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About ten years ago I lived in a shared house with a load of mates. None of us worked at the time, in fact 99% of the country didn't work back then, there were no jobs. Anyway, the guys started hooking in, playing RPG games at first, which is the way a lot of people start. I could see that things were going wrong, tensions in the house had increased massively, and one particular lad had been staying on-line for days at a time.
I eventually left and got a place of my own, as it was all getting too much.
It had reached the stage were none of them ever left their terminals, they communicated with
each other purely through an in-house jack-up connection they'd made themselves.
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Jack-ups are a cheap method of linking a lot of people together in a small data-cloud foot-print. You subvert and by-pass the corporate safety nets, and piggy-back them. The danger of this is you are all totally open to viral invaders, usually sent out by the corporates to plug the glitches in the main Net frame-work that the Jackers exploit.
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They all had been hitting it hard, and some of them had been using enhancers of one sort or another. They'd apparently missed the Trojan that'd had nipped in through a back-door someone had left open. HR#451 caused so much damage it was hard to tell any of them apart after it had finished with them. They'd have only been able to identify them by their dental records, if they'd have had the money to have any dental work in the first place.
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No-one really knows what happened, as all witnesses and participants died. Either torn limb-from-limb by someone filled with The Rage, or found headless after their brains exploded from a viral loop-feedback filling their minds with huge quantities of garbage data. All a bit sad really, because they weren't doing anyone harm, and kept themselves to themselves.
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Like I say, I prefer the keyboard, it's far less damaging to your health. I'd rather suffer from RSI than have my brain splattered across all four walls.
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Fiction - Kat Out of the Bag Chapter Six By Steve Rudd
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Support for any given country's government can be a funny thing, but never hilarious.
The Maoist rebels in Nepal, in an ideal world, would have the government of the
landlocked country instantaneously overthrown.
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Fiction - Welcome To Hellville - Part 2 By Rich Mills
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The filter system in Panal (The aging-should-know-better-arty-farty-toss cafe bar that
should have been closed down 30 years ago.) must have been faulty. I'm still feeling really crap
this morning, two days on now. Either that or I'm coming down with a wet season cold.
Which is a major pain in the arse
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Fiction - Firm but Fair By Mark Pollard
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Cry-Baby Jim Breaks. He pioneered it, they say.
And the hushed, almost ecclesiastical tones of Ken Walton had heralded it's
entry into Saturday afternoon folklore: the bright lights of
Blackpool and Great Yarmouth, down to the lesser reputes of Ilfracombe and
Skegness had all borne witness
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Fiction - From a Spirited Beginning By Martin Dale
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My earliest memory? Isolation.
Being small, vulnerable, completely alone. I was surrounded by seemingly alien life, one with the life, but at the same time different, distinct. I came from this being, but I was no longer completely a part of it. I had a separate consciousness. No. Not yet. That was to come. At that time it was only an instinct.
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Fiction - A Man with Two Horses By Lazyswede
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I met a man today that had two horses, but he could not get the horses to go the way he wanted them to. The gray mare wanted to take the footpath to the left and the old chestnut mare wanted to take the footpath to the right, while the man wanted to go back the way he came because he knew he would be late for his dinner if he took either of the other two paths.
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Fiction - Halloween - One For The Road
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by Nicholas Boldock
Jason Travis tip-tapped the steering wheel in time to the music blaring from the car's speakers. He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard - 16:53. The sky was darkening, even at this early summer hour, not as a result of the setting sun but brought about by the lumbering grey rain clouds overhead.
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Fiction - Telling Lies by Nicholas Boldock
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At half past five Harry arranged all the papers on his desk into neat piles, as he always did before going home. He shoved his pens into the blue plastic desk tidy and shut down his PC. He performed this same ritual every evening, did it automatically, even unconsciously. He felt overjoyed to be finally going home - the days seemed to be getting longer and longer and longer - even though home, to Harry, was only marginally more bearable than work.
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Fiction - C(P)U On The Other Side
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by Rich Mills
Roy carelessly tossed the apple core in the bin next to his computer. Constructed in a moment of sheer mindless boredom the waste-paper bin was an amalgam of newspaper strips and PVA glue, coated in a thick yellowing layer of varnish.
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Fiction - ICU@ABC By Rich Mills
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by Rich Mills
During those pre-teen days of dramatic sexual awakenings, Roy always strived and usually achieved, a brief respite of self-indulgent escapism. By scraping together un-spent bus fares and school dinner money he'd often have enough to visit the local cinema most weeks.
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Fiction - The Newland Chemistry Set
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by Rich Mills
"But it's raining... (dum dum dub-ba..! dum dum) Raining in my heart..." A distant wave of dash-white-line hugging radio being transmitted from the 'WHO THE HELL HAS BEEN MESSING WITH MY TUNER???' morning-show drifted through the rows of tree lined avenues and terraces.
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Fiction - Chants From The Graveside By Rich Mills
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by Rich Mills
There is some old saying about 'idle hands' and doing the Devils work, or some such thing. The assumption then could be that 'idle words' spoken must be those of the Devil also. If in no more a way than an un-reasoned babble is nothing but a distracting noise. A siren song designed to send us off course.
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Fiction - It's Like The Bloody Inquisition! By Rich Mills
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by Rich Mills
He couldn't understand why someone would do such a thing! It definitely seemed however, that somewhere someone must have told someone else something about him. Something that wasn't really anyone else's concern. Then again interfering in the lives of others was a deeply annoying trait we were all guilt of.
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