(no subject)
More writing based in the same setting as this
Feel free to, of course, critique at will.
Chase stared at the router. The thing had moved, he thought to himself. It slid right across the fucking table.
The buzz of the massive dose of dex he'd taken on Sunday - the last time he'd jacked out to empty his catheter bag - had already worn off, and it was likelythat his body and mind - both exhausted from the three days he'd spent jacked in - were telling him to lay off and call it a week. He threw the 'trodes onto his desk and stared. It was a router, alright. Every was port empty, even the Net-link. It was inanimate. A peripheral.
But it fuckin' moved, man.
It was a little thing, bought from the Koreans who hawked cheap imported Coalition hardware in the alleyway by his flat. It had no legs, of course - it was a fucking router, he reminded himself - but Christ Al-fucking-mighty the thing had shifted a quarter-metre to it's left. He was sure of it.
It had to be the dex. Had to. He'd heard about people getting so focused on the stuff that they didn't move for hours, didn't sleep for months, even. The human body, or the wetware at least, wasn't built to take that kind of stress. It overloaded. It started filling in things your eyes couldn't - or wouldn't - see when you were focused on the task at hand. Having a jack plugged into the base of your skull didn't help your brain keep itself on-centre, either, he was certain.
It's moving again!
This time it wasn't an hallucination, he was certain of it. It skittered toward him, climbing over his 'Board and it's electrodes, knocking over a can of cafetamines and stopping just at the edge of the desk he'd set himself at when he got home on Friday. It stared at him - stared! - a pair of transfer lights blinking a staccato death-threat at him. It was unreal. Hypnotic. Hypnotic? Not random, like you'd expect a machine receiving signals to be, but repetitive, soothing almost, but for it's utter wrongness.
Chase slid his chair back. The machine - What machine? It's a fucking peripheral! - followed, but kept it's distance. A half-metre from him, almost exactly. He moved to the right. The router moved too. Sweat was sheeting him, now, his skin cold and clammy like a thing dug from a grave. It was getting closer now. Lless than a quarter of a metre. Fuck it! He leapt out of his chair. He turned and ran, but he could hear it skittering closer and closer. The thing struck him in the back and he fell, his scream choked off suddenly.
**
Kern suppressed a gag as he opened the door to the flat. The stink of a decomosing body and old urine assaulted him, carried on a whiff of alley-stench. A dead-tech was finishing up her analysis and shook her head. She stood, pulled her face mask off and sighed. "Whoever did this was good, Detective. Sneaky. I found enough dex and cafetamine in him to keep him awake for a week. He'd have heard a pin drop, let alone someone sneak up and strangle him with his own router." Kern looked at the twisted, emaciated body with it's livid red marks around the neck and shuddered. "Alright," he said after a moment, "Let's collect this shit and get the body out of here."
Feel free to, of course, critique at will.
Chase stared at the router. The thing had moved, he thought to himself. It slid right across the fucking table.
The buzz of the massive dose of dex he'd taken on Sunday - the last time he'd jacked out to empty his catheter bag - had already worn off, and it was likelythat his body and mind - both exhausted from the three days he'd spent jacked in - were telling him to lay off and call it a week. He threw the 'trodes onto his desk and stared. It was a router, alright. Every was port empty, even the Net-link. It was inanimate. A peripheral.
But it fuckin' moved, man.
It was a little thing, bought from the Koreans who hawked cheap imported Coalition hardware in the alleyway by his flat. It had no legs, of course - it was a fucking router, he reminded himself - but Christ Al-fucking-mighty the thing had shifted a quarter-metre to it's left. He was sure of it.
It had to be the dex. Had to. He'd heard about people getting so focused on the stuff that they didn't move for hours, didn't sleep for months, even. The human body, or the wetware at least, wasn't built to take that kind of stress. It overloaded. It started filling in things your eyes couldn't - or wouldn't - see when you were focused on the task at hand. Having a jack plugged into the base of your skull didn't help your brain keep itself on-centre, either, he was certain.
It's moving again!
This time it wasn't an hallucination, he was certain of it. It skittered toward him, climbing over his 'Board and it's electrodes, knocking over a can of cafetamines and stopping just at the edge of the desk he'd set himself at when he got home on Friday. It stared at him - stared! - a pair of transfer lights blinking a staccato death-threat at him. It was unreal. Hypnotic. Hypnotic? Not random, like you'd expect a machine receiving signals to be, but repetitive, soothing almost, but for it's utter wrongness.
Chase slid his chair back. The machine - What machine? It's a fucking peripheral! - followed, but kept it's distance. A half-metre from him, almost exactly. He moved to the right. The router moved too. Sweat was sheeting him, now, his skin cold and clammy like a thing dug from a grave. It was getting closer now. Lless than a quarter of a metre. Fuck it! He leapt out of his chair. He turned and ran, but he could hear it skittering closer and closer. The thing struck him in the back and he fell, his scream choked off suddenly.
**
Kern suppressed a gag as he opened the door to the flat. The stink of a decomosing body and old urine assaulted him, carried on a whiff of alley-stench. A dead-tech was finishing up her analysis and shook her head. She stood, pulled her face mask off and sighed. "Whoever did this was good, Detective. Sneaky. I found enough dex and cafetamine in him to keep him awake for a week. He'd have heard a pin drop, let alone someone sneak up and strangle him with his own router." Kern looked at the twisted, emaciated body with it's livid red marks around the neck and shuddered. "Alright," he said after a moment, "Let's collect this shit and get the body out of here."