Cypher

Cypher

[][] Another suicide bomb went off in Jerusalem today. Three people
killed, excluding the Palestinian bomber. Scores of others injured by
fragments of hyper velocity glass. The explosion took place inside a
shopping mall. [][]
Clarence studied the headline on the inner lens of his DVFrames. Black
framed wraparound glasses with curved rectangular lenses. It was old
news. He closed down the link to his media-account: the neon text
display faded and his DVFrames returned to clear window glass. He had
set the account to alert him to any news articles relating to Israel
and Palestine. The bomb had not affected anywhere relevant to him,
there was no need to worry.
Lucas was out near one of the proposed sites, a good distance from
Jerusalem. Clarence hoped he would be safe there.
Clarence pushed himself away from the wall and moved off; even though
he was on foot he always stopped to when he brought up the DVFrame's
function. He headed down Damstraat, slipping his hands into the pockets
of his Paige-Lee jacket and picked up his pace to weave through the
endless throngs of tourists. He stepped off the crowded pavement onto
the road when he came to the small humped bridge crossing the canal,
his eyes warily checking for the maniac cyclists that would often
appear out of nowhere on a course set for collision. Ignoring the
Nigerian's peddling drugs on the far corners of the bridge he swung
right onto the Oude Zijds Voor Burgwal and walked the narrow
cobblestone tract parallel with the edge of the canal. If he had gone
left he would have entered the notorious Red Light district.
The recent spell of sunny days had ended today with a hazy drizzle that
hung suspended in the air like fog. The grey light ushered the ancient
city back into another era. Clarence smiled to himself, savouring the
coolness of the moisture on his skin and the contrast to the oppressive
heat of the Middle East where until a week ago he had spent the
previous four months working with Lucas. Now he was in Amsterdam,
catching up with his life.
The caf? had become a favourite over the past few days. The walls were
painted with vibrant aquatic colours and adorned with sea shells; small
tables, lit from underneath by soft lamps and topped with a thick layer
of Perspex. Contained within the Perspex were small rocks of crystal
and slivers of shattered mirror.
The atmosphere was heavy with the smell of marijuana and boomed with
deep bass ambient music. The rear of the caf? was lost in low lighting
and smoke haze; just the luminous rectangles of computer screens to
define the boundaries back there.
Clarence ordered a Heineken from the bar, watching as the blonde girl
serving him swept off the excess foam with a wide plastic
spatula.
Turning from the bar he nearly stopped in his tracks, for some reason
he had not noticed the man sitting there when he walked in. It was not
the man but the table he had taken. It was where Clarence preferred to
sit, set within an alcove of plate glass, formed where the caf? window
met the door. The light there was the best to sit within for writing.
Clarence considered choosing another table but he had already set his
mind on spending his time at that one.
He approached the small table and said, "Excuse me." The man looked up.
He was older than Clarence had initially assumed. Shrewd intelligence
written in the lines and features of his face.
Clarence nodded at one of the two empty stools, "Do you mind if I share
your table?"
The man's expression shifted from interest to good natured
accommodation, his accent North American, possibly Canadian, "Sure,
sure." He made a small show of shifting some items around the table as
if to make room.
Clarence sat down mumbling a few words of thanks, but his attention was
already locking down on what he had to get done. He tore open the
Velcro strap across his chest and un-slung the SWAT bag. Unzipping
several compartments he took out a small electronic notebook, a paper
copy of a book on the philosophy of Schopenhauer, and a
scanstick.
Placing them on the table one at a time he was aware of the man
watching him. Clarence took a sip of his beer and used the action to
look at him.
"I think it's going to be a beautiful day." The man said happily as
Clarence's eyes met his.
Clarence continued to sip. His eyes darted to the window and confirmed
that outside was still grey. Normally he had little time for small talk
when he was writing but by the time he came to swallow he decided he
would much rather talk than work today. The new article he was supposed
to be writing was tedious. Clarence lowered the glass of beer and
smiled, "You sound certain."
The man tilted his head to one side and lifted the same shoulder
slightly, sort of a shrug, "Just a hunch." He murmured, his gaze
flitting to the damp world of ancient stone beyond the glass. His eyes
dropped to the items Clarence had placed on the table. "Are you
studying?"
"No." Clarence was asked this question by patrons of coffee-houses
across the world. "I'm writing an article, for a magazine."
The man formed his lips into an `O' shape, as if to say sorry for
getting it wrong; then he smiled, Clarence thought he had teeth like a
shark. "Well, lad, I'll leave you to it. You look like you're
busy."
"No, you're alright, to tell you the truth I can't be bothered at the
moment."
The man laughed, "Lacking in the inspirational fluids. Aye, well, I
know that one. English are you?"
"Yes, and you, Canadian right?"
The man nodded, "Just a regular colonial." He offered the joint he had
been allowing to smoulder between his fingers. Clarence was wondering
what he meant by colonial: did he consider himself to be British once
removed? He took the joint with his left hand then extended his right
hand. The man shook it with mutual openness, added his name.
"Byron."
"Clarence." He said then took a soft drag on the joint, testing the
amount of tobacco on account of the fact he did not smoke cigarettes
and too much tobacco always left him choking. The joint was pure grass.
He inhaled and smiled around the immediate release of tension in his
body, a wave of warmth rushed through him followed by a cold shiver
that left him tingling. He felt the depth of his mind expand a few
degrees. The music swept up over the previous boundary of his
consciousness sprayed his thoughts with a refreshed view of the
world.
He spent a few moments taking a couple more hits then passed the joint
back, his lips curved into a perpetual mellow smile. "Hmmm.
Thanks."
Byron retrieved the joint, shoved it between hard lips, shifted his
body into a more comfortable position where he could lean back against
the wall. Clarence took note of the man's deep and healthy tan; a trim
muscular build working beneath his clothing. He judged him to be in his
early forties. "What are you writing about?" Byron asked him.
Clarence surveyed the items on the table then waved his hand at them
dismissive. "It's supposed to be a beginners guide to building your own
home-site in cyberspace."
"You don't seem to keen on it."
Clarence made a wry face, "It's boring. I don't know why the heck I
agreed to do it."
Byron grinned, "That maybe so, laddy but it pays the bills."
That was not exactly the truth. Clarence had wanted to create a vibrant
approach to the construction of a home-site so that they might stand
out against the glut of ham-fisted creations clogging cyberspace. The
funding for the Middle-East project meant he was very comfortable for
credit. Writing the article was a way of keeping his skills
sharp.
Clarence leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table and propped his
chin on his hand. "I would much rather write something about the impact
cyberspace is having on the flesh trade, especially here in Red Light.
Virtual sex versus reality."
Byron's brow flickered with a few thoughts, "I'm sure that would make a
fascinating subject. Sex always sells."
"Hmm." Grinning at the fact. The more he thought about it the more the
idea appealed. He wished he had the time to do both articles, but Lucas
was sending back large files of data from the project and it all had to
be assimilated, reduced, clarified and edited into a concise report for
the fund managers.
"How about you?" Clarence asked, "What's your vocation, or are you here
on vacation?" He did not see Byron as a tourist; the man looked far too
settled and accustomed to the environment. The impression Clarence had
was a successful business man on some serious R &; R. His clothing
was not the kind of casual wear that was pulled out of a packed
suitcase. A loose fitting blue jogging top free of any corporate logo,
light blue jeans rolled up to reveal a deep and healthy tan on his
ankles.
Byron was chuckling at some thought he was keeping to himself. When he
looked up and met Clarence's gaze he created an almost conspiratorial
expression, "I used to practise law. Now I'm hiding from certain
members of the Canadian government, preparing to write a book exposing
their dirty underhanded tricks in trying to silence me."
The tone Byron used made it sound like he was joking and Clarence began
to smile broadly, but the way he held his gaze and the suddenly serious
cast to his face made Clarence hesitate.
"For real?" Clarence asked, half expecting Byron to reveal he was
pulling his leg.
Byron appeared to debate his answer for a moment before nodding. "It is
indeed the truth my British compatriot. A long story. Maybe I will tell
you some day." Then changing the subject, "I think we share a love for
the pen you and I."
Clarence raised an eyebrow and paused to let the previous revelation
sink in. "Have you started writing it yet?"
"No. Not the Magnus opus. I am working on something smaller and
light-hearted to hone those skills of mine. But our immediate dilemma
is what do we do with you?" He grinned, beaming.
"What do you mean?"
"A young writer trapped against the stifling tedium of uninteresting
subject matter."
Clarence smiled.

+++++

An hour later Clarence found himself at one of the computer terminals
in the low-lit rear of the cafe. Byron sat at another terminal with his
back to him. The Canadian lawyer had suggested a way of getting ideas
together for Clarence, raw material, to use in a possible article about
the Red Light flesh trade and its counterpart in cyberspace.
The terminal in front of him was a large flat screen on an adjustable
mount. The touchboard was set flush with the Perspex top of the table;
the soft illumination of the keys spilling out like Christmas lights.
There was a short length of cable that terminated with a universal
adapter; allowing users to port with just about any peripheral device
or interface lead.
Clarence ported the DVFrames in the caf?'s computer network. He
preferred to use them over the terminal's screen. The data vision
function could be switched between two modes: one was a
Heads-up-Display where text was superimposed on a clear view of the
world, the other was total blackout where the lenses became one hundred
percent opaque immersing the user in whatever was being viewed without
distraction from realspace.
Public domain cyberspace was regulated by ComSquaw. ComSquaw were a
conglomerate of the biggest providers, telecommunication Corp's and
technological guru's and maintained the structure of the stuff between
individual sites. The effect was that eighty seven percent of global
internet could platform a cyberspace with a common structure and
segmented by regional or national variations in its appearance.
Dutch cyberspace, sites which had their physical memory storage based
within Holland's national borders, diverged from the tedious European
classicism and the ubiquitous hark-back to historical culture. Instead,
the Dutch representatives of ComSquaw had embraced a view of the
future. Clarence liked it but he did wonder at the very 1970's
overtones. It reminded him that any glimpse of the future was only ever
subjective.
They left the cafe's purge to enter cyberspace with nondescript
avatars: long humanoid figures with smooth protrusions hinting at
facial features, the cafe's name stencilled in neon across the
chest.
A wide rectangular window expanded across Clarence's vision: it was a
notification from his media account.
Clarence read it: [] Intelligence Branch Chief Warns Hamas Planning
Massive Terrorist Attacks. []
"Are you asleep?" Byron's voice, through the small audio beads
embedded in the arms of the DVFrames.
"Just reading something, ten seconds. " Clarence answered, then
continued reading.
[][] Israel's Defence Force is on alert after intelligence branch
received warnings Hamas is planning massive terrorist attacks to
sabotage the Oslo Final Accord. Hamas and the Islamic Jihad have been
recently receiving their instructions directly from Iran. [][]
Clarence closed the link. Byron's avatar was directly in from of him,
standing inside a shimmering semi-sphere: it looked like a soap bubble
that had been sliced in half. Clarence recognised it as a tour, a piece
of software commonly called a `flying carpet' and used to allow one
person to guide other users through cyberspace without having to
maintain a voice-link telling everybody where to go next. All Clarence
had to do was step into the semi-sphere.
As soon as he did the surrounding view blurred into brightly coloured
light: a quick jump to London cyberspace.
Everything snapped back into focus and Clarence found himself standing
with Byron before a pyramid of black granite within a vast chamber of
sandstone pillars that strained toward a ceiling lost in shadows.
Blazing from the centre of one face of the pyramid was a symbol
Clarence had seen before but could not recognise, it burned orange like
molten lava against the smooth blackness of the marble.
Even though this was a virtual construct rendered against the lenses of
his DVFrames, Clarence could barely suppress the shudder that flexed
his spine like a whip.
"What is this place?" He asked
"Kudos." Byron answered. "Closest you'll ever get to offending
God."
"What?" Clarence gasped, clearly startled. Byron laughed, the pastel
blue form of his avatar's head swinging round to look at him.
"You're not religious are you, lad?"
Back in realspace, Clarence was aware of the flesh around his mouth
creasing with an ironic smile. The co-incidence was absolutely
freakish. He worked the gesture controls of his avatar and made it
display a bright grin. "Not when I can help it."
"You don't do it lying down then." Humour in his voice.
"Yeah-yeah-yeah."
Something stirred behind the apex of the pyramid. A dark cloud slipped
into view and began spiralling down toward them. Byron's avatar stepped
forward and placed his hand on the inclined plane facing them. Clarence
watched the cloud descending, the way it moved making him think that it
was formed of thousands of tiny objects moving together. The limit of
his hearing began picking up a high-frequency chattering, and a sound
that immediately made him think of thousands of tiny wings rustling
together. For no apparent reason Clarence suffered a surge of fear. In
realspace his hands had already snapped up to his face, ready to tear
off the DVFrames. He had to force his brain to remember that he was not
interfaced, that he did not possess sockets. Nothing here could harm
him. He was merely an observer.
The long blue head of Byron's avatar had turned to face him, his hand
still placed on the inclined plane of the pyramid. Clarence moved
forward rapidly, "Do you need to be a member?"
"Nope. Keep moving."
Clarence tried to take a quick glance up above but he had already
passed through the wall...
And stepped into Bedlam.

++++

Kudos_113 consisted of lo-tech chatrooms radiating off a central nest
of inter-linked routes.
These routes were curved walkways of copper, brass and stone, like the
flywheels of oversized watch components. Some wheels rotated
horizontally, sweeping round on huge arc's that themselves moved
through the general mass in some slow orbit of other things. All the
horizontal wheels were bisected at points by the curve of vertical
wheels. Avatars walked slowly along them, or stood still, being carried
forward, trying to calculate the point where they should step off onto
the next wheel to reverse their direction of travel or take themselves
higher or lower. Whenever an avatar stepped onto a vertical wheel,
their whole orientation was changed so that it looked as though they
were defying gravity, sticking out like spokes as the wheel circled up
or down.
The overall impression was chaotic, perpetual movement within a
creation that reminded Clarence of pictures by Escher; Relativity or
House of Stairs.
Clarence stood mesmerised by sheer size and complexity of the puzzle.
And puzzle it was. Access to the chatrooms was limited by the ability
to traverse the space between them. Byron seemed happy to let him stand
there and observe for a few moments. It was like a scene from the
1920's film Metropolis, except the droves of humanoids pacing
robotically across the rotating walkways were not workers but avatars
of people logged into cyberspace across the globe. The destination
points, the entrance's to the various chatrooms were rendered as
classically sculptured figures, gleaming white as marble statues,
standing on stone shelves that simply floated at random points within
the shifting chaos.
"There is a simple system." Byron said. "A cypher, if you like."
"Do you know it?" Feeling intrigued and a little excited.
"Hell, yes, I cracked this place years ago lad. Come on, I'll show
you; and if anybody shows a brain in this place and tries to follow our
footsteps I hope they're good at sticking one pace behind."
"Why's that?" Moving forward as Byron stepped up onto a wide stone
shelf that symbolised the start of the puzzle.
"Because the route changes as you walk it. Nine by three, lad. It's
the answer to the riddle."
And it was. Movement was measured in invisible grid points, or steps.
Embarking from the stone shelf, Clarence followed one step behind Byron
as they strode along the wide curve of a copper cog wheel. The metal
work was fabulously engraved with patterns of lines and small
perforations. After nine grid-points the edge of the wheel met with the
edge of a smaller, faster spinning wheel on the same level. Ornately
sculptured teeth meshing together in perfect tandem. Byron stepped onto
it. Three quick steps later, another wheel passed close by on a slow
orbit. Byron stepped across. After nine more steps, they came to a
vertical stone wheel. Byron's avatar stretched a foot out and connected
with the grainy surface of the wheel; immediately he was transferred to
it and began walking vertically up.
They progressed through the puzzle like this for a total of nine
jumps. The simplicity of their progress, hidden behind the overwhelming
surface complexity, was breath taking.
Clarence abruptly found himself standing on one of the stone shelves
with a pale marble statue, stationary amongst the revolving chaos, and
it had only taken a few seconds to get there.
The statue was of a muscular male youth gazing with awe at a simple
globe he held aloft before him. Byron's avatar touched the statue and
vanished in a flare of amber light. Clarence did the same.
Touching the statue resulted in his visuals blurring into streaks of
soft amber light which quickly retracted to reveal a new jump location.
Clarence found himself seated in a spongy armchair in a small room with
red painted walls. There was no sign of Byron. Directly in front of him
was a wide wraparound view-screen, lines of text appeared every few
seconds, scrolling down the page as new lines appeared above. Clarence
frowned. It was an old text-based chat forum. He glanced around the
virtual construct that was the room, but there were no other features
except the screen. The arm of the chair had a big red button beneath a
hinged plastic casing; Clarence looked at the button but decided not to
touch it.
A small window opened up across his general vision, a line of text
began to expand across it: `Whatever you do, lad, do not push that
button on the side of the chair.'
"Why not?" Clarence said. When no response came he realised his
voice-link had been closed. His fingers reached out to the touch-board
, hidden from sight by the DVFrames across his face; he typed a
response: `Why not?'
A new line of text appeared in the window. On the viewscreen in the
background, Clarence could pick out numerous handles, nicknames of the
people using the chat-forum, and the text they were hammering out
between them. `The button dumps you back out into the public domain. I
would have to come back out to find you. Bummer if that happens. You
have to use your keyboard to communicate. Enter your handle in the
blank box, select who you want to talk to, then just type away.'
Clarence could feel himself grinning, a distant reminder of his flesh
beyond the total immersion of the digital realm before his eyes. 'Ok'
He typed back, then closed down the window.
He allowed himself a few seconds to watch the conversations scrolling
down the screen filling the wall in front of him:

Samm said to ~CaRleY~
i see you've met my friend Bean Bag..*giggels*

~CaRleY~ said to STARYiiis
Hi there.hows it going?

Dreamer said to memphis
Sorry :( I meant to....

Bean Bag said to ~CaRleY~
I didn"t mean to upset you...I'm sorry!! I just ment Samm!!!

alyssa~ said to Dreamer
I always knew we had things incommon, just had to get your gaurd down
thats all. *s*

~CaRleY~ said to Samm
where did you get to??...

memphis said to Dreamer
looks like you've been busy *wink* you really ought to mail me when
yousay you will - i love gettin mail

STARYiiis said to ~CaRleY~
hey...get all rested yet?

~CaRleY~ said to Bean Bag
you didn't upset me....*S*

BH said to C
Are you actually going to participate in this event?

Clarence chuckled, used the touchboard to enter his handle in the
space provided, simply using what Byron had already chosen for him, the
letter `C'. There was a list of participants in the bottom right of the
screen, Clarence discovered he could use the touchboard to point at the
various handles there. He chose BH and typed a response which appeared
on the screen:

C said to BH
I'm here I'm here okay! *laffing*

Clarence watched for a response.

Samm said to Bean Bag
i just posted you!!!*giggles*

alyssa~ said to STARYiiis
well your welcome :) ya looked alittle lonely. how are you?

~CaRleY~ said to C
nice to see you. *waves*

Clarence frowned. Who the hell was Carley? He was used to chat-rooms
rendered in three-dimensions, where avatars moved about and met each
other much like people in a large party. He found the Kudos format
disconcerting because he was isolated from all contact with who he was
chatting to. All he had to go on was a name. Just as he was thinking of
what to say back to Carley, he saw:

BH said to C
tame, is it not?

Clarence found himself panicking, pressured by time to respond quickly
enough. He typed,

C said to ~CaRleY~
Err, thanks, do I know you? *puzzled*

C said to BH
What do you mean?

Clarence waited for a response.

~CaRleY~ said to Samm
you told me about Bean Bag the other night....*S*

Bean Bag said to Samm
I really should go to beb because 6:00am comes very quickly!!! Oh ya I
just called BUDz and he has gone out somewere and I don't know where he
would go at 11:00pm on a Wed night...

~CaRleY~ said to C
no you don't know me. I was just being friendly&;#8230;. *S*

For some reason Clarence felt himself cringe at the candid honesty.
Then a window opened up across his vision. It was notification from his
media account: []Jordan Continues Hamas Crackdown.[]
Clarence read on:
[][]Jordan has stated it has not considered any move to back off on
its crackdown on the Palestinian Islamic Resistance Movement, Hamas,
regardless of opposition pressure. Prime Minister Rawabdeh told a news
conference a few moments ago the decision to close down Hamas offices
in Jordan late last week and arrest of some of the group's members was
a "judicial decision."
Rawabdeh informed representatives of the foreign media that the
authorities were still searching for two Hamas fugitives believed to be
in hiding in Jordan, and that they will be tried for "belonging to an
illegal organisation."
The powerful Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood, which has close links to
Hamas, has requested a meeting with King Abdullah IV to reverse the
government's decision to crack down on Hamas.
They insist that Hamas in Jordan had for decades maintained peaceful
activities confined to public relations. [][]
Clarence cut the link and silently mouthed the word `Shit'. He glanced
up at the screen, scanning for any posts from Byron.

Samm said to ~CaRleY~

~LOL~ i'm still here, but i couldn't whisper to you...*L*

alyssa~ said to Ice
sorry that last post was for you.

BH said to C
you're off dreaming again&;#8230;.. reading those damn news
feeds!

Clarence stopped for a second to wonder how he knew, then sent a
reply:

C said to BH
Sorry mate, I gotta run. Stay here if you like. Thanks for the intro.
Catch you in here same time tomorrow?

A few more posts scrolled by before Byron responded.

BH said to C
*waves* I am sure that would be delightful. C U tomorrow!

Clarence made his avatar lift the plastic casing on the seat's arm and
hit the red button there. Cyberspace visuals rapidly blurred, but he
lifted off the DVFrames before he could see where the jump sent him. He
disconnected from the Caf?'s terminal then glanced behind him. Byron
was reclined in the chair, a pair of the caf?'s goggles hugging his
face. Almost as if Byron could see realspace and knew Clarence was
looking at him, he abruptly raised a hand without otherwise altering
his posture. Clarence smiled briefly, but his thoughts dragged him up
onto his feet and out the cafe.

++++

Back in the cubic confine of his hotel room Clarence crossed his legs
beneath him and slumped back against the wall at the head of the bed.
He had kicked off his trainers and told the room's continuity chip to
lower the temperature by two degrees: the chill would keep his thoughts
sharp.
Beside him, on the bed, was a flat rectangular slab of grey plastic: a
Phoebus model from the market leaders of portable workstations,
Paragon-DeltaCom. Clarence rarely took it out with him, especially when
hopping through cities; it was worth a month's salary at contractor
rates and increased his risk of robbery. He pulled the Phoebus over
onto his lap and slid his thumb into the print-lock, a subtle beep
followed. With minimal effort he tossed the workstation back onto the
duvet. Reaching over the side of the bed he hoisted up his SWAT bag
from the floor and took out the small electronic notebook. He thumbed a
small switch on the notepad's casing to activate its IR port. The
notepad sent out a quick sweep, recognised the workstation lying
nearby, established a link, and began transferring all the changes
Clarence had made to the files since earlier that morning. This was his
normal routine, leaving the Phoebus locked away safe, relying on the
cheap, risk-free portability of his notepad.
A soft beep signalled that all files had been synchronised between the
two devices. Clarence remained in a comfortable slouch, did not change
his posture except to lift his hand to rub his noise.
"Machine, voice mode." He said.
"Voice mode active." The Phoebus responded, its speech set to a
soothing female chrome.
"Machine, divert my phone link to message service. Bring up visible IR
connection on hud."
"Phone link diverted." As the machine spoke, so the view through his
DVFrames adjusted to reveal the brightly coloured beams of infra-red
traffic passing between the Phoebus, notepad and his ear-clip; the
latter being the hub of his personal telecomunications. Clarence spread
his lips in an appreciate smile at the vivid light display in front of
his eyes. A cheap effect but nice to look at.
"Disable voice confirmation of my actions." Clarence found the
perpetual repetition of everything he asked became tedious. "Move me
into smartframe mode." The view of the hotel room was replaced by a
empty space rendered in a three dimensional web of green lines.
Normally this would be filled in to create a personal virtual reality,
an office where he could work off-line from cyberspace. Most tech and
design industry's called this virtual place the White Room, which was
the factory default any new user got with a new cyberdeck: a white,
blank room, ready to be filled with any virtual reality construct.. It
was the kind of non-place where designers could build their sites
before up-loading them to ComSquaw to be inserted into the fabric of
cyberspace.
Clarence had started to build his White Room but had liked the green
contour lines and the absence of detail, so had never changed the room
beyond that.
Checking his mail box he was disappointed to find there was nothing
new from Lucas. He would be confined to sifting through the data sent
through so far, writing up the reports.
Clarence activated a command to bring up a list of files stored within
the Phoebus under the directory of 'Sodom and Gomorrah'. A sheet of
smoked glass appeared, softly illuminated characters described an
complex file structure. Clarence brought up a document called
'Draft___dump'. A ream of papers in a cardboard folder appeared on the
floor of the room. It was a general document he used for work in
progress. Picking it up he turned to the first page,

Genesis 10:19 And the border of the Canaanites was from Sidon, as thou
comest to Gerar, unto Gaza; as thou goest, unto Sodom, and Gomorrah,
and Adnah, and Zeboim, even unto Lasha.

Genesis 13:12 Abram dwelled in the land of Canaan, and Lot dwelled in
the cities of the plain, and pitched his tent toward Sodom.

Genesis 19:23 The Sun was risen upon the earth when Lot entered into
Zoar.

Genesis 19:24 Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah
brimstone and fire from the lord out of heaven; 25 And he overthrew
those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities,
and that which grew upon the ground.

Remains of cities during time of Christ: 2 Peter 2:6 And turning the
cities of Sodom and Gomorrah into ashes condemned them with an
overthrow, making them an ensample unto those that after should live
ungodly.

Genesis 19:27 And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place
where he stood before the Lord; 28 And he looked toward Sodom and
Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo,
the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.

Destruction took place between sunrise and time Abraham rose (would
this have been early if Abraham had flocks to tend?)

JUD 1:7 Even as Sodom and Gomorrah, and the cities about them in like
manner, giving themselves over to fornication, and going after strange
flesh, are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal
fire.

Destruction took place 3,900 years ago.
Preservation of ashen remains_____
see Quantum Mechanics and the Holy Ghost, an Example of Divine
Preservation, Dr Shimon Cohen, Dead Sea Academy.

Clarence read through the entries; he had placed them there as a
constant reminder of the principle history of the area where Lucas was
conducting his excavations. Canaan. Now the most likely resting place
of the artefact. Once again the words set ablaze his imagination,
caused him to ponder intensely the fate of Sodom, Gomorrah, and the
other three cities caught up in the firestorm that reduced them to so
much ash, and yet leave their remains preserved for nearly 4000
years.
Lucas was encamped in the remains of site he believed was once Zeboim.
That all depended on whether you believed Sodom or Gomorrah even
existed at all. Lucas followed the school of thought t hat Sodom and
Gomorrah and their fate was not a fairy tale. It was a historical event
that occurred as the Biblical account presented it.
What made the investigation difficult was that the site was in an
Israeli high-security zone along the Jordan river, north of Jericho.
Permits had been obtained by Lucas, but, officials had already queried
certain aspects of the research that had been declared. Lucas had made
no mention of the artefact, but, the questions being asked made Lucas
certain that his small workforce of hired hands contained an informer
for the Israeli security services. This was not some leap of paranoia.
Lucas had been raised in Boston, Massachusetts, adopted by a Christian
married couple who were part of a relief agency working in the
middle-east; he had been born in Palestinian territory, his blood
mother had given him away after his father had been killed by Israeli
soldiers after driving through a check-point on the Erez
crossing.
It would be a devastating blow if Lucas was forced to abandon the
project.
Clarence shifted his weight where he lay slouched with his back
against the wall, almost in response to the surge of excitement that
came from just thinking about what they were searching for.
If they could find it, the consequences on world religion would be
dramatic.
Once again, Clarence visibly squirmed where he lay on the bed, a rush
of adrenaline making it impossible to lie still.
"Shit." he muttered, realising it was going to be useless trying to
relax and impossible to stay there working.
"Drop me back to hud."
The wire-frame office was engulfed in a flare of orange light that
quickly faded to reveal the hotel room. Clarence opened his mouth to
speak another command but something he saw made him snap his jaw shut.
The IR connections were still visible as bright beams passing between
the Phoebus and the notepad and the DVFrames. However, sitting on the
bed right beside him, the outline defined in an inexplicable manner by
the beams passing through it, was the figure of a man. A short croaking
sound escaped between Clarence's lips.
"Machine," he managed to say; "Run a V-D resolution diagnostic, I'm
picking up some weird visuals here."
At that moment the head of the figure swivelled round as if it had
just turned its attention toward him. Clarence froze as the hairs on
the back of his neck prickled up, "Holy shit." he forcibly
whispered.
The figure rose up, its outline flickering as it passed through the IR
beams, then stepped away vanishing.
Clarence whipped up his hands and pulled the DVFrames from his face.
There was nothing in the room. His eyes were bulging with fear and
confusion.
"Too fucking weird." he muttered.
Closing down the computer equipment he slipped the notepad back into
his SWAT satchel and left the hotel heading straight for Oudezijds -
Achterburgwal, the commercial heartland of the Red Light
district.
As he walked his thoughts buzzed around the strange phenomenon of what
happened in the hotel room until he entered the first narrow alleyway,
where blood red light and ultraviolet neon spilled out from the glass
doorways. Immediately his pace dropped to a slow stroll and his visual
cortex swamped his brain with the scantily dressed women posing there.
It always blew him away how beautiful many of them were.
A few minutes passed without Clarence even realising; he had weaved
back and forth along the narrow alleyways between the two major canals
in the district, sucked into a daze as his eyes roamed the woman's
faces without any reason or sense of what it was he was looking for.
This always happened to him when he walked around Red Light, he could
lose hours just wandering, sometimes squeezed into slowly shuffling
lines of gawping men, passing the same women again and again as he
circled what was in reality a very small portion of the city.
The idea of the feature he wanted to write took a hold of his brain
again. He found it interesting that despite the availability of sexual
gratification through an expanding variety of on-line virtual forums,
the trade in real sex had not significantly changed since the district
was established in the 1970's. Clarence suspected the existence of a
base-line human demand. Technology had been integrated into every
aspect of the Western lifestyle, yet the primary users of it, the
individuals who channelled their needs and skills through an aggressive
use of technology, were a comparatively small segment of the
population. So the question, Clarence mused, was: was the base-line
demand for real sex set by actual human need, or by a lack of awareness
of the virtual alternatives? Clarence sensed that the average person on
the street would probably not possess the knowledge base to put
together an independent, fully interactive, controllable sexual
experience. Unlike some of the drill-heads he knew, people with neural
interface sockets surgically implanted in their skull. Most
drill-head's boosted the basic neural interface, which on a simple
level allowed the human brain to manipulate computer processes and visa
versa, installing extra co-processor's to enhance numerous features.
The favourite for this was what he had commonly heard called the 'flesh
burner', which increased the intensity of physical stimulation when
jacked into cyberspace. It gave access to limitless levels of
controllable pleasure. Given this, Clarence now wondered why human
culture had not sunk down that route? Was there a threshold, a minimum
need for a human to interact one on one with another human without
technology?
Clarence stopped on the corner of a bridge crossing a canal almost
choked by mist. Directly across the small cobblestone street was a
tall, tanned blonde woman wearing a softly luminous pink gel bra and
hotpants. The glass door to her scarlet sanctum was open and she smiled
sweetly at the men who passed her by. Clarence stared, transfixed; not
by her beauty but by the very essence of what was occurring. He
sometimes wondered why he was so intrigued by human behaviour.
The woman caught his gaze and held it with what was a compelling
smile. He was walking toward her before his brain had time to think
about it.
"Do you want to suck or fuck?" she asked him matter-of-factly.
Clarence felt shocked the words, she was still smiling, almost
innocently if such a word could be applied in the context. Several men
had stopped to watch the interaction. Clarence felt his cheeks
beginning to burn.
He chucked self-consciously, "Er, no, neither, I just want to
talk."
"Talk?" she probed, frowning. Her accent was thick, possibly Arabic
and Clarence realised her English may not be very good.
"Yeah, talk, I'd like to ask you some questions, I'm writing an
article."
The woman looked at him, not understanding. Some of the observers
moved off, she glanced after their departure like she was annoyed at
the loss of business. "Talk?" She repeated, not very happy.
"Yeah, yeah, talk." Clarence nodded, deciding he could try to explain
better inside. He just wanted to get off the street, he could feel his
neck was slick with a build up of nervous sweat.
"Okay, we talk!" She exclaimed, smiling suddenly and stepping to one
side to let him enter. Just as he moved forward she placed an open palm
lightly on his chest, "But you still pay. One-fifty for fifteen
minutes, I will talk to you all you want, I will tell you anything you
want to know."
Clarence hesitated, a realisation dawning on him. The woman would
probably just answer any way she thought he would be pleased. She would
lie. It was not what he wanted.
With another wave of neck burning embarrassment he stepped back
shaking his head. "Sorry."
The woman made little reaction, she dropped her hand and returned to
her original position. Clarence turned and walked away quickly.

++++

He went back to the cafe hoping to catch Byron still there, but the
Canadian was gone. Clarence ordered a Heineken and sat down at one of
the computer terminals.
For a while he continued to ponder the central argument for the
feature he wanted to write. What would be the impact if the Red Light
invested the money into creating an easily accessible virtual sex zone?
Would the trade in real flesh decline?
He didn't consciously intend to go there but after a few minutes of
roaming through Dutch cyberspace he jumped to Kudos_113.
Once again, he found himself before the black pyramid within the
chamber of sandstone pillars. Even though he was viewing it only
through the DVFrames, the visuals created a undeniable sense of awe.
Clarence could only imagine what it must be like to come here jacked in
through a neural interface. The eerily familiar symbol blazed from the
centre of one face of the pyramid, and Clarence could almost feel the
heat from the intense light on his face. He stared at the symbol, which
reminded him of Hebrew, trying to fathom where he had seen it before.
The impression of movement above him made him direct his view upward. A
sense of dread gripped him at the sight of the black cloud spiralling
down toward him from the apex of the pyramid, the sound of rustling
wings and chattering sent a fresh shudder down his spine. He quickly
moved forward, placed a hand upon the face of the pyramid and stepped
inside.
Nothing about the insanity of the interior had changed. Remembering
Byron's clue to the easy passage through the constantly shifting
wheel's, Clarence stood on the stone ledge then strode forward using
the nine by three route.
Clarence discovered that if he did not hesitate he could make his way
to any of the statues. He did not return to the statue of the youth
gazing at the globe. Instead, he stopped on a shelf where a pale marble
woman groped her own breasts.
Touching the statue he was instantly transported to another small room
submerged in deep red light, sat in a black rubber armchair, facing a
screen. He read the text appearing on the screen.

MinnesotaMan said to -
YOu sure could.. what are your stats???

shelli18 said to -
Looking for a dominant older guy or girl to verbally humiliate me on
powwow. I like cum and like having my mouth used. my addy is
littlegirl@yazdaerd.com

fox(m) said to 69er (F38)
what could i tell them about you?

FastbreaKs said to Succor
What kind of animals have you been with?

Clarence let out a sharp laugh into realspace, a wide grin curving his
lips beneath the DVFrames. He read on:

regular guy said to Shadow(f)
should I keep posting pics, or hang it up?

M said to 69er (F38)
I love to nible on clit.

Smithers said to -
any women who masterbate here..

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Enters Room &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Alabama1 said to -
Masturbate is spelled with an U not an E you dumb fucks

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Looks Around &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Shadow(f) said to Vlad Tepes
Don't think so...I think it's Hershey/Harrisburg or somewhere down
there. Wait a couple weeks when all the flatlanders start coming up for
hunting season and I'll find out.

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Steps Into The Room
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Strides Into The Room
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Vlad Tepes said to The Ghost of Greg Allman
*LMAO*
Oh OK....well at least now ya get to see Duane again...tell him I said
hi
OK? :)

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Senses The Silence
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

need2pee said
any ladies into showers?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; The Silent One &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; The One Watching From His Shadows
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Clarence took note of the last entries, his curiosity piqued. For a
moment he wondered if they were referring to him.

Minnesota said to 69er (F38)
yes.
what are your stats?

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Shall You Not Speak?
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Smithers said to -
any women who masterbate here..
-----------------------
No one masterbates...they masturbate. LOL

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; His Mouth Is Dry
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; The Fear Has Him
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Steven said to -
hello

Boris said to Selena
Hiya GLB! *hugs and a bum pinch*

Alabama1 said to
This room is full of losers, geeks, addicts, and fucking freaks.

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; He Requires A Drink
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

zsd said to
cmsq://016.208.235.98.5/search/1159/2/07033810ay.ypg

Selena said to Vlad Tepes
*tucking in my wings* Nope, not tonight I got to work last
night!
How about you?

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; A Drink He Shall Have
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Missouri Woman said to o
Gooey!
cmsq://hem1.passagen.se/boffalo/cum/bobbi023.ypg
Love, Liz .. At cmsq://001.216.22.230.73/pix/

Zik said to zsd
Here you obnoxious fuck....go here and get your own index..
Huns Yellow Pages.

Clarence felt a tapping on his shoulder in realspace. He almost
jumped. Carefully removing the DVFrames he blinked at the intrusion of
reality. A mixed-race man with colourful dreadlocks and a bright blonde
goatee was stooping beside him, Clarence recognised him as one of the
people working behind the bar. He was placing a fresh cup of coffee on
the table beside the computer. "Regular, with milk, no sugar." The man
said.
"What?" Clarence stammered as an auto-reaction.
"Coffee, maan, you ordered it." The man grinned, walking off.
Clarence stared at the cup of coffee as if it had just landed from
outer space. After a few moments of unsuccessful rationalising he took
a close look at the other people using the computers. There were two
men who looked like tourists, hammering out E-mails; one woman, jacked
in through a socket in her temple. He stared at her for a few moments,
trying to sense in some way if she was one of the entities in the
Kudos. She was very thin, dressed in a rainbow stripped tank top, white
blouse and combat trousers, long blonde hair shaved on the sides pulled
back into a loose pony tail. She remained motionless, a safety harness
on the chair strapping her in because her whole being was submerged in
another universe; you could have probably hit her in the face with a
sledge hammer and she wouldn't feel it.
The other possibility was that there was nobody in the cafe involved
at all. Clarence slipped the DVFrames back into place, his vision now
returned to the red lit room and the screen.

69er (F38) said to fox(m)
Tell them that I love to have my legs pinned back and my pussie fuck
hard, i love watching a guys cock slamming into me hard and fast.

Missouri Woman said to Old Fart
Show Me Your Equipment, Old Fart! *s*
Love, Liz

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; He Did Not Touch It
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; No Gratitude &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Clarence shook his head in realspace, he could not believe it. Quickly
he replied:

C said to Cluroer 2311112 AND Tecisu 112112
Who the hell are you?

shelli18 said to
hi guys

Shadow(f) said to Vlad Tepes
there's a 'tour of PA' map? Damn..I have to get my head out of that
damn spray dryer and stop breathing the powder. I'm missing to
much.

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; HmmMmmmMmmm &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

zsd said to
cmsq://016.208.235.98.5/search/1159/2/07033810ay.ypg

Zik said to C
Uh-oh, watch out fella

FastbreaKs said to shelli18
Hello:)

NHguy said to shelli18
hello....where are you from?

HLAS sai_________________________________________

Clarence watched a line expand across the screen, cutting off all
previous entries. His hands tensed, ready to pull off the DVFrames, for
some reason he was feeling scared.

Jakaw 31312 said to Clarence
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Some Privacy &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

"Shit." Clarence swore out loud. How did they get his name?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; You Should Make Him Pay For That
Drink &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; No Gratitude &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Empty His Credit Account
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Woah, Clarence thought, suddenly made more wary and angry than scared;
it was obvious he was dealing with a group of accomplished hackers. He
replied:

C said to -
I'm really impressed by your skills. What do you guys call
yourselves.

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Amusing &;#8224;&;#710; ? ?
~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; We Have Shown You Nothing To Be
Impressed &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Jakaw 31312 said to Clarence
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Try This &;#8224;&;#710; ? ?
~ ?_?

A moment later his DVFrames made a soft beep followed by a prompt
stating that a download was complete.
"Download?" He muttered, "What download?"
He was about to type in another question when the whole view burst
into black and white static then snapped back to the cafe. He had been
completely dumped from cyberspace. Clarence opened his mouth to utter
some general curse but fell silent as he turned his head and his gaze
swept across the other people using the computer decks. The download
which had occurred had added a curious new function to his DVFrames.
Superimposed upon his vision was a complex layering of information,
colour coded and apparently linked to any individual his eyes fell
upon. Clarence frowned sharply, continuing to remain speechless. He
focussed on the layers of text linked by coloured lines to the woman
with the rainbow tank-top. Menu options were available to isolate any
of the layers. Clarence began to read what was being presented and he
felt his whole body go numb, his head reeled as if he has just been
thrown across the room by some violent upheaval. At first he read the
woman's name, her age, her address, then moved onto to her employment
records, payroll data, bank account details, employment history, tax
records, a plethora of financial information. More mind boggling were
the lists of her associates and the option to bring up the same
information on any of them.
Clarence closed his eyes for a long moment, feeling them burn as if he
had held then open without blinking for too long so that they had gone
dry. When he opened them again, he shifted his gaze to the young mixed
race man at the bar. The same information was available. His entire
life was there before Clarence's eyes.
It was too much.
Clarence pulled the DVFrames from his face, lurched to his feet and
strode out of the cafe. He had no idea where he was going, he just
walked.

++++

[][]Sheikh Ahmed Yassin, leader of the Islamic resistance movement
Hamas, said that the renewed attempt at a lasting peace agreement
between the Palestinian and the Israeli government is weak and will not
last long.
Yassin addressed by holo-presence a rally of hundreds of Hamas
supporters in the West Bank town of Ramallah to commemorate the death
of two brothers, Imad and Adel Awadallah, killed by an Israeli death
squad in Hebron two decades ago.
"The Oslo final accord, the so-called peace agreements which were
signed recently can never give the Palestinian people their lands and
their legitimate rights back," the ageing quadriplegic,
wheelchair-bound leader told the protesters.
Yassin repeated his promise to the Hamas supporters, who chanted
"Alaho Akbar" (God is great), and "revenge revenge" that his movement
will never submit to the Oslo pact.
He said that Hamas will never forget that Jihad, or holy war, is the
only way to free the "Palestinian occupied lands." [][]
Clarence closed the link. He recalled that the same threats had been
made twenty years earlier when the Wye land-for-security deals had
attempted to clear the way for the creation of a Palestinian state. It
seemed that those threats had held true. Despite the initial optimism
and enthusiasm for lasting peace, a series of horrific suicide bombings
perpetrated by Hamas and the failure to solve contentious issues such
as the future of Jerusalem, Jewish settlements and the borders of
Palestinian territories, led to a stalemate that left the Palestinians
with unfilled dreams and the majority of Israeli people disappointed by
the breakdown. It was the minority in power who had dragged the peace
process into stagnation. He knew that if the temperature got any hotter
around security issues, Lucas would be picked up, detained, questioned
and probably expelled. A large foreign delegation was amassing in
Jerusalem to witness the final-stage talks set to occur between the
Palestinian and the Israeli governments. If the talks went through,
then a lasting peace deal would be locked into place. If the talks
failed, most international observers predicated a bloody war. The risk
of a terrorist attack was high. Neither side were taking any chances.
For Lucas, working in a high-security zone, his Palestinian background
might be considered a potential threat.
Clarence shut his eyes and rubbed his finger tips around their edges.
He was sitting outside beneath the awning of a bar called Belmondo's,
on Nieuwmarkt. Tall devices like umbrellas kept the chill from the air
beneath the awning and allowed Clarence to enjoy the lingering misty
atmosphere; he found the damp air refreshing.
It had been only three hours since his experience with the new
download. He was surprised how quickly his feelings of unease had been
replaced by wonder. Taking a seat at Belmondo's he had enjoyed the last
light of the afternoon with several small glasses of Heineken,
voyeuristically observing the lives of the people who sat nearby with
his new toy. It was fascinating. It appeared there was nobody whose
life history the DVFrames could not interrogate. The one prominent
question now rising through the chattering babble of thoughts inside
his head was: how? The DVFrames were dependent on his phone-link for
access to the global information network. Yet when he switched his
phone off, the DVFrames were still able to operate with their new
function. The only solution Clarence could come up with for this was
that the data being transmitted through to his DVFrames was
piggy-backing the local communication infrastructure. It was a true
statement that in the modern world, every building and most rooms had a
transceiver station for routing data through the global information
highway. The DVFrames appeared to be operating within a hackers
nirvana, unrestricted use of any communication channel available.
As for how an individual person was identified, the DVFrames had been
reconfigured to pick up the transmission signatures from the kind of
embedded technology carried by every person in the western world; from
mo-com's to personal bio-monitors.
Part of his mind questioned what motive was behind giving him the
download, but his rapidly growing fascination with the technology
closed down the desire for an answer.
Clarence drained the last of his beer and stood up. Two women on the
next table glanced up at him; Clarence smiled, and in his slightly
inebriated state was tempted to address them by their names: already he
knew more about them than they probably knew about each other. Instead
he trudged forward, rounded a corner and sank back into the neon depths
of the Red Light.
If he had been overwhelmed before by the choice of women standing in
the glass doorways, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. As he
repeated a few circuits of the narrow walkways he began to visibly see
the connections between the prostitutes, who knew who, how long they
had worked in the zone, who paid what and to which group for their
protection. Clarence began to think of how he could use the information
for the feature he wanted to write, although it was difficult to see
how he could demonstrate the impact of cyberspace on the flesh trade.
However, caressing the underside of his mammalian brain stem was the
awakening desire to have one of these women as a lover outside of her
work. It was a crazy notion, but he had to acknowledge it was something
he had always craved. To him, perhaps mistakenly, these women were
masters of sexual gratification. He thought of them as creatures who
knew the secret to taking men to realms of undiscovered pleasure. In
the scenario he placed himself within, he would have to overcome the
woman's emotional barriers, melting her cynicism, suspicion and
coldness toward sex.
Clarence suddenly felt dazed, swamped by a clammy guilt that had no
identifiable source. He shut down the DVFrames and quickly made his way
out of the Red Light district, crossing onto the Oude Zijds Voor
Burgwal to return to the cafe. The place was full of late evening
revellers, the music was very loud, cranked up to be audible above the
riot of conversations taking place. The air was dense with marijuana
smoke and the heat of so many people crammed into the low ceiling
space. He found an free computer, slumped down into the chair and
jumped straight into Kudos.
Within the chaotic motion of the place he found the statue of the
woman groping her breasts.
Inside the booth he quickly scanned the screen searching for the
presence of Cluroer, Tecisu, and Jakaw, and also for any sign of
Byron..

BubbaGump said to Selena
send me a hot pick!
how u doing?

Greg said to mums out 18f
Keep doing it.
Tell me how you're feeling.
I'd like to listen to you cum.

Jakaw 31312 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Enters Room &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Steps Into The Room
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Strides Into The Room
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Sam I Am~ said to Free Spirit (f)
I am 33, brown hair and eyes, five foot ten, 190, olive skinned, and
nicely toned... I have been around Kudos for a while, and I love
erotica as well, especially stories...
**smile**

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Welcome Back &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

The last entries appeared so suddenly Clarence had almost no time to
react. He hurriedly hammered out a response.

C said to Them
Who are you?

mums out 18f said to Greg
5'4 blonde quite pretty long hair - I dont shave myself doen there but
otherwise smooth body 34b pointy nipples I suppose

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; See If He Appreciates Your
Generosity This Time &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; He Only Wants More
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

UhOh!{f} said to YGu
Howdy

C said to Jakaw
Who are you?

Greg said to mums out 18f
Imagine how my tongue would feel on your wet pussy.
Close your eyes and think of my cock slipping into you.
Filling you.
Completely.

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; We Are The Apocolytes. Did You Enjoy
What We Gave You? &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

YGu said to UhOh!{f}
How is your day going?

C said to Jakaw
Yes, yes... imensley. I... I don't understand or why but thank you. Do
you have anymore like that?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Told You &;#8224;&;#710; ? ?
~ ?_?

mums out 18f said to Greg
pushing 2 fingers in touching my right nipple

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; There Is Lots We Could Show You. If
You Are Ready. &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

C said to Jakaw
What do you mean?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Smiles &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~
?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Grins &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~
?_?

TxMale said to UhOh!{f}
hi where u from

regular guy said
what is it with the rings on thumbs??? any ladies care to
answer?

cmsq://www.bignbuxom.com/443557/post/Big_11.ypg

C said to Jakaw
hello? Are you still there?

Selena said to BubbaGump
cmsq://busty-hills.porncity.xet/111244/wet1655.ypg

Handyman(OH) said to
*looking in*

IMA N.Y. ASSHOLE said to Selena
WHERE YOU FROM BITCH??????

Greg said to mums out 18f
Yes, baby.
This is it.
Would you like me to bring you to orgasm?
~slippin___________________________________________

Once again Clarence found himself abruptly isolated within the Kudos
room.

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Do You Think You Know Your Life?
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Clarence frowned. He remembered seeing a film when he was a teenager
called 'Matrix'. In it a protagonist was shown how his life was nothing
but a virtual construct. Clarence was aghast at the notion that the
Apocolytes might be merely building up toward some sort of nonsene
mind-game, in essence playing with him.

C said to Jakaw
I know my life. What's with the numbers after your name?

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; The Numbers Are The Name
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

C said to Jakaw
I don't understand.

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Smiles &;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~
?_?

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; The Key Is Nine By Three
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

C said to Jakaw
How am I supposed to use that here?

Cluroer 2311112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; He Will Work It Out
&;#8224;&;#710; ? ? ~ ?_?

Tecisu 112112 said to o
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Show Him More &;#8224;&;#710;
? ? ~ ?_?

C said to
Show me more what?

Jakaw 31312 said to C
? _? ~ ? ? ??&;#710;&;#8224; Try This &;#8224;&;#710; ? ?
~ ?_?

A moment later his DVFrames made a soft beep followed by a prompt
stating that a download was complete.
"Now what?" He gasped, yet at the same time aware of the heavy thud of
excitement in his chest. The whole view burst into black and white
static then snapped back to the cafe. Clarence closed his eyes quickly,
took several calm breaths, focussed on the smells and sounds around
him. When he opened his eyes he was initially disappointed to find
nothing different about his vision. Then he noticed the softly blinking
icons in one corner of the DVFrames view. Two new functions. The icons
resembled Hebrew characters but Clarence did not have a clue what
either of them meant. He picked the left hand icon. A targeting symbol
appeared, the sort found on any old manual camera. It did not follow
his gaze but remained fixed in the centre of his field of vision only
moving when he moved his head.. He twisted his head to the left and a
young man, sitting at a computer beside him, slipped into the target
area. As soon as this happened plus and minus symbols appeared,
superimposed on his view like added options. He selected the minus
symbol. Immediately, his peripheral vision froze and the young man
became like a sculpture within his gaze: except the sculpture was
becoming younger. The longer Clarence kept the minus symbol selected
the younger his view of the man became. He took the man back to a
child. Clarence was utterly bewildered. He switched to the plus symbol
and watched as the boy returned to a man who then began to grow older,
except, at about the mid-thirties age the man's hand suddenly
blackened, as if burnt and his face contorted with a mask of mortal
agony. Clarence quickly stopped because it was obvious the man had died
and he was now being shown the body in its rapid progress through
decomposition.
Switching to the left icon to the right icon, his view snapped back to
normal, the young man engrossed in what he was doing without the
slightest clue that the man staring at him had probably just witnessed
his death. Except, a few seconds later the view began to change.
Clarence, watched mesmerised, as every object became flattened into a
two dimensional surface and indexed with strings of bright yellow
numbers. The numbers were arranged in pairs, seven of them. The sight
was mind bogglingly complex, yet somewhere within the core of
Clarence's brain a chord of comprehension was struck. He understood he
could peel back individual layers and shift his point of view without
physically moving himself. If there was ever a visual representation of
occupying a higher dimension, this was it. Clarence knew that it was
impossible yet could not deny that this was somehow happening. He
shifted his point of view toward the wall separating the cafe from the
toilet cubicle. He passed over the wall as if there were no ceiling to
prevent him seeing what was in the cubicle beyond. A blonde man was
crouched over the toilet seat snorting a fine powder up with rolled up
note of New ?en. Black market cash used for a black market function.
Clarence smiled broadly, partially wondering if there really was a
blonde man snorting drugs in the cubicle or if it was just part of some
grand virtual make-believe rezzed up by whatever had been
downloaded.
When the blonde man walked out from the cubicle a few moments later,
sniffing back mucus, Clarence felt his blood thicken into ice
water.
How was this possible?
Yet even as the words formed as thoughts within his head, some part of
his mind was instinctively grasping at the controls of the new icon,
manipulating, experimenting, interrogating the new possibilities. All
of this was&;#8230;. Reminding him of something? Clarence could feel
his brow creasing together like fleshy tectonic plates, colliding with
some awful energy across the features of his face. What was happening
here?
Reality abruptly became fluid.
With an impossibly expanded vision, Clarence could now see any
isolated point in the three dimensional space-time continuum. Any
point. There was even a trace, a hint, of the curve of the higher
dimensions, normally invisible to the human sensory apparatus. That
curve was like the beginning of a trail that led into dark forests of
secret knowledge, tempting him to follow deeper. His mind was already
reaching, somewhere closer to home, a firm foot in known reality.
Gomorrah. Bright neon lines mapped a path between the two points. The
caf? and the ruins of a biblical settlement. And in a dizzying rush of
sensation, a glimpse of something like a membrane splitting open then
snapping shut, Clarence found himself blasted by the freezing wind of a
desert night.
Clarence staggered, shoes crunching on soft ashes and broken stones,
ripping off the DVFrames as if they were searing his eyes with fire. He
was screaming words but his mind was too shocked to understand them and
the tempest howling around his ears drowned the sounds to a jagged
collection of syllables.
It had only been a few days since he had left the ancient site so
there was no doubt what he was seeing were the ruins of Gomorrah, the
low wall formations comprised on densely packed ash, freakishly
preserved remains of an entire city that had been engulfed in a
chemical fire, but&;#8230;
What sort of insanity could he be suffering to make this illusion
occur? Had he never been in Amsterdam, or was he still actually
there?
Trembling in the freezing wind, turning this way and that in the
semi-darkness that was pierced only by a half moon, Clarence wrestled
with the almost crippling fear that he had suffered some sort of
seizure, that this in fact could be the last moments of his
consciousness as his brain shut itself down.
And why here? God, why this place? Was it some instinctual worry for
Lucas? Was this his ghost seeking out the soul of his friend to appear
as an apparition at the moment of his death?
A sob shuddered from his chest. Glancing down, he saw the soft glow of
light spilling from the DVFrames in his hand across his fingers holding
them. Perhaps it was desperation, perhaps it was again some distant
part of his mind remaining calm within the storm of his panic, Clarence
slipped the DVFrames back onto his face. Already his mind was reaching,
focussing on a point he knew. Once again that sense of familiarity,
that he had done all this many times before.
Clarence blinked, eyes watering, and suddenly found himself staggering
against the wall of an narrow alley. Neon red light spilling from a
several doorways further ahead.
He stood there for a long while, not moving, barely breathing, his
whole awareness rooted on the touch of cold wet stone against his bare
hand, fingers outstretched against the wall. He was standing at the far
end of a dead end. Deep shadows pooled around him. There were no
punters eyeing the women down this part, although there was a solid
treadmill of men passing across the head of the alley further up.
"Shit." Clarence whispered harshly. He immediately closed down the
DVFrame icons, leaving him with a window glass view of the world. Or
was it as simple as that? Clarence was not so sure anymore. Either he
was going mad or... his thoughts trailed off, the alternative too life
shattering to acknowledge. His whole universe revolved around what his
senses fed him, they were the limit to what he could experience. What
if that limit was grossly short of the actual potential?
Clarence slowly shook his head. He had to leave Amsterdam. Get back to
the hotel, pack what few things he had brought from Tel Aviv, grab the
first flight back to Israel. He had to see Lucas. Maybe this was a
sign, a portent of something bad occurring within their investigation.
A thought suddenly struck him, a clap of thunder between the thin bone
walls of his skull, or perhaps Lucas had uncovered the artefact?
Clarence stumbled forward, motivated by the dangling hope that his
visual disturbances were just that; nothing more than disturbances. In
reality he had been wandering through Amsterdam in a narcosis. Lucas
had found the artefact. It had to be.
He had not even taken five steps when the woman stepped out from a
glass womb of red light behind him. Her perfume was already invading
his brain before he heard the purring Puerto Rican accent, the pitch
rising enticingly on the last word "Hey you wanna come inside?"
Clarence turned to find himself gazing at the most strikingly exotic
woman he had ever seen. Every line of her body seemed to be formed from
a perfectly toned curve. She was naked except for a loose hanging of
white silk that glowed, luminous in the night, within the spill of UV
from her red lit chamber. Her dark skin glistened with scented oil, and
Clarence pictured the heat of her body curling off her like steam,
swooping around him like some vampyre shroud.
He was already stepping through her door as he took in her eyes
properly for the first time. They were slanted, dark ovals, set off
with finely brushed blends of blue and silver and gold. Full lips
painted a dull red, high cheekbones forming a shadow almost down to the
edges of her mouth.
She smiled, her lips parting enough only to show a glimpse of
brilliant white teeth. It was a predatory smile, provocative, and
expectant. She closed the door behind them, slid shut the heavy
curtain. Clarence struggled to find words, thinking for a moment he was
there he because he wanted to ask her questions for the feature. But
when she gently took hold of his arm and led him towards the low
platform that was a bed he knew the truth of what he wanted was much
simpler. Instantly, he had forgotten the trauma he had been suffering
only moments ago.
She began to undress him; her eyes never looked at him directly but
were always stealing glimpses from beneath her brow, her head tilted,
her lips either pursed together to create a expression of anticipation
or parted playfully. He asked her name. "Naam." She told him, caressing
the back of his head with long fingers and drawing his face to full,
rounded breasts. Her nipples were hard and stubby even before his
tongue began to play across them giving him a sense of satisfaction, a
notion that perhaps she was also enjoying this above a way to gain
money.
When she took him in her mouth it Clarence found his entire body
tensing from the shock of the pleasure. So intense it was if he had
never been touched by a woman his whole life, or been manipulated by a
cybernetic, or taken through crimson strata of virtual stimulation in a
hacker's harem. Which was certainly far from the truth, hence the
surprise that he could feel such levels of complete ecstasy as he had
for a long time thought he had already reached his zenith of
experience. But this woman, Naam, was an experience beyond belief;
especially when she sensed he was about to ejaculate and she reached
down to a pressure point beneath his testicles and somehow made the
ejaculation go inside. Instead of feeling drained, or going limp and
being unable to carry on, he remained erect and she became even more
aroused, moaning and whispering things to him that edged ever closer to
further orgasms. They had sex several times in succession that night,
and when she finally allowed him to choose between ejaculating or doing
it her way again, he chose to bring it to an end.
Whether he had been hyperventilating or was simply made breathless by
the sheer physical intensity of the orgasm as she writhed like a wild
thing, screaming, on top of him, he only knew the end left him utterly
powerless to move or think for a few moments. His vision was edged with
darkness, streaked with neural flashes of light. She remained there,
stroking him in silence.
When he first heard the clapping of applause he thought it was her,
but she was motionless, watching him intently. Still he could barely
move, as if the muscles in his limbs, torso and neck had been
disconnected from his brain. Frowning sharply at the continued
applause, he called out, "Who, who's that?" Then swung his eyes to Naam
and asked quietly, "Who's here?"
A man stepped into his field of vision, clapping his hands, smiling
smugly. Byron Hurst. "Bravo, Clarence, well done. You almost resisted
the urge to release yourself but in the flesh won in the end."
"What do you mean?" Clarence mumbled, trying to lift himself. A
current of panic began to pulse through his brain as his body would not
obey him. "What do you want, what is this? Are you part of this? Are
you one of the Apocalytes?"
Byron's rugged features lit up in mild surprise as if Clarence had
solved a complex puzzle, but then they slowly relaxed, returning to a
self-satisfied smirk and Byron deduced that Clarence was still very
much in the dark. The woman, Naam, suddenly lifted herself from him,
wiping their mixed fluids across Clarence's belly.
"Eh, what?" Clarence protested, certain he had seen her slip a condom
on him before she had even begun oral sex.
Naam, climbed off the platform bed and slinked across to a black
porcelain sink. She stroked Byron absently on his arm as she moved
past. Byron's eyes remained fixed on Clarence. "My wife." Byron said
proudly. "One of them."
Clarence's brow creased up into tight rolls of skin.
"Three by nine, Clarence, we told you. You had every opportunity to
work it out."
"Work what out?" His reply was sullen, aggression seeping through his
frustration. His legs lay dead across the thin mattress.
Byron lowered his eyelids in a lazy blink. Within that brief period, a
whole sense of understanding passed into Clarence's shocked brain. An
entire message conveyed in a moment. Take the Western alphabet, write
it out in three rows of nine columns. A to I, J to R, S to Z. A blank
space after Z. Take the name Jakaw. Notice the numbers after the name;
one number for each letter, a number between 1 and 3. Cross reference
the number and the letter to find the true letter of the true
name.
The true name. Clarence worked it out in his head. His mind suddenly
froze. He heard words coming from Naam's mouth, a language so ancient
it predated man and yet he recognised it. Something so familiar,
teasing the locked recesses of his brain. A silent scream trapped like
a bubble of air beneath the ice.
A large man stepped through the curtained doorway, as if answering
Naam's call. Arabic features, his skin taught across bony
features.
Clarence could not breathe. His body felt as though it were burning.
He could only watch, terrified and damned by a slipping of his memory.
The bone-faced man pulled out a harness from a bag. Byron stepped up to
the bed and lifted Clarence forward into an upright sitting position.
The bone-faced man wordlessly came forward and placed the harness
across Clarence's naked torso, clipped its fasteners into place.
Clarence's eyes rolled in their sockets. His chest spasmed, clutching
for a breath that would not come. There was thick polythene wrapped
packages attached to the harness.
Byron's face came in close, his hard lips moved slowly as he carefully
whispered, "Explosives, enough to bring down a hotel."
Byron straightened and took a step back, laughing wildly, he slapped
Clarence hard across the back of the head, "That's my boy!"
Naam was standing by the sink, drying her hands, watching with a cold
smile etched on her lips.
Byron said, "When an angel spends too long on Earth, they sometimes
forget what they really are. They actually begin to believe the lie
they have fabricated, they fall in love with the sense the flesh they
have moulded into a human form gives to them. You came to help a man
called Lucas. You wanted him to find the artefact."
Clarence's whole figure was shaking now, caught in the throes of
suffocation. Byron's features twisted with mockery and anger, "Did you
really think we didn't know what that artefact could do?! Poor Lucas!"
A sharp despising laugh. "His blood is on my hands but you're the fool
who forgot what he was and wondered off to seek pleasure in other
lands." Byron shook his head, sneering. "The tricks we showed you, you
can already do them, they're the natural skills of your kind, you just
forgot, or chose not to remember, eh? Well, the damage is not nearly
done. Not yet. When you return to the seventh gate&;#8230;" A manic
smile, "Be sure to give God my fondest regards."
Byron stepped back further, a flicker of concentration crossing his
features.
The small, red lit room vanished as Clarence was sucked through a hole
in time and space. He appeared a moment later in a packed conference
room in a hotel in Jerusalem. Naked, he staggered to his feet, his
breath suddenly able to come and sucked in a ragged lung full of air.
Security men were only beginning to react, snapped awake, dismay at
what they knew they were seeing. A mad man, amongst the delegates for
the Oslo Final Accord, with a harness packed full of explosives. In
Clarence's mind the ice cracked and the bubble of air rushed to the
surface.
He screamed
Then the bomb went off.