_ | \ | \ | | \ __ | |\ \ __ _____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________ | ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ | | | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | | | | /________/ | | / / /________/ | | | | | | / / | | | | | |/ / | | | | | | / | | | | | / | | | | |_/ | | | | | | | | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | | | |________________________________________________________________| | |____________________________________________________________________| ...presents... Fortune Smiles by Obscure Images >>> a cDc publication.......1993 <<< -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____| Three AM on the corner of Belmont and Clark in Chicago, there was a foul smelling mist in the air. In the old days, when I was a kid, the air was pretty bad, but it was still somewhat clear. In the old days there were many different things. He was standing in the rubble where the Dunkin Donuts used to be. There is always change, I'd read when I was still looking to the distant future. Yeah, change, that's true, but usually for the worst. I was pulled from my nostalgic reverie by a little rasta who called himself the Crasher. "Yo, Jonny, what's goin' on?" "Nothin' man, nothin' at all." "You hear about Seth taking the 6?" "No, what happened?" "The way I hear it, Seth was doing some biz with Joe.... You know, the fat geeze that's running the 'dorphins down on Fullerton? Well, anyways, Seth was lookin' to score some to sell to the burbies, but he didn't have the cash to do it straight, so he planned a meet with Joe, and when he got there he iced the fucker and made off with the goods and the cash." "What a fucking idiot, everyone knows that Joe was a company man. So Seth is Deep-6? The fucker deserved it for being so stupid." "No shit man, you don't fuck with the company men." "What's the deal with the G-brains, Crash man. They still on?" I asked. "Yeah, those crazy assholes are still wanting you around for some reason. They tell me that you can do something for em. Personally I'd stay away from the G-brains, man, they're too fucking strange," he said. "Where's the meet?" I asked him. "They said that they'd find you when they wanted to talk to you, so watch yourself. Anyway I gotta get movin' got some deals down Clark to attend to," Crasher said, and started down the block. I was confused about the whole situation, wondering what the G-brains would want me for. I'd tried to keep a low profile, always staying away from the high risk deals... just enough dealing to make it look like it was my only source of income. The G-brains had more than their share of resources, however, so it would be possible that they could know who I really was. While I was pondering the situation, I'd walked a couple of blocks to an ancient building down on Seminary and School. Used to be a dance club there when I was young, but it went under, and I bought the place when I was still in my 30's. I left the dance club motif, for the most part, mostly because it was amusing, partly because it was unsettling to visitors, most of whom were far too young to remember the place. When I walked into the building, disarming security for a moment, I had a feeling that something was wrong. Nonetheless, I climbed up the stairs and found some visitors. There were three G-brain representatives lounging on the couches in the lobby area, all looking vaguely vacant. When they noticed me standing there, the life seemed to come back into their eyes. Not a real surprise, though. The G-brains were something recent in the culture, but the idea had been around for a long time before I was born. Thanks to modern technological and psychological breakthroughs, the G-Brain clique could achieve a somewhat technologically-based telepathy. The other feature of the G-Brains was that they are all surgically modified to look exactly like each other. It appeared as if I was in a room full of pale skinned black clad clones, but I wasn't really afraid. "Nice to see you, Jonny, we were wondering when you were going to come home," said G. "I had some biz to take care of, G. What brings you into my home?" I asked. "We know who you really are, Jonny, or Mr. Braintrust if you prefer," stated G. with a smile on their faces. "I prefer Jonny, G. What's your point?" I questioned. "We need some work from you, and we can pay you adequately." "What makes you think that I want to work for you." "You will want to, Jonny, you will," said G, and the three of them walked down the stairs and let themselves out. I got out of my street clothes and lowered myself into bed. I couldn't sleep. I'd have to move in a few days, before the word got out. I'd be swarmed with people bothering me all day and night, people throwing themselves at my feet as if I was something more than human. It makes me sick to think about it. They were right on the money about who I was despite the clever ways I hid myself. My real name is Terrence Braintrust, it was something else before that, but I had it legally changed when I was 23 years old, so there is no record of whom I used to be. I am a writer. I tell stories, and I sell them. I am an artist, I do my works, and then I sell them. I was lucky, I hit a nerve in society, a nerve that I exploited ceaselessly for many years, until it began to get stale. I found another niche for myself, and kept going. When I was 54 I was the most famous author of my day, even the usually rabid critics were beginning to find significance in my work. None of it was of any consequence to me. I had been married, and then divorced once by that point, I hated my fans. Around the same time, corporate scientists worked out a way of using nano-tech to rejuvenate a person. Eventually, I talked myself into using the process, which was very expensive, and said goodbye to everyone I had known before. I wanted a new life. I came out of the process looking like I had when I was 25 years old, but feeling every year of my actual age. After I recovered enough to leave the hospital, I disappeared out of the public eye, living wherever I wanted to for however long I wanted to stay. I still wrote paying material, although I spent most of my time either working on my secret project, or wandering the streets and committing minor crimes. Once again, thanks to the streets, I began tweaking nerves in the people again. Since I began on the streets, about a hundred years ago, I've been eight different people. All killed off eventually, thanks to modern medicine and plastic surgery. Soon it would be time for a ninth person. A message flashed on the terminal screen next to my bed. It was from the G-Brains. The message described what they were planning to do, and what part I would play in the whole thing if I decided to join with them. They had been working on a different model of my secret project, which will remain a secret until it is unleashed on the world. Yeah, I had to get rid of Jonny, the time for running was over. I returned to being myself, Terrence Braintrust, nobody else. I can't tell you about what I did right now. It is not ready to be disclosed. My function in the society above was finished, it was my turn to sink into the iridescent pools of the land below, the land within. The G-Brains finished hooking me to the device, and stood waiting for the procedure to end. Moments later they picked up my empty body and threw it down a shoot to an incinerator. I don't care. I'd already left. _______ __________________________________________________________________ / _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842| ((___)) |Cool Beans!..........510/THE-COOL|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362| [ x x ] |Metalland Southwest..713/468-5802|Lunatic Labs........213/655-0691| \ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Ripco ][............312/528-5020| (' ') |ftp - zero.cypher.com in pub/cdc |ftp - ftp.eff.org in pub/cud/cdc| (U) |==================================================================| .ooM |Copr. 1993 cDc communications by Obscure Images 12/30/93-#243| \_______/| Save yourself! Go outside! DO SOMETHING! |