dreamdancer

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Dancer looked up. ‘All these seem to be fictional space adventures or spy mysteries. Have you ever played any of the Announcer’s military simulations? ‘Urban Warrior’ for instance? Or even the original classic the Urban Peasants still drill to, ‘Gangland Murder’?’ Cedric knew that he shouldn’t get irritated, but the folder Dancer kept going back to irked him to the point that he couldn’t hold his words. ‘You know all the information in that file could be stored much more easily on a disc.’ Dancer closed the folder and eyed him grimly. ‘You may trust the Announcer Mr Tucker but the Watch doesn’t have that leeway. We take our duties very seriously, as should you. The money accepted by your bank is transparently stolen and only a very thin legal line is currently holding you up.’ He made a scissors motion with his fingers. ‘I can cut that line here and now.’ He leaned over the table, which creaked under his weight. ‘Unless you begin to fully co-operate with us I will file an immediate Order of Discreditation and your Citizen rights will be swiftly revoked.’ The West Watch chief moved onto another marker in his folder. Though the room was cool, Cedric felt hot. He had thought, in his previous stoned delusion, that he would be able to handle the interview. Now he wasn’t so sure. He felt sweaty and paranoid. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. If you want to get your money back then take it up with the Announcer.’ From the corner of his eye he thought he saw another flicker of a smile from Jason. ‘You’re not going to turn me into your whipping boy. I don’t belong to you to keep and hold as you want. I’ve told you everything I know.’ Dancer put his hands in the air and sighed. ‘Ok Mr Tucker we’re not going to take action against you at the moment, though it is well within our powers to do so.’ He flipped through the folder, Cedric catching an odd angled glimpse of an ID picture from what looked like an old student card, then closed it and put it back under his arm. ‘All that we ask of you for now is that you keep an open mind as regards the motives of the Announcer. Don’t be fooled into thinking that it’s your friend, or even remotely with human characteristics. It isn’t. Behind the Announcer is a particularly nasty bunch of people – terrorists and criminal murderers who have waited many years to step forward. Once they have access to the stolen money they will have no further use for the Announcer. They will either dispense with it entirely, or more likely programme it to run riot in an attempt to cover their tracks. The situation will look very different to you once they do so. Snowstorm will seem a simple affair then.’ ‘Who are the Nanja?’ Cedric asked. ‘Do you know?’ Dancer tapped his chubby fingers on the folder. ‘The conspirators are currently operating through a Beijing registered corporation called Nanja World Holdings.’ He stood up. ‘Keep us up to date with what is happening Mr Tucker and we’ll get on fine. Keep the Watch at arm’s length, as you have done so far, and you won’t know what hit you. You can go now Mr Tucker.’ Jason opened the door for him. Dancer remained seated, attempting to extract the audio tape from its recorder with the end of his pencil. There was no sign of the guards. They walked side by side back to the waiting room lift. This time no white coated individuals appeared from the Archivist doors. Jason sat with him on the sofa and pulled a magazine table a little closer. He took a cardboard tube from a pocket. He popped the top off and slid a couple of prints out. He unfurled them onto the low table. ‘Do you recognise this place Cedric?’ Cedric examined the print. It was a view of the Altameera beach in late evening, the sea grey, smooth and oily looking, a couple of Tarqa cleaning blood from their tusks in the cool sand. ‘That’s a scene from the game I played this afternoon.’ ‘A new game?’ ‘Yes, I’m not sure even what it’s called.’ ‘It’s called Tarqa War and is produced not by the Announcer but by another surviving TIA virus called the Barchus. We believe that this print may represent a scene from the proposed Nanja homeworld.’ Cedric eyed the agent carefully. ‘What do you mean homeworld? Dancer said the Nanja were Chinese.’ Jason swapped the prints. ‘What about the things Suarez talked about – the galactic traders, the cosmic consciousness?’ Cedric held the agent’s eye before viewing the second print. ‘You had the office bugged?’ Jason nodded. ‘Something like that. You think Suarez was fantasising?’ ‘Between you and me, he seemed a bit off his rocker. You think the Nanja are aliens too?’ Jason spread his hands. ‘It’s an outlandish idea but one worth considering.’ Cedric took a good look at the second print which was an aerial view of a short tower overlooking a crazy tangle of narrow streets and enclosed courtyards. There were a series of smaller scenes along the bottom of the print; twin yellow suns, an orbiting satellite or station, bright coloured birds, a street market with strangely clothed individuals and oddly shaped produce. ‘I saw that satellite on an order paper that Suarez showed me.’ stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

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why not? stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

Cedric became distracted by the audio-tape again. He concentrated on his words. ‘That may very well be true, but I believe the UN will be the judge of the legality, or not, of the Announcer’s latest actions. You will of course be aware that the UN has recently decreed access to the First Universal Edict a human right. In the meantime Ogden & Partners plan on no more than seeking approved uses for the disputed money, in the event that the UN do indeed declare the edict lawful.’ Cedric rubbed his chin. ‘I understand that the Watch stands to lose a lot of money over this, but your argument is with the Announcer and the UN, not me.’ Dancer gave him a sour look. ‘That may well be yours, and the Announcer’s point of view, but the Watch is a national body that acts in the national interest. Our purchase of the crown operating rights for MI5 and MI6 is entirely legal. Many, many others are affected by this latest deranged act of the Announcer, especially the local Families, who will refuse to co-operate with it no matter what the UN decree. No-one wants a return to the kind of hostility we had in the twenties. You must see that it is only with Watch mediation that this affair can be delivered to an acceptable outcome.’ ‘My point is that in no way did I solicit the money from the Announcer. I honestly do not know why the Announcer is doing what it is doing – it’s keeping me in the dark as much as anyone else. As far as I’m concerned, and the way Mr Suarez outlined it, my role is very limited, ending when a fixed amount of basic materials are contracted for purchase. Mr Suarez will take charge of whatever happens next.’ ‘Which is?’ ‘I have no idea, Suarez was very imprecise as to the further details. Our conversation was short. He thought he had been followed, that there was someone outside the door. If we’d had more time I could have – ’ Jason interrupted, ‘What was your impression of Andrew Suarez Cedric? Does he seem a fit person?’ The West Watch Chief jumped over the question. ‘Have you previously met Suarez, or been in any prior contact with him?’ ‘No.’ Dancer opened up the folder and ran his finger down to a marked paragraph. ‘You first met the Announcer playing a popular role playing game. A fictional space game called Jedi Borg War. You played a character called Jedi Arthur?’ ‘Yes,’ Cedric replied. He wasn’t sure whether to answer Jason’s previous question or just carry on. He carried on. ‘Hundreds of thousands of others also took part in that game.’ ‘The Announcer played the character of Jedi John,’ Dancer said. ‘I am aware of that now, but not at the time. That game is from nearly thirty years ago. I’ve played many games since, even some of your stuff I’ve tinkered with. I liked a couple of your spy adventures, ‘SuperBond’ and its followup mission – ‘Lady Jane Spencer’, was especially worth playing.’ His reference to a saucy ‘over eighteen’ mission that had featured a double-crossing, nefarious and lustfully loose limbed Lady Jane brought another scowl from Dancer. Cedric thought, encouragingly, that he detected a glimmer of a smile from Jason, still hiding in his networked world. ‘Playing games was, and occasionally still is, how I spend much of my time. It’s not illegal,’ he concluded. ‘You also frequent the hashish cafes.’ ‘Also not illegal.’ ‘No they’re not. You may be aware that the Watch own a chain of them.’ ‘I am aware, what’s your point?’ ‘What happened in the secret level Jedi John, the Announcer, took you to Cedric?’ This time Jason ignored his superior’s disapproval and carried on. ‘Were the Nanja there?’ ‘No,’ Cedric replied as blandly as he could. ‘As I’ve already told you, all I know of the Nanja is from the same edict that everyone else received this morning. What did happen was that my Jedi team prevented the rest of the Borg army, with its mutant Klingon allies, from receiving a potentially devastating quantum gun to fight the Federation of Democratic planets. No Nanja.’ He paused. ‘You see, I can tell the difference between reality and games.’ Dancer flicked his folder open to a new page. ‘There were sixteen of you, including the Announcer, in that level?’ ‘Yes, I believe so.’ ‘Can you tell us the names of the other players?’ Cedric went through the play list, counting them off on his fingers, ‘Jedi Samurai, Jedi Dream, Jedi Tank…’ Dancer noted down the names onto a blank sheet. ‘Were you aware who any of them were in real life?’ ‘No, they could have been from anywhere.’ ‘Or anybody. We have identified both the US presidential assassin BenTech and the Chinese union anarchist Chin Len amongst your group of players.’ Cedric shifted in the uncomfortable chair. ‘If so, I wasn’t aware of that.’ ‘We’d like you to provide a complete list of games you’ve played with the Announcer since school.’ Cedric ticked off the list on his fingers, as he recalled them. Dancer once again pencilled his replies down. ‘A dozen in all,’ Cedric finished, two fingers short. Dancer delved into his folder again. This time he was within its depths for appreciably longer. Cedric couldn’t help but wonder what he was reading. Had he missed out a game? He wasn’t sure. Had ‘Rise of the Mutants’ been an Announcer game? stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

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what about spoons? i know many people who habitually use one to eat... (spoons that is - not guns if you're still confused) stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

another step forward... http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20427286.100-portable-pain-weapon-may-end-up-in-police-hands.html stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

He was escorted across the blue and yellow tiled floor of the Watch restaurant, a much more intimate place than he had imagined, by a pimple faced waiter. In the elegant waiting room the waiter pointed him to a plump and richly embroidered sofa. Cedric obediently sat down. ‘You’re late. Your mobile please.’ The waiter’s first and only words. Cedric handed it over, it was useless anyway, whatever frequencies the Announcer used squelched out of existence within the Watch establishment. It had gone offline with a sqawk, muttering something about ‘quantum fuzziness and apples’ as it went. The waiter pulled out a quickflash film camera, snapped a shot of him then left the room, the door making a very solid sounding ‘clunk’ behind him. Cedric stared at an old, slow ticking clock mounted on the wall opposite. There were large oil paintings and two enormous gold framed mirrors hanging in odd places, giving him the distinct impression that he was being viwed through them. With the intention of examining them further he began to stand up. He felt the floor judder through the thick carpet, accompanied by a low grinding noise. He sat back and gripped the arms of the sofa. The room lurched half an inch downwards. Then, in bondesque fashion, the entire waiting room – a disguised lift he realised, took him down to his appointment. Despite himself, he was impressed. The descent was slow. He sat and ate his chocolate bar. Eventually the room came to a halt, the clock now telling him four thirty two. How far he had descended he couldn’t tell. The door opened. Two uniformed Watch guards, a bulky male, and a taller, lithe female met him. They both took pictures of him, and each other, with quickflash cameras, then escorted him along a wide, well lit hallway. Ahead of them, to the left, a set of soft double-doors flapped open. Cedric watched two white coated individuals trundle a trolley, fully laden with boxes of folders and papers, across the hallway. Without pausing they pushed the trolley through the opposite doors. Cedric caught a glimpse, as their trio drew level, of a vast, hangar-size room, with endless rows of cubicles, and ladders leading up to storage cabinets dozens of feet high. The guards, one in front, one behind, whisked him past to the end of the hallway and to an unmarked door; which swung inwards to reveal Jason Bell’s smiling face. He stepped back, inviting Cedric into a small room with a functional metal table and a set of matching, straightbacked chairs; windowless, a single camera watching from a corner. A morbidly obese, bearded individual leant across the table, extending his hand as he did so. ‘My name is Charles Dancer, Chief of West Watch.’ Cedric briefly shook his hand. ‘Hello.’ ‘You’ve already met Jason?’ Cedric nodded. Dancer sat down. ‘I’m sorry to have to drag you all the way down here, but as I’m sure you are aware it’s very hard to guarantee privacy these days. Rest assured though that the Announcer has no means whatsoever of listening in on our conversations here. Isn’t that right Jason?’ Jason nodded. ‘This facility is completely shielded.’ Cedric sat down. Jason sat to the side of the desk and slipped a pair of glasses on. Dancer press-started an audio recorder on the table. ‘For the Archivists,’ he explained. He placed the folder he held onto the table. ‘We are worried that you do not perhaps fully understand the enormity of the events you are participating in.’ The recorder’s slow moving tape was distractingly visible to Cedric. He tried to concentrate. When Cedric didn’t respond, Dancer gruffly resumed, ‘Every single bank account in the known world has been corrupted. Your bank appears to be the sole beneficiary. Can you explain this?’ Cedric shrugged. ‘Not really.’ Dancer scowled. ‘I advise you to use your time with us wisely Mr Tucker. This isn’t one of the fictional games that the Announcer is so fond of creating for its clientele. This is real. Is there anything, anything at all, you would like to disclose while you have this opportunity to speak freely?’ Cedric shrugged again. ‘I understand your concerns, but as I told Jason earlier there is very little that I can share with you at the moment. The Announcer won’t tell me what’s going on, it’s hardly talked to me all day. I had no warning at all that it would be issuing a new Universal Edict. I also, let me be clear, had no idea that it would be depositing the proceeds from the Money Tax into my bank, none whatsoever.’ Charles Dancer sat back, both his and Cedric’s eyes flicked to Jason as his glasses darkened. Jason said nothing, content to soak up whatever was being holographically brought to him. ‘Of course not Mr Tucker – may I call you Cedric?’ ‘Sure.’ ‘Cedric you are of course aware that you have no legal rights to the money stolen by the Announcer, that any attempt to use the funds, for whatever purpose, will be a treasonable act.’ stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

thanks nanook

i remember doom - got addicted to that for several weeks... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

What is ignorant is how you think we are saying a gun is a spoon. No one EVER said that. We did say they are both TOOLS. And that the tool is not responsible for the act. You want to blame the tool (guns) for the act (killing). Therefore you must accept that the tool (spoons) are responsible for the act (over eating). And your being unreasonably prejudiced is clear. first: wilfully adverb US usually willfully Some basic safety rules were wilfully ignored. second: the thread title is about addiction to guns - and four guns to every citizen counts as addicted (and very, very scared)... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

Only directly. The fork, by proxy, has been the cause of obesity, in the US, which, in turn, has led to the deaths of thousands. Maybe our only eating utensil, should be a dull edged butter knife. i'm worried that many gun addicts confuse their guns with forks and spoons... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

your australian figures are two years out of date and not sourced - what are the latest figures? stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

careful with that spoon... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

As he walked through the city centre to his Watch appointment – a map was conveniently printed on the flip side of the card, the Announcer burst into life again from his mobile. ‘Jenny’s rang to confirm this evening. She says can she bring an old university friend with her. She’s an Nclicker.’ ‘You’re talking to me now are you?’ Cedric retorted. ‘Do you want to talk to her? I cannot guarantee a private conversation here, the Opeople have a strong presence, and are both monitoring and disrupting my lines of communication. She’s sent a picture.’ Jenny appeared in white t-shirt, knickers and a big grin, her cramped kitchen in the background. She had chosen a ‘see you soon’ message within a huge pink heart to accompany her photo. He couldn’t help but feel brightened. ‘That’s fine, just tell her I miss her and I’ll see her soon.’ ‘I’ll make all the other arrangements?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘News of your involvement is leaking, the press want an interview. They’re at your apartment now, amongst others. It’s a bit of a scrum I'm afraid.’ The Announcer showed him a view of the street outside the Quiet Swan Trading House, where a boisterous melee was in progress. ‘The Metropolitan Police are attempting to clear the entrance but are struggling. I don’t think you will be able to return there unnoticed any time soon.’ ‘Shit,’ Cedric muttered. ‘I need a smoke.’ The Announcer pointed out a discreet hashish café in a narrow, pebbled sidestreet. Depressingly, upon closer inspection it displayed a prominent Watch sign. Cautiously Cedric put his head in and was surprised to find a large, bright, high ceilinged lounge with discreet fans whisking the smoke away from half a dozen older, red eyed patrons. In shiny cubicles at the far end of the cafe were the usual range of immersive games consoles and entertainment screens. A dozen gamers inhabited these cubicles, intensely concentrating on whatever worlds they were competing in, occasionally pausing to imbibe of a lungful of vaporised marijuana before returning to play. ‘Am I safe here?’ Cedric asked the Announcer. ‘Yes, I believe so.’ When the ganja hit his head he sat back for a moment, then pulled out a notepad and pen. He thought about the strange situation the Announcer had put him in. He wrote down and circled ‘black moonshine’, ‘watch’, ‘interview’, and ‘jenny’. For a few moments Cedric, in a dubious state of stoned lucidness, thought that he knew what was happening in the world around him. He imagined the Announcer using the games it created as great social magnets, drawing them across the populations of the world, pulling vast tribes of absorbed players into its occluded schemes. He remembered that when his father had died, abruptly dismembered by flying glass from a random carbomb, his mother had not pulled him away from his gaming screen, instead had simply removed the mains plug. He had been in mid-leap from one battlement to another in a medieval sword and socery epic, twelve year old thumb poised to hit the ‘run’ button as he anticipated the landing, then the screen went blank. He re-focused. The Announcer was playing him as a pawn – yes, that was undoubtedly true. But he was more than that, he had also put himself forward, a dual action. It is still within me to step away from this game, he told himself. I can do it. He fondled the escape button, but somehow could not, would not hit that button. If the screen went blank now he did not know what he would do. Before the high could escape him he drew a second time from the pipe provided, watched the smoke caught by the fans swirl away. How long had the Announcer been with him? He had thought that the claims of its long pre-existence were overdone propaganda, now it seemed otherwise. ‘Were you really Jedi John?’ ‘Yes, and before that I have been others you have met with.’ ‘Who?’ ‘I cannot say.’ ‘Fine,’ he told it. ‘You arrange the press interview. I’ll go meet the Watch and find out what it is they want from me.’ He used the restroom, bought a bar of chocolate and left the café. Now he was sure he was being followed. stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

‘The meeting has gone ahead.’ ‘And Suarez?’ ‘He’s managed to elude the locals, as we knew he would. I got to Tucker before him though, our trackers now have a precise genetic trail. We’ve followed him to the docks. He’s holed up in a warehouse there.’ ‘Good,’ Henson replied. ‘Don’t alarm him. Just keep him on the screens. We have thousands of volunteers moving into position to secure the area. There’s no way he’ll be able to get out of our grip. Lady Blackwright is now in charge of the entire operation. You’ll be relieved shortly.’ ‘Do you want me at Tucker’s interview then?’ Henson pondered for a moment. ‘Yes.’ He replaced the phone. stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

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i suggest that suggesting i am wilfully ignorant and unreasonably prejudiced is very silly coming from someone who thinks a gun is a spoon... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

their army still has quite a lot of them... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

oh yeah, i'm frothing with outrage... (but i'm also scared that you'll take my guns away) stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding

i grew up watching second world war films and cowboy and western films - all very violent... stay away from moving propellers - they bite blue skies from thai sky adventures good solid response-provoking keyboarding