Digital Raven (digitalraven) wrote,
Digital Raven

Night work

Getting back in the swing of things slowly. A pity I couldn't do so with anything better. I know the ending's abrupt, I couldn't be fucked to write myself out of the hole.

Night Work
by Stewart Wilson

So I'm climbing over the electric razorwire outside one of Teranet's disk farms. This isn't easy, because it's dark and the whole place is automated so there aren't any fucking lights. Of course, I have good reason and a thermoptic bodysuit, so things aren't totally up the SCSI chain without a terminator just yet. The mobile cameras are rather a pain, cued for low-light as well as abnormal heat readings they'll pinpoint me as some kind of pest and shoot me with an RFID for the sentry guns, and then there's no chance of me blowing up the right disk. But still, there's a reason I came here. I have to remember that.

Remembering is easy, really. I had to deal with my ex again earlier. Ever since she uploaded she's been bugging me. Even forked off a personality state to get at me every waking hour I'm connected. That's the problem with the future. Too many ways for people to communicate.

It was her fault. For some reason she took my joining a cult started by a female friend to mean that me and this friend, now styled as a goddess, were having an affair. I told her it was strictly a spiritual thing, that the orgies were religious. She didn't believe me and promptly fucked a boy band behind my back. The Rainbow Stars, I think they were called. The end of their act had them ejaculating multi-coloured hallucinogenic semen over their audiences. Three weeks later some total bastard dropped a bottle of water seeded with puritanism memes in the water at their concert and twenty-five thousand fans tore them limb from limb. It would have been a chore if I didn't know a memejacker who owed me at least five times over.

Ever since then she's wanted me back but I didn't want her. If she couldn't work out the difference between a devout religion and cheap group sex that's her own damn problem. However, this personality state is really getting to me. She's uploaded, it counts as an intelligence so most of my filters won't stop it and the payload is practically viral. It's enough to make you weep...

...if you didn't have black ops experience, an arms dealer who owes you a favour and an almost psychopathic hatred of your ex-girlfriend.

All of which is the long way of explaining why I'm breaking into Teranet late at night. Her upload is on one of those disks, a duplicate of her mind. And I'm going to stop her bugging me once and for all. The mobile cameras are easy to deal with, I find. They break easily with a shot from even a silenced pistol (proving that sometimes blog comments are worth reading) and the rest is just one more game of Quake 4.

A little chunk of C4 isn't going to get me into the building, even the emergency doors are explosion-rated. Unfortunately, neither is a large chunk. Building monitoring systems are on high alert meaning that the sentry guns are looking for me. Being a good bastard, I've set up two sniper platforms to keep them busy. Preparation is the key, as always.

Up the wall on a grappling hook, low technology for a change. Once on the roof I can switch the guns out of the loop and hopefully stop them destroying expensive hardware. Fortunately there's also a rooftop ventilation shaft that lets me in. The rest is just another maze of disk farms. Rather reminds me of being at work normally. I make sure to jam some circuit breakers with some handy chunks of copper and find my girl's disk bay. Plug in the personal disorganiser and she's just an rm-rf away from being a bad memory.

That's about the time the police burst in, followed closely by Teranet security. Ah well. It's the price one pays to be free of an annoying ex. I ready the submachine gun and get ready to party.
Tags: fiction

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