The Psychocybertronic Man
Chapter One: New Wasilla Boogie
For Spawnspectre-May Portugal never outlaw creativity.
From the Encyclopedia of the Universe (January 2237 edition)
The thing we now call the perceptionspace was designed to allow schizophrenics to lead normal, productive lives by giving them the power to manifest the voices in their head. It did not gain prominence until the development of the world's security system in 2100. The United States government to monitor dissidents and its soldiers around the world used the worldwide perceptionspace. During the era of Sensible conservatism under the rule of Megan McCain 12 years before the Bohemian party's sweep to power, the perception space began to be used as an entertainment form. It has so far been unable to be hacked by anyone.
Black Star sat in the Conference Room, the clicks and whirrs of computers booting and cooling off was all he could hear. He had been in the FBI's Psychocybertronic Division since he had left the New England Patriots in 2222 to join the FBI. He looked good for someone who was pushing towards forty. His body still had the same muscle tone, and his face was as youthful as ever. No surgery, no Botox, just eating right and exercising, that's what he would tell people. They called him "The Tank" at The Academy at Quantico Virginia because he was built like one, never used steroids and passed his piss test every time. The director, Sam Chiwalla, walked into the conference room, sat a hologlobe on the table and booted it up.
"Agent Star, I assume you know why you're here?" Chiwalla said as a map of the United Islands of Japan came up on the screen.
"I am not entirely sure; I was supposed to report for a meeting on security detail when the president goes to the southwest?" Black Star said. Chiwalla pulled out an iCig and tapped the filter to the Cherry Vanilla flavor app he downloaded. He took a drag and exhaled the sweet vapor into the air.
"You're going to Japan. Do you know why?" Chiwalla asked. Black Star shrugged.
"I assume to take care of some federal business right?" he said.
"Here is what we have," Chiwalla said tossing a file over to him, "We have reports of some kind of a tear in the perceptionspace over Japan. We have a feeling that a hacker is trying to chase it." Black Star looked over the satellite readings.
"The perceptionspace is impenetrable, no person can poke a hole to make a tear." He said.
"Well someone has. We don't know where the tear has ripped to; all we know is that the major activity is in New Wasilla. I need you to go there and ask around, maybe hook up with a contact or two. I must say time is of the essence here. Two weeks from now Japan will get full sovereignty that means we'll have no authority in that area. Fucking hippie president, he is as bad as Obama and the damn sheep of this country elected him for two terms." Chiwalla said and tapped his iCig off. "Your flight leaves in two hours, pack only necessities and what you would normally carry in terms of weapons." He said.
"Will do, sir." Black Star said and walked towards the door.
Kid walked across the street to his connection's place of business. For thirteen years and several busts by the vice squad, "Plasticine" Jean Monroe sold designer drugs inside her air-cooled shop to those who couldn't get their kicks anywhere else. She was called "Plasticine" Jean because she had spent her "Nonillion to play" money that she made as a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader on several body modifications. So many in fact, that her entire body now consisted of microscopic sacs of liquid plastic, that burst open whenever the temperature went over zero degrees Fahrenheit causing her to melt. No original parts of her were left, no blood, or bone or, organ was real. Her face was stretched across her skull like a death shroud, every bone visible. Her throat had a small knob to change her voice hidden under a small flap of fake flesh. Kid walked in to Jean's store and saw her there listening to the radio. Philip Glass was playing a song from Koyaanisqatsi.
"Hello Jean." Kid said. Jean hushed him and waved her hands frenetically as Kazoos from Frank Zappa's "Jewish Princess " started up and a comical Jewish voice spoke.
"I'm Crazy Yitzhak and I am verklempt with values," the voice said, Jean clapped her hands. "I got kidneys I got livers. How's the liver? Fresh!" Yitzhak was her boyfriend, a part time organ dealer and samurai on behalf of the Methodist church. He always played up his religion for laughs, making himself sound as stereotypical as possible. "Come on down, I am opened twenty four-six… for you!"
"Why does he do this shit?" Kid said. Jean hissed for silence.
"If you come on down now, you'll get this wallet made from a Hassidic foreskin. You rub it and it turns into a suitcase. Oy Gevalt!" The commercial ended, Jean clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet.
"Oh I just love his commercials!" She said.
"Whatever. Look, I need to identify something, maybe you could help?" Kid said pulling out an envelope.
"Step into the lab hon!" She said and sat down at a scanning electron microscope. Kid handed her the envelope where she tapped out a small chunk of brain.
"Good lord almighty, who sent ya this?" She asked
"It came in the mail today, all the way from Japan." Kid said
"Know who sent it?" She asked.
"No clue, maybe you could figure it out?" he said. She placed the chunk on the microscope and let the machine scan it. Two minutes later a small meep sound indicated it was done.
"Looks to be from 2010, all I am getting here is a bunch of ancient PDF files with stuff blacked out." Jean said.
"Why would someone send me this?" Kid asked.
"That's something I don't know. Let me hold on to this and see what I can find." She said.
"Thanks P.J, do I owe ya anything?" "Kid said.
"Nope, just be sure to shut the door tight, any of that hot air gets in here and my ass will be stuck in this chair." She said. Kid laughed and walked outside.
New Wasilla looked like a candy colored, neon dreamland. Ice Blue, and Candy Apple Red, lights surrounded the neon pink sky. The sounds of synthesizers and computer noises filled the air, cars whizzed by like bees and the sounds of the girls drifted everywhere. Calls of "Sucky Sucky five dollars" and "Me fuck long time" were heard drifting over the cries of "Boxed lunch, get yourself some prime pie" from the vendors of the clubs. Black Star wandered through this electronic cesspool like a stranger in a strange land. He held his electro-baton at ready. He then felt the girl grasp his wrist. Her eyes were augmented making her look like a Japanese anime character, her breasts were large and she had turquoise hair tied into two large pigtails. On her arm were the digits 01 tattooed. In her hand was a leek, she smiled at Black Star coyly.
"Miku wants to make love to big American. Want to watch Miku stick leek in Miku's pussy? Me love you long time." She said. Black Star pushed her off his wrist and she fell to the ground. She let out a scream then shouted "Producer -san this man just hurt me!" A Man of about twenty-three came up to Black Star, at six foot one and two hundred and forty pounds, the man was built like a brick shithouse. He looked at Miku and then at Black Star.
"You harrasin' my fuckin merchandise?" He said.
"Back off bubba, I don't think you want to fuck with me." Black Star said.
"If you want the rough stuff its two hundred large and that's in bills, no fuckin debit cards, ya hear me prick?" Miku's pimp said.
"I'll pass; I'd hate to catch crotch rot." Black Star said.
"You sayin' I ain't got quality merchandise? You sayin' I'm some sorta scuzzball. Why you mother fucker you," The pimp said an pulled out his gun, "I am going to kick your," he said before Kid slammed his fist into the pimp's solar plexus. The man coughed and doubled over. Black Star grabbed the pimp's head and smashed his thigh into it. Stumbling backwards, Miku caught her pimp who was coughing up blood and teeth. "You muddah fuckah you!" The pimp shouted, Black Star pulled out his baton.
"One more move and I make you hurt worse." He said. Miku grabber her leek and pushed the green top revealing a sharp point, and slammed it into the pimp's chest, killing him. Peeling off her fake eyes and breasts, Miku Hatsune stared at Black Star and smiled.
"Fancy seeing you here, how long has it been since we left the academy?" She said.
"Since 2230 when I taught that weapons class, you learned well. How's things in the sex crimes division?" Black Star said.
"Same shit different day, let's get out of here before someone sees us that is really paying attention, and not focusing on their woody." Miku said and pulled a Kawasaki Ninja from out of the alley. Black Star grabbed his helmet and they raced off into the night.
The Myamoto café was the perceptionspace café for those who loved Nintendo. Twenty-Four year old, Andrew Bushnell was hooked in visualizing himself riding an Eponia through Hyrule in the Zelda mod, when his vision suddenly a girl with a tan sweater and cat ears appeared in his vision.
"What the fuck? I need a developer here?" He shouted, a man in a sky blue polo and nametag came over to him.
"Problem sir?" He said.
"Yeah I got some fucking cat girl on here, where the hell is my game?" Andrew said.
"Hold on sir, I'll get the manager to fix it." The attendant said and walked over to the computer in the back of the café He typed in the port number and the game's code. The error message popped up immediately. It read, "You fucking woke me up, I suggest you leave me be" The attendant looked at the computer. "That's odd?" he said, and he repeated the process. The computer went black and a smiley face came onto the screen.
"Okay you asked for it." It said underneath it. Andrew had no time to think when the Ejii's face popped up giving him a scare and ending his life.
Maka and Soul were across the street drinking coffee when the Attendant raced out the door screaming for help.
"Wanna investigate?" Soul said.
"We're on duty." Maka said and tossed her empty cardboard cup in the trash.