Prologue

Normally David did all his deals in Pubs; looking suspicious was
more difficult in a crowded bar. It also helped if you knew the place, in
case the need arose for a hasty exit. Michaela had been none too keen on
this little escapade in the light of the recent death of a fellow Tech
dealer; yet David insisted on it none the less. Keeping a key supplier
happy was of great necessity. You did as much as you could to encourage
them to continue to sell to you. David hadnt struck a decent deal in a
long time and this one was worth quite a bit. The money they would make
selling this new stuff would be considerable. He tried to interest
Michaela by promising her a bonus. She was unmoved.

Clapham Park was not the best place she could think of for a meet.
Out in the open, not much cover, the perfect place for a hit. Euro-pol
patrols did not make her life any easier. She suspected that the buyer
guessed that he was less susceptible to an ambush out in the open. He
hoped to see them coming. Nevertheless, Michaela was in a pensive mood.

As the pair approached the center of the park they could see a two
men with rucksacks on their backs sandwiches in hand sitting on a bench.
They were using their backpacks as back rests. Neither man was looking in
Michaelas direction. She tried to scan them for any possible weapons;
she found none, though she did detect some cyber-netic equipment within
the body of the nearer man.

These are probably our guys. What a stupid place to meet, a good
shot could probably get both with one bullet. Fucking amateurs! She
whispered to David, who turned back to her with his finger pressed to his
lips. As they approached the pair, one of them stood up and approached
David and Michaela. He acted as if he were heading to the rubbish bin
near David. He stopped in front of David. Michaela quickly moved to
Davids side, firmly gripping the gun in her left hand.

David… David how are you doing? It has been too long!... he
continued.

Alex, fancy meeting you here!. responded David, willing to main
tain the pretence of surprise.

Michaela cringed at the greeting, she knew that this was indeed the
supplier; she began her scan of the surrounding area. Her observation
was temporarily disrupted by David introducing her to Alex as his
associate. She was not sure about the terminology, but after a brief
handshake she continued her scanning of the park.

Care for a beer? My friend Thomas and I were sitting over there

having a snack. Why dont you join us? Alex spoke to David loudly. He
then lowered his voice and continued. The two backpacks contain all the
stuff you ordered. I also included two new pieces of equipment: a device
engineered to translate female speech into understandable English for
men via the womans speech patterns, and an eye-scope which allows you
to tell if a woman is interested. It is supposed to be able to monitor
the amount of heat put off at any given time. If a woman is interested
her…er… He realised that Michaela was in ear shot and quickly
decided to alter what he intended to say. Lower regions produce a
specific intense type of heat. He winked. David seemed uninterested.

Alex continued, I hope your associate can carry her pack,
theyre pretty heavy. David was worried that he was the one who was
going to have trouble if they were heavy.

The three of them walked over to where Thomas was sitting and sat
down on the grass. Michaela hesitated for a second before she sat, not
sure if she wanted to be sitting in the event of trouble.

She declined the beer she was offered. David took his and eagerly
drank it down. Michaela did not bother to listen to the conversation as
she guessed it was only idle chit-chat. After ten minutes, Thomas and
Alex rose to the their feet.

See you soon. Thomas and I have to go pick up our girlfriends so
they can go shopping, again. Said Alex. He and his companion walked off
towards Clapham Common tube station.

Finishing his beer, David took it over to the rubbish bin. He
attempted to lift one of the back-packs. Getting the Technique all wrong
he succeded only in falling to the ground. Michaela was amused but tried
not to show. She stood up and waited for David to get to his feet.

Here, let me help you. There is a trick to this. Turn around and
hold your arms out. she instructed. Obligingly he turned around in
front of her. She then lifted the back-pack and placed the straps on his
arms. Now, lean forward a bit so you dont fall over. she instructed.
Thats right. Comfortable? He shook his head.

Fortunately for David, the bag was not as heavy as he thought. He
watched in amazement as Michaela dropped to one leg, put the straps over
shoulders arms and stood up effortlessly.

Come on then, lets get home. I would hate to get searched with this
stuff on my back. Michaela continued. Wanna race?

David said nothing and began to walk. Cheeky cow, he thought to
himself, smiling.

The two of them arrived at Davids flat exhausted. He was not at
all in the shape of his minder. Michaela ran in front taunting him,
Get a move on! David began to wonder if she had ever been a drill
instructor in an SAS training camp. Both her legs being cybernetic
probably had something to do with the fact that, with the heavy weight on
her back, she was still able to vault two stairs at a go. David had
become accustomed to Michaelas cybernetic add-ons; yet he still found
himself amazed when she performed any sort of super-human feat of
strength or ability.

To David his own cybernetic enhancements seemed natural, as if
they had always been a part of him, while anyone elses appeared odd and
unnatural. He was coming the conclusion that he felt like anybody else
about their Tech; yours is your own, but anybody else with Tech was
weird.

David and Michaela walked into his flat with their packs. David
managed to hit both the door frame and the edge of the couch before he
got his pack off; fed up with his burden, he dropped the pack on the
couch. It bounced off the pillows and landed on the floor.

Be careful, will you! Michaela yelled at him. There is valuable
stuff in there, and I can bet Alex does not have a refund policy!
Michaela, indicating her knowledge of the contents of the bags value,
carefully took her pack off her back and placed it next to the wall,
making sure it was propped up. She walked over to the other pack lying on
the floor and picked it up, leaning it up against the couch, and
muttered inaudibly. David had gone to the wall fridge to get himself a
beer. He did not offer one to Michaela as she rarely had anything
alcoholic to drink and especially not on duty. He would rather not have
shared his valuable supply of genuine bitter anyway.

Michaela fixed herself a drink of water from the kitchen after
spending a minute or so looking for a glass that even approached her
definition of cleanliness. She settled for a glass with beer foams
stains inside the lip and a huge black finger-print on the side next to
the handle. She washed it with her fingers as there was no washing up
liquid of any kind and dried it off on her shirt, preferring not to
touch the dish towel on the side of the sink for fear what filth lay
beneath..

He really needs a woman. He can barely take care of himself, she
thought to herself. I am not going to volunteer, for that duty. She
proceeded to wonder how she ever thought that there was any possibility
of of her volunteering to be his girlfriend. Besides, he likes bimbos,
and I do not live up to his specifications or rather down… She stopped
herself in mid thought, wondering what the hell she was on about. Must be
the exercise… muddled my thoughts. David and I: a couple. What a
laugh! she said to herself unconvincingly looking at the object of her
enquiry. She had been having strange thoughts about David on and off
since she began working for him. The dreams were the most disturbing, of
all the people she could dream about, why David? Yuck! He has no
interest whatever in me. As far as he is concerned I am an employee, a
schlepper to help him out. He has absolutely no interest in me whatever.
Repeating this phrase, mantra-like, to herself did not dispel the nag
ging doubts she had concerning their relationship.

Michaela…Michaela… Dont you want to see what we… I mean I
got. There is some really neat stuff here. You might want some of it…

Yes, Im coming… Ill be there in a second. Carry on without me.
She composed herself and drank down the rest of her water in a single
gulp. It burned like a good whisky. She swallowed hard. She looked at
herself in the reflective microwave door, instinctively making sure her

hair looked all right.

As she walked out of the kitchen she spotted David. He was sitting
on the floor cross legged, taking things out of his pack one by one and
putting them on the couch. He reminded her of younger cousin on Christmas
morning opening his presents, ignoring everyone else. She could see his
smiling face. Occasionally he laughed with joy at a new package.

Having fun?

Sure There is some really neat shit here. Look at this infra-red
scanner, it is the latest. It can detect heat sources over a full square
mile. This stuff is all incredible

Well Ill leave you alone with your toys… Ill go home now and…
get something to eat. Michaela was disappointed as his lack of immedi
ate attention.

Aw…come on…please stay! Have a beer and help me check all this
stuff. You have to stay anyway, you are the only one who can lift that
bloody bag over there.

She went over to the wall and retrieved the pack she had carried.
Ignoring the beer offer she sat down next to David. She felt really daft
sitting cross-legged in the middle of the flat examining boxes of Tech,
but she did it anyway.

Here they are! Alex told me about this. I thought he might have
been having a go, but here it is. David held a metal case in his hand
with large black lettering on it. Taano Hand-Held Love Detector:
Detects Female Sexual Interest. David carefully pulled the device out
of its case and examined it. He was more intent on finding the internal
version, he had considered having it installed, so he handed the hand
held version to Michaela and kept looking.

She took the matt-black device from David examining it with both
her normal and cyber-eye simultaneously. It was a rather practical
design, very non-descript except for a schematic of a human body with a
light intensity scale on one side, an on/off switch and a small inlaid
dial. The scale read different levels of interest from cool to hot. It
reminded her of an amp meter she had seen in his techie partner Robs
tool kit. She figured that it was just re-labelled in order to sell it to
desperate losers who couldnt get laid in a brothel with an open house.
She examined the inlaid switch at the bottom. Below and above it in
rather small letters, there was writing. One had the choice of Male or
Female, depending, of course, on the sexuality of the user. Would it work
for dykes, she wondered.

David was now examining the female language translator: he had the
instructions in one hand and the device in the other, just as his grand
father had done when they had bought their laser disc player in 2008. The
middle-aged could never, even in this advanced era, programme anything
Technical. Evolution was so fast now that, when someone reached 50, he
apparently lost all logical and Technical reasoning ability. Programming
was a young-mans job. David was really looking forward to using these
new toys, probably useless but his curiosity was nonetheless piqued.

Michaela moved the selector switch to male. Half expecting it not

to register it at all, she aimed at her boss next to her. As she had
expected nothing happened; Ah, she had forgotten to turn it on! She
flicked the switch and tried again. The schematic body on the top of the
device lit up a halo-like bright light. Two red diodes lit up on the
body, both on the torso. Realising what the two lights were meant to
represent she shut it off like a Victorian lady with a banned novel, and
picked up the box. Holding the detector with her sweating hand she
carefully placed it back in its box.

Stupid thing. she muttered temporarily distracting the entranced
David. He had now found the internal versions of both devices. He was
intently reading the accompanying literature. There was a vid-chip on
both but he was too embarrassed to show it while Michaela was in the
room, it might give her the wrong idea. He put the instruction/catalogue
chip in his pocket for later viewing. The cover of the catalogue read:
From the people who brought you the All-Nighter (All Night Every
Night, Again and Again & Shell Never Know What Hit Her) for him and the
Electric Pill (You Never Have to Remember Again) for her. One chip and
your set for a year! Works with all types of Cyber-Legs and comes with
the latest recreational products. David put the catalogue under the
pile of boxes on the couch and continued to unpack the bag.

An hour of unpacking left the room in a state of cardboard chaos.
After checking the inventory list with all the contents of the bag David
carefully repackaged both of the back-packs and asked Michaela to put
them in the back of the closet. He finished off his beer and turned on
the Vid.

Interpreting this as a hint for her to leave, Michaela said good
bye and went home. Her working day was over.

CHAPTER ONE

The music from Davids chip no longer resounded through his head:
it had finished playing two hours ago. The unexpected silence, in
contrast to the raucous hell-raising of the music, suddenly lifted the
veil of sleep from Davids mind. He woke up with a start, knocking over
the can of special brew he had left teetering on the arm of the sofa.

Sod it; the muttered oath of a man who realised he had slept for
longer than he intended to. He put his hands to his face, closed his
eyes, and ever so slowly dragged his fingers down his face, attempting
to massage his muscles into life. There was a good deal of fatigue in
his face as he caught his reflection in the mirror on rising from his
chair; what was he, thirty-two? He looked like a man ten years older
that afternoon. David looked at the watch upon his wrist, an analogue
Patek Philipe – circa 1974 – a relic of the time when the words
European and craftsmanship were not oxymoronic. Its thin tapered
hands informed him it was five twenty-three. Shit, I must have been
asleep for….

The chip stopped playing at two-twenty , David. You have been
resting for three hours and three minutes. I was unable to awaken you as

you switched off the alarm facility. As a result you have missed two
appointments, said the recorded voice in his head.

My God, thought David, she can be too efficient. He tried to
recall without his headcorders help what he was supposed to have done
that afternoon. A contact from the West Midlands, down in London for the
Fulham versus Walsall football match, had suggested a meeting that
afternoon to discuss possible… discuss things. David wasnt actually
sure what Stephen Paige wanted. Now, he would just have to wait – David
was not too enamoured of the groups in the West Midlands, not since he
was mugged there three years ago. Nevertheless, he made a note on his
headcorder diary to the effect that it was important enough a subject to
meet him, eventually.

His mouth was dry, he must have slept with his mouth wide open.
Wasnt that a sign of getting old? To rectify this feeling he walked
into the kitchen, turned on the light- which took twenty seconds to
flicker into life- and opened the door of the fridge. It was an East
European model now twenty years old. Stylistically, its age showed: the
new modern Euro-Frigidaires were sleek low energy models with as many
gadgets as you needed. They were also designed, it appeared, to break
down the moment the mercury passed twenty four degrees. David had kept
his old fridge because it was reliable, a concept the modern marketing
departments of the Electrical giants had dispensed with long ago. He
reached in for a can of cold bitter, one of the better London brews, and
pressed the button on top – a small fizz of gas escaped: these were the
self-cooling cans ,now twelve years old in design. Lifting the can, a
thought struck David: why did he keep it in the fridge? Habit!

With the cold beer resting against his cheek he walked back to his
living room, and addressed the video-answering machine: Replay stored
messages for today. The large screen flashed instantly into life, and
David found himself looking at the close up visage of his Tech-dealing
friend Rob Jonson, at home. More accurately, he was in his basement-
cum-surgery-cum-workshop, sitting atop a desk completely covered in
junk, a sign of a good scientist. Robs face turned to the camera, and
he began to leave a message, in that faltering style reminiscent of
people forty years ago, when the telephone answering machine first
became popular.

Oh, good afternoon David. Its Rob…..well, you can see that. He
started again, trying to avoid the usual vid-phone etiquette. Ive had
a routine visit from Lieutenant Brm of Europols Tech-fraud divi
sion. Davids senses quickly left their somnambulistie state: he knew
the Europol officer concerned. He was a nasty piece of work. Hed,
always suspected David of involvement in illegal Tech-dealing. Thus
far, David himself had kept two paces ahead of him. Robs message
continued; Hes accusing me of selling contraband Tech, and performing
illegal implants. Dont go worrying yourself, I scrambled their attempts
to perform a psi-polygraph with this new jammer Ive had installed…..I
just thought you ought to know hes sniffing around, like a dog that
knows theres a bone hidden somewhere. Rob smiled at the simile. I

was originally ringing up to tell you that I got the chips you were
after. Theyre.. He turned around and scrabbled on his desk looking
for the chips amongst the rest of the high-Tech detritus that littered
it. His flustered shuffling and muttered curses made David smile – how
could anyone so clumsy and disorganised become one of the top Tech-
dealers on the underground market? But, it was the same with most of the
Tech-geeks he knew.

Finally, having cornered his elusive quarry, Robs image turned to
face the camera again, and he continued his message. I knew they were
here somewhere…......Iron Maidens The Story so Far, Whitesnakes
1987; he flicked through each chip box recounting the titles, a roll
call of late twentieth-century British heavy-metal music, now tagged
with two epithets: traditional and subversive. Theyre all the ones
you asked for David, each one worth six months in the local sensibility
school if youre caught listening, Robs face showed disdain for the
Culture Ministrys attempts to regulate the listening habits of the
people. This attitude was common amongst those who came up against, and
regularly flouted, the laws of censorship. Before Rob could continue
dictating his message, a verbal message left the speakers on either side
of the screen:

David, there is an incoming message from the same source as that
being currently played. Would you like me to record it, or put it on
screen?

Put it on screen please. The screen went blank for a second,
before Rob re-appeared on screen. This time he was live.

Ah, Ive caught you at last you old cunt. David winced at the old
East end courtesy Rob used as a nickname for him; he felt uncomfortable
when people swore in front of him, and he put this down to his upbringing
by his father. He replied to Robs greeting in less explicit terms:
Hello Rob, Ive just been watching your message. Anything else to add
about your visitor?

Brm? Hes still sniffing around the apartment block, I expect
hes looking for some kind of ring. David knew the irony of this method
of inquiry: Rob always worked alone, and let few know his secrets. For
the moment Im clean, but theres always a chance hell have a tail put
on me, and that is frankly as welcome as a dose of piles. Ill need
somewhere to move to from Balham for a while until Europol lose interest
or find a VRPorn gang filming in the building-that would give them
something to chalk up on their arrest boards. I need a favour David.
Youve got plenty of friends and contacts, can you ask around for a spare
bedroom, even some vacant floorspace, for a week or two, just until
things quieten down here?

I suppose I can, Rob. Is Brm just pissing around or what?

Rob shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands, Im not sure.
Ive done nothing to arouse suspicion. At least I think I havent.
Still, I dont want him to have the chance to find anything if he comes
back with an EP-78. This was an acronym for Europol regulation 78:
compulsory detention and questioning for an indefinite period of those

suspected of illegal dealings by a Europol officer, a modern sus law.

Ill ask around. I was supposed to meet Stephen Paige this
afternoon; you know, the Walsall fan. David used the football refer
ence to help jog Robs memory, as he was a great fan of the World Game.
Hes down this week for the Fulham game, and wanted to meet to discuss
plans for next month. Like a demonstration….....involving explosives.
Its not really my scene, industrial terrorism, but still… Youre
going to the match on Saturday, arent you? Ill go with you. Itll give
you a chance to meet him, maybe you can even sell him something.

Rob replied instantaneously. Oh, Im going alright. If we beat
Walsall, we play Bayern Nuremberg in the fourth qualifying round. His
voice carried the optimism so typical of football fans on the eve of an
important match. In Robs case, as a Fulham supporter, this optimism
was rarely fulfilled. Rob was one of the hard-core of fifteen hundred of
so who still made the fortnightly underground journey to Putney Bridge,
and who walked through the recently re-named Copenhagen Allee, (previ
ously Bishops Park), on the way to the next Renault-Fiat European
League Division Six match. When Television became all powerful in the
game after the European Championships of 2004, football in Britain
changed radically, to the fans obvious displeasure. The fatal riot at
the Reading vs. Grasshoppers of Zurich cup match, at which sixty died,
was a case in point. Football was no longer based on national leagues,
but on a European-wide league triangle. Teams like Fulham had to travel
the whole European State for some matches, which made away support an
irrelevancy. Even the FA Cup was made a prestigious Europe-wide event.
The participation of Super-teams such as I.G. Farben Dusseldorf, or
Swede-Corp. Gothenburg made the chances of teams like Fulham even more
remote. But fans like Rob still clung to the memories a football club
inspires: he would often recount to David his grandfathers experiences
at the 1975 FA Cup final, when Fulham, in their only appearance, lost to
West Ham. At least Rob had the satisfaction that, in 1997, West Ham were
merged with Liverpool to form Ford of Europe (UK) F.C.

For David, football was not the religion in which Rob worshipped;
it was merely an opportunity to mingle in a crowd, with people he knew,
to conduct meetings with contacts without attracting unwanted attention.
There were few Europol at a Fulham game: they were category H, no risk
whatsoever of nationalist terrorists causing another riot. Rob, Ill
call you later in the week if I go to the Fulham match. Ive still got
a few things to sort out personal things, you know but I will ask
around for you. Im sure someone can find a stable for you to kip in O
Great Keeper of the Tech. David acknowledged Robs wave good-bye on the
vid-cam, and turned off the video-phone. A smile began on Davids face,
the first for a few days.

Guess Id better find a place for him to kip out in, I dont know
what Id do if he stopped supplying me with his Tech, and chips.

David walked away from the video wall and sat down on the sofa, in
the process moving Eccles, his large Maine-Coon cat and a substitute
flatmate. In response to being turfed off his favourite spot, the cat

meowed and hissed; but then, he did that every day when he couldnt get
his own way. Coon cats were independent and strong, like a dog, and
David saw in its feistiness and individuality a little bit of himself.
Come on Eccles, shift yourself. Ill feed you later. Go catch a small
child or something. David took a few sips of his beer, and at the same
time broke wind an unfortunate reaction to the yeast in the beer, which
he was prepared to put up with, and Eccles did not comment. He turned
back to the vid screen.

Dial Teresa, and keep trying till you get her, he said sternly.
Rob had given him a video-phone that only responded to loud, strident,
even abusive commands, as though it was into S&M, and enjoyed being
awkward. It wouldnt respond unless you were firm . Those Nips in Japan
sure had some funny ideas about how treat their electronics. Even their
VRPorn stuff is servile, you couldnt get any aggressive women in them;
to get that you had to find an American supplier. David had seen one of
these illegal hard-core films from America, and, enticing though it was
in Virtual Reality, he couldnt really enjoy something that was solely
the preserve of losers.

The vid piped up in its soft female voice: David, I have made
contact with Teresa, I will put her up on the screen.

As the vid spoke the image of an attractive Mediterranean woman,
aged about thirty, appeared on the screen, causing a slight , -but brief
stir in Davids loins. Teresa was the independent woman in Davids
little circle of friends. The other, Michaela, was also good looking,
but she was so tough and cold it was very hard to get close to her. When
anyone asked a slightly personal question, even in casual conversation,
she either clammed up or changed the subject to something professional.
Teresa on the other hand was part of the little group of the four of
them, with Nick, the rogue surgeon. She hung around and did stuff with
them. Sometimes David thought it was just out of boredom. She had her own
flat and a job as an analyst for one of the few non-European corporations
operating in Europe. Worldcorp sucked up to Brussels in the worst way,
agreeing to keep all their profits here in Europe, and not importing
anything not approved by Brussels. Teresa figured their only reason for
being here was so they could say that they were a global corporation. It
was really for bragging rights, and to be strategically placed if Europe
ever stopped being protectionist and opened its doors again to the rest
of the world. Looking at the face of his old college friend, David
ruminated that Teresa was the only one of the Rejects that got a
proper job. Right place right time, she had said. Bullshit thought
David , her big tits and long legs were the reason she got the job; the
personnel director fancied her, just like everybody else. Deep down
inside Teresa knew that as well; she just figured if youve got it,
flaunt it. The low necked, high above the knee, tight fitting suit
David noticed she was wearing was worn on purpose. Teresa was the centre
of attention when she was with Rob and David, and she loved every minute
of it. Their constant attention to her every needs- never letting her buy
drinks, always paying for dinner- did not hurt her ego either. Both David

and Rob wondered if she had a boyfriend; she never went out with anyone
but them. David fancied her, as did Rob, but they both were no good with
women and never had been. That was the reason Rob got into Tech, and
David into heavy rock. Both of them wanted to tell her how they felt,
but never had the balls to do it. They thought it would ruin their
friendship, between them and with her. Even so the rivalry was obvious:
all three of them knew it. Neither David nor Rob figured he had a chance
in hell with her anyway. They had to settle for being seen with a babe of
the first order.

After hiding his crotch behind a chair, he faced the screen. He had
been thinking about her and it showed. Hoarsely he started to speak:
Er… Hello Teresa… How are things?...Im calling you about Rob. He
needs to kip down for a while: the EuroPolice seem to have found him out
and he needs a place to drop out of sight…I wonder if you could put him
up in your basement for a while…till it cools down. I am sure hell pay
rent, he can afford it. Who knows, he will probably fix you up with the
latest banned Tech from abroad if you want it… A bit of panic was
showing in his voice, he had no idea where he could find Rob a place,
Teresa was his only hope. So, what, do you think? Can you, could you
help him out?

Teresa answered eventually, Rob, she laughed, hes a little
strange for me dont you think?... All he does is tinker with his Tech,
rarely goes out or chases girls or anything… I dont want anything
illegal in my basement, never know what he will do. He might well short
out the whole grid for blocks around… Ill bet he scares off people
like a bloody viral plague, she paused. I know hes a friend and all
that, and we get on alright when we get together, but living in my flat
is another thing. Do you understand David? Or am I just being typically
female?

Unsure as to how to respond to her vacillation, David pondered a
witty retort… Come on genius now what are you going to do, he
whispered to himself. The words spilled out of his mouth, Ahhhh… Im
sure no one would think you and he were having it on… no chance.
Hey!.. I bet he can get you some holo-Tech fashion chips really cheap or
... Free! Yes!... Hell get you some of those Japanese holofashion chips
and the generator. Think of it as rent… I tell you I met a woman with
it on and she looked great.. How about it…please do us a favour…
darlin. Oh, bollocks he thought, now I have bloody well done it:
shell think Im being a sexist. Teresa interrupted his paranoid thoughts;
Okay, Okay, but youd better make sure he can get those holos for me; I
have a big party I have to go to in a week or sos time. I want to look
incredible. If you are lying about those chips, I will never speak to you
again, understand me! Screen off; she finished with a strong look
towards David.

A tinge of incredible jealousy struck him. I should be going with
her, not some male bimbo with money. I bet she just made him up to
pressure me… I bet there is no party, he hoped. Even though she had
not mentioned having an escort, his apranoid was getting best of him. He

never had met anyone with a clothes holo – he had only heard about them
on the Atlansat program he pirated- some retro show called Classic
Headbangers Ball on IMTV, a music video/VR channel on satellite. The VR
jock, a statuesque brunette, explained in between Metal Videos, that it
was the latest fashion in the Japan. The Japanese still insisted on
fitting in at all times; hip people had to adjust their clothes to any
situation. A suit for the office, a Kimono for the parents and metal gear
for clubbing. A thin bodysuit allowed the images to be chemically etched
onto the body. The VJ demonstrated this by changing her catsuit into a
leather skirt, and black leather waistcoat . The brunette put on a
seductive expression and moaned, Of course I dont wear anything when
I have my holo on. Anybody paying close attention could have caught a
brief glimpse of her perfect nude body. Davids recorder had automati
cally sensed his optics twitch and recorded it for his viewing later.
Now, sitting staring at the empty vid-screen, he checked the recording
in slow motion. She was indeed a genuine brunette; of course that was
probably the only part of her body that was genuine, everything else was
definitely enhanced. Everyone in entertainment in America had implants
anywhere where their agent told them it was necessary. Some women even
had programmable breasts. The breasts would automatically adjust accord
ing to the size desired. As they still say in Nippon Hollywood, You
never age , you just die. Like most fashions, it was destined to be
yesterdays news, but not for another three months.

David called Rob to relay the good news, and told him the price,
which he greeted with a rare display of enthusiasm. After David had
calmed Rob down and patiently explained the situation, he had to
persuade him that the price for his lodgings was acceptable. When do
I move in?, he asked, She wants it for this weekend? Well then Ill
need to install them soon, in order to check for bugs… of course…
Ill need to do a preliminary examination, an inspection to determine
location and compatability with existing equipment…

David interrupted at this stage when it looked as if he was going
to talk Technicalities for a long time if he wasnt stopped. David
interrupted, I will arrange all the details… got to go…bye. He
did not tell Rob that Teresa did not need it till a fortnights time.
How would Rob react to such a tempting invitation? Between that and the
thought of her going to a ball with someone other than he himself, he
felt a little jealous. He plodded over to his wall fridge and fetched
another bitter. Hurriedly opening the aluminum can he quickly swallowed
half its contents. After a few seconds, the alcohol and cold rush hit his
head and he began to feel better.

He sat down at his late 20th century teak desk, and reached with his
left hand for the lamp. When he clicked the switch, he iluminated before
him a blank journal, E4 size, with one or two lines scribbled below each
of the two days displayed. With a small sigh, he flicked the pages to
reveal todays date, April 26th. Wednesday. The page was, so far, blank,
save for the doodle marks made as Davids pen ambled across the pages,
seeking inspiration. Frustrated, he slammed the diary shut.

Access head-corder diary, display on main vid screen. The com
puter displayed the image of the self-same diary, connected neuraly to
his thoughts, David sat down in his easy chair, and threw the pen onto
his desk, watching it as it skipped across the table and fell off the
opposite side onto the floor.

David had intended to write a diary to leave something for further
generations, not that the thought of selling them in the U.S. had not
crossed his mind. Headlines like See the day to day life of an illegal
British CyBorg! Watch as he stays one step ahead of the law and two steps
ahead of his rivals. Tonight on Hard Wired: the program for wireheads.
David realised this was not very likely, but he enjoyed dreaming about it
none the less.

Recorder on, he thought. The drive began to whirl again as it
began to record his thoughts.

The voice came back, Recorder recording, plenty of time left on
chip.

Diary recording re-commenced.

David waited a few seconds. Because of all the shit going on he had
forgotten the time, it was 20:20, he had to get down on the street and
meet some contacts. He needed the money; not badly now, but soon. It was
high time he hooked up some more BullBorgs to the group. Any business he
could send his fellow Sceptics would mean commission for him. Rob and
Nick paid damn good commission for referrals. Rob usually made some
excuse about not having the money and paid him in kind, but he usually
ended up getting paid in the end. Most of his Tech stuff was the latest,
thanks to Rob.

Concentrating, he recommenced his recording of his diary: I went
to see Nick yesterday afternoon, my flesh arm was acting up again. I
fell off a roof a few years ago and landed on it. Its never been the same
since. Sometimes I wonder whether it would be a good idea to replace the
damn thing with a cyber replacement. Nick examined me and said that it
was nothing serious. Told me to take it easy for a few days. Yeah,
right!

Nick Ripley was the surgeon in Davids group of rejects, and had
done work for him for the past six years. He specialized in anybody not
on the Euro-Health service. This was just about anyone of the thousands
of young adults and punks rejected by Brussels as not of correct mental
and physical makeup. Usually that meant you were too smart, possessing
over 130 IQ - rejected because you were unprogrammable. It basically
meant if you were smart you would see through the propaganda of the
European State and start to doubt what you were taught. This, in the
Euro-stream was akin to treason. Brussels only wanted people whom they
could mould into perfect Europeans, ideal citizens, unwilling to
doubt anything coming from Brussels. Attempted brainwashing was the
most popular explantion. The perks were many: you get a good job for
life, free Euro- Tech, a good salary, Euro-Health free and all the rest.
The image of the uniform, bowler-hatted English Civil service was not so
imaginary now.

If you werent part of the Euro- stream you were out of luck. When
you got out of University there was no job, no future. It was really bad
for years, thousands of bright young adults wandering around the coun
try, with nothing to do, no money, no future, and all because they were
too smart for their own good. During pregnancy all mothers are tested for
imperfections; supposed to be for major illnesses or deformities in
the fetuses. The EHS does not like to have to support some poor kid with
a birth defect: they are an un-viable use of resources. He who pays the
bill gets to decide. For a while there was a big row about it, especially
after the homosexual gene was finally discovered. Queers got all upset
that fetuses with the gene would be aborted. They feared it would be
treated as a physical or mental defect. I dont think that is too far
wrong. If he were to have children, he was sure would not want to have a
poof for a son. The move to gene recognition was originally used to identify birth
defects and terminal diseases in fetuses, lately Europe has started to
identify geniuses before they are even born via genes. The children are
doomed from the start. Why should the EU invest in a top flight education
for someone only to discover that the child is too smart to be useful.
Davids generation got a chance at a relatively good education. Then if
you did well, you could go to good schools, and usually university, only
after you graduated did you get kicked out of the stream. Measuring IQs
early makes sense from an investment standpoint. Brussels scientists
will soon figure out a way soon of changing the gene to produce the right
type of child.

It was a main tenet of the Rejects philosophy that this act against
the individual must be fought strongly. It was probably not far off. If
any one figured out what they were doing, all hell would break loose.
Because Brussels does not like really smart people they dont always
have the best. A good way to create a rogue hacker is to kick him out of
the stream with lots of computer knowledge and nothing to do with it.
That is how all the rejects became who they are, rejected by society,
no job, they had to do something. The skills that the Rejects have are
incredible.

His mind wandering, David tried to concentrate. I cant just sit
around waiting for deals to fall into my lap. If you dont help yourself
to get where you want, you get nothing. Stop He sat back, amazed as
his profound statement. Not bad for someone who never read Nietzsche.

That is why Rejects like me and Rob have to be nutters in dealing
with the dealers. People are ready to shit on you from a great height.
You can really only trust your friends… Recorder Pause. David sighed
and reflected on the stream of crap he had been just spouting.

Davids case and his friends were the Reject cyber-punks who
choose not to conform with the system. From nothing, a network of Rejects is developing all over old
Britain and the other nations in the European Union, now only adminis
trative segments of a bigger whole. A subculture developed, whole
businesses were set up in the netherworld of the Euro-Reject under
ground. Most of it is based around the selling, installation and servic
ing of Tech hardware and cyber- gear. Self-educated doctors, scientists,
businessmen, teachers, the lot, began to emerge. People made money
doing this; just like everywhere else some got rich, most just got by.
David came in the latter category. The authorities had left them alone,
occasionally busting a Tech dealer but not much else. Europol have
bigger problems than us, for the moment at least. The real crime: drugs,
prostitution, guns, porn and immigrants; Inner cities all over Europe
have turned into combat zones – things got progressively worse since the
nineteen nineties. Yet, to the media and those in the Commission in
Brussels, this information was damaging enough to both trade and tourism
prospects, so that all reports of it were censored. Unless you were
involved in anything illegal yourself, the crime statistics will appear
to actually be decreasing each year. Most crime goes unreported, a body
is found, disposed of, end of story. The Euro-Police did not have the
resources or time to follow up every incident, so they ignored it.
Anything that would cause Brussels bad public relations was judiciously
investigated at no expense.

The network sprang up from nothing. People with similar back
grounds tended to gravitate towards each other. It was never intended to
be anything organized, but it had grown up over time. David became,
quite unitentionally, the person everybody in my little clique looked to
for advice and ideas. It was more or less by accident. He had the
biggest mouth! All his contacts use him as a conduit, to relay informa
tion. Rejects all over Europe began in the last six years to organize
themselves into groups or cells, mostly to trade and sell Tech and
information but also for protection. David occasionally felt that the
only reason the group met around him was for the added protection of
having Michaela around.

Stuck momentarily for inspiration, David sat back, fingers held in
a prayer like pose, and tried to think of what else to add to this diary.
Thus far, it was just a collection of facts suppressed by the central
government about the state of the crime level in Britain, and the growth
of nationalist feelings in Britain. It was rambling, unedited, and as
such expressed the latent anger within, caused by his present situation
of mercenary Tech-dealer and potential leader. When his friends sug
gested writing his thoughts about life, David had protested he was not
the right person to write inspirational political polemics; he was an
organiser, not an author. Having written only six pages in a week, he
was beginning to wonder if he could stretch it out to pamphlet size. He
wanted to make it the size of the average collection of memoirs. His
orginal intent was to write down his political ideas but it had turned
into a simple diary of events with his opinions added for good measure.
If it was published and others got any inspriration from it, so be it.
Chairman Maos Little Red Book it wasnt. Whatever this might be
eventually, he had to get as much information down as possible. Fledg
ling groups had a habit of falling from the nest before they learnt to
fly.

The electronic door chime sounded a little tune that announced the
presence of someone at the door. Exasperated, David sighed and walked
over to the door; he pressed a button to show the person outside on the
vid screen. Fibre optical Technology has superseded the simple spy
hole. David found himself looking at a tall, balding man in a black
military style uniform that triggered in Davids mind the image of a
Fascist black-shirt. Hell, a New Jehovahs Witness Shock trooper,
thats all I bloody need; David cursed the mans timing. Can I help
you? He looked again at the man. He looked harmless enough, but the
baton strapped to his belt didnt fit with this assesment.

Good day sir. Did you know that Jesus Christ has reserved a place
for you in heaven after the coming Armageddon? the Witness asked, in a
manner that sounded as if David had won a holiday or something.

Oh, I cant make that Im afraid. Im going on holiday during the
Armageddon. Eternal salvation isnt really my scene. David hoped the
Witness would get the message that he wasnt interested. He didnt.

This is no time for jokes sir. The end of the world is nigh. It
had only been every year since 1992. Only through Jesus can you be
saved. Weve already converted half this street, sir and were looking
for more recruits. Theres a mass baptism on Clapham Common this
afternoon, and I need six more souls for Jesus before I move on. Eternal
peace can be yours, sir. Just let me show you the truth hidden in the
bible within your home, let me show you how Satan rules your life. Only
in this way can you survive.

The message- it never changed. God it was dated, He thought to
himself. David considered, momentarily, getting into a theological argu
ment with him, but he knew these people never listened to reason, they
were told what to say. He responded in the best way, Look, Fuck off and
leave me in peace. He knew opening the door would be a fatal mistake.

Dont leave Jesus sir, He wants you. Itll only take ten minutes
if I can just come in…Come on you bastard, you know you want to be
saved, it is just Satan controlling your mind. I can come back later.
Please, read this Bible for your own good. Sensing there would be no
response, the disappointed Witness, piqued at his failure to fill his
quota of converts, stuck a sticker displaying the label Heathen on
Davids front door, just to shame him into coming along to the baptism.

Inside the flat, David checked that the man had gone, and sat back
down in his chair, a little more annoyed. Recorder Pause Off.

Recording continuing David. Two hours and fourteen minutes left
on this file, the machine responded.

I have just had a visit from a new Jehovahs Witness. These people
are symbolic of the lengths some ordinary people will go to find happi
ness. Common people have gotten big into religion in this century,
especially since everyone realized that they had no influence on how
they are governed. A belief in a supreme being obviated the need to
believe in politicians. Karl Marx was right about religion being the
opiate of the masses. I think the Union is happy these people are worried
about the end of the world and not worried about how bad the Euro- crats

are messing up Europe . We Borgs had something to do with it as well,
since common folk did not understand what it was we had, they panicked.
As far as most people can tell, we are just like any other of the many
loonies on the street.

Fundamentalists and Traditionalists all over the world do not like
Tech much and try to get laws to ban or limit it. Ayatollah
Ratamari in Persia has issued a proclamation against Muslims getting
it, and of course Pope Peter has made it a sin. Basically all major
religions do not like cyber- netics much, it is inhuman and unnatural,
against Gods plan for man. The catch phrase is, If God had intended man
to be part machine he would have made him that way in the beginning. I
seem to remember a similar thing being said about the invention of
aeroplanes and every other major Technical and medical breakthrough.
Europe has no such trouble , we now have a state religion that is
basically Catholic but does not recognize, but rather supercedes, the
Pope. Sometime in the early 1990s Jacques Delors made a statement
relating to the fact that the reason the Community, as it was known then,
had so many problems with Britain and Denmark and their intransigence
towards toward the Maastricht treaty had something to do with the fact
the that they were Protestant while the rest of the community was
Catholic. Because of this statement there was a plan from very early on
to establish a common religion, a Euro- religion, so there would be no
more conflicts between different sects of the major religions of Europe.
The Anglican churches were coopted into the European church, as well as
all Catholic churches, and any other large organized groups of Christian
churches. Surprisingly enough, there was not much protest. Churches were
very community based, and it was held that they could do Gods work more
effectively if they were a large coordinated Europe wide organization.
There were a small number of disenchanted members of the former organi
zations who were suspicious of the aims of the United Church of the Union
of the Peoples of Europe, but they were quietly forced out much as Anglo
-Catholics were forced out of the Anglican church because of the ordina
tion of women into the priesthood in the early 1990s.

Because of all this messing about , Church numbers are way down all
across Europe. The young are not as interested in religion as their
parents. The young have either joined the fundamentalist Christian sects
or completely avoided organized religion altogether. For the Rejects,
avoiding the Church of the Union of the Peoples of Europe was another
part of their avoidance of anything Europe. Europe had rejected them,
so they rejected it. The Euro- church has never actively courted the
Rejects, no doubt due to the same fear of intelligence that led to the
Rejects being ostracized in the first place. The Euro-church is fighting
a constant battle with the new fundamentalist churches that have become
popular with the poor, there are programs on the Euro-Sat, every six
months demonstrating how another one of these cults had warped and
manipulated another bunch of poor naive people. The program does not
ever say what the Euro- church does in its activities to acquire con
verts. The campaign demonises all other religions, tells people that the

only people who go to Heaven, no doubt a postmortem version of Brussels,
are those who are members of their church. Parents are encouraged to
prevent their children from associating with children whose parents
arent members of the Church of the Union of the Peoples of Europe . And
yes, before you ask, they always use their whole name. It sounds much
shorter and better in French. I think French is used because the name
does not sound as threatening in the language. Its patron Saint is
Charlemagne and they have just started the process of Sainthood for
Jacques Delors, whom they refer to as the savior of European nation.

In 15 there was a formal separation from the Vatican, which caused
a big row. Insults traded back and forth until the Pope finally gave in.
The Pope, amongst other things, was accused of trying to take over Europe
and turn it into a Catholic country. A plot was uncovered to gradually
fill all key posts in Europe with Catholics, thus completing a takeover
of Europe. The Pope denied this vehemently, even suggesting that the
documents that Brussels had in its possession were in fact part of a
conspiracy against him. Major officials in Europe who were Catholic were
summarily fired amongst press reports of cabals that met to plan the take
over. The Pope is still the highest Priest in the world but he must not
say anything contrary to the views of the Union. The papers were saying
that they actually threatened to take over the Vatican, remove the Pope,
and put in an approved one. After the millions of Catholics in the rest
of the world threatened to launch a Crusade against Europe, Brussels
reconsidered. Some of the Catholic countries in the world, like Brazil,
are nuclear powers. A few may even have the Neutron bomb, so Europe was
very reluctant to annoy them too much. Europe, you see, is nuclear free.
Yes, they actually took the nukes away from the French, and got rid of
Britains as well. More and more countries are getting weapons of mass
destruction and Europe decides to get rid of theirs!

The serious religious types seem to think we are all possessed by
the devil. There have been people predicting that the devil thing for
the last thirty years. About once a month, some old lady sticks a cross
in my face and starts praying. I usually ignore this and walk on.
Occasionally one of the New Jehovahs Witnesses gets shirty with me,
holding me back and trying to exorcise me. I just never let them in.
Usually a quick shot from my hand taser stun-gun gets rid of this type.
He slumps at my feet and then I carefully put him up against the nearest
wall. Hell wake up about five minutes later with a headache and a numb
arm. I sort of feel sorry for them. Some day one of the NJW is going to
accost the wrong guy and that witness will able to see Jehovah sooner
than expected as his head is blown off by a cyber nail gun. There arent
any bits to be cleaned up when you get hit by the nail gun. The body bank
guys love it when that happens. Instant death and the rest of the body
intact: perfect for salvage. We dont do burial these days, except if you
own your own plot in the yard. The environmental laws preclude unneces
sary burials now. It is no use wasting valuable land on bodies. Besides,
the family of the deceased usually appreciates the cash they get from the
parts. Healthy stuff carries a dividend. It is in effect the modern

equivalent to an inheritance, for people who do not have a great deal of
money. Instead of leaving some keepsake, you sign a contract to sell your
body when you die. There are even some body banks that allow a punter to
get an advance on his money. Of course, that is not really smart, because
its in the banks favour for you to die earlier, because then your body
is worth more. Rumour has it some of the more disreputable companies
arrange made to order accidents if they are in need of a certain type
of body or body part and a person of the right description is on the
register.

Saying that, most of the banks are pretty good and dont deal in
that sort of thing. Just like anything else, it is a case of buyer
beware, or in this case: caveat emptor (in reverse). For a while, a few
years ago there was a big debate in the press about the ethical aspects
of selling body parts. But when ordinary punters learned how much could
be made from selling a body, the debate vanished.

One other advantage, you dont find yourself tripping over bodies
all the time in the street in the cities any more, as you used to. Bodies
are worth money, not to be left about. Fortunately, there is a registra
tion system for all bodies so crooks cant sell bodies they find to a
bank. As in most industries, there are regulations, and regulations
governing the regulations. The banks have access to the records of the
government identification system (Euro-ID) so they can notify next of
kin, and send them their money or the body if they want it badly enough.
Bodies do however disappear so there are still probably those who sell
found bodies to unregistered banks, and government officials with
shares in the Banks who turn a blind eye. Borgs have been known to sell
a body part to the bank in order to pay for a cyber-arm. They can usually
make a even exchange for a decent base model with one small weapon and a
mechanical hand. Stuff like bigger weapons and skin are extra and cost
quite a bit. You tend to trade up though. Those who choose to invest in
Tech start out basic and add bits as they can afford them. I made quite
a tidy profit on my bits when I sold them. An arm, a leg, an eye, two ears
and bit of skull, all from a young healthy male. Rob got me top prices,
of course, after his cut. I am lucky. I get my Tech stuff through Rob
when I want it. The latest stuff as well. I really fancy that Holo -Tech
wear, whenever Rob gets it. Ill never have to dress again. I just think
of a type of garmet and then, voila, that is what I will be wearing. The
last clothes youll ever need to buy.

Having moved from religion to fashion, David realised he had drifted
away from writing the diary to recording yet another rant, and allowed
his mind to wander. Wait a second that recorder is on… recording all
my thoughts. I have to remember to make sure it is shut off before I
dream or this record will be really interesting. I wonder if I can edit
it. How do I find out? Ill have to ask Rob next time I talk to him.

The familiar voice of his head-corder returned to his head. Headcorder
Mark V is equipped with the latest editing Technology. I can edit out
anything too personal for public consumption: I will also correct any
grammar mistakes made in the process of recording. I am equipped with a

full Thesaurus and Grammar checker. Printing is via external socket
located slightly below your left ear lobe. The XR12 printer in recom
mended as the printer of choice, but a full line of printing and
reproduction equipment is available from Nugear Systems Inc. Fax and Vid
number available at your request. When you are in sleep mode I will
automatically shut off and remain so until you are fully operational.
Would you like any other information from my help function.

Confused, David responded, No that is fine I think I got it. David
drummed his fingers, sending for something meaningful to record. Shit,
he thought aloud, I really could do with having a fuck though. Here I am
stuck in doors writing a shitty diary when I should… He stopped
thinking, and looked at the vid-screen. His thoughts on sex were dis
played for all to see.

Christ. David tore the neural link from the socket in his neck.
This stuff records your every thought. He threw the wires down on the
table; even he recognised that, sometimes, technology had its limits.

Realising that if he continued now he might not record what he
wanted to without more practice, he told the headcorder to switch itself
off, which it proceeded to do. David let his mind wonder on the meeting
tonight with Michaela.. He had never met a woman who loved guns so much.
Teresa believed that it was Freudian , Michaela was actually a man
trapped in the body of a female, and the gun was a phallic symbol that
symbolized her inability to be a man. Interesting theory, but not one
that David was prepared to talk to Michaela about. David liked having her
around, as security in these more violent times. The Euro-Police were
not very efficient, they were overstretched and overzealous. Anybody
with any sense or any money was armed or had Tech. David had both: Tech
with light weaponry, while Michaela had as big an armoury as she could
get away with. Their co-operation was based on a very simple premise:
David did not tell her how to kill people and Michaela did not tell him
how to make contacts. Of course there were other groups of vigilantes
around. Out in the counties, local citizens had taken up their own
protection with patrols; in some cases, courts with their own brand of
punishment. Crime is almost nonexistent outside the cities because of
them. Where the Euro-Police patrol the crime rate is higher. Euro-Police
do not look kindly on citizens taking the law into their own hands, they
look on them as criminals and treat them as such when encountered.
Nevertheless, cities still had a number of citizen patrols in better
neighborhoods.

Recording started.

We have terrible problems with gangs of kids. There is not much
work for the young in the terminal recession that has gripped Europe
since 2003. They have nothing to do, so they roam the streets looking for
trouble. Usually the members are from one or other of the ethnic groups
within London. Every other weekend there is a gang fight in the East End.
Deaths are usual. Massacres are not uncommon. The old National Front
still has its followers who beat up and maim anyone not like them; bald
and stupid. In the past few years a new breed of gang has sprung up.

Violent homosexuals who run around in packs and rape unsuspecting vic
tims. These Pink Posses as they call themselves are usually male but
there a few gangs of lesbians running around, the most famous being the
Dykes from Hell, who were responsible for an EU governor generals
rape and torture. They left her naked and spread eagled on the front lawn
of the London Euro- Commission office. The group claimed that the Union
had failed to provide for their needs and that they were just expressing
the anger of the Homosexual Community. Most people feel they already
have been provided too much: same sex marriages, free care for AIDs &
Gamma-AIDs sufferers, the protection of government censors for anything
offensive to them, like for instance this diary and of course affirma
tive action in employment legislation. Unfortunately they seem to have
access to Tech and good weaponry, probably with money raised through the
pink economy. David yawned while he paused to think about what he
wanted to say. He could rant about homosexuals for hours, they were not
his favourite people, but he didnt think that it was really appropriate
to do so in what was supposed to be a serious political document.

The reason for his severe dislike of homosexuals was that he was
beaten up by a homosexual gang when he was young; they said he looked too
straight. He had just gotten out of University and was depressed. As
walked to the flat he and Rob shared, a gang of four drunk queers tried
to rape him. Rob saved him. He shot one of the queers right between the
legs with a laser. About four of them were beating the shit out of David,
and the one that got shot had his pants down to his knees about ready to
put his prick, now nonexistent, up Davids anus. He would never try to do
that again.

Despite the violent-Cityscape, David felt safe, when Michaela was
around. Safe or more realistically, safer. She was a tough cookie to get
along with on a daily basis, and many was the time David had pondered
severing their contact.

Shes too good he thought aloud. Too good to discard. At the
price she wants, shes a necessity, not a luxury.

Eventually. Having become comfortable in his reclining chair,
David closed his eyes, and tried to forget about things for a while.
Recorder off!, he whispered, and drifted off into a light sleep.

Recording his diary made him exhausted.