Spike Speeder made the final adjustments on his deck, before he lifted one wire from the mass of redundant cords. He plunged the wire into his dataplug, and at the speed of thought, he was in the Net. He hopped on to the seemingly endless electron highway, and rode a surge of information the way a surfer would ride a wave. This was the rush Spike lived for, and he made no apologies for it. A bleeding edge deck, state of the art programs, and one of the most powerful minds in the Sprawl gave Spike free reign over the realm of the Net, a virtual reality where he was the hottest thing since the first super novas.
Spike's consciousness charged through the Net, until he hopped off the electron highway and approached the Wormwood Corporation's mainframe. He made a quick scan of the front door entrance to the system, but quickly dashed over to the back door entrance he had left when he infiltrated Wormwood's system for the first time. This entrance proved to be much easier to access, and Spike headed in. Once inside, he started taking precautions as he combed the system for information on the hitmen who had been hounding him recently. He knew they were working for Wormwood, but the proof of the actual contract wasn't in the accessible portion of the mainframe. No matter.
The plucky net runner continued searching the system for information on the hired goons. His scans of the datastreams lead him to a department sub-system he was certain belonged to the black ops arm of the company. It was a simple code he had to enter just to crack open the divison's normal activities. What he saw was scary. Weapons training, agent bail outs, combat simulations, all sorts of activities that seemed to be geared towards creating killing machines. Spike growled under his breath; even if he could proof this data was real, no one would care even if he brought to light. Now all he could do was try to get some more solid information on the hit team dispatched after him. Word on the street had given Spike a number of handles he could start searching for.
The first handle he had didn't work. He put another handle into his search programs, and this one turned up data. Spike grinned as he scanned the records belonging to the handle "Morris." It seemed that Morris's boss had a great many things kind things to say about Morris, and the hitman had clearly never crossed his employer. Spike fired up a program that could change all that with but a few keystrokes. Once Spike had artfully altered Morris's records in the black ops department, he slide through the rest of the system, altering every reference to Morris in the most damaging ways the edgerunner could imagine. There'd be some very interesting happenings at the office tomorrow for Mr. Morris, and although Spike would rather not be around when it happened, the net runner would certainly sleep easier.
"Calvin it's midnight, go to bed!" Calvin's father roared from his bedroom. Calvin panicked and quickly closed the programs he was using on the shared computer in the den. The computer was quickly shut down and any evidence of what he had been doing was erased frantically.
"Calvin, I said now!" came another roar from the bedroom. Calvin scrambled to shut down the computer and dashed into his room. When he entered his room, he found Hobbes reading without a light. After stumbling over a stack of novels, consisting largely of the works of Gibson, Sterling, and Rucker, Calvin flipped on a light. Hobbes didn't look up from his book.
"How'd it go?" Hobbes asked, his nose still in his book.
"I think Moe's gonna have some problems getting a job at a hamburger joint after people find out he still has chronic nose picking and pants wetting problems."
"Did you implcate him in the noodle incident on his permanent record?"
"Naturally," Calvin said as he snatched his current book from his desk and laid back into his bed next to his best friend.
"I gotta admit, you took that comment pretty well."
"Hey, it was Moe from day one now. I'm as innocent as driven snow."
"I'm sure," Hobbes said with a snort.
It was then that Calvin's mother stalked into the room. She said nothing, and just turned out the lights and stalked back out with a growl. Calvin sighed, as a tentacle slithered out from under the bed.
"Hey, kid, tiger," a voice from under the bed hissed, "You got any of those pills left?"
Hobbes tossed a trio of pills to the floor and watched as the pills and tentacle faded back under the bed. It was then that Calvin set his book aside and tried to sleep. Hobbes continued to read, but he too quickly began sleeping, snoring softly in the night. Calvin would dream of being Spike Speeder, racing down electron highways.
Spike's consciousness charged through the Net, until he hopped off the electron highway and approached the Wormwood Corporation's mainframe. He made a quick scan of the front door entrance to the system, but quickly dashed over to the back door entrance he had left when he infiltrated Wormwood's system for the first time. This entrance proved to be much easier to access, and Spike headed in. Once inside, he started taking precautions as he combed the system for information on the hitmen who had been hounding him recently. He knew they were working for Wormwood, but the proof of the actual contract wasn't in the accessible portion of the mainframe. No matter.
The plucky net runner continued searching the system for information on the hired goons. His scans of the datastreams lead him to a department sub-system he was certain belonged to the black ops arm of the company. It was a simple code he had to enter just to crack open the divison's normal activities. What he saw was scary. Weapons training, agent bail outs, combat simulations, all sorts of activities that seemed to be geared towards creating killing machines. Spike growled under his breath; even if he could proof this data was real, no one would care even if he brought to light. Now all he could do was try to get some more solid information on the hit team dispatched after him. Word on the street had given Spike a number of handles he could start searching for.
The first handle he had didn't work. He put another handle into his search programs, and this one turned up data. Spike grinned as he scanned the records belonging to the handle "Morris." It seemed that Morris's boss had a great many things kind things to say about Morris, and the hitman had clearly never crossed his employer. Spike fired up a program that could change all that with but a few keystrokes. Once Spike had artfully altered Morris's records in the black ops department, he slide through the rest of the system, altering every reference to Morris in the most damaging ways the edgerunner could imagine. There'd be some very interesting happenings at the office tomorrow for Mr. Morris, and although Spike would rather not be around when it happened, the net runner would certainly sleep easier.
"Calvin it's midnight, go to bed!" Calvin's father roared from his bedroom. Calvin panicked and quickly closed the programs he was using on the shared computer in the den. The computer was quickly shut down and any evidence of what he had been doing was erased frantically.
"Calvin, I said now!" came another roar from the bedroom. Calvin scrambled to shut down the computer and dashed into his room. When he entered his room, he found Hobbes reading without a light. After stumbling over a stack of novels, consisting largely of the works of Gibson, Sterling, and Rucker, Calvin flipped on a light. Hobbes didn't look up from his book.
"How'd it go?" Hobbes asked, his nose still in his book.
"I think Moe's gonna have some problems getting a job at a hamburger joint after people find out he still has chronic nose picking and pants wetting problems."
"Did you implcate him in the noodle incident on his permanent record?"
"Naturally," Calvin said as he snatched his current book from his desk and laid back into his bed next to his best friend.
"I gotta admit, you took that comment pretty well."
"Hey, it was Moe from day one now. I'm as innocent as driven snow."
"I'm sure," Hobbes said with a snort.
It was then that Calvin's mother stalked into the room. She said nothing, and just turned out the lights and stalked back out with a growl. Calvin sighed, as a tentacle slithered out from under the bed.
"Hey, kid, tiger," a voice from under the bed hissed, "You got any of those pills left?"
Hobbes tossed a trio of pills to the floor and watched as the pills and tentacle faded back under the bed. It was then that Calvin set his book aside and tried to sleep. Hobbes continued to read, but he too quickly began sleeping, snoring softly in the night. Calvin would dream of being Spike Speeder, racing down electron highways.