The last of the coolant dripped out of the pan into a tarnished metal
cup Eyepopper held under the spigot. "Almost there," he whispered as he
dumped the cup into the drain at his feet. A week ago, he would have
stayed utterly silent while tinkering with the neuro spike equipment:
Trifraft had given strict orders ("We just got this new interface and
you wanna screw with it? The answer is no") that no one was to modify
the hardware or software that jacked the crew into the matrix.
But Trikraft was asleep with the rest of the crew. Eyepopper had
volunteered to take a double shift, since he was quite sore from his
previous shift. He had been jumped by four Zion operatives, whom he had
been informed were not to be considered hostile, and jacked out with a
bloody nose, a fat lip and a loose tooth. Eyepopper had the operator
deck to himself for the next six hours.
Eyepopper had a plan for action. He had been warned by Trilateral's
voice coming through the speaker with authority. Although the sound
quality was poor due to distance, Eyepopper understood perfectly. "Hey,
protect the truce, defend the power plant. Its not like you died. Don't
crack up on me, we need you in the right frame of mind."
The right frame of mind, Eyepopper thought to himself. He wanted
revenge in the worst way. Perhaps this desire for revenge consumed him
to the point that he chose the path he chose. Now, he couldn't bear to
disobey orders from his commanders, because he respected them and felt
bound to them as comrades in arms always do. He could never even
accidentally go against one of his own.
Eyepopper had a way around that, though. He had obtained, through luck
and craft, a copy of the reports made by the machines when they were
mapping the human brain. The machine protocols for raising particular
emotions in hardwired humans to stimulate their body heat index for use
in emergencies translated easily to the operators powerful computer.
Refilling the radiator, Eyepopper inserted a disk into the computer and
ran to a chair.
He had a window, he'd programmed in time to make it from the operator's
chair to the operative's chair. He put his feet in the restraints,
inserted the neuro jack, and waited for the program to start.
He didnt expect it to hurt this bad, though. He felt like he did the
day he was awakened, raw esaring pain shooting up his spine and into
his head, until it disappeared like blood covered by swiftly falling
snow. He felt love for his bluepill family, as real now as it was then,
and then he realized he didnt care about them anymore. Then he swelled
with hope for the truce and the synthesis of machine and human
intelligence, and then that was gone too. Then he was very angry.
As the program deleted each of his emotions, Eyepopper was left with
only anger. At the end of the deletion programs, the loading programs
began. Tiny electrical charges rearranged the chemicals in his head
until the only emotion Eyepopper could feel was hate. He felt his jaw
clench, his hands ball into fists, and then the neighborhood around
Mara Central began to stack into the loading area as he chambered a
round in his shotgun. "They're gonna pay."
((this thread is to promote my event for next saturday. details here.))
cup Eyepopper held under the spigot. "Almost there," he whispered as he
dumped the cup into the drain at his feet. A week ago, he would have
stayed utterly silent while tinkering with the neuro spike equipment:
Trifraft had given strict orders ("We just got this new interface and
you wanna screw with it? The answer is no") that no one was to modify
the hardware or software that jacked the crew into the matrix.
But Trikraft was asleep with the rest of the crew. Eyepopper had
volunteered to take a double shift, since he was quite sore from his
previous shift. He had been jumped by four Zion operatives, whom he had
been informed were not to be considered hostile, and jacked out with a
bloody nose, a fat lip and a loose tooth. Eyepopper had the operator
deck to himself for the next six hours.
Eyepopper had a plan for action. He had been warned by Trilateral's
voice coming through the speaker with authority. Although the sound
quality was poor due to distance, Eyepopper understood perfectly. "Hey,
protect the truce, defend the power plant. Its not like you died. Don't
crack up on me, we need you in the right frame of mind."
The right frame of mind, Eyepopper thought to himself. He wanted
revenge in the worst way. Perhaps this desire for revenge consumed him
to the point that he chose the path he chose. Now, he couldn't bear to
disobey orders from his commanders, because he respected them and felt
bound to them as comrades in arms always do. He could never even
accidentally go against one of his own.
Eyepopper had a way around that, though. He had obtained, through luck
and craft, a copy of the reports made by the machines when they were
mapping the human brain. The machine protocols for raising particular
emotions in hardwired humans to stimulate their body heat index for use
in emergencies translated easily to the operators powerful computer.
Refilling the radiator, Eyepopper inserted a disk into the computer and
ran to a chair.
He had a window, he'd programmed in time to make it from the operator's
chair to the operative's chair. He put his feet in the restraints,
inserted the neuro jack, and waited for the program to start.
He didnt expect it to hurt this bad, though. He felt like he did the
day he was awakened, raw esaring pain shooting up his spine and into
his head, until it disappeared like blood covered by swiftly falling
snow. He felt love for his bluepill family, as real now as it was then,
and then he realized he didnt care about them anymore. Then he swelled
with hope for the truce and the synthesis of machine and human
intelligence, and then that was gone too. Then he was very angry.
As the program deleted each of his emotions, Eyepopper was left with
only anger. At the end of the deletion programs, the loading programs
began. Tiny electrical charges rearranged the chemicals in his head
until the only emotion Eyepopper could feel was hate. He felt his jaw
clench, his hands ball into fists, and then the neighborhood around
Mara Central began to stack into the loading area as he chambered a
round in his shotgun. "They're gonna pay."
((this thread is to promote my event for next saturday. details here.))
Message Edited by eyepopper on 05-04-2006 01:09 AM
Message Edited by eyepopper on 05-04-2006 01:12 AM
Message Edited by eyepopper on 05-04-2006 01:12 AM
