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Mailing List Logs for ShadowRN

Message no. 1
From: Frank Pelletier (Trinity) fpelletier@******.usherb.ca
Subject: Like any other
Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 23:27:25 -0500
*****Internal: Alphacam SMS >>>> Hit 43.A
>>>>>[

+++++start recording

A man like any other man. Nondescript, common. Brown hair, brown eyes,
brown everything. A man, like any other man.

He walks like any other man, down any other street. A plain street, lined
with duplex housing, in a fairly moderate neiborhood, mostly normal corp
people. Like any other street, from any other corp.

The man seems stressed, but not much so. Normal stress, like any other
stress. Corp stress, far away from any zaibatsu or breakdown. Good, normal
stress.

He looks at his watch, walking down the street. A normal watch. Liquid
display, some weather information.

Seattle. Cloudy tonight with chance of rain. Cool, in the low 50s. Rain
tomorrow, low 60s to high 50s, for thursday...

Seattle weather. Like any other weather.

He turns sharply, in front of a picket fence. Like any other picket fences.
Gently up a stone walkway, his shoes scrapping the rock like a soft brush.
You could hear it break the monotony.

You can also hear some loose hardscript nuyen jiggling in his slacks, his
hand fondling his inner pockets for a stick. Probably a home key. He steps
out to the door, a white door, like any other door.

You can see his eyes. They're all white now. His eyelids convulsing
upwards, his mouth distorded. Small gurgling noises come from his throat,
his teeth suddenly stained crimson. A small rivulet of blood sputters out
of the corner of his lips, down his throat.

His throat is pierced, neatly, in the middle, exactly where it hurts. A
small needle, a stilleto, maybe. The gleaming steel tip protuding from his
skin. Not like any other throat.

The tip slips back into his skin. The man, without a sound, falls to the
ground. Behind him, stands nothing. Maybe some weird sense of looking at a
video. Like someone just drapped a LCD flatscreen over the walkway. Then
the feeling's gone.

The man lies on his walkway. Like any other dead man.]<<<<<
-- Cypher <23:32:51/28-11-60>
Message no. 2
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Like any other
Date: Mon, 29 Nov 1999 22:46:43 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Cypher
>>>>>[A little birdie just told me that Joseph Kennear was pronounced
dead at the scene.

+++++include payment: >>outstanding balance<<

Cops are calling it a botched mugging and could care less. Nice
work.]<<<<<
-- Breaker <22:46:43/11-29-60>
Message no. 3
From: Frank Pelletier (Trinity) fpelletier@******.usherb.ca
Subject: Like any other
Date: Sun, 28 Nov 1999 23:27:25 -0500
*****Internal: Alphacam SMS >>>> Hit 43.A
>>>>>[

+++++start recording

A man like any other man. Nondescript, common. Brown hair, brown eyes,
brown everything. A man, like any other man.

He walks like any other man, down any other street. A plain street, lined
with duplex housing, in a fairly moderate neiborhood, mostly normal corp
people. Like any other street, from any other corp.

The man seems stressed, but not much so. Normal stress, like any other
stress. Corp stress, far away from any zaibatsu or breakdown. Good, normal
stress.

He looks at his watch, walking down the street. A normal watch. Liquid
display, some weather information.

Seattle. Cloudy tonight with chance of rain. Cool, in the low 50s. Rain
tomorrow, low 60s to high 50s, for thursday...

Seattle weather. Like any other weather.

He turns sharply, in front of a picket fence. Like any other picket fences.
Gently up a stone walkway, his shoes scrapping the rock like a soft brush.
You could hear it break the monotony.

You can also hear some loose hardscript nuyen jiggling in his slacks, his
hand fondling his inner pockets for a stick. Probably a home key. He steps
out to the door, a white door, like any other door.

You can see his eyes. They're all white now. His eyelids convulsing
upwards, his mouth distorded. Small gurgling noises come from his throat,
his teeth suddenly stained crimson. A small rivulet of blood sputters out
of the corner of his lips, down his throat.

His throat is pierced, neatly, in the middle, exactly where it hurts. A
small needle, a stilleto, maybe. The gleaming steel tip protuding from his
skin. Not like any other throat.

The tip slips back into his skin. The man, without a sound, falls to the
ground. Behind him, stands nothing. Maybe some weird sense of looking at a
video. Like someone just drapped a LCD flatscreen over the walkway. Then
the feeling's gone.

The man lies on his walkway. Like any other dead man.]<<<<<
-- Cypher <23:32:51/28-11-60>
Message no. 4
From: Paul J. Adam Shadowtk@********.demon.co.uk
Subject: Like any other
Date: Mon, 29 Nov 1999 22:46:43 +0000
*****PRIVATE: Cypher
>>>>>[A little birdie just told me that Joseph Kennear was pronounced
dead at the scene.

+++++include payment: >>outstanding balance<<

Cops are calling it a botched mugging and could care less. Nice
work.]<<<<<
-- Breaker <22:46:43/11-29-60>

Disclaimer

These messages were posted a long time ago on a mailing list far, far away. The copyright to their contents probably lies with the original authors of the individual messages, but since they were published in an electronic forum that anyone could subscribe to, and the logs were available to subscribers and most likely non-subscribers as well, it's felt that re-publishing them here is a kind of public service.