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“Please kill me,” it pleaded. “And use my parts to make yourself a proper
reading lamp. It just tears me up inside to see you trying to read by the
insufficient light of that dim lamp next to the toilet.”
“WHY DON’T YOU come up and see me sometime?” the holographic re-
creation of Mae West said, as she uncrossed her legs and flashed us her
bare beaver.
My mother looked away, troubled. “Is this really the proper use of the
technology?” she said.
“Come on, lady—nobody would have loved this more than Mae herself,”
the hologram of Mahatma Gandhi said. “And don’t forget: The Bacon Club
Chalupa is at Taco Bell for a limited time only.”
“FOR FIVE HUNDRED credits, I’ll tell you his whereabouts,” the bounty
hunter hissed. “For a thousand credits, I’ll kill him myself.”
The offer hung in the air, and Kurdt LaRock pondered it, savouring the
possibilities. When he finally spoke, both men knew that the decision had
already been made.
The bounty hunter took out his calculator, and they got down to business.
THE PRESIDENT WHAMMED his fist on the table. The Cabinet Room went
silent.
“This isn’t some goddam B movie, gentlemen,” he said. “This is real life.”
“We have the smartest minds in the world working on this,” the President
continued. “The top biologists and astronomers and geneticists. And
you’re telling me that the closest anyone can come to identifying
this... thing is....”
“I’m afraid so, Mr. President,” the scientist said. “What we’re dealing with
here is the Flying Penis from Venus.”
The Treasury Secretary giggled, and the chief of staff did his best to not
join in. But a look from the President silenced them.
The President burst out laughing, and the rest of the room joined him,
relieved to release their pent-up mirth.
Engineer Wilson didn’t know what any of this meant, but he knew that it
probably wasn’t good. After two more commercial breaks, the news ticker
began to repeat itself, so he turned off his TV and went back to sleep.
HE’D HAD A REAL NAME at one time, but even he’d forgotten it. On the
Net, he was known as Captain Fantastic, the Brown Dirt Cowboy—or
CFTBDC69, in Net-handle speak.
He plugged the jack into the shiny port in the back of his neck and pressed
Enter.