textfiles/magazines/BLAH/blah-039.txt

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    File        <20><><EFBFBD>    <20>        <20><>   <20><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD><EFBFBD>        Written March 23rd, 1993
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                         Presents
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          "Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Pt. 2"
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                        Constantine
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                   Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Pt. 2
                             (What?  Me Alex?)


        ...My head was swimming as I woke up, feeling like a ton of bricks
had hit me like a freight train.  I reminded myself to stop mixing my 
metaphors as I struggled against the ropes that tied me to the chair.
        "You're not tied up," a voice said.  I opened my eyes and looked.
I was pulling on my shoelaces.
        "Sorry about that," said the young man standing in front of me.
In a pair of jeans and an old Metallica tshirt, it could only be James
Hetfield.
        "Why'd you hit me?"
        "I had to get your attention."
        I stood up and looked around the sawdust-covered nightclub.  The
workprograms had all gone out for lunch, leaving the two of us alone.
        "People are talking, Hetfield.  They say you're going K-RaD.  Like
you've got a files complex."
        "The files?  FUCK the files."
        "Yeah, so you say."
        "Listen," Hetfield said, looking around the room nervously, "This
isn't my choice.  PeNiS forced me to go 14.4 and put in the file vaults
for them-- they're doing it all over the Net.  I can't be seen with you,
man, it's just too dangerous."
        "Tell me who your PeNiS contact is."
        "PeNiS is big, Connie.  If I talk, they'll format me for sure."
        "Then tell me who WILL talk about PeNiS."
        "Just get out while you can."

        I stepped outside, the fresh air of the Net cooling my face and 
making the lump on my head throb.  I was walking down a phoneline, cursing
my lack of leads, when a derelict shuffled up behind me.  He had a mean
look about him and a big tagline.
        [Historical Note-- "Big Taglines" were a temporary fad of recent
origin, characterized by very short messages and very long bluewave
signatures.  Starting with one-line posts and two-line tags, the trend
escalated to one-LETTER posts and paragraph-long tags.  The fad died
suddenly when a notorious user posted a wordless message followed by the
collected works of Charles Dickens as a tagline.  A hoard of Bluewave
users, infuriated by the 48-hour download, lynched him.]
        "PssT!" he said.
        "No spare change, buddy."
        "You're looking for PeNiS, right?"
        "Hey!" I said, turning to face him, "My sex life is none of your
business!"
        "My name's NeX," he said, winking at me, "This is just a disguise.
I can help you get to someone high in the organization, but it'll cost
you."
        "I hope YOU'RE not looking for--"
        "I want file points.  Lots of file points."
        "Yeah, I can do that.  What do you know?"
        We stepped into a vacant host computer to talk, huddling behind
a pile of file caches.
        "You want to talk to Nyarlathotep," NeX said, "He knows the whole
operation.  Look for him at--"
        The wail of sirens outside cut him off.  Through the windows I
could see a dozen squad cars surrounding the building.
        "Shit!" he said, "SPA cops!"
        What seemed like hundreds of goons in Software Publisher's 
Association uniforms poured out of the cars and took up position, aiming
wicked-looking magnets at us.
        "Attention!" a voice shouted through a bullhorn.  "This is the
SPA!  Come out with your hands up, or we'll erase!"
        "Nooooo!" NeX cried, "It was just a copy of Little People Farm!
I was going to buy it eventually!  Honest!"
        There was silence for a moment, then the bullhorn squawked again.
"You know, the least you could do is shoot at us."
        "Shoot at you?" I shouted, "Why?"
        "Well," the officer said, "We can't bloody well kill you if you
come out with your hands up, can we?  I mean, we have a reputation to
uphold.  We'd have to go and call the NSA and get THEM to shoot you in
the back, and then there's all the red tape that comes with that.  If
you'd just be so kind as to fire a warning shot or two, we could waste
you and go get lunch."
        "Don't even think about it!" I said, "I've got a Whore Virus
in here!  It could shut down this entire area code!"
        There was a long pause.
        "Nice try," the bullhorn responded, "But we've got Patty Hoffman
out here, and she says you're full of it."

TO BE CONTINUED...

[Will Connie and NeX escape from the SPA?  Will Patty Hoffman ever get a
life?  Will a coherent storyline develop any time in the near future?  For
the answers to these questions and more, stay tuned for Fear and Loathing
Part Three:  Superman's Rotting Corpse!]

{---End Of File... Connie, these are too SHORT.. urk..----}

Looks like SOMEONE'S been reading too much Ambush Bug..

BLaH <sigh>ts

The Battle Of Evermore  <312>476-1508
The Obloid Sphere       <708>965-3098
Nun-Beaters Anonymous   <708>251-5094

Four releases <so far> in three days.. we're back on the roll

{---It doesn't matter what comes, only matters what goes, with Mentos--}
{---Fresh and full of life---}