In the background the 2020 computer geek film “Into the Network” played out on an antique flat screen TV, the then teen actor (who recently celebrated his 68th birthday) tapped a couple of keys on his keyboard and with the aid of computer graphics was literally sucked into the Matrix… Internet, Screech mentally corrected himself. He watched the film out of the corner of his eye, knowing every line and every scene inside out. As a child he would watch this and other films of the genre avidly. He was destined to take up a career with computers though his chosen route isn’t quite what his mother intended.
Watching the rushing effects of the actor zooming down the information superhighway Screech turned back to his own keyboard. He didn’t need the manual interface as he was also jacked in but there was something tactile about the keys that he liked. Letting his eyes fall to where his fingers danced across the keys he smiled. There was something entrancing about the keystrokes, and you could be more expressive on a keyboard that the standard mental commands.
With a flourish he stabbed at the Return key, and thousands of terabits of information flowed into his memory drive. He watched the flow of data for a few moments to ensure that no anomalies or nasty bits of code were being run, it all seemed clean so set his own analyze program to watch the rest of the transfer. He was getting paid for this chunk of data but that didn’t mean he should sit there like a plum doing the job a line of code was capable of doing and squander the opportunity of a broken node. He drifted off to have a look at what other tasty information sat in the datastore. He wasn’t disappointed.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
The Debrief
“So, talk me through what happened.” The man asking the question was human, tall and well built with a clean shaven head. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and bore a dragon motif on the left breast.
The man he addressed wore a dark blue swat style uniform, though there was no identifying mark other than the yellow sergeant stripes on his shoulder. He let his salute fall sharply to his side before he began. “Sir, after allowing Kirby to return to his apartment we set up drone only close obs. We hoped he would reveal the location of the missing medcase. After an hour or so some wannabe shadowrunner team turned up. Finding him couldn’t have been too hard, Kirby wasn’t that discrete about his presence in town”
The bald man nodded “Choosing him was a mistake. Okay, go on.”
“This runner team had a half baked stakeout before they proceeded to shoot up the neighbourhood. They took out Kirby’s sentries with some stun rounds but I think there must have been some confusion in their team regarding the level of force as some were using lethal ammunition.”
“Were your team observed?” the bald man asked.
“I don’t think so, not at that moment. After a shootout that lasted about ten minutes these runners managed to take Kirby alive and retreat back to their safehouse”
The bald man scratched absently at the back of his neck and found his own RFID tag embedded under his skin.
The sergeant continued the debrief “we activated the tracker tag after we had lost visual on Kirby. It was a risk but this runner team didn’t look too switched on, and we tracked them to a safe house only a couple of blocks away.”
The bald man grinned “It seems they made it easy for you. Any metahumans?” he asked.
“Sadly no sir. These wannabes were a disgrace to the true race.”
“Shame.” He gestured for the debrief to continue.
“We followed them to their hide and started with a personnel lead surveillance as the drone was stranded a couple of blocks away. This seemed to spook them and within a short time they made attempts to move Kirby. At some point in this move Kirby tried to break away from them and we were forced to go live to eliminate him.”
The bald man scrutinised the face of his soldier before nodding his approval.
“Rounds were exchanged between the running team, one of my men is in critical condition at Southpoint.”
“My personal physician will be made available to him if it will help” the bald man said.
“Thank you sir. I will inform Southpoint of your offer.
“At some point during this exchange the running team were able to snatch Kirby and evacuated from the scene.”
“He escaped?” The bald man arched his eyebrow.
“Not exactly sir, it seems the running team bungled the job and killed him at some point during the escape.”
“Interesting” Steepling his fingers the bald man let a grin roll across his mouth. “The case?” he asked.
“Sadly sir this has not turned up during our investigation. Though we continue to follow lines of enquiry”
“Thank you sergeant. You are dismissed.”
The sergeant snapped a salute out before sharply marching out of the office. The bald man waited for a few moments after the door clicked closed before making a comlink call to a very dear friend.
The man he addressed wore a dark blue swat style uniform, though there was no identifying mark other than the yellow sergeant stripes on his shoulder. He let his salute fall sharply to his side before he began. “Sir, after allowing Kirby to return to his apartment we set up drone only close obs. We hoped he would reveal the location of the missing medcase. After an hour or so some wannabe shadowrunner team turned up. Finding him couldn’t have been too hard, Kirby wasn’t that discrete about his presence in town”
The bald man nodded “Choosing him was a mistake. Okay, go on.”
“This runner team had a half baked stakeout before they proceeded to shoot up the neighbourhood. They took out Kirby’s sentries with some stun rounds but I think there must have been some confusion in their team regarding the level of force as some were using lethal ammunition.”
“Were your team observed?” the bald man asked.
“I don’t think so, not at that moment. After a shootout that lasted about ten minutes these runners managed to take Kirby alive and retreat back to their safehouse”
The bald man scratched absently at the back of his neck and found his own RFID tag embedded under his skin.
The sergeant continued the debrief “we activated the tracker tag after we had lost visual on Kirby. It was a risk but this runner team didn’t look too switched on, and we tracked them to a safe house only a couple of blocks away.”
The bald man grinned “It seems they made it easy for you. Any metahumans?” he asked.
“Sadly no sir. These wannabes were a disgrace to the true race.”
“Shame.” He gestured for the debrief to continue.
“We followed them to their hide and started with a personnel lead surveillance as the drone was stranded a couple of blocks away. This seemed to spook them and within a short time they made attempts to move Kirby. At some point in this move Kirby tried to break away from them and we were forced to go live to eliminate him.”
The bald man scrutinised the face of his soldier before nodding his approval.
“Rounds were exchanged between the running team, one of my men is in critical condition at Southpoint.”
“My personal physician will be made available to him if it will help” the bald man said.
“Thank you sir. I will inform Southpoint of your offer.
“At some point during this exchange the running team were able to snatch Kirby and evacuated from the scene.”
“He escaped?” The bald man arched his eyebrow.
“Not exactly sir, it seems the running team bungled the job and killed him at some point during the escape.”
“Interesting” Steepling his fingers the bald man let a grin roll across his mouth. “The case?” he asked.
“Sadly sir this has not turned up during our investigation. Though we continue to follow lines of enquiry”
“Thank you sergeant. You are dismissed.”
The sergeant snapped a salute out before sharply marching out of the office. The bald man waited for a few moments after the door clicked closed before making a comlink call to a very dear friend.
Monday, January 05, 2009
Bad news.
Monaco hung up the comlink to Bullet. She pinched the top of her nose and closed her eyes as an exasperated sigh escaped from her throat.
Looking out of her tall bay windows across the city she dialled the Mr. Johnson.
“They killed the target.” She told him bluntly. No point in beating about the bush.
“I’ve heard better news.” He replied. “The contract is scrubbed then. Any explanations?”
“Nothing that won’t sound like an excuse. I picked the wrong team, that’s all.”
“Okay. Fair enough.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking. “Sounds like you might have a team better suited to another task I have”.
Monaco allowed her eyebrows to arch in surprise. She didn’t expect to be being offered another job on the back of this fuck up.
Mr. Johnson laughed as he read into the pregnant pause. “There will be penalty clauses this time Monaco. I don’t mind using your gun-ho runners, they might even prove to be better suited to this task but if they fuck up this time…”
Monaco winced. She had been stung by contract clauses once before and it cost her dearly but she was over a barrel now. Take the job and redeem herself as a fixer, or ditch the job and lose face.
“I’m listening” she replied, though she knew there was little room to manoeuvre, this time the Johnson was calling the shots.
Looking out of her tall bay windows across the city she dialled the Mr. Johnson.
“They killed the target.” She told him bluntly. No point in beating about the bush.
“I’ve heard better news.” He replied. “The contract is scrubbed then. Any explanations?”
“Nothing that won’t sound like an excuse. I picked the wrong team, that’s all.”
“Okay. Fair enough.” He paused for a moment, clearly thinking. “Sounds like you might have a team better suited to another task I have”.
Monaco allowed her eyebrows to arch in surprise. She didn’t expect to be being offered another job on the back of this fuck up.
Mr. Johnson laughed as he read into the pregnant pause. “There will be penalty clauses this time Monaco. I don’t mind using your gun-ho runners, they might even prove to be better suited to this task but if they fuck up this time…”
Monaco winced. She had been stung by contract clauses once before and it cost her dearly but she was over a barrel now. Take the job and redeem herself as a fixer, or ditch the job and lose face.
“I’m listening” she replied, though she knew there was little room to manoeuvre, this time the Johnson was calling the shots.
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