424 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
424 lines
17 KiB
Plaintext
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_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
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| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
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| | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | |
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| | /________/ | | / / /________/ | |
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... SatanTrek
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by Necrovore
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>>> a cDc publication.......1991 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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<beep>... <urughh>... <bzzz>... <oww>
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[And now, for the lighter side of the Virus issue....]
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Uh, hey Martha, he's at it again. You know, that Necrovore fella,
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just doesn't know when to stop....
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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The reviews are in! "SatanTrek" is a hit!
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"...what a [classic] piece of [literature] ..." - Anaxagorus
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":-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)" - Nobody special
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"Brilliant... bravo..." - Asmodeus
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"I really don't know what 'EnterBoing' is, perhaps Jimmy might"
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- T.F.Bakker
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"Hey, my voice isn't that high!11!!@!!1!!!" - K-Rad Kid
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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With that out of the way, I humbly submit for your (dis)approval,
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[mentally change to Bold Face type]
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------------------------------------------------------------------
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>>>>>>>> SatanTrek - The Dying Generation - Volume I <<<<<<
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----- ---- --- -- -*- The Virus Strikes -*- -- --- ---- -----
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#define PARODY_BIT ON
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LORD SATAN: (stern, square jawed, no frills, stands gazing distantly out
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through the portal in his quarters, hands clasped behind him)
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Captain's log, 32-28-32.8, the StarChip EnterBoing was on its way to a
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rendezvous point in the Denise star system. We were scheduled to meet the
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StarChip RSN Procrastination. This is the fourth time we've tried to meet
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Procrastination, but so far, they have yet to show up.
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(We hear a short burst of musical notes over the intercom.)
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ENSIGN CHE: Captain, we're getting a number of distress calls about an outbreak
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of a "virus" of some sort.
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SATAN: I'll be right up.
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(Two stagehands open the elevator door, and a determined SATAN stumbles into
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the bridge taking his seat.)
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SCIENCE OFFICER GLASYA: Sir, we're getting word that this virus has infected
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and either destroyed or seriously messed up numerous disks out in the
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Pirate Community.
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CHE: Several compliants are coming from AE-land sir, virus talk is clogging
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systems around the known universe.
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LIEUTENANT MOGUL: A transmission sir, coming from the StarChip Apple Mafia.
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SATAN: On screen!
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(A fuzzy, broken picture appears on the screen. We see the sullen face of the
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much respected and feared ADMIRAL ACKFART, his eyes are distant and glassy.
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Piles of disks lie scattered around him. The picture breaks up as it fades in
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and out. ADMIRAL ACKFART seems distraught, perhaps delirious. He looks up
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into the camera, shaking two handfuls of floppies towards it.)
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ACKFART: (the image breaks up, scratch, garble) Disks! All my (garble)
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destroyed! (snap, crackle, pop) Murder the fuckin' r0dent! (garble,
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snap) Fear, trembling amongst my crew! Look at this, Satan! (rolls
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computer on desk closer to viewscreen so we can see the monitor) "Your
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computer has a virus, HA! HA! HA! Your..." (fade, pop, scratch)
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"...HA! HA!" (garble) Are you receiving this? Get me a IIc!
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SATAN: The man is obviously suffering from delirium.
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ACKFART: (crackle, snap) ...black leather and chains and asphalt... (fade,
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flicker) Sex, drugs, and... shit? (pop, grech) Vote for Danny Quayle the
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12th!
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(EnterBoing looses the signal.)
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SATAN: It's clear he desperately needs our help.
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(Being true to his 4096 colors, LORD SATAN blits the EnterBoing around and goes
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into hi-res mode.)
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SATAN: Ensign, set course for the BAADG Star System. If anyone can figure this
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stuff out, please do so. We must make this a universe of Safe Sectors.
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(CHE grabs his mouse and selects the new "preferences" of Workbench 666.666.
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Hitting a couple of wrong buttons on his twenty-seven button mouse, a strange
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message appears in the menu bar saying, "Eat me, conformist pig!")
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GLASYA: Sir, more messages about the virus coming in. Apparently there are
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several different varieties from "harmless" ones on up to deliberately
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malicious ones which can cause serious destruction in this and neighboring
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dimensions.
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SATAN: And I thought that we had evolved beyond this sort of thing. What sort
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of wanker would do this?!
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(The EnterBoing sails on towards the unknown, while all Cyberspace users cower
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in terror, wondering if their copy of that great new screen-hack
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"OingBoingWoingZoing" will be >>>The One<<<.)
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(At last, EnterBoing reaches the borders of the Infected Zone and goes into
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orbit around the small puce-colored planet Foo. The crew beams down to a
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hideous sight. Smoke pours fourth from special effects generators, turning the
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sun blood-red. Burned-out buildings line the streets, while people wander
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aimlessly clutching stacks of their beloved disks just cleaned of all those
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nasty byte thingies. Everywhere people mumble things like, "Click click
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click," or, "Formatting, verifying, formatting.")
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(The crew steps over piles of rubble (joysticks, CP/M emulators, Andy Warhol
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issues of SUCK ME, little red unicycles) in the street. Bonfires burn openly.
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Babies cry as their mothers comfort them with soft humming.)
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(A thirteen year old boy comes up to GLASYA, tears streaming down his round
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little cheeks.)
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K-RAD KID: PLeaZe MiZteR, (he pleads in a calculated pitiful tone) y00 g0t A
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g00d kRAcK 0f SPuDZz0Ne?!?!?!!!!1!!1!pULEEeEeZZze??????/EyE haVen't
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F0unDde' dA >*{}>>"ZECReT LeVEL"<<{}*< yET!!!SHhHHhHH!!!!11!!!1
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(The crew is obviously touched and angered by the expressions of pure
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hopelessness. The sight of the young boy is EORed into their collective
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cortexes.)
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(Later that night, SATAN is in his study lost in thought.)
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SATAN: Hmmm... I guess we'll "[E]nter the city". Gee, after four years of this
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and with 533,979 hit points you'd think that I'd have found Mangar by now.
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(Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet up on the table, ready for a
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relaxing evening. Suddenly....)
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([cymbal_crash=ON] On his screen appears: "HA! HA! HA! Your computer has a
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virus! Formatting disk....")
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(SATAN's face bleaches white, then turns red as the purest form of anger grips
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him. The only noise in the room is "Click click click-Formatting, Verifying,
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Formatting....")
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(From deep inside the Captain's throat comes a sound quite unlike anything
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we've ever heard before. Louder than the mating call of the Altarian
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Megadonkey, louder than Steve Jobs being fired, even louder then a thousand
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Timex/Sinclair owners saying why they don't "need" a real keyboard.)
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COMPUTER: Formatting, click, click, click (heh heh heh)....
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(GLASYA looks up from the book she's reading. (_The Beastess Speaks_))
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GLASYA: What the hell was that?
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CHE: It sounded like the voice of someone who just reformatted their
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Bard's Tale character disk.
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MOGUL: How do you know that?
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CHE: Just look at page 10 of the script, fuck-head.
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(LORD SATAN bursts into the crew quarters, kicks aside the piles of dirty
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laundry, Nibble subscription notices, stolen software registration forms,
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growling....)
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SATAN: Let's get these worthless mortals! NOW!
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(The crew roll out of their cots and rush up to the bridge. GLASYA immediately
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sets to access the EnterBoing's database for a search of possible culprits.)
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GLASYA: Damn it! Where's the dongle!
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CHE: What?
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GLASYA: That thing you're playing with.
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CHE: Oh, heh, sorry. Thought it was a mouseport protector.
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(Plugging in the dongle, GLASYA checks references from vandalism to religious
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worship, from Democratic presidential candidates to leprosy to BCPL. Anything
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that might offer a lead.)
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GLASYA: Wait, wait a minute here. Under the heading of "Religious hackers from
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the East" it says that "the great Lord Jesus is a smug and flatulent
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fellow, proud of his own cleverness. In order to demonstrate just how
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clever he really is, Jesus likes to play 'pranks' on computer users
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across the galaxy. He has his servants, a form of 'mental eunuchs',
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create software 'viruses'. These have little more utility than to create
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terror, discord and all round nastiness in the user community by
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systematically trashing disk after disk. 'Can't a guy have a little fun,
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huh?' Gronk remarked once ater one of his viruses was mistaken for a
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simple-minded operating system. Later called 'Windows', it almost
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single-handedly set back the cause of personal computing by 1200 years.
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Another one of his efforts unleashed upon the early IBM users caused
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otherwise perfectly healthy disk drives to constantly repeat his name when
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running: 'Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves.'
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YEOMAN IMPAYLOR: Let's crucify!
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(The EnterBoing gracefully swings around and sweeps off into the great unknown
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to meet their greatest enemy yet.)
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(After commercials for some feminine hygiene gunk, nose drops and "Chocolate
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Covered Sugar Bombs" Fortified Breakfast Cereal-Breakfast of Geeks, StarChip
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EnterBoing settles around a dark and foreboding planet.)
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MOGUL: I can feel the goodness, the, the...
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CHE: Holiness?
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MOGUL: Thanks. Holiness, the...
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CHE: Churlishness?
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MOGUL: Yeah! Churlishness. The mental...
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CHE: Putrescence?
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MOGUL: No.
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CHE: Pournellelishness?
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MOGUL: That's it!
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(On their viewscreen, the planet looms mightily before them.)
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GLASYA: Like wow man, look at that planet looming mightily before us!
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(Looking much like an avocado with a bad case of acne.)
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(...an orange with hemorrhoids, that is.)
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CHE: Captain, we're receiving a transmission from the SlimeLord!
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(On the screen appears the most hideous creature ever seen or imagined.
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Appearing as an ugly geek wearing a wreath of thorns, or that... that K-Rad
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Kid!1!!!@!!!!1@1!!2! Jesus' skin, if it could be called that, hangs loose on
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his twisted frame. Open black sores ooze something too gross to even mention
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to this bunch.)
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(His head, resembling a shriveled Mickey-Mouse balloon, is indicative of his
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overall intelligence. On the wall behind Jesus are the three most virulent
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letters in Cyberspace (second only to that "I" term): "GOD," the Goddamn
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Orifice Destructors.)
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JESUS: Alien StarChip, youse guys want some wares, yes? Real cheap, I got me
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California Raisins, WordPerfect, Wizardry XXVIII. I've got it all! All
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of it, I tell you! All the gnuest!
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SATAN: Not on your life, Jesus, you ugly dude you. We don't want any of your
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swill.
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CHE: But sir, he's got Wizardry XXVIII. Can't we make an exception?
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SATAN: What? And break the "Prime Destructive?"
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CHE: But siiiiiir, it's Wizardry!1!@11!!
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<smack>
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CHE: Owww....
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JESUS: Well, Satan, wanna deal?
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SATAN: Yes, we're going to deal with you all right.
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(The crew don special isolation garments: black shiny jackets bearing the
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EnterBoing's emblem on the back, a bloody pentacle superimposed upon a goat's
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head. Check those pupils. The demonic crew shimmer away in a bitchin'
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explosion of special effects and reappear in a bunch of twisty little mazes
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looking all alike. Scary stuff crawls down the walls and their feet stick to
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the floor as if they were in a cheap theater.)
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(Through a port, they catch the sight of a small band of GOD mutants busily
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working away dreaming up new viruses, or cracking Tass Times in Tonetown,
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Deathlord, and Star Blazer. Above them hangs the sign "Why use software when
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it's not RELIGIOUS?" The crew slinks up to the doorway, Phazers drawn.)
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CRACKER #1: Ha ha! Hey Lou, check out this new virus. After four boots, it
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writes a Micro-Prose copy protection scheme to their hard drive.
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SATAN: (whispers) Those vipers! Ok, Set Phazers to "inferno." GO!
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(They dive into the room. Crackers turn around, terror showing in their beady
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eyes and flaccid faces. Squealing like suckling baby pigs they scatter in
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every direction. Sweeping the room with their destructo-Phazers, the crew hits
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everything with a monitor systematically violating all possible warranties.
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Chips writhe in agony, gasping for bits but finding none. CRTs split open,
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spilling their load of pixels onto the floor like so much sand.)
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(NOTE: Thrilling, action-packed editing makes this a scene much too intense for
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words.)
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(It is over as quickly as it began. The crackers huddle silently in their
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respective piles of oozing flesh. Liquified computers litter the room.)
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GLASYA: Gee, that was fun. Let's do this again sometime.
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(SATAN grasps the only surviving cracker by his soft pliable throat. Holding
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him up he stares into his little twitching face.)
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GLASYA: You hold him and I'll sector edit him.
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SATAN: Where is Jesus?
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CRACKER #2: At the end of the hall, through the sliding doors that stagehands
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must open to make look automatic.
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(The crew make their way down the hall, stopping now and then to shake refuse
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off their feet. As they approach the door labeled "His Jesusness, 1.0-Danger!
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1 Million Ohms," two overpaid stagehands yank it apart.)
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(Jesus is playing with a legal copy of The Bard's Tale and doesn't notice his
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guests. Satan sees that he has just found Mangar.)
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(A brilliant 16 color non-interlaced beam pierces through the stuffy air,
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striking the system squarely in RastPort.)
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JESUS: What the hell? (jumping back from the smoldering rubble) Who are you!
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CHE: We're the Legion Of the Damned/Hairsprayed, here to mop up Cyberspace of
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your ilk!
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MOGUL: Snappy dialogue, Che!
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<smack>
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MOGUL: Owww....
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JESUS: Oh, ok. But first, do I get a final requester?
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SATAN: Well, ok, what do you want?
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JESUS: An answer. Just what would I do with a pen-based notebook computer?
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SATAN: Who knows? They're desperate for new product ideas. Glasya, ready?
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GLASYA: 'natch. Ok extra-halfbright breath, stand back!
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(GLASYA blasts the piles of legal software and stacks of new virus disks which
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were being readied for beta testing. JESUS looks on in horror.)
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SATAN: Jesus, you are under arrest for Software Fundamentalism.
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==============================================================================
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SATAN: Captain's log, 3.14159, following the arrest of His Holiness Jesus, we
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reformatted the planet in an effort to make it useful to less destructive
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races. Meanwhile, Jesus is now serving time in Virtual Hell," joining
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many others who violated the essence of nonconformism, the Hacker Ethic
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and the Cyberpunk Way. Jesus was sentenced to a lifetime hard labor:
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developing a real-time parallel processing OS in BASIC on a 2k
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Timex/Sinclair 1000.
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(The intrepid crew has one other stop to make, back on the planet Foo. They
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beam down to check up on the reconstruction efforts as well as to deliver some
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humanitarian aid in the form of new t-files and much-needed spelling checkers.
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Hundreds of eager hands reach out for nourishment.)
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(Meanwhile, GLASYA approaches a familiar adolescent and hands him a properly
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cracked SpudzZone. The kid's face brightens up immediately.)
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K-RAD KID: GEE,tHaNkZ d00de!!11!@1!1!W0W.SaY,y00 w0uLDn'T haPPeN t00 hAvE
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LaRRY tHA LeTCh lEE!cheZ lePpeR LiZaRdZ iN thA lANd 0f tHa lAWnM0wEr
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LEE!peRz pArT 12,"W00uLD Y000???!111!!21@!!
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GLASYA: Nope, sorry kid.
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K-RAD KID: wElL,ThEN,UhHHh...wHAt aB00ut P0NG???!?!!!!!@!
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<bzzzt>
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GLASYA: That'll teach the little bastard.
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#define PARODY_BIT OFF
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==============================================================================
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Stay tuned for the next excitigating bit-packed episode of...
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SatanTrek - The Dying Generation - Volume II - The Trouble with Rodentz
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_ _ ____________________________________________________________________
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/((___))\|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.......806/794-1842|
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[ x x ] |NIHILISM.............517/546-0585|The Polka AE{PW:KILL} 806/794-4362|
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\ / |Ripco................312/528-5020|Tequila Willy's GSC...209/526-3194|
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(' ') |The Works............617/861-8976|Blitzkrieg............502/499-8933|
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(U) |====================================================================|
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.ooM |Copr. 1991 cDc communications by Necrovore 1988-10/31/91-#194|
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\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away. FIVE YEARS of cDc|
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