Translation report

Heya,

Yea, the article is mine. So here I am, as for the faq part you'll
have to excuse me for a minut. I'll try to stick to netiquette as
close as possible.
But I'm an MTVling, currently in the 7th day of my sleep deprived
MindRush.
I just got up from a few hours of rest... if I had any rem sleep it
was lucid.

As most of you I grew up looking beyond. But in my attempts to
describe the
beyond in a comprehensible manner I rarely succeed.
Those rare successes were all produced in a state of MindRush. Below
is a repost
of the post inciting Killjoys (yea, that one =) reply.

Enjoy, and if you do, return the favour by giving me some feedback if
you will.
PS: as for Copyright notices and all, the work below is free as in
beer. Meaning, if you use it you owe me a beer... I like Grolsch,
Guinness. But I also
heard there's some insanely bitter bitter coming from the Portland
area.
Sadly there's some problem with the Beer2Beer beta, it seriously
screws up when
you pour beer over the ethernet plug. I think it's a hardware failure.
So for the time being I'll accept rainchecks... to be cached in when
both parties are at a location where these lovely alcoholic beverages
are dispensed.

==============================================================================

Translation Report
(Zap25)
(Edited by Li B.)

-Position: 1007934091450298021706502148500000699987
-Time: 1948738175038275902457145557901834710984
-Origin: EM
-Source: Position (source notation, 3d) Euro-EN, Greater Notts,
Wolfram Square 22, Apartment 42c, Bedroom
-Time: (source notation, d) Saturday, February the 14th 2026
-Storage request justification: Historic
-Storage request status: Granted

(content marker: start)

11:01am Saturday, February the 14th 2026
Euro-EN, Greater Notts, Bedroom
Mood: A sturdy base of hangover

Fuck me... what's this.

Crap, its that darn focus alarm. I'll just pay attention to snooze
and turn around for another 10.

Didn't exactly plan to dial that alcy. But last night called for good
and proper memory sedation. The mind gets so much more flexible
without the burden of short, and longterm memory. It makes you
forget...

Yesterday's events offered me enough memories I didn't want to be
reminded of. Not now anyway.

Fuckin 4 yen for a mere gram of methanol. But hey, at least I modded
my own dialiser with a MethMixer. Dialers rinse kidneys, sure... but
why pay extra for a flushjob when you can buy at Stemtech. Should do
a scan before showering though, not sure how much of the meth I had.
That liver had another 5 months minumum. Would be a pity if that's
reduced to a week.

Imma go check. Shit, shower 'n shave. See yers in 10.

11:35am
Mood: Pretty much neutral
Only half the shower was cold today. So I guess we have heating
working here. Good - ‘cause I hate cold water. Not so good ‘cause
it brought me right back to yesterday.

Yesterday began with a cold shower. So she telepsyched me a
hellraising scream. Woke me right out of my rem, she knows I have
sleep paralysis. So this time it halfwoke me out of a nightmare. For
a second or so I thought myself stuck to the bed while a burgler did a
pleasurekill on her. I didn't dare to telefeel, never telefelt a kill
and from the stories I've heard you're taken offline for at least 3
days of sanitation.

Sure, the operator is sworn to secrecy about whatever thoughts of you
he experiences. But you know what the prices for decent thoughtistics
are.

But I digress.

After I came to my senses I risked a telefeel anyway, first the hard
nipples; then goosebumps and shivering. I realised she was perfectly
alright and merely recovering from a spinechillin shower...

So I was pissed off. Thorougly pissed off. Having had the scare of a
lifetime.

So she was pissed off. Well and truly pissed off. Having had the
chillshock of a lifetime.

And by God... after 5 secs of guing, she left. Left me feeling guilty
about not telling her the heater had gonked.

And then I had to admit to myself that it would have been the
considerate thing to do.

Hey, I'm human... I got a lot on my mind, sometimes things fall off.
Like that mindnote from the landlord about the gonked heater.

So yeah, in essence, I caused myself to have that border-rem skullfuck
reality. But hey, I'm not forgiving or logical when I'm boiling with
anger inside.

So I hurt her pretty bad yesterday, she was quite hysterical when she
left. Then my buddy mindlinked, asking about the methmixer.

I take it the majority of you will by now have done the math between
that last mindlink and the hangover. We both got some meth and
telefocused for trouble. If it weren't for the dna-crypted firewall
they probably would have scanned Neuratel for my physloc. We all know
how much tissue replacement is necessary after an average psychclash
with some of the psychos out there.

Sure, boss broadlinks his safety thought patters every so often. But
there are some sick fucks out there. Sick enough to roam for victims.

Mommy always told me to stay away from unregistered dna. But you know
how slow the registry can be on busy days. And when you're drunk you
don't wanna wait till clearance.

You forget how easy it is to get pleasurefragged these days. So many
sick fucks who wanna telefeel their knives going into your body. Some
wanna feel the pain. Others scan your mind for the thoughts going
through your head. Thoughts about how high the replacement bill will
be. The fear of losing too many organs and going broke on
replacement.

I think lately there's an upward trend. Poor saps losing years of
freethought. Nothing's worth losing freethought to me. Even though
in this neck of the woods people start out with 10 years above
average. But the average replacement insurance charges you about 10%
of that, 15% if you prefer servicethought with freethought matches.

Thank god for non-conformity. I wanted non-match, it adds contrast,
and balance... the hate you get for crappy service though is more than
compensated by the extra enjoyment of the freedom found by the
borderless wandering mind.

Anyway... time to apologise to my girl.

Laterz

==============================================================================

<snip>

Mambo steps up to the newcomer and hands him a small box.

The box reads: "Sand Bag Bunker Kit". Upon opening the kit Zap is
surprised to find 2,000 empty bags, a shovel, and a truckload of sand.
Very surprised.

Mambo addresses the feet sticking out of the pile of sand (one of
them now wearing an empty bag at a jaunty angle); "Read the FAQ, really.
Or you might actually need some sand bags between you and the
traditional greetings."

Charleson Mambo

(i'll read the rest later, when I'm not falling asleep.)

--
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To confuse, inveigle, and obfuscate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
<spam> www.accanthology.com Buy "The Alt.Cyberpunk.Chatsubo Anthology" </spam>
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A young, green-haired, goggle-donning, nine-year-old suddenly appears
next to Zap. She smiles ruefully and hands him a lit cigarette and a
bandanna.

"Uh... Thanks." says Zap, not really understanding.
"Here, let me help you with that," says the girl, tying the blindfold
around
Zap's eyes. She places the smoking fag on his lips and then stands
back, smiling still. Zap pulls up the blindfold and stares at the girl
questioningly.
"When you see Kent, tell him I said hi." says the girl, "My name's
Haeyoo, and if I see you later, I'll buy you a drink."
The girl then vanishes in a puff of green smoke.

-exleper.

*raises eyebrow*
Dang itchy sand..
Well I'd best put it to use. But I'm telling you I'm not gonna build
bunkers for everyone... just one for you cuz you supplied me with the
sand, bags and shovel.
But I advise you to get better protection. Bags of sand are so Iraqi
these days.
Not that there's any threat to be expected from me. I'm your run of
the mill
mega-tolerant Dutchman.

Tell Ratz to pour me a good one.

Henceforth you may adress me as Zap, or the Frying Dutchpan. I've
noticed that "Zap you oversized Dutch wanker" seems to work perfectly
in the UK. As long as the remark is accompanied with abovementioned
(Dublin!) Guinness.

Basically I was sent as a messenger. I'll entertain you with a little
view on
the past and, energy serving, a little on the future.

We've always been peace loving trades people. In our golden age we
didn't bother sending out Armadas, well only once really. When after
80 years we got rather sick of those pesky Spanish folk that wanted to
teach us religions.
We're Calvinists mainly... so we kicked their butts.

After that we used our ships to make money wherever. While other
European countries were busy wasting all their resources on
territorial pissings we happily made money wherever.
So we were rich, invented interest rates and became even richer.
Solved our territorial problems by fighting an enemy without guns, and
learned our kids how to swim... just in case.

Somewhere along the line WW1 came by, and we made good money being
neutral.
Then some idiot with a Moustache came along thinking things would all
be better if certain people were removed.
After our experiences with slave transport we knew that people were a
valuable
resource. Best exploited in freedom or the illusion thereof.
The moustache man was nasty, and for all our wealth we had no way of
squashing
that pesky bug. Plus as peace loving people we have a problem of not
understanding war really.

Then our buds came to save us. And fed us afterwards, brought us
chewing gum, gas guzzlers, rock 'n roll and mass media. Glass gems to
tribals.
But we soon learned how to make money on that as well. But we've grown
a bit weary of our buds. Many of us anyway.

Some thought there was this thread from the east we should be
protected from.
I'm inclined to say they were right. But like the Weatherman said,
pissing into the wind is a rather stupid thing to do.

We used to like borders. They're good for trade. But recent
developments have made most of us realise that it's time to remove
them... for those who don't know how to avoid borders to make that
little bit of extra profit.
So we brought enlightnment to the world. The Dronkers emperium came
with cross breeding certain vegetables. And we started mass producing
happy pills.
Thusly creating a widely spread network of users.

We are now on the virge of using that user base to do away with
borders.
Since technology allows for it. Ubiquoutous mindsharing...
piggybacking on wireless technology and peer2peer networking, combined
with a few... I think they call it viruses, but we prefer the term
"altering applications". Happily moving along the wireless net,
opening them up where they're closed and informing the friendly sysop
of it... so he can add it to his maintenance list.

Because the Yanks had one pretty nifty idea. Connecting stuff. But the
current matrix is a bit old, and it's showing cracks. I assume I need
not digress on this.
But it's time to finally get this undernet going. For a mere $40 you
can become part of a nice club of people who connect all their stuff.
Basically on such a massive scale and so untrackable we can finally
get that Freenet going. If you catch my drift.

Then we'll get cracking together on storing infinite amounts of data
in quantum particles and being able to copy subsets of that infinity
from one particle to the other. Which will improve bandwidth,
processing and memory capacity to infinity.

Now with infinity we have what we need to finally get cracking on
infinity^2, then infinity^infinity... and so on and so on.
As Holism dictates we're all part of a move to transcendence. But the
main problem we're facing as enlightened Dutch people is the limited
minds of outsiders who haven't chemically enhanced their brains.
Yes, we know it's crude. But it makes lucid rem so much simpler to
achieve. Making more of ones time. Chems are only shortcuts.

One of the issues here is the hordes of scientists that believe things
have beginnings and ends. Big bangs and all that crap. Haven't they
figured out by now that the universe is always as big as you can
sense/measure?
And as small as well.
Then that string theory, luckily obsolete. But only made obsolete by
increasing the dimensions a bit. Really now, haven't we learned yet
that there are an infinite number of dimensions. And that those
infinite dimensions are themselves part of an infinate "grid"..
"cube".. etc etc.

Now what's really the thing that's bugging me right now is that I'm
now triggered to start boning on what comes next after
infinity^infinity.
Maybe I should visit the hotel to see if they have some ideas.

Doesn't Ratz work there?

Zap

Zap stares at the slowly dissolving smoke. Shrugs, turns to the
bartender for another beer and some different music.
http://milo.xdh.nl/meuk/ak47.mp3

"What?! Goddammit!!" Kent spins around on a hard leather heel and
stares, his duelling pistol still in hand, fresh with smoke from
sending Mr. Brett to the meta-author. Not two minutes ago he
undertook an execution for protocol violation, and now here's another
one! Kent fumes under his breath as he cracks his pistol and flicks
out the spent cartridge.
"Goddamn pieceashit yellow rat-bastard motherraping..." True to
his nature, Kent swears like a soldier, an ability only slightly less
extensive than that of a sailor. "Shiteyes couldn't take two
cocksmokin' seconds to haul his head out of his Netherlands and read a
little chickenshit FAQ..."
Since he just used his metareality round, Kent has no way to send
this new arrival to the meta-author. He purses his lips as he mulls
over which of the two remaining bullets he should use. Kent decides
on the bullet with the brass cartridge inscribed "SSLAV" and a clear
gel tip, through which a miniscule amount of liquid can be seen.
"Yes," he mutters, "I think a judicious application of the
storyline affecting virus is in order."
With an ease coming from years of practice, Kent flips the gun
shut, cocks it and fires. For a second time, the chest-thumping roar
of his duelling pistol makes patrons hunch instinctively over their
drinks.
Zap spins to the floor as his lungs fly out past his spine.
Simultaneously he appears next to his own corpse, looking a bit
surprised, only to be buried underneath a ton of sand. A moment
later, as his legs stop kicking, another Zap appears next to his
recently departed selves.
This Zap seems to be slightly more in tune with the Chatsubo. Clad
in Bermuda shorts and a suit jacket, Zap sits down at the bar and
pushes up his cheap sunglasses to keep his lanky blond hair out of his
face. He takes a water pipe from inside his jacket and has a healthy
hit before asking Ratz for a beer.
Kent walks over to this newest incarnation of Zap, stepping over
the bodies of his predecessors. "Pleased to meet you, Zap." Kent
transfers his pistol to his left hand and extends his right. "I'm
Willis Kent."

Killjoy (gonna have to get some more ammo)

Somewhat confused about his sudden change of clothes Zap looks around
noticing a pile of sand with two familiar looking legs sticking out.
On the other side he notices a puddle of an organic, probably animal,
nature.
"wouldn't wanna be in their shoes"
Slowly coming to his senses he notices the extended hand and looks up
into the
face of the stranger. Finally grasping the gesture Zap tries to
follows suit the way his memory tells him.
Noticing there's a bong in his hand he starts to grin.
"well that accounts for the events that seem to have partaken here
without leaving any impressions in my brain"
Shaking the hand things start to fall into place.
"If you're the guy I think you are... Haeyoo sez hi. You'll have to
excuse me, even though I've been part of the furniture here I rarely
pay notice to things around me."
Following the smell of burning tobacco Zap finds a cigarette lying in
the ashtray.
"Looks like someone dipped that thing in blood and then covered it
with sand dust... then there's the pile of sand... and that puddle
over there.
They do party hard here don't they?"
Zap searches the pockets of his bermuda for less spoiled sources of
nicotine.
Finding a pack of menthol cigarettes he proceeds to open it.
"after giving my lungs the THC treat I always like to punish them back
into reality with some cancersticks, want some of the poison?"
Extending the pack somewhat cautiously. The sudden appearance of the
pile and the puddle together with Kent have led Zap to the conclusion
the three are not entirely unrelated.
"hmm... my beer looks rather stale doesn't it... plus my brain is
telling me it needs something more stiff than plain beer. You don't
look like the type who wastes much time in these type of
establishments.
But I'd appreciate it if you did me the favour of accepting a drink
from me.
You remind me of a part of my memory I call the missing years.
So what's yer poison?"

Zap

No, I don't fund a mental.