Robert Rankin - Web Site Story

'And you know the locals. You know where to acquire what we need.'

'I suppose I do,' said Derek.

'And you will be handsomely rewarded.'

'I will?' said Derek.

'Cash,' said Mr Speedy. 'You'll be dealing in cash.'

'I will?' said Derek once again.

'Large quantities of cash,' said Mr Shadow. 'Your expenses will not be questioned.'

'Oh,' said Derek.

'Yes, oh,' said Mr Speedy. 'Which means that you fiddle your accounts and we'll turn a blind eye to it. You scratch our backs, we put an Armani suit upon yours. If you catch my drift and I'm. sure that you do.'

'I've never been an Armani man,' said Derek. 'Not since they dropped natural fibres anyway.'

'So,' said Mr Speedy. 'Do we have a deal? You do what we ask you, your secret, regarding all those stolen computer games in your possession, remains safe with us and you get a big cash kickback to do with as you please. Possibly purchase that Atari 7800 scrapyard dog game you've been bidding for over the Net from that dodgy American dealer.'

'Oh,' said Derek.

'And I could just possibly let you know how to get the three magic cans on Eisenhower Lane on level 2.'

'Oh,' said Derek.

'So do we have a deal?' asked Mr Shadow.

'You can count on me,' said Derek, putting out his hand for a shake.

Mr Speedy however did not shake the outstretched hand of Derek, instead he just poured himself another Scotch and raised his glass in salute. 'Welcome to Mute Corp,' he said. 'The company that takes care of its employees.'

'And that, I think, has taken care of you,' said Kelly.

Mr Bashful was struggling, muffled sounds came from his mouth, his eyes darted every which way.

'If you're trying to say, "What happened?" or possibly something ruder,' said Kelly, 'then allow me to explain. I knocked you unconscious. And then I tore up your clothing and used it to strap your now naked body into the chair. Your right hand, you will observe, is strapped to the computer mouse. Your mouth is gagged. I am now going to remove the gag. But if you cry out for help,' Kelly reached down and took hold of Mr Bashful's genitals, 'these will be put in severe jeopardy. Do I make myself absolutely clear?' And she gave Mr Bashful's gonads a far from friendly squeeze.

Mr Bashful's eyes flashed wildly. His head bobbed up and down.

Kelly released the gag from his mouth. The gag was knotted underpants.

'Untie my hand,' wailed Mr Bashful. 'Get it off the mouse.'

'How interesting,' said Kelly. 'Of all the things you could have said, you chose to say that.'

'Let me go, you bitch,' said Mr Bashful.

'When you've answered some questions.'

'I won't tell you anything that I'm not authorized to tell you. It's more than my job's worth.'

'You'll tell me everything,' said Kelly.

Mr Bashful shook his head.

'Firstly,' said Kelly. 'I want to know all about this Go mango game. Tell me more about that.'

Mr Bashful struggled some more. He seemed most intent on getting his hand away from the computer mouse.

'No?' said Kelly. 'All right then. Let's run the programme. Let's see you play the game.'

'No!' Mr Bashful fairly shrieked.

Kelly clapped her hand over his mouth. 'No, I didn't think so,' she said. 'What does the game do? Could it be that it infects you with something? Something that gets inside your head? Something contagious that can be passed from one unsuspecting person to another?' She released her hand.

Mr Bashful stared at her open-mouthed. 'You know,' he said. 'What do you know?'

'I know it's loose,' said Kelly. 'I know it has to do with Remington Mute and the Mute-chip.'

'I don't know anything more than you do,' said Mr Bashful. 'I just do my job. I don't ask too many questions.'

'Well, let's see you play the game then.' Kelly reached down towards Mr Bashful's mouse-bound hand.

'No, don't touch it. Don't click it on.'

'I think that perhaps you do know,' said Kelly. 'And I want you to tell me now. I don't think I'm cut out for a career at Mute Corp. I think today may be my very last day with the company.'

'You've made a very big mistake doing this to me,' said Mr Bashful. 'Do you really think you can get away with it? Mute Corp security division will track you down. You won't be free on the streets for twenty-four hours.'

'They'll make me vanish, will they?' Kelly asked.

Mr Bashful turned his face away. 'They'll make us both vanish.'

Kelly stared down upon the man. Perhaps, she thought, she had been just a little hasty. There might have been a more subtle way of doing this. And one that did not leave her as a criminal on the run. And on the run from Mute Corp, who were hooked into everything, her personal records, her bank account, they knew where she lived and where she went. They knew everything.

But then.

But then. There was a big man all tied up in a shed. An innocent man who had said he'd 'been to Hell' and all because of something that had issued from the Mute Corp Organization. Something dark. Something evil. Something that didn't care at all for a man.

'You're in deep shit,' said Mr Bashful.

'Yes,' said Kelly. 'I am. But do you know what? I don't care. Now speak to me, tell me all about the Mute-chip and all about go mango or I'll knock your hand down onto that mouse and see some of it in action for myself.'

'All right. All right.' Mr Bashful glared at Kelly. '-I'll tell you. What harm can it do? You won't even get out of the building.'

'So speak,' said Kelly.

And Mr Bashful spoke. He spoke very fast, almost to the point of incoherent babble. It was as if he had been wanting to get all this off his chest for a very very long time. But hadn't dared to do it. He was scared. Everyone at Mute Corp was scared, he said. Everyone feared that they might be the next to be 'possessed'.

'Now let me get this clear,' said Kelly, needing a break from the babble and trying to get it all clear. 'What you are saying is that sometime back in the 1970s…'

'1972,' babbled Mr Bashful. 'It was a significant year. That's when he gave the thing birth.'

'OK. In 1972, Remington Mute developed the original Mute-chip, from his own digitized DNA. It was basically a chip that could learn and then make decisions based on its knowledge.'

'Effectively yes.'

'And the chips were put into games. Computer chess and so on. But he saw a greater potential for them in other systems. Playing the stock market and so on.'

'Became a millionaire, a billionaire, a zillionaire,' babbled Mr Bashful.

'And Mute Corp started off all the scare stories about the Millennium Bug and Mute's operatives, pretending to debug computer systems, installed Mute-chips into those systems.'

'Across the whole World Wide Web and they linked up into a vast thinking network.'

'Not thinking surely?' said Kelly. 'These chips aren't alive.'

'So what exactly is life?' asked Mr Bashful. 'If something can talk to you, communicate with you, reason \vith you, be more intelligent than you are, is that something alive? You tell me.'

'And this game? This go mango?'

'Men play computer games,' said Mr Bashful. 'So why shouldn't a thinking computer play men games?'

'The mainframe plays games with people?' Kelly was rightly appalled.

'Ironic isn't it?' said Mr Bashful. 'The tables well and truly turned.'

'And you at Mute Corp let this happen?'

'We didn't let it happen. It happened by itself. We're trying to find a way to stop it, before it gets completely out of control.'

'So what was I to be, another laboratory rat?'

'Something like that. But your death would have been for the common good.'

'My death?' said Kelly.

'Nobody survives the infection,' said Mr Bashful. 'Once the virus has passed from the computer into the human host, it will play the human until the human dies.'