| From: | Evan Hughes <ehughes@****.carleton.ca> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | Museum stuff |
| Date: | Sun, 17 Dec 95 23:19:06 EST |
exclusive! Nobody else has this: not the TriD, not the net'zines, not even
the corps. Only _I_ have it. And I'm letting you folks see it. Here she
be:
+++++Include Trideo Feed: Museum.security.gunfight
+++++View Trideo Feed? <y/n>y
The image of a large museum room pixilates into view. The display is that
of a prehistoric scene of wolves running across a frozen wasteland -- only
the background is missing, so where an ice-blue sky should be there are
only four peices of plywood arrayed nonchalontly. The museum is deathly
quiet.
Standing in front of the scene are two old men: both are tall and wearing
long black wool overcoats. Their backs are facing the scene and the
camera, they are looking down a long hallway that connects to a larger
gallery. One is bald and the other has a long flowing mane of silver white
hair.
Moments pass. A couple, a man and a woman, walk down the hallway towards
the camera and the room. The man is tall and hispanic, his eyes are
covered with mirrorshades, and his lip is curled into a sneer. The woman
with him is black, almost as tall as he is, even beneath her heavy
overcoat she is obviously anorexically thin. Her hair is pulled back in a
painful looking bun, her eyes are heavily lidded and laconic, her face is
slack. She looks as though she is drugged. The two old men apparently
ignore the man and woman as they walk into the room (although their faces
are not visible, they make no sound, and the incoming pair do nothing to
acknowledge any move they may make).
The drugged black woman turns and leans her back against the wall at the
mouth of the hallway as soon as she steps in. She looks thankful for the
support the wall provides. Her face and body immediately go slack -- she
looks ready to collapse at the slightest disturbance.
The two men step away from the hallway entrance in unison, walking over
to the wall across from the black woman. The bald man is expressionless,
but the one with the long hair looks at the hispanic quizically. The
hispanic stands in the mouth of the hallway for a second before stepping
towards them, reaching into his jacket pocket as he does so, pulling out
two lengths of fiber optic cable. The bald remains motionless, but the man
with the main tosses back his hair in a strangely effeminate gesture to
expose the small chromed head of a datajack.
The hispanic plugs an end of each cable into either side of his neck,
holding each end for the old men to take. They take it and plug themselves
in.
For twenty seconds the scene is still. The black woman stands
semi-comatose, leaning against the wall on the right side of the hallway
mouth. The three men stand in a little clump on the left side, connected
together by lengths of fiber-optic cable. Their eyes move from face to
face as if they were speaking to one another. More seconds pass.
Without warning the black woman suddenly stiffins, here eyes snapping
open, staring directly ahead, almost into the lens of the camera. Her
visage ripples -- she becomes shorter and her shoulders widen. The corners
of her eyes lift slightly, her skin shifting from a deep black to a light,
almost gypsy olive. Her cloths change as well: from a long overcoat to a
bulkily armoured bomber jacket. She glances over to the men and clicks her
jaw twice. All three men stiffen.
The room bursts into action all at once. The hispanic throws himself
backwards against the wall. Reality ripples around him -- no longer
hispanic his complexion is caucasian, with short brown hair and a hard
face. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws a lethal looking handgun,
as he does so, the olive skinned woman flicks her empty hand in the
direction of the camera. The image suddenly explodes into static.
+++++Comment: Sorry 'bout that, the slitch cast some sort of
+++++spell, I've done my best to compensate, but I've only been
+++++able to rescue one bit:
Static rolls over the screen in waves, but the audio is still
functional. The museum's unbroken silence is suddenly shattered by the
heavy coughs of three guns firing in unison. The static abates: The olive
skinned woman is standing a few steps away from the wall, swaying slowly
in a trance. The caucasion man is standing ready with the handgun by the
mouth of the hallway. The two old men have disappeared, replaced by a
youthful couple both wearing business suits of the latest corporate
fashion. Both are blond and attractive. The man is kneeling before the
caucasion, a globe of blue flickering in his hands. The woman is carefully
reloading a gun. At the other end of the hallway, a man lies on the
ground, steam is rising from the corpse.
Static washes over the screen again.
+++++End of File.
Don't know who they were, I tried a bunch of lookups for their pictures
everytwhere I could think of, but no go. I did manage to salvage the rest
of the audio feed though, it's not too interesting, basically just a bunch
of guns being fired.
+++++Include Audio File: Museum.audio]<<<<<
-- Cybil <23:20:48/12-17-56>
