Taking Action

I jack out. Data streams trickle away like dying brooks, and slowly the chip reroutes my sensory nerves. My optics fade back, and Iím met with the gloom of my apartment. I rub my temples, squeeze shut my eyes for a moment before opening them. Jacking out always gives me a headache; ever since this damn implant, itís been getting worse.

Itís not much of a sight. Beers lie scattered across the floor, gathering dust. My old terminalís shoved in a corneróuseless now except for clerical bullshit. With my implant I can jack in anywhere, access and edit my files directly on the Interweb. Itís got all my old case files, though, so I havenít canned it. Not yet, anyway.

A message blinks bright olive on the machine, alien in the gloom. I punch the button.


      Text Version

Well, Iíd wasted some time in the Scape, but I might still be in time to catch Drake. His sister, Mandyósheíd want to know about this right away. But if I waste any more time, who knows how far Drakeíd get. Besides, Iím not so sure I want to put her on the scene until I find out what her brotherís up to.

     What the hell, Iíll call her once I get there. I take off.

     She deserves to knowóitís her case after all. I call her up.

I couldn't take it anymore. I called it off.