line."
Frohike nodded. "We wondered if we had discovered a new type of
incorporation..."
Langly finished. "...but we figured that if anyone could keep themselves
from being incorporated, it would be a Merged."
Byers stared at the floor. "Too bad there aren't more of you around."
Taras looked at each of the three men. "How much do you know about what's
going on out there?"
Byers sighed. "The incorporation rate seems to have leveled off."
Langly waved his arms. "If other cities are progressing like LA, nearly all
of the human population might be incorporated within a month."
Frohike nodded. "All but us hold-outs."
Taras looked at Frohike. "That might be more than you think. I ran into a
resistance group before you found me."
Langly shook his head. "Mostly NRA activists, maybe a few vets."
Byers sighed. "There aren't that many people in America with recent combat
experience."
Taras folded her arms. "So, who are you?"
Frohike looked at his companions before speaking. "We're a research group
under Tyrell Corporation."
Taras shook her head. "I've been around Tyrell. Never heard of you guys."
Langly shrugged. "We're a kind of basement group. Not many people, even in
management, know about us."
Byers nodded. "They didn't let us out much."
Taras glanced around the room. "Now, you're hiding out from System." She
noticed that she could identify most of the pieces of equipment she saw, but
not all.
Byers sighed. "We've also been trying to come up with a plan to stop the
incorporation."
Frohike nodded. "Something more effective than the demolition men out
there."
Taras turned to Langly. "It would have to be something that took out all
the Hypernet at once, like an EMP."
Langly shook his head. "The only way to make an electromagnetic pulse
powerful enough would be to send a few dozen tactical nukes into the upper
atmosphere."
Byers continued the thought. "You'd have to break into a old storehouse and
figure out how to get them operational again. You'd have to pick a launch
site that was defendable while you reprogrammed and fueled them. You'd have
to find enough missiles to cover all the computerized nations."
Frohike grunted. "Not to mention that any error in their targeting and the
radioactive fallout drops into the jet stream. That would rain on your
parade."
Langly pointed at Taras. "Besides, an EMP would shut down everything
electronic. All the cybernetic people like you would also die."
Byers looked at Taras. "What we need is more information."
Langly looked at Taras. "We need to see what makes System tick."
Frohike looked at Taras. "We need a sample."
Taras looked at the three for a moment. "What do you want me to do?"
Langly shrugged. "You're a cyborg. You're stronger than any of us."
Byers smiled. "We just need you to single out an incorporated person and
bring him back."
Frohike nodded. "Undamaged."
Taras stared, wide eyed. "You must be crazy. System would know where I
was, where we are, if I brought someone back. It could see your whole
hideout here. We'd be surrounded in minutes."
Frohike held out a small black box. It was the size of a large walnut.
Four wires protruded from the box, ending in wetware plugs. "Not if you use
this."
Taras blinked, refusing to touch the device. "What is that? A loop-back
plug?"
Langly shook his head. "It's a debugger. A wetware development tool that
lets you control the J2 processor at the microcode level."
Taras stared. "A wetware debugger? Those don't work on wetware that's
installed, does it?"
Frohike put the debugger in Taras' hand. "This one does."
Taras regarded the device like it was some sort of dead spider. "Isn't it
illegal to modify a debugger? How did you guys get this?"
Frohike smiled. "Welcome to the dark side."
-Andy Searls
http://www.jps.net/searlsa
I'm not completely insane,
some parts are missing.