A Mote in the Eye of Eternity
This story is set a hundred years after the events of Bubblegum Crisis,
which have been slightly altered for this story. Contains graphic
language and violence.
Prologue One: A Deeper Sense of Longing
Andrea leaned against a bulkhead, breath coming in heaving pants. Sweat
drops dotted her forehead, a few sliding down to sting her eyes as they
darted around, looking for her contact. Atredies was late, she thought
with supreme irritation, and I need a fix. Anger built up in her as she
realized she'd been disconnected for almost thirty minutes.
"I'm too young for this shit," she lamented as Atredies finally rounded
the corridor from D section. Probably spent the last ten minutes groping
the new arrivals, she thought grimly, forcing a smile for the little
man. He grinned back, hands smoothing the dirty ship suit that seemed
his only set of clothes.
"How's it going, hotstuff?" he asked, brushing back his hair in a vain
attempt to organize the unruly mass in the low g of Middle Town.
"Fine. You get it?" Andrea responded, her voice rich with disdain.
"Of course," the greasy little fixer said, as if there was nothing he
couldn't get. Though Andrea had to admit he did come through most of the
time. He was just so damn arrogant about the whole thing. "You got the
money, or would that alternative payment plan work for you?" he added
with a leer.
"Fuck off, Little Dick," she told him as she handed the chip with her
money over.
"Your loss, blondie," he said good-naturedly, a small vacuum sealed
package appearing from one of the hundred pockets of his suit. "Just a
word of advice, though. I'd try and cut back on this shit," he glanced
at the package, "its bad for you to fully immerse-"
"Stow the sermon. If I wanted advice I'd go to Shrink bot."
"Fine, fine. Have a great day with the wire." He turned to go, headed
back towards D section and the newly arrived Station employees. That was
were most of his money came from, anyway.
Andrea shoved the package into the pocket of her old Army jacket, and
headed back towards her room, happy to leave the dirty Middle Town
streets and the hungry looks of its inhabitants. Not like they had any
use for her package. A three minute Transpo ride later and she was back
home.
Home being a single room in the low rent section of Outer Town, where
the gravity was full Earth and the air was reasonably free of CO2 and
human stink. "Tadima" she told the door in an irritated tone, the
pounding in her head escalating a level with the proximity to her deck.
It slid open, almost grudgingly, and she stepped into the soft light of
her room. The room her parents paid for after she'd been kicked out of
the dorms at the Orbital Academy.
Easier than trying to talk to me, she thought bitterly as she tossed
her jacket over one of unused chairs and grabbed a juice bulb from the
little fridge next to her futon. It still amazed her at how easily she'd
adjusted to orbital life, despite the sixteen years she'd spent stuck
down the well. After she swallowed the juice bulb's contents she fished
the sealed package out of her jacket and stripped the seal off in almost
frantic motions.
"Shit, he really got one," she said softly, the pounding in her head
forgotten for a moment as she looked at the lethal looking black box.
Besides the subtle Genom logo it was devoid of anything resembling�ell,
anything. The featureless box was worth a great deal more than she paid
for it, but apparently Atredies was half the fixer that he said he was.
With a sigh of contentment she placed the box on top of the other
appliance in her room, a gunmetal gray Interface Deck that had been her
pride and joy since she'd saved/stolen enough money to buy it the year
before. With an excited grin she slotted the interface plug into the
socket behind her ear, her nerves finally settling as the neurological
stimuli satisfied the craving she had been suffering from.
Her room disappeared as the interface deck hijacked her optical nerves
for its own uses. The rest of her senses retreated, replaced by digital
alternatives conveying the pertinent data of her surroundings in the
Scape. She stood gazing out at the blinking lights of the Martian
colonies, six long minutes away from her. Behind her the brighter lights
of the Orbit Cities nearly eclipsed the more muted lights of Earth.
Despite the population difference, the Orbit Cities contained more FIU's
than Earth, mostly since the average Terran was happy with GTV and
passive sensory stim programs.
Not her though. She was never happier than when she was fully immersed
and using, not like the silly end users who still used their eyes to
surf the Scape. Her digital body laughed, the chrome dominatrix throwing
her shoulders back and sending her laughter out into the wide expanse of
space, little bits of code sent randomly into the wilderness.
At her mental command the deck connected with the black box above it
through a high speed IR port. The black box's processor came on line,
adjusting itself to fit the preexisting architecture of her own. A fully
functioning neural net, she thought happily. It triples my benchmarks,
she exclaimed to herself as she glanced at the windows that had just
popped into her vision.
"I hope you realize what that thing really is," a voice said from
behind her. Turning to look she saw Isis.
"Get bent, old one," Andrea replied civilly. "What do you mean 'I hope
you realize what that thing really is?' It's a third generation neural
net, especially designed for running ICE breakers."
"I'm sure that's what Atredies told you it was, ICE-pick. Or
alternatively Andrea Templar."
"What?" Andrea replied, her digital voice carrying none of the alarm
she felt. She'd known Isis since she'd moved up the well and was certain
she'd never told the strange woman her name. She didn't tell it to the
boys she connected with, and she was certainly not going to tell the
wacked out weirdo with the trippy Avatar.
"Now, now Ms. Templar. I'm sure you know how much those things run for,
don't you? About six times what you paid for it. Do you think Atredies
is that good of a fixer?"
"What the fuck are you talking about."
"It's a Genom plant. They've been making different versions since the
mid 21st century. By now the ICEmen are headed your way here in the
Scape and a couple of their meat buddies are dragging a containment
boomer your way."
"Shit," Andrea said as her search programs noted the approach of a pair
of unknown runners. Her dummy programs had apparently not worked in
redirecting her trace, as the shadowy figures approached, ignoring the
phantom landscape that was supposed to hide her access.
"I can help," Isis told her softly, having approached closer while
Andrea was sidetracked.
"How can you help me against them," the girl asked skeptically.
"Starting like this," Isis said, sending a program at her. The ICE
slashed through her defenses, running down the line into her deck, where
it knocked the machine offline. Andrea's eyes snapped open as she
returned to her room.
"I've disabled the door so they'll have to cut through it. The
containment boomer has just activated and a couple of meat heads are
escorting it your way. You do remember what they do to you if they catch
you, right?" Isis' voice issued from the com panel. Andrea wasn't even
all that surprised.
"They strip out your spine and skull for a trophy(1)," Andrea muttered
in a dead tone of voice.
"Right. Now here's what you do. See the air duct above your bed?"
"Yes," she replied, glancing up to the small vent that had been bugging
her in her sleep over the last year.
"Get in there and climb straight for about ten meters."
"But there are sensors in there-"
"If you keep arguing they'll be here before I can save you. Don't
bother with your deck, the BB has corrupted it already."
"Why are you helping me?" the girl asked as she grabbed her jacket and
shoved her way through the small duct.
"Because you remind me of someone. Now shut up and shimmy," the voice
told her, this time coming from her watch. Andrea pulled her way through
the little air shaft, grateful for once that she was a small girl. The
shaft was still barely wide enough for her, the metal edges of the wall
rubbing against the sides of her hips as she slid.
"I'm at about ten meters," Andrea reported, her mind racing. It had to
be an AI, she thought. What a shock, that after all this time the batty
lady turns out to be a Net God. Behind her she heard the smashing of her
doorway as the security men finally arrived.
"Good. Brace yourself." Without any more warning the vent gave way,
dropping the surprised girl into a storage room. The wind exploded out
of her chest as she thudded into a stack of plastic boxes, apparently
filled with something between cement and brick in hardness.
"Thanks for the warning," Andrea muttered bitterly as noticed a
blinking light in the semidarkness of the room.
"See the blinking? Good. Now open the box the lights connected to."
Andrea crawled over the crushed boxes towards the small light,
flinching at the sound of hammering at the door. The box was small,
about the size of her head if her head had been square. The soft leather
case opened smoothly as Andrea tapped the locks. The well-oiled hinges
slid open silently, revealing what appeared to be a box filled with
darkness. Even fully adjusted to the low light of the supply room, the
girl's eyes couldn't penetrate through the box.
"It's getting cold," Andrea muttered quietly as the door began rattling
on its track.
"Don't worry, its just the thermocouples pulling in some extra energy,"
Isis told her calmly. "Now bring your face close to the box and exhale."
"Why?" Andrea asked, already complying with the command. The AI's voice
seemed to demand her obedience, causing the girl to frown for a moment
before she exhaled. As the breath left her mouth the temperature dropped
by what seemed ten degrees or more and a bright light shone from the
box. There was a flash of movement and before the startled girl could
react something jumped out of the box and attatched itself to the top of
her head.
"What is this?" Andrea yelped as she tumbled backwards. The goop
covering her head seemed to spread on its own accord, covering her face
and head. The peculiar thing was the goop was transparent. Better than
transparent; Andrea's view of the room seemed much more solid and she
picked out objects that were just dark shapes a few moments before.
"The suit is formatting," Isis told the struggling girl, "just give it
a moment and it'll be finished. Then ten containment boomers couldn't
hurt you." The voice was oddly comforting as the cold, metallic
substance spread across the teenager's body.
As the goop covered her shins the door exploded inward, propelled by
the boomer's shoulder. Before the debris had even settled the machine
sprayed AP rounds through the doorway with its twenty millimeter cannon,
twelve gram rounds exploding in flight to send thousands bioactive
flechettes spraying into the room.
The entire room exploded, the tiny crystal slivers shredding boxes,
cans and shelves. There was a muted shriek audible behind the deafening
thunder of the multiple explosions and then near silence as the contents
of the room settled into equilibrium. A moment later the two meat boys
stormed into the room, multipurpose rifles ready. A haze obscured the
room as the two boosted mercenaries scanned the room.
"I'm still alive," Andrea muttered. "What is this thing?"
"A Mark Seven Nanonic firm suit," a voice in her ear told her.
"How do I work it?"
"Might as well start with a good old fashioned fist fight," Isis
responded as the two security men opened fire. Their six millimeter
rifles bounced off the now metallic girl's chest like rain from an
umbrella as the chrome and blood red suit leapt to its feet.
"Lasers!" one of the men called, only to find the suit cross the
distance separating them. A blindingly fast fist drove through the mans
midsection, a sickening crunch rewarding Andrea as the fist blew through
subdermal armor, flesh and bone.
The man crumbled to the floor as the boomer and remaining security
guard resumed their attack. A bright flash filled the room as the laser
sizzled against the diffraction field on the suit, turning coherent
light into a rainbow splash of color. Andrea flung her hand out
instinctually and a powerful beam of energy connected her palm to the
remaining security guard briefly before the man was flung against the
wall, a good portion of his body mass evaporated by the powerful
microwave beam.
"How'd I do that?" Andrea asked as the boomer slid lethally into the
room.
"The suit has synched to your nervous system through your interface
socket," Isis explained. "What it!" she warned as the tall boomer drove
its fist into the girl's jaw.
The punch could've taken a man's head off or split the engine block of
an old style car, but Andrea's head barley snapped around. She drove her
palms against the machine's head and focused, releasing an
electromagnetic pulse that reached into the gamma range.
The electronics that made up the boomer's sophisticated sensory and
cognitive processes disintegrated under the onslaught, induced
electricity burning through all the capacitors and bridges. The machine
collapsed to the floor in a heap.
"Who the fuck are you, old woman," Andrea asked as she stared at the
wreckage that remained of the supply room.
"Isis. And welcome to the Neo Sabers."
Andrea collapsed into the private shuttle's bench as the ship
disconnected from the station, a few minutes ahead of the Citywide
lockdown. The firm-suit was eased back from Andrea's face and arms, with
a slender strand still reaching up to her interface plug. Sighing
contently in the neurological warmth of the Immersion, the girl exhaled
slowly, fully satisfied for the first time in her short life.
End Prologue 1
Author's note:
I owe a little bit to William Gibson and Neal Stevenson to this one(at
least in intent), along with many of the other Cyberpunk greats. There
is reference to Entities and Organizations copyrighted by
AIC/Animego/whoever else which are used without permission. Also the
trophy marked with a (1) is a salute to the novel Noir, by K. W. Jeter
which I'm reading now. I heartily recommend it for anyone looking for
some interesting fiction.
Jerico Mele
Jmele@brandeis.edu
www.brandeis.edu/~jmele
Fnord!