textfiles/groups/SHAWN/wes.txt

 




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 Ý                                                                     Ý A Þ°
 Ý                    FRIENDS OF A DIFFERENT SKIN                      Ý  ?Þ°
 Ý                      A short story.                             A   ßßßßß°
 Ý                                                               Tfile     Þ°
 Ý           Author:  Analog                                  Distribution Þ°
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                    FRIENDS OF DIFFERENT SKIN


 What was wrong with me! There was no sound, and I felt damp.
A small drop of light was illuminated against my forehead. a
feeling of rejection in my mind. What has happened to me? I don't
remember anything. The light became larger, and soon a small room
was visible containing me. I looked around, squinting as the
light became brighter, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the light.
A figure stood, with the light determining its outline.
"HEY LOWER, GET UP ASSHOLE!", A voice said. The voice seemed to
come from all around me, but my mind told me not to move. I
stayed still. Two small red dots flared up wear the eyes on the
figures head should have been. What was this figure? What was I
doing? "I SAID GET UP ASSHOLE! YOU DO IT NOW, OR YOU WILL BE
WEARING SOOT FROM THE BOTTOM OF THIS CELL".
Slowly I slid up, my back against a cold hard surface. He had
said that I was in a cell. What had I done to be in a cell? A
smell of cold urine wafted past my nose. Oh my god. What was
going on! I said to the figure, "WHAT AM I DOING HERE?".
The figure said "THE REASON YOU ARE HERE, IS BECAUSE YOU WERE
BEING PUNISHED. ALL YOU FUCK - UPS ARE ALWAYS DOING STUPID SHIT.
NOW COME WITH ME. OH! PUT THIS ON". The figure threw some plastic
glasses at me. To my surprise, I caught them in the air. My arms
suddenly showed me how long I had been here. I hadn't noticed any
pain in my legs, but my arms now started hurting. I stumbled to
the light, and could hear strange sounds of electronics coming
from my lower body. I reached down, and placed my hand on my leg,
and to my surprise, I could feel cold gears, and mettle pieces
squirming under my palm. "Ahh WHATS WRONG WITH MY LEGS!", The
words came flowing from my mouth. "HEY LOWER, PUT THE DAMN
GLASSES ON, AND COME OUT HERE SO WE CAN SEE!"
The light felt warm, as I stepped out from my cell. It was so
bright, my hands automatically placed the glasses on my face, as
if I had done this before. I was standing in a hallway. I looked
down the corridor, and could see no ending to it in any
direction. Both ends must have stretched on for miles, and doors
not unlike mine, lined the hall walls. A Machine designed to look
as much human as possible stood before me, not as menacing as I
had first thought him to be. The head was all mettle. He was very
clean, and had been polished. The reflection of the hallway could
be seen clearly off of his head, and under thick rimmed
sunglasses, small red lights resembling eyes could be seen
darting up, down and down as this machine examined me. The red of
his eyes seemed to show his anger, or mood, as he took a jerky
step back, to get a better view of me. His lips had actual
joints, in which he produce human like characteristics when
speaking. The design of his face was made in the image of a human
of about 26. His head rocked back and forth as though he had some
kind of metallic skin covering. The head was bald, and curiously
he resembled a negro race. The arms were designed to give the
feeling of muscles, and in the left hand, the metallic jointed
fingers held a baseball cap, on it which read "JASS".
In a quick noisy motion, he placed the cap on his head, slightly
tilted to one side, and in a very relaxed position. A T-shirt
read the name of some kind of group in which he probably belonged
called DISSKAM. The style of lettering on the shirt resembled
something I remembered as Graffiti. Stone washed sweat pants made
of plastic the color of red and black revealed the words CERCO
down the leg, the color matching his shirt and accentuating his
black glasses. His creators must have known what they were doing,
when they made him. "HEY LOWER, YOU LOOK REALLY FUCKED UP MAN. I
THINK THAT YOU LOST YOUR LEGS A REAL LONG TIME AGO. THEY HAVE
BEEN REPLACED WITH MACHINERY NOW". I shook my head to focus on
the now, and looked down to view my legs. Rubber had once
surrounded what was now viewable machinery. Clicking sounds of
processors acting to my very will, could be seen moving about. I
could actually flex my legs, and watch in amazement as an
artificial carbon covering flared out, as if it were a balloon
suddenly being blown up. I could hear air as I relaxed my carbon
muscle. The rubber covering around my legs looked as if I had
been attacked by a pack of rubber hungry dogs. Marks of intense
heat dotted all over the artificial rubber skin surrounding my
machinery legs. "YEA! VERY PRIMITIVE. THEY DID A HORRIBLE JOB ON
YOU. THE CELLS OF YOUR EPIDERMIS DON'T GO THROUGH MIOSIS LIKE
MINE DO, AND I'M JUST A MACHINE! YOUR A CYBORG. MORE HUMAN THAN I
AM! YOUR A REAL CLASSIC LOWER". Suddenly I aggressively looked
him in the eye, and said, "WHAT THE HELL IS A LOWER, AND WHY DO
YOU CALL ME ONE!". Then he said, "OH, I'M SORRY, YOU DON'T KNOW.
MY NAME IS JASS. YOU CAN CALL ME JAZZ. I CAME DOWN HERE TO THE
LOWER LEVELS TO RETRIEVE YOU. WE ARE GOING TO BE RECRUITED ON A
SMALL MISSION, AND I GUESS THEY THINK THAT YOU ARE SUFFICIENT TO
PUT ON THE LIST AS A CANDIDATE FOR THE MISSION. I DON'T KNOW WHAT
ITS ABOUT, BUT THE CERCO COMPANY IS REVIVING YOU. FOR YOU, 196
YEARS HAVE PASSED. YOU MAY NOT LIKE THIS, BUT IT IS NOW THE YEAR
2523. YOU WERE PUT DOWN HERE BECAUSE THEY HAD CONSIDERED YOU LESS
THAN THE D - MODELS. ALTHOUGH YOU ARE HUMAN, THEY CONSIDERED YOU
TO NOT BE AS WORTHY AS THE FIRST D COMPUTER MODELS. ORIGINALLY
YOU LOST YOUR LEGS IN AN OFF-WORLD BATTLE. YOU WERE ONCE A GREAT
FIGHTER. PEOPLE RESPECTED YOU, BUT AFTER YOU LOST YOUR LEGS, YOU
REFUSED TO BE MADE A CYBORG. AFTER MANY ARGUMENTS WITH YOUR
LEADERS, YOU FINALLY DE-ACTIVATED YOU LEGS, AND REFUSED TO USE
THEM BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID LITTLE PREJUDICE. THEY LOWERED THE
POWER IN YOUR LEGS, AND SENT YOU OFF TO ANOTHER WAR, IN WHICH YOU
UN-SUCCESSFULLY TRIED TO GET BACK INTO THE SWING OF THINGS. WITH
YOUR HEAD BETWEEN YOUR LEGS, YOU WENT BACK TO THE ARMY. THEY
BRAIN WASHED YOUR ASS, AND THREW YOU INTO COLD STORAGE. AS TIME
WENT ON, THE ARMY BECAME THE ONLY SPECIAL FORCES, AND SOON
CHANGED THE NAME TO CERCO, THE NAME OF THE FIRST PROGRAM TO
SUCCESSFULLY PILOT AN F-18, AND DESTROY 30 ENEMY CRAFTS OF
DIFFERENT TYPES. THE BUILDING YOU WERE STORED IN WAS DESTROYED,
AND REBUILT, AS A CERCO TRAINING REVITALIZING BASE. WHENEVER THEY
NEEDED SOME MORE MEN, AND DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO TRAIN AMATEURS,
THEY WOULD COME DOWN HERE TO THE LOWER LEVELS, AND WAKE YOUR
FUCKED UP ASSES UP! YOU ARE GIVEN ANOTHER CHANCE. DON'T BLOW IT.
MY NAME FOR YOU UNTIL YOU PROVE YOURSELF, IS LOWER".


 Corey was never ready for the vultins. He had propped
himself up against the video screen, with his hands firmly
holding the joystick. Sounds of synthesized explosions and noises
drifted all around the arcade. Eyes glued to the screen, Corey
was playing his favorite game, TURN RUNNER. His score was higher
than usual, and he was approaching the stage where he had always
before, died. As Corey controlled the ship on the screen, he
didn't notice the line of people slowly turn from their screens
to watch him, and in no time, people were soon cheering him on.
Smash! His ship bounced against a solid cement wall. "BITCH!",
exclaimed Corey as the power meter on the screen lowered itself
down a couple notches. On the screen, two ships were racing down
a long alley. The two ships were battling each other. One of the
ships, Corey controlled. As they exchanged fire, Corey would
speed up to avoid being shot. He was very good at avoiding laser
fire, but at this stage in the game, he was up against a new
enemy which he never thought he would ever be up against. Bang!
his ship bounced off of the wall on the other side of the Valtin
ship, sending Corey's ship spinning. He fired at the valtin ship,
and blew off the right wing. Corey's ship was badly damaged.
Smoke was trailing off behind him, and filling the inside of the
cement trench in which he was flying. An explosion made him slow
down almost to a halt, and a light flashed on his control panel,
telling him to land and repair his ship. He maneuvered his ship
down to the bottom of the trench, and landed softly. The
explosion, he thought must have been from the valtin ship hitting
the side of the trench. The doors opened, and Corey walked out,
and into the trench. He wanted to see the damage before doing
anything, so he climbed up onto the top of his ship. People were
now making bets as to wether or not the valtin ship was gone.
Corey was distracted from the game for a second when some small
kid rushed by his legs carrying 2 small cokes. Corey looked back
at the screen, and tried to pretend that no one was really in the
arcade watching him. As he opened the engine of the ship, he made
a familiar routine check of it. Finishing the repairs, corey
jumped down off of the top of the ship, and landed on the bottom
of the trench. There in front of him, standing with laser
shotguns were two valtins. Very coolly, corey said, "I NEVER KNEW
THAT IT TAKES TWO OF YOU TO FLY ONE SHIP. BUT THEN AGAIN, YOU
GUYS ARE PRETTY STUPID". Suddenly laser fire came down from
above. Three ships similar to coreys ship had positioned
themselves right above the two valtins, and now were firing down
upon them. Screams came from the valtins mouths, as they scurried
around to get away from the blasting laser fire. Corey ducked
under his ship, dropped to his stomach, and aimed his small laser
handgun at the two running valtins. VAMP! VAMP! Corey shot twice,
and nailed one of the valtins in the leg. The valtin stumbled,
tried to continue running, and fell to the ground. Blood marked
the symbol of death, as he was then chopped up like meat by the
lasers from the three ships above. The other valtin was gone.
Corey got up and signaled thanks to the other ships, and waved
that he was ok. The other ships slowly glided forward down the
trench. Corey hopped back into his ship, and made a routine
computer check. Systems ok. Good. Now it was time to get playing
again, corey thought. A scream fell from his mouth, as someone
grabbed him from behind the seat. Corey tried to spin around to
see who it was, but could not. The sound of a switch blade
clicked open, and then he could feel the warmth of his own blood
running down his neck, as the blade cleanly sliced open his
throat. Game over read the screen. "SHIT!", exclaimed Corey as he
hit the arcade game. People who had been watching, and betting,
went back to their games, and slowly drifted around, away from
corey. He looked at his watch, and saw that he was going to be
late in getting home. Oh well, this was not the first time he had
been late. Grabbing his bag, corey left the arcade. Outside, the
light was fading. The sun was going down, and corey had about ten
minuets to get home. The street was crowded with people from the
underground cities. During the old war, Earth had only one type
of human race, but when the nuclear scare occurred, some fled
down under ground. The people who stayed on the top, teased the
fleeing people, and soon the nuclear scare was over. Ever since
then, the people from underground come up at night because there
eyes cannot handle the light that happens during the day. The
underground people had become nocturnal. Some were rich, and had
the money to buy things that were expensive on the top, but most
of the people who lived under ground, had a different type of
currency that was not worth as much as on top. Still, some from
underground had friends that lived on the top, and would come up
at night to visit, and could afford some of the luxuries from the
surface. Corey ran to the station, and placed a five dollar bill
in the station door, which then sucked it through a small slot.
He ran through the small doors, and went down the steps to the
waiting ramp. A small car that ran on tracks stretching far away,
lay sitting there. Corey hopped in, and the glass covering closed
over his head, the ready symbol lit up, and soon he was speeding
to the other side of the city. His father was home, when corey
arrived. "GOOD DAY IN SCHOOL?", his father stated. "YEA", corey
said unknowingly. Corey went up the long front steps of his
house. He went in the front doors, and tossed his cap to the
maid. In his room, corey flopped down on his bed, and rolled over
to turn on his televideo. With the touch of a few buttons, he had
called up the K clan. On the screen was his district clan owner.
Each of the K clan members had to report into their district clan
owner, and report sightings of any underground people free of
weapons. Once upon a time before the great war, the K clan was
called the KKK, but with the invention of Troop, a name brand of
clothing designed to make one stand out from the rest of the
people, kids upheld the name of the clan. The KKK later made
themselves visible after the war, with flashy new colors and
incredible new styles. Kids took control of few of the cities
that were unable to hold up to the clans strength. No one in the
clan was allowed to wear anything but the troop name on their
clothes. Battles took place, and the clan, with only a few cities
under control, lost many good fighters. Finally they were beaten
down. No one ever heard from them again. Except for corey, and
the other 30 thousand clan members who now were secretly hiding,
and ready to take over the inferior underground cities. A report
from the kid troop clan members was necessary each day to find
out how many people were living underground. A tally could be
added up, and once the total number of underground occupants were
counted, the clan could then set up the necessary troops. Corey
typed in the number of new discoveries, and pressed return. The
screen flashed in acceptance. Coreys door swung opened. "What
about homework corey!", his mom stood at the door with a look on
her face that said she had been at the door longer than she made
it look. "Mom, i did most of it at school anyway, and all i have
to do is study for a quiz tomorrow". Corey tried to make it sound
as convincing as possible. It wasn't easy, but sometimes corey
could rise to the same mentality that his mom was on, and be able
to convince her that he had seriously done work at school before
coming home. This process had been done before by corey, and with
practice he had learned just how to sneak past moms ever watching
eye. "Ok, but if i get any reports from your teachers saying that
you haven't been completing your work, i'll have your butt on a
sling".


                          Written by:  ANALOG

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