Chrome Nights (closed for Diamantine and myself)

andygorn

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[Okay, this borrows very extensively from the futuristic roleplaying games of Cyberpunk and Shadowrun, as well as -hopefully- paying a bit of homage to visionaries such as William Gibson et al, but I don't think the story will be any the worse for this].

Setting (approx. 2100 AD):

Towards the mid-2000's, social strife and inequality had reached 'boiling point' in many countries, including the USA, the Eurozone countries, parts of Africa and most of Asia.
Eventually, the additional pressures of world overpopulation, the spiralling costs of fuels and overcrowding in the world's biggest cities spilled out onto the streets into mass protests, looting and rioting and confrontations between between the public and the authorities.

Against this backdrop of world upheaval and the UN's failure to deal with it, old nationalistic hatreds of religion and race (as well as simple races for territory and natural resources) came to the fore, embroiling most of the rest of the world, either internally or in armed conflict with neighbouring states.
After 4 years of turmoil (during which 3 nuclear warheads had been deployed), the national governments eventually restored control and a sense of normality returned.
However thanks to various countries' passing of "Acts of Extra-territoriality" in a rush for money, fuel and food, the main change has been that corporations how held a lot more power than they had previously done and several of the biggest (known as 'Megacorporations') now own -and govern- their own territories without regard for neighbouring national laws.

Thanks to the (largely good) reputation of the corporations, as well as the deals that they have struck with governments, technology has come on in leaps and bounds in the intervening hujndred years and things which the 21st Century population could only dream about have now hit the high street and the media in a big way and are still a source of intense consumer spending.

Now, people who have been seriously injured can return to work quicker than ever due to nanotechnology, although this is still the province of the rich and well-connected.
It is very rare to find anyone who lives in a city who is without access to a computer (or three) and much of education has been provided online for the last 2 decades, rendering schools nearly obsolete.

In addition, the never-ending desires for personal enhancement and to be different (coupled with advances in microtronics) have led to the development of 'cyberware'...the implanting of functioning technological devices directly into the human body.
Initially, this was as simple as have your MP7 player implanted into your ear (often so that rebellious teens could listen to music whilst pretending to listen to their parents' latest lecture) but it now also encompasses affordable replacement limbs for accident victims, as well as for uninjured people who are victims of fashion (just don't ask what happens to the fully-functioning limbs which have been removed in favour of ones made of metal and plastic).

The invention of the 'encephalon' device in 2080 (pioneered in '73 for the military) has finally provided mankind with a means to control most types of machines (including industrial processes, personal transportation and entertainment) with the power of the mind alone, simply by plugging these devices into sockets which have been implanted in their bodies.

Following a worldwide computer virus which hit during the 40's, a replacement was needed for the ageing 'world wide web' concept.
The telephone and cable companies joined forces to come up with a 'generic concept matrix' for computer software which is still followed today: Instead of using scrolling text and tedious 'point and click' and 'search engine' technology, the Internet was replaced with a series of generic icons ('The Net' or 'Matrix') which have made it much easier to find information and to access products and services.

This has meant that the majority of data transfer between companies and their transactions are carried out over the Net.
Although companies and organisations are responsible for the security of their own sites and for the security of data and sales, very few policing methods are required for the Net as a whole, as the system is generally viewed as impossible to corrupt; the couple of attempts which have been made to subvert the whole system have been very publically (and lethally) put down at an early stage.
The Net is viewed as an ancient third person shoot'em-up game, with a stylised character (representing the user) in the foreground and other people who are looking at similar records also beinfg displayed as characters. (Often, a user will be protrayed as generic 'stick person' image, but you can pay for -or design- specific images for yourself).
Computers can still be controlled throught the ancient 'mouse and keyboard' method.
However, most people use either gloves and a headset [a la 'Johnny Mnemonic'], or control their PC's with their minds by jacking in.
This ease of access to technology has invariably meant that -although the technology is largely sound and functioning- there are more users and this poses more of a threat to the security of information, money and personal data.
As a result, all companies have developed software (referred to as 'Intrusion Countermeasures', 'I.C.' for short. or as "ice" in the vernacular) to keep out the data-thieves and hackers and this comes in three varieties:
"White IC" is non-damaging and non-threatening, such as requiring a password for someone to get access to data.
"Grey IC" relates to non-damaging software which will try to kick a hacker out of the computer system completely and/or which often also tries to trace where the hacker is calling from so that they can be reported to the authorities and identified in the future.
"Black IC" relates to software which can acutally damage a computer's memory, erasing files, data stored or just destroying the PC itself. There are rmuours that, if someone is jacked in, they can be physically injured by Black IC, although this may merely be anti-corporate scaremongering.

The mantra of the neon-glare world of 2100 is definitely: "newer, smaller, faster, better, sleeker"...
 
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Introducing the cast: Miguel

Name: Miguel Sanchez
Street name/nickname = 'NoonShade'
Age= 25 (most people think he is older than this, however)
Hair = black and long, usually kept in a ponytail
Build = Strongly-built, 6' tall
Eyes =
Originally dark brown, now replaced with ice blue cybereyes (electronic versions of his eyes which have also been upgraded to offer better vision in low light environments, infra-red vision, telescopic vision and which can also compensate for unexpected flashes of light)
Distinguishing features =
Scar on right side of face, 3 virtually parallel scars on his back near his left kidney, tattoo on upper left arm of an Inca warrior wearing an Eagle headdress, swooping eagle tattoo on his chest (stylised in the form of 'Tribal' designs of the 2000's), and a Native American runic symbol tattoo of 3 faces and a shield on the back of his neck. Miguel's ears have also been replaced with cybernetic versions, allowing him to hear lower volumes than normal.

Miguel had been born into poverty on the Mexican side of the border with the USA.
Although his family had farmed their own land for generations, the rise of the corporations had abruptly ended this way of life for many towns in his country and their populations were eagerly snapped up as cheap labour for the new factories and 'mega-farms' which had sprung up.
Although America was always their 'rich neighbour', Miguel and his family had been happy with their lot, but -faced with the prospect of starvation- they eventually gave in and became 'employees' in a government-run factory rather than 'landowners'.
Like many, Miguel began to resent the power and money that America had, but initially had no outlet for this anger, so he turned to petty crime and violence to feed it (to his family's horror).
However, all things changed in Mexico nearly overnight when a Megacorporation known as Aztechnology effectively bought Mexico from their legitimate government in order to stave off an economic collapse which was imminent after years of financial mismanagement.
Unlike most companies, Aztechnology worked with communities to build up relationships with people and instilled a sense of purpose in the Mexican people once more.

Miguel found himself growing up in this time of upheaval and his family sold most of what they had to send him to computer college in Mexico City. His skills were noticed by acompany recruiting officer, who sponsored him for entry into one of Aztechnology's 'shell companies' as a programmer and sometime security guard.
He rose through the ranks and was eventually drafted into a unit called the Eagle Warriors who acted as Internal Security and bodyguards for company officials.
Having been injured in the face whilst saving the life of a vice-executive, Miguel's eyes and ears were replaced by electronic ones...they gave him a new perspective on the world and -seeing that he was now expected to be a cold-blooded killer when required- he knew that he could not continue.
Knowing that the company woud be reluctant to just 'let him go', Miguel faked his own death in a car accident and bribed his way across the border, finding his way to Seattle.
Falling back on what he knows, Miguel has since adopted the role of 'hacker for hire' and meets with one of his contacts to discuss a job:
 
Introduction - Miguel

As he entered his regular haunt of "Six-Gun Sal's" (a bar which uneasily -yet profitably- bridged the gap between the 22nd Century's fetish for veritable walls of chrome/neon and the nostalgia for an 'Olde-Worlde Wild West Saloon'), the acrid smell of cheap tobacco and dried-in alcohol assaulted Miguel's senses. After a couple of weeks out of town, it was good to be back in familiar surroundings, but Miguel reminded himself of why he was here; money was short and rent-day was due all too soon.
The meeting with his contact, Ralph, had been timed early to avoid the rush of the regular "6 0'clock crowd" and seeing Sally's friendly face behind the bar was a welcoming sight.
Despite having spent most of his hard-earned cash and having stopped a few drunken brawls in the bar during the last 2 years, Sally still greeted him cordially with the friendly and familiar line: "He's right on by the pooltables, pard'ner."
Of course, her smile and tone were fake, copied straight out of the company adverts...
He knew she kept distant from her patrons to protect her business in case they caused trouble on the one night that the cops ignored her regular 'donations to the Police Benevolent Fund' and actually started asking questions, but Miguel wondered if he'd ever get used to Sally's detachment.

He carried on walking -catching the beer which Sally had slid down the bar- and saw the familiar face and considerable bulk of Ralph Maurice, his main contact in the city:
At 50, Ralph was pretty much the oldest guy (and the only friend) Miguel knew in the sprawl. Italian-American by descent, the years had been kind to Ralph and he'd grown fat (figuratively and literally) on the profits of other people's labours and then taking another 10% cut from both parties afterwards 'for expenses.'
In another age, this would have been called 'daylight robbery', but Miguel called it a pretty good deal...there were plenty of other "Fixers" (middlemen who arrange semi-legal and illegal employment) who would have taken a lot more cash and then still reckoned you owed them a favour or three on top of that.

Despite his hefty frame, Ralph moved eagerly and swiftly around the table, chuckling at each ball he potted as he did so -seeing that they were alone in the immediate area- Ralph slowly and deliberately took a noise-scrambler from his pocket, allowed Miguel to see that he had switched the device on, before attaching it to the far side of pool table.
As he moved around the table, lining up his next shots, Ralph began to speak to himself, yet knowing that Miguel's augmented ears could still hear him:
"I've been approached by a 'suit', some blond guy called Carl, to find out about a Luke Fujikawa, some sort of junior executive from what I've been told. Apparently, he's been a naughty boy and has got hold of a lot of money which he's not supposed to have.
"This 'Luke' has apparently been a loyal employee for some time and all of a sudden he decides to steal from his corporate masters.
" 'Carl' says they think Luke is going to leave the area along with the cash pretty soon and wants to put a trace on where the money is going to and maybe to find out why, as well. If you can find the money, they'll be able to find their thief.
"The figure that's gone missing is 50,000, so they're willing to pay you 3,500 if you can find out the details by Monday...today's Thursday, so you've got the whole weekend,"
Ralph let out a whoop of delight as he sank the '8' ball into a corner pocket and said "Hey, I could be the next Eddie Felson with an eye like that..!" then enquired: "Whadda ya think, kiddo? Does that sound like a deal, or what?!"
Miguel replied: "I think it sounds like a great deal, I'll take up your offer in an instant....Who's Eddie Felson, by the way?"
This last comment stopped Ralph in his tracks and he appeared stunned by the question, answering: "You never heard of him before..? He's just some guy off the tv, kid, maybe you'll meet him one day." With that, Ralph started racking up the balls for another game, the conversation over.

Leaving a couple of notes on the bar for his unopened bottle and Sally's time and discretion, Miguel turned over and over in his head what Ralph had said as he drove his small citycar back to his accommodation: Monday didn't give him a lot of time to complete the job, but the 3,500 credits he'd get for doing it would certainly keep him in the flat for another couple of months.

After entering his 3-room apartment in a quiet low-rent suburb, Miguel threw a ready meal into microwave and flicked on the 300-channel TV, finding nothing to watch as usual, but with a flicker of possible interest at the wrestling later.
With the meal done, Miguel settled down in front of his regular computer to start searching for Luke Fujikawa to see if anything had hit the mainstream business media yet. As he ate his meal of re-fried soy-cake and synthi-fish (which was at least hot if not very nutritious), Miguel knew that the standard press was a long shot, but sometimes things got overlooked.

Leaving his food to one side, he retrieved a long leather hardcase from under the bed and opened the combination. Inside was his main code-breaking tool, a long slim red metal device about the size of a normal computer's keyboard, yet this was computing taken to the N-th degree.
Hands moving automatically, Miguel plugged in the cyberdeck and checked it's systems were all clean and operational. Logging onto the building's own network (itself a part of the larger grid of the street block), he added in the apartment's hidden camera before unwinding the integral datacord and slipping the end into the socket behind his right ear. There was a slight buzz of static coupled with a few seconds of disorientation and a slightly warm feeling enveloped him as his senses transferred into the Matrix.
Looking around, the immediate vicinity contained his own icon in the middle of the centre of the screen: all users' icons -although mobile- were artificial, metallic or manufactured in some way and Miguel's main icon was that of an American Marine cast from solid gold (a throwback from his days of admiring the USA).
There was a brief lapse in concentration as Miguel saw himself in the apartments' camera, jacked into the deck with the deck's screen diplaying a small gold figure, then the virtual reality of the technology kicked in and he was the 'Marine', scanning his surroundings.
In the main, the Matrix was a largely featureless plain of sheer blackness, overlaid with flat green lines forming a grid, with the computer systems marked out in various shapes ands shades of colour:
On the right was the white sphere marking the entry point of all the computers in the system, to his left, a red square denoting access to the wider Matrix.
If he has still been able to see into the real world, Miguel woud have seen his face sert in concentration, eyes flickering in REM-like movements and fingers racing across the keyboard as he inputted commands into the deck to begin his search.
However, in the artificial world of the Matrix, these commands were interpreted into physical signals, actions and movements and he instinctively reached into a pocket of the leg of his pants, feeling the soft warm furry bodies of the two small puppies he always kept there. Setting them on the ground, he patted each of them and told them the name they were to look for.
wagging their tails excitedly, the two small dogs bounded away from Miguel, and began sniffing out a trail.
Although he knew that they were just a pair of computer programs designed to search out information, Miguel had always felt a special bond with them and even named them Harry and Larry.
Having set his search programs in motion, Miguel reluctantly disconnected from the Matrix and turned back to his half-eaten meal, catching sight of the deck's internal clock as he did so: 10 seconds had passed from start to finish.
 
Miguel

As he resumed his meal, Miguel hoped for an early response:
Harry and Larry weren't bleeding-edge technology anymore, but they seemed to have a sixth sense for finding information that was useful to him in some way.
As his programs searched, he ran through a couple of his last runs...pretty unremarkable jobs, but steady business keeping him in "oh-so-lovely" pseudo-soy.
Like most, he dreamed of finding 'that one hit', the one lodestone which would transform his life away from the seedy backstreets and into the newly-built condoplexes which were always springing up.
He had a good life compared to quite a few people...at least he had a roof and a lockable door... and -unlike most other guys he knew- Miguel kept his place tidy and clean despite the neighbourhood, but he was never going to make "22nd Century Homes and Gardens".

Having quickly finished his food and settled in front of the satellite trideo, a playful bark from his deck indicated new information. A couple of isolated reports from different sources looked like a start and Miguel whispered to himself as he skim-read through several business reports and online stockbrokers:
- "L. Fujikawa...Vice President for Shipping, Green Monitor Corporation...subsidiary of...etc, etc...based in Seattle."
- "Green Monitor Corp...with headquarters in Seattle, California, New York and Berne...where the drek is Berne..?"
- "Green Monitor...rising star of the California transportation scene...begins talks with De Nozzo Transport based in Chicago, offering a takeover for the ailing Chicagoan trucking business..."

Green Monitor Corp had kindly provided an LTG code (Matrix address) for interested customers...at least it was somewhere to start looking. Unable to resist the rush of the Matrix, Miguel was soon jacked in, fingers dancing across the keys, as he searched for the Seattle branch.
From the 'outside' where all the other users were, the company's branch was just like any other...a green pyramid housing the everyday programs and systems which regular buyers might need.
Trying to make sure that no-one was around in range to spot him, he activated his 'deception' password and put his hand against the pyramid's surface; his limb began to change shade until it was the same colour as the shape and then this colour spread to the rest of his body, allowing him to step through the walls and into something he had not expected. Although his program was fairly advanced, one trip from the outside should only have let him access interior devices and mundane items such as the coffee-maker and the sprinkler system; however, it seemed to have led him into the heart of the system itself.

The standard icons for being inside a system were usually those of a series of boxes, perhaps something resembling a series of databanks and servers, with green streams of data passing by which could potentially be grabbed out of the air, but it still resembled an artificial horizon with unusual polyhedrons. However, the inside of Green Monitor looked like a Japanese pagoda...there were floor boards beneath his feet, the whisper of hushed conversations through thin walls and sliding doors, the song of birds chirping outside, as well as the sounds of happy singing from people outside.
Daring to sneak a peek from the corner of a window, Miguel saw gangs of workers toiling endlessly in the rice fields outside...representations of the actual workers at their desks and also the numerous computer systems in the company.
Realising that his gold Marine stood out, Miguel quickly altered his disguise program to make him look like an ambassador, complete with pale blue kimono.
Programming on the level of the pagoda took serious work, time and cash...although Green Monitor was respected name, it would not have been capable of creating this scene all by itself...there was a lot more to this medium-sized company than met the eye.
 
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