zieds new story>
zied
Part 1
Felix was wired to the flow. Today he had a load of 40 apples to distribute.
His mind was linked with his buyer in Capetown while his body soaked with
Marge. His basic pleasure model. Being a man of picky tastes and refined
habits he had grown tried of Marge many years ago. She had been a gift
from a Arabic high-roller who had about 50 to get rid of.
Today he felt like company, so here he was in the jacuzzi with a better than
real body that the cutting edge of science has produced. A mindless slave
who would do anything he wanted and more. She was out of style, now
everyone who was anyone went for the personality units. "What fun is a girl
who gives but doesn't take?" goes the NuLeaf slogan. She was rubbing her
perfect breasts against his thins in an effort to get him aroused. But his mind
was elsewhere.
He dealt with apples, oranges and bananas mostly. Sometimes he got his
hands on some of the heavy stuff, kiwis and palmagranits even. Once he had
a gross of blueberries he had to give away at a loss. It was getting too hot
and he couldn't afford the risk of keeping them. Thanks to the special
delivery section of the postal service he never saw the produce he dealt in.
They guarantied to deliver on time, didn't ask what it was, or try to find out;
most importantly, didn't ask questions.
He had a problem he was looking into, it seemed that someone was cutting
off his sources. He kept getting a "Nothing in stock" message; and then
getting the door slammed in his face. He didn't have any enemies he hadn't
taken care of, and no one else was having this kinda trouble. He considered
visiting his sources and talking personally with them. But first he sent out
the initial feelers. Damn, life is a pain sometimes.
zied
part 2
Vermin stirred in his den. His den consisted of a heap of ripped open
mattresses and newspapers. The springs were removed and the frames
broken up. He responded to bleeps of the phone in his head. "You got a job,
he's waiting across the street at the salvation army."
The metal resting on his bone plate just behind and above his left ear
served as his link to the rest of the world. From head to toe he was pure
muscles under his shabby black trench. He was stamped "Made in Japan" in
countless places. Even the HardKore (c) retractable spurs who were locked to
him through a series of metal bone plates on his forearms.
He owned this alley, which no other self respecting bum would ever dare
enter. He keep nothing of value here, besides himself. He had nothing other
than his body and needed nothing. He would never be one of "them". In their
suits and cars, their flashy cards and IDs. He was nothing, zeroed, a non-
person. He had no identity, only a survival instinct. He had name once, but
that was before the military.
His only memories of the military were cold faces in green uniforms; and
nasty black-hearted men dressed in the white of doctors. They had begun
the replacement of his body by metals and plastics. They had also erased
him from their world. A world for which he could only feel contempt, and
dispise. Just as much as it dispised him.
The fire of his escape had destroyed his face, blackened his skin, and
blinded him. His artifical Ono-sendai eyes saw the full spectrum. But they
couldn't see the pain, the hell he went through every damn day. Or the
nightmares of his dreams, the nightmares, of them in their wicked white
suits. Those hollow smiles and heartless eyes.
He munched on one of the dead rats he was nicked after. The tails were the
best, kinda like the beef jerky they once fed him. He shambled to the other
side of the street , dim lights and old fashioned neon announced the slave-
age army. Flinging the thin grey body behind him.
zied
Part 3
Vermin lurked in the shadows. He had met the employer. His target was
coming. This was an unusual job, but it was against the military. So he wasn't
complaining.
The Colonial got out of the dull grey car. He was tired, deep tired, the kinda
tired that reduced all thought to hazy half-dreams. He may have seen, but he
never noticed the assassin untill it was too late. Untill he had three spurs of
nine inch steel through his heart. Then his gloved hands removed a small
white envelope. The assassin melted away.
Vermin didn't like this latest arrangement at all. The employer couldn't pay
and needed somewhere to stay. This was the first time he let anyone enter
his alley and live. He didn't like this one bit. The employer lay inside a cheap
sleeping bag, the fancy clothes, and expensive cut were forgotten. The man
in the bag was spaced, he was linked to that fake world of them. Vermin
stood over the man, flicked out his spurs, it would be so easy. But something
stopped him. His fear fell short, and he walked away. He needed to think,
things were getting out of hand.
Felix opened his eyes, and peered around the alley. If Vermin had come any
closer, the modified BotBuddy (c) nearby would have opened up with it's
little Smg. It had been right on the line, and he still needed Vermin. Really
bad. Everything was going according to plan so far. Thats what scared him
the most.
Captain James T Kirk
this isn't a "new" storie you know.
zieds new story> _