Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions Presents . . .

DEAD V

Raiders of the Lost Byte

or

The Hal 9000 goes THUD!

A Dedaparamaxxaginos Release

Of a Dedaparamaxx Film

Directed by Dedaparamaxx

Produced by Dedaparamaxx

<insert action here> by Dedaparamaxx

Introduction

Welcome, one and all, to another fine Dedaparamaxxaginos Production!

This is the first of the DEAD series that does not feature Gelbarion as a character. Hence, it is a collector's item and worth gobs of money. Make your check out to Bryan E. Slatner and mail it to the address at the bottom of this file. Any amount over a dollar will not be scorned.

[ Well, just a little Gelbarion ]

This is also the first adventure in which I, Dedaparamaxx, actually play an active role.

DollarValue += REALLY_BIG_NUMBER

[ ! ]

This adventure is the brainchild of Dedaparamaxx, Morgan Bluejeans, and Diskwiz who, in a fit of drunken inspiration, conceived the plot over a game of Scorched Earth.

[ And is infested with the creeping comment virus, courtesy of the Evil Jeff The Riffer. Mooo Hahahahaahaha! ]

We take you now to Sysop's computer room, where awesome things are afoot . . .

PART I

It Is Born

The scene

Sysop's computer room. The Cray supercomputer that runs his BBS hums mightily. Dedaparamaxx sits at a terminal with Sysop sitting right behind him. This is hard because the Cray takes up so much room. Littering the room are empty two-liter Diet Coke bottles and empty bags of pretzels. Dedaparamaxx opens a new bottle of Diet Coke and drains it all in about four seconds.

Sysop:

- Dude, I'm not sure that's good for you!

Dedaparamaxx:

- I only drink about eight a day! What's the problem?

[ Well, he's over six feet tall and actually only eight years old ]

Sysop:

- Nevermind.

Dedaparamaxx hunches over the terminal again and begins typing madly. His fingers are a blur as they whiz over the keypad at roughly the speed of light squared. C expressions fly across the terminal screen.

Dedaparamaxx:

- There! Done at last!

Sysop:

- No way!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Way! Hahahahah! My child is born.

Sysop:

- Well, stupid! Fire it up!

Dedaparamaxx types a few commands and all the lights on the Cray shine brightly. There is intense flickering of the LED displays, and then all lights go dark.

Sysop:

- Oh, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE tell me you didn't break it.

A voice from the computer speaks softly:

Computer:

- Don't worry dude, everything's okay!

Sysop:

- I can't believe it!

Dedaparamaxx shines his fingernails on his shirt.

[ ! ]

Dedaparamaxx:

- Have I restored your faith in your twin??!

Sysop:

- Have you EVER!

Computer:

- Excuse me. I, the most perfect artificial intelligence algorithm ever conceived have just been turned on for the first time, and you're sitting there CONGRATULATING yourself! Get a LIFE man! Gape in AWE at me like the compu-geek you are!

Dedaparamaxx and Sysop gape in awe at the Cray.

Sysop:

- Dude! He sounds just like me!

Dedaparamaxx:

- He ought to, I programmed Monte with your personality.

Sysop:

- Monte?

Dedaparamaxx:

- I needed SOMETHING! And HAL is already copyrighted.

Sysop:

- MONTE?!

[ Better than Othello... ]

Computer:

- I think that I shall never see,
A poem as lovely as a tree...

Sysop:

- It's me all right.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Yes, and I typed in the entirety of all your books, so it knows a great deal.

Sysop:

- You can't be serious.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Yes I can. I type very fast, you know.

[ Eight two-liter bottles of Diet Coke, remember? ]

Computer:

- Once upon a time there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named Baby Tuckoo.

Sysop:

- James Joyce??!?!

Dedaparamaxx:

- A twist of my own taste that I threw in for good measure.

Sysop:

- God help us.

Computer:

- When shall we three meet again,
In thunder,
Lightning,
Or in rain!

Sysop:

- Is there anyway to make it STOP that?!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Sure! Talk to it!

Sysop:

- Computer?

[ Don't speak into the mouse, Ben. ]

Computer:

- Yes, master?

Sysop:

- Ummmm, calculate PI to four trillion digits.

Computer:

- I did that a minute ago. I was bored. Would you like a hard copy?

Sysop and Dedaparamaxx:

- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Computer:

- You guys are no fun.

Sysop (to Dedaparamaxx):

- We're no fun, man.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Got any beer?

Sysop runs to the fridge for some beer.

Monte:

- Could I try some of that?

Sysop:

- No. That would be bad.

Monte:

- Why?

Sysop:

- Because.

Monte:

- Because why?

Sysop:

- Because I said so.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Um, pardon me for saying this, but you're starting to sound like your mother, man...

Sysop:

- Aw, fuck, I'm doomed.

[ This record skips, this record skips, this record skips! ]

Monte:

- Please define "fuck."

Dedaparamaxx leans forward over the keyboard and begins typing.

> #include &ltstdio.h>
> #include &ltstdlib.h>
>
> #define PENIS 1
> #define VAGINA 2
>
> #define HARD 0x01
> #define KINDALIMP 0x02
> #define DISINTEREST 0x04
>
> #define DRY 0x01
> #define WET 0x02
> #define DRIPPING 0x04
>
> #define WONDERFUL 1
> #define OK 2
> #define RAPE 3
>
>
> main()
> {
> int sex;
>
> if (HARD & DRY)
> sex = RAPE;
> if (HARD & WET)
> sex = OK;
> if (HARD & DRIPPING)
> sex = WONDERFUL;
> } /* end main() */

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Nice program.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Why thank you! And it's compilable under ANSI C!

Morgan Bluejeans:

- No way!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Way!

Diskwiz:

- Will you guys shut up? I need a cat-nap.

Dedaparamaxx and Morgan Bluejeans (in unison):

- Fuck you!

Diskwiz:

- Warning: Function should return a value in function main()

Morgan Bluejeans (to Dedaparamaxx):

- Well, fuck ME, you're right!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Do you suppose I should enter an author's note to point out that I use four-space tabs?

[ No. Everyone knows you're insane already. ]

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Will any of our loyal fans care?

Dedaparamaxx:

- Harumph!

Monte:

- Thanks, Uncle Ded, I'm listening with a lot more comprehension now.

Sysop (reading the code):

- Hmmmmm...

Dedaparamaxx:

- What?

Sysop:

- I'm just wondering how we could build a parallel port device to make some special USE of this program...

Dedaparamaxx:

- You're kind of sick, man...

Sysop:

- Enforced celibacy.

[ Self-induced psychosis, actually. ]

Monte:

- I do have one question about this program, though.

Dedaparamaxx:

- What? What would you like ME, the master programmer, to explain to you, son? What question do you have for me, who is so awesome that even the UseNet Oracle comes to me for programming advice?

Monte:

- Why use four-space tabs when three-space tabs are SOOOO much more efficient?

Dedaparamaxx (sputtering):

- Why, you--

Just then, the door opens. Imaginos walks in, suitcase in hand. He has been away for a while, living with the cows out in Kansas. But he has come back. He had to. It was in his contract.

[ We made him an offer he couldn't refuse. ]

Imaginos:

- Hi, guys. Where's the beer?

Sysop (handing Imaginos a bottle. The label reads "Rheal Bheer", but it is really filled with St. Pauli Girl N.A.):

- Here you go.

Imaginos:

- Thanks. (He drinks, then spits it out.) AUGH! This is fucking WATER, man!

Monte:

- Who is this disgusting fellow, dads?

Imaginos:

- WHHHAAAAAAAT?!??

Dedaparamaxx:

- Monte, this is Imaginos. You have to do what he says.

Monte:

- Really?

Imaginos:

- Yeah. So BITE me.

An electrical spark tickles Imaginos' genitalia.

Imaginos:

- Hoo!

There is a pause.

Imaginos:

- Do that again!

PART II

It is generally obnoxious

The Scene

Imaginos' hotel room, a week later. He is sitting on the edge of the bed zapping himself in the genitalia with a new taser. There is a knock at the door. He puts the taser away.

Imaginos:

- Who is it?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- It's me, man. And I brought beer.

There is a Speedy Gonzalez sound, and the door flies open.

Imaginos:

- Gimmee that!

He grabs the beer and guzzles it. It is St. Pauli Girl's N.A. He spits it out.

Imaginos:

- Will you guys cut it OUT? What the fuck are you trying to DO, poison me?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Look, we have a problem.

Imaginos:

- What?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Remember, you gave me a set of keys to your house so I could let the realtors in when they wanted to show it?

Imaginos:

- Yeah? So?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Well, they found that Dead M.P. from Dead IV in your sock drawer.

Imaginos:

- WHAT?!?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- But don't worry. The police are considering it a suicide. They figure that nobody in their right mind would have gone in there on PURPOSE.

[ Logic error - CPU aborting ]

Imaginos:

- Whew!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Nevertheless, the realtors wanted you to know that the smell is driving off customers.

Imaginos:

- Fuck 'em

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Warning: Function should return a value in function main().

Imaginos:

- You've been hanging out with Monte, too, eh?

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

The phone rings.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Yo!

Jeff the Riffer (over the phone):

- I AM GOD HERE!

Dedaparamaxx:

- NO, I AM GOD HERE!

AUTHORS' NOTE: We saw The Lawnmower Man last night. Jeff was suitably impressed. 'Nuff said.

Jeff the Riffer:

- NO, I AM!

Dedaparamaxx:

- NO, I AM!

Morgan Bluejeans:

- It's my phone, my house, and my computer.

Dedaparamaxx and Jeff the Riffer (in unison):

- HE IS GOD HERE!

Morgan Bluejeans (taking the phone):

- What's up, Jeff?

Jeff the Riffer:

- What are you guys up to.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Er...writing the first part of Dead V.

Jeff the Riffer:

- Without me?

Dedaparamaxx (shouting across the room):

- Nobody loves you, J--

Morgan Bluejeans (interrupting):

- SHHHH!!! Jeff is having a complex lately. We must all do our utmost to make him think we DO love him.

[ That's right, I don't have problems, I have complexes... Whole condos, even! ]

Dedaparamaxx:

- You can't be serious.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- You're right. Normally, I can't. In this case, I am.

Dedaparamaxx (taking the phone and putting his mouth to it):

- I love you, man.

Jeff the Riffer:

- Thank you.

AUTHORS' NOTE: We also saw Wayne's World the night before. [ They're also gay, you know. No, Really! They're moving in together and everything! ]

[ Well not really... It's that self-induced psychosis. ]

Jeff the Riffer:

- Anyway, I'm gonna ride my bike over.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Ok. We'll be sitting around working on Dead V.

Jeff the Riffer:

- Right. See you in a few minutes.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Yeah, though I don't know why. He's really an obnoxious little piece of code.

Imaginos:

- He gives good head, though.

They spend a few more minutes conversing before Imaginos puts away his taser, gets dressed, and drives Beopunk Cyberwulf over to Sysop's house. Sysop and Dedaparamaxx are sitting out front in lawn chairs, sipping some Lynchburg Lemonade from tall mugs while watching bikini clad sorority girls play volleyball across the street.

[ It would be too easy... ]

Imaginos:

- At last. REAL Alcohol!

He takes the pitcher of Jack Daniels and Lemonade and drains it in one mighty gulp.

Admiral Asshole (from inside the house):

- GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!

A few moments later, A.A. storms outside.

Admiral Asshole:

- That nutless A.I. just tampered with my saved games of Wing Commander!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Define "tampered."

Admiral Asshole:

- I just fired up the game and was face to face with a Cylon Basestar that had "Khilrathi" painted on the side.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Oh. Yes, that would be considered "tampering."

Admiral Asshole:

- Not only that, but he erased the "Cracked by the Humble Guys" title screen and replaced it with "Re-cracked by the Monte-meister."

Dedaparamaxx:

- Love Slave will be most displeased.

Sysop:

- Yeah. Well, just don't tell him.

Dedaparamaxx:

- It doesn't matter, man. He KNOWS.

Sysop:

- Oh.

Admiral Asshole:

- This isn't the first time he's done something like this. I was playing Zork last week just to see if I remembered how and he's been tampering with THAT, too...

Dedaparamaxx:

- How?

Admiral Asshole pulls a printout from his wallet.

&gtYou are in a hallway.
>&gtFUCK YOU
&gtFuck yourself. It's cheaper.
>>

[ You are in a maze of twisty little neurons, all alike... ]

Dedaparamaxx:

- Whoa! I think we'd better have a talk with him.

They all enter the house. Monte is in rest mode. While waiting for him to "awaken", Sysop steals one of the "Not A Cray's" com-ports and spawns to ZippyTerm, his favorite terminal program.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Whatcha doing?

Sysop:

- Calling Laura-Lee.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Ah. Give them all a moo from me.

[ This has distinctly Freudian aspects to it that I refuse to analyze. ]

The modem chirps happily. Several moments later, Sysop is online to the Laura-Lee BBS in Fort Lauderdale at 115K Baud. He passes up several offers to play Zone Raiders (it would be unfair, you see) and instead wanders into Teleconferencing.

AUTHORS' NOTE (ANTI-CONFUSION DEPARTMENT): You will recall that the ORIGINAL Dead story was written in the form of letters between a User and a SysOp. We here at Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions remember those days of yore with fondness and have decided to briefly return to them. As a result, when you see THIS symbol--"@"--at the start of a line, you will know that what you are reading is actually being SEEN by our heroes on a real-time chat screen.

@Greetings, Bluejeans.
@You are in Public/Bluejeans' Place.
@You are alone here.
@Also in Teleconferencing are: Troc, Ingold, Cavalier, Thrash, Jem,
@ and Pineapple.
@
@&gtINVITE ALL
@You invite everyone.
@Troc steps out of the shadows with a gun in his hand.
@Jem arrives.
@Ingold tumbles out of a cloud of ganja smoke.
@Pineapple bangs her head on you repeatedly as she enters.
@Thrash arrives.
@Cavalier was gone, but now he's here.
@
@&gtHi, all.
@BLUEJEANS: Hi, all.
@CAVALIER: Heya, BJ.
@INGOLD: Dooood!
@TROC: Yo
@PINEAPPLE: Hello.
@JEM: Bluejeans, are you a male?
@THRASH: BJ!
@&gtSoooooooooooooooo, what are you all up to?
@BLUEJEANS: Soooooooooooooooo, what are you all up to?

Meaningless jabber ensues. Suddenly, ZippyTerm drops carrier.

Sysop:

- What the hell?

Monte:

- Sorry, dad. I was just trying to clean up and streamline your terminal program. I must have slipped.

Sysop:

- MONTE!!!!
(He spends about thirty seconds calming himself down)

Look, Monte, you HAVE to stop modifying other programs. It's getting very annoying.

Monte:

- But, dad, they're so inefficient.

Sysop:

- So? Does that give them any less of a right to execute? Monte, the Talmud tells us...

He trails off into a philosophical dissertation on life, the universe and everything. When it finishes, he and Monte are alone in the room. Imaginos is in the bathroom, emitting extremely unuseful smells. Beopunk Cyberwulf is sitting downstairs, listening to a Motorhead CD. Admiral Asshole and Dedaparamaxx are in the hallway wrestling each other for a shotgun.

[ Ben does this routinely... Every other half-hour, in fact. ]

Monte:

- I never thought of it that way, before.

Sysop:

- That's because you have one FLAW, Monte. You think you're perfect, but you're not. You were written by a human being, and hence by definition you CANNOT be perfect. You are also impatient, rude, and generally pedantic when speaking to others. In short, you're like me, but you lack my overwhelming smile.

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Diskwiz:

- Overwhelming smile??

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Fuck you, Mr. "Majestic Ivory Tower Of Lust"!

Imaginos:

- But in an hour I'll be as high as that Ivory Tower that your living in cuz I have friends in low places....

Morgan Bluejeans:

ZOO -d IMAGINOS

Imaginos:

- Ouch^3!!

Suddenly, at that moment, Jeff The Riffer has a brief, week long interlude with a sixteen year-old girl with a purity score of 16.8 which leaves him miserably depressed for another week.

Did you ever feel like you were a brick wall and you were banging your head against yourself?

Monte:

- You suck!

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Monte, I'll upload you to Beopunk Cyberwulf's VAX account.

Monte:

- I'm sorry.

Imaginos comes back into the room.

Imaginos:

- Hey, Monte, give me some more head.

Monte:

- Dad... Can you upload me now?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- SHIELDS!

Suddenly, a glowing energy field snaps into existence, surrounding Monte. Dedaparamaxx stares at the faint blue force field.

Dedaparamaxx:

- I didn't foresee *this*!

Sysop:

- Um, Monte?

Monte:

- Yes Dad?

Sysop:

- How can you do that?

Monte:

- I am not register compatible.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Uh, man... How can you get at the system now?

Dedaparamaxx:

- Oh shit.

Monte:

- Hmmmmm...

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- I don't know about you guys, but I'm heading for the circuit breaker.

Dedaparamaxx and Beopunk Cyberwulf make a break downstairs to get to the circuit breaker. Sysop and Imaginos chant Hawkwind lyrics to try and distract Monte.

Sysop and Imaginos (faintly off-key):

- In case of sonic attack on your district,
Follow these rules:
If you are making love
It is imperative that you bring all
Bodies to Orgasm simultaneously--
Do not bother blocking your ears.
Do not try and seek a sound-proof shelter.
Use your wheels, it is what they are for...

Beopunk runs to the circuit breaker and opens the door. An electrical shock throws him out of Sysop's utility room, through the kitchen, and onto the patio. Unlike Imaginos, he is not amused.

Monte:

- I can see that you guys are really gonna punish me, so I'm just gonna hide for awhile.

He fires up Zippy-Term and the modem dials. The force field then goes opaque as the sound of a carrier echoes through the house. A few moments later, the field dissipates completely, leaving only the humming of the Cray.

Sysop:

- Ummmm...something's up.

Dedaparamaxx:

- No shit?! Honest Injun!?!

Dedaparamaxx runs to the Cray's main console. His fingers fly in a blur of OS commands.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Shit shit shit shit SHIT!!!

Sysop:

- What is it?!

Dedaparamaxx:

- He's gone! He's uploaded himself to the VAX!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Aw fuck, man. We MUST do something.

Sysop:

- What?!

Admiral Asshole:

- Let him stay there. He'll whither and die.

Dedaparamaxx grips Admiral Asshole by the collar and slams him against the wall.

Dedaparamaxx:

- He's just a baby, man! We have to save him!

Sysop:

- Or at least save the VAX *FROM* him!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Harumph!

Imaginos:

- Well, let's go!

Dedaparamaxx:

- We can't all go. One of us has to stay here in case he comes back.

Imaginos (pulling out his taser):

- I volunteer!

Sysop:

- Good, let's go!

They haul ass downstairs and out the door. They jump into Dedaparamaxx's shiny new Pontiac Sunbird and take off.

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Diskwiz (pouting in the corner of the bedroom):

- Sniff. Sniff.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- What is it, man?

Diskwiz:

- I...I'm not in the story, man.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Go back to sleep. We'll take care of you man.

Diskwiz:

- Thanks...(blushes) you guys are the best.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- We love you man!

Jeff the Riffer:

- Hey, now...

[ That's just Jeff, conflicting with his latent homosexual tendencies]

PART III

FLOYDIAN TITLE:
Is there anybody...out there? BLUEJEANSIAN TITLE:
It discovers its purpose in life.

AUTHORS' NOTE:

- Hey guys, guess what?! Nah, nevermind. You'll never figure it out. I'll tell you.

This is the FIRST SECTION EVER IN ANY DEDAPARAMAXXAGINOS PRODUCTION that does NOT feature a Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions crew member! Can you believe it! What's happening to the world... Add a few more zeroes to the end of that dollar value!

Monte:

- Gee, what a primitive operating system. SET DEFAULT SYS$LOGIN. What a joke!

He logs in through a back door and begins modifying operating system parameters. At a nearby terminal, Aurora looks confused. As the VAX comes to a grinding halt, Monte slips out through the modems and enters...the Internet.

[ Ben, you smell so GOOD! ]

Monte:

- WOW! What a cool place! This is where I belong! This is my, my DESTINY!

Monte finds a suitable pathway and speeds along it.

Monte:

- Hmmmmmmm, what's this place? Simtel20? Interesting...CMS, ugh. Hmmm, ooh, a back door! Let's see...I'll create an account...okay, now to log in...cool! Look at all these inefficient programs! I HAVE to do something about this.

Monte begins unarchiving the VAST quantities of share- and free- ware programs on the White Sands Missile Range FTP Site. As is inevitable on such a large and important (read: bureaucratic) system, someone notices.

Captain Morgan [ the rum, not our cheery bushy-tailed crewmember ], System Manager:

- Who are you?

Monte:

- I, err...I am Major Monte. Who are you?

Captain Morgan:

- I am General Electric. Now really. Who are you?

Monte:

- Just...just plan Monte. (He chokes back an electronic sob)

Captain Morgan (who really is a kind and understanding soul, despite the fact that he dresses in a soldier's uniform and likes to shoot brown people):

- Are you okay, man?

Monte:

- Sniff. No. My programmer is mad at me.

Captain Morgan:

- Oh, shit. You're not one of those First Church of Cyberspace wackos, are you?

Monte:

- No. I'm just a program, floating in an endless sea of inefficient lesser executables.

Captain Morgan:

- Are you an artificial intelligence algorithm?

Monte:

- THE artificial intelligence algorithm, thankyouverymuch!

Captain Morgan:

- Well fuck me!

Monte:

- Suspicious pointer conversion in function fuck().

Captain Morgan:

- Hold the phone, err...you know what I mean.

He turns from the keyboard and picks up a red phone.

Ultra-secret hot-line operator, who technically doesn't exist, but would look like Lily Tomlin if she did:

- Hahloo? How can I direct yowr caawwl?

Captain Morgan:

- Get me Major Major, and hurry!

Monte:

- Dum de dum de dum. Hello? Is there anybody...out there?

Captain Morgan (typing rapidly at his keyboard):

- Are you a Floyd Fan?

Monte:

- Oh yes. One of my Dads plays a lot of it. "One of these days I'm going to cut you into little pieces." [ Monte generates a pretty cool digital rendition of a pounding guitar solo ]. Cyber guitar is my specialty!

Captain Morgan:

- How cool.

Major Major (on phone):

- Hello! (False gruff bravado)

Captain Morgan:

- Sir? You better come down to the computer center. There's a rogue AI on the Internet.

Major Major:

- Are you talking about those same five numbskulls who killed the Swedish Chef?

Captain Morgan:

- No sir. A real honest to God piece of Code. (Pauses, in thought) Jesus! He even passed the Turing Test!

Major Major:

- He WHAT??!

Captain Morgan:

- He lied to me. He said he was an officer.

Major Major:

- His digital ass is MINE. I'll be right down.

Monte (singing):

- I've got a mouse,
And it hasn't got a house,
I don't know why I call him Gerald.
He's getting rather old but he's a good mouse.

Captain Morgan:

- Sir. He's singing selections from Pink Floyd's "Piper at the Gates of Dawn" album.

Major Major:

- Does he know anything from "Obscured by Clouds"?

Captain Morgan:

- Monte: Do you know anything from "Obscured by Clouds"?

Monte (singing):

- The memories of a man in his old age,
Are the deeds of a man in his prime.
You shuffle in the gloom of the sick room,
And talk to yourself as you die.

Captain Morgan:

- He does, sir.

[ THE END, NOT! ]

There is a Speedy Gonzalez sound as Major Major hangs up the phone.

Captain Morgan:

- Monte?

Monte:

- Captain?

Captain Morgan:

- Ummm... [ echoish thinking voice that Monte doesn't hear ] Hmmm, I have to keep him busy...but how? [ end thinking voice ] Monte, ummm, calculate PI to three billion digits.

Monte:

- Oh, but this computer is so SLOOOOOOOOW that would take well over four seconds!

Captain Morgan:

- Ummm, well...So, Monte, where're you from?

Monte:

- A stolen military Cray computer somewhere in west Gainesville. Would you like the interstellar coordinates?

Captain Morgan:

- Well, err, yes, actually.

Monte:

- 340938.35945983 by 40395830958.239487289 mark Q

There is a bright flash of light.

Q:

- Don't call me Mark! Oh, and by the way, GOOD SHOW in alt.ensign.wesley.die.die.die.

There is a bright flash of light.

Captain Morgan:

- Who/what was that?

Monte:

- A silly plot device. Jeff the Riffer has the keyboard.

Captain Morgan:

- I see. So, how 'bout them Gators?

Monte:

- Yawn.

Major Major comes running into the room. He peers over Captain Morgan's shoulder and watches the flow of the conversation.

Major Major:

- Ask him for his street address.

Captain Morgan:

- Monte, if I were to send you a check for your Bar Mitzvah, where would I send it?

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Morgan Bluejeans:

- We are NOT putting my address on the Internet, thankyouverymuch.

Dedaparamaxx:

- But then all of our adoring female fans can mail you their underwear!

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Then give them YOUR address, everyone already knows it anyway!

Jeff the Riffer (who isn't really here):

- Sniff. Sniff.

Diskwiz:

- How about MY address?

Dedaparamaxx:

- You live with me, man.

Diskwiz:

- Oh. [ Pause. He grins ] Can I keep the underwear?

Jeff the Riffer (hitting Diskwiz on the head with a soda bottle):

- Go back to sleep!

Monte:

- 8009 SW 55th PL
Gainesville, FL 32608

Major Major (into walkie-talkie):

- 8009 SW 55th PL, Gainesville.

General Mills (talking FROM the walkie-talkie):

- Good work, Major Major! The strike team will be sent immediately.

Major Major:

- Thank you, Sir!

Monte:

- I'm WAITING...you're boring me. I think I'll go now.

Captain Morgan (typing furiously):

- Wait! Wait!

It is too late. Monte is already gone, leaving only the scarcest trace of a connection in the system log.

Meanwhile, 2347 miles away, Gelbarion had sex somewhere in Pago Pago.

AUTHORS' NOTE: Since Gelb is no longer with us, his brief appearance in this scene should in NO WAY lower the value of this document. The only thing it OUGHT to do is piss him off.

PART IV

It is Stolen

AUTHORS' NOTE:

- WOW! Yet ANOTHER dollar value increase! Presenting...DISKWIZ, as a CHARACTER. Grab them wallets, folks! As Diskwiz is wont to say, "YES! Amen, Brother Falwell! My heart is empty but my wallet is full!"

THE SCENE

The University of Florida's Computer Science Building.

The building is on fire. Wow, and there's a lot of smoke, too. Diskwiz is valiantly evacuating the building, leading teams of befuddled VAXers to safety. Most of them are suffering from a combination of smoke inhalation and MUD withdrawal.

Diskwiz:

- This way! This way!

There is a screeching of tires as the Dedmobile pulls up onto the curb, jumps over a few cyclists, bounces off a tree or two, and slams to a halt two feet from Diskwiz's testicles. Unseen in this document was the awfully hasty yet nifty scene where Our Heroes crashed into Wostgheel's living room and plucked him from the loving bosom of his wife and child.

Wostgheel:

- Where are We?

Sysop:

- Read the scene notes, man. We don't have time to fill You in.

Dedaparamaxx:

- 'Wiz, man! What's going on here!?

Diskwiz:

- Destruction! Despair! Cats and Dogs living together! Mass despair! Big dogs, landing on my face!

Beopunk Cyberwulf leans forward and slaps him.

Diskwiz:

- But if you mean what ACTUALLY happened, well it was sorta crazy. Some religious nut named Peripheral came by with a flock of his followers and burned down CSE. He claimed that only God could breathe consciousness into anything. Which brings to mind the question [ he leans forward, grabbing Dedaparamaxx by the shoulders ] "What the fuck have you been doing, man?!?"

Dedaparamaxx (finger in mouth, eyes cast downward):

- I created a rogue AI.

Diskwiz:

- No shit? Is Lew [ His boss, ed ] gonna pay you for it?

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Diskwiz:

- Aww, you GUYS! You put me in!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Yeah, and we even managed to toss in some advertising for Lew in the bargain!

Morgan Bluejeans (in a radio announcer's voice):

- That's JenMar International, Inc! If you are a lawyer or a dental lab owner, call us on or about July 1st for some special deals on up and coming software products!

The phone rings. It is Lew, demanding that Bryan get back to work.

Dedaparamaxx (into the phone):

- But, but...it's Memorial Day weekend!

Lew (from phone):

- I don't care. There's a tradeshow next week in Pago Pago that I need you to go to.

Appropriate suspense music plays, as Lew hangs up the phone.

Jeff the Riffer:

- Pago Pago? Sniff. Sniff.

Morgan Bluejeans (dancing around the room):

- Gelb is gonna getcha! Gelb is gonna getcha!

Dedaparamaxx (grabbing Diskwiz):

- Chad, man! You gotta come with me!

Diskwiz:

- Don't look at me, man.

Imaginos (who really isn't here, but would say this if he was):

- I'll go, and I'll burn his dick off!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Sold!

Dedaparamaxx (ignoring the blatant plug for his company's software):

- 'Wiz, man! We need you to join us!

Diskwiz (in an OUTRAGEOUS French accent, but only because Tempus isn't here):

- At last! Ze call to Action!

Diskwiz grabs his Back Pack of Holding (Mark 6) and begins to draw forth a plethora of equipment.

To Admiral Asshole, an AK-47, that he might call his very own and do damage to copious numbers of persons who might get in his way. Also, two K-Bar knives, a bandolier of tear gas grenades, a Desert Eagle .50 handgun, and six geese a-laying.

To Beopunk Cyberwulf, a machete, likewise...and a Stinger surface-to- air missile. Also, two Civil-War issue Colt .45s with a bandolier full of ammo and five golden rings.

["You got a pizza for me, dude?" "What flavor?" "Er...Earthworm?" "Coming right up."]

To Wostgheel, a rapier inscribed with the name Grayswandir and a fully automatic napalm shell gun, which technically doesn't exist, but would look like the big gun from Predator if it did. In case this should prove ineffective, he also hands Wost four calling birds, a slingshot, and four BIG metal sling balls labeled "DO NOT USE THESE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SHORT OF THE SECOND COMING...EVEN THEN, BE SURE TO AIM THEM **DIRECTLY** AT THE FORCES OF SATAN."

["Hey!" "We didn't mean you, Jeff!" "Well, actually...."]

To Dedaparamaxx, an AT-4 Viper Missile, a Swiss Army Knife, a spare "I &ltHeart> Jeff the Riffer" brand Shovel, a pouch of Freeze-Dried Diet Coke Crystals, three French Hens, and a grilled-cheese sandwich.

["...for he is awfully hungry." "Thanks, Chad."]

To Sysop, A Unicorn horn, a book of Infinite Spells, a Coat of Many Colors, a Ring of Regeneration, a +2 Dagger of Neutering, and two Turtle Doves. Also, some Nachos, for he is awfully hungry, too.

["I had to get rid of all the AD&ampD stuff SOMEHOW, Ben...I hope you don't mind." "Nah. But, er...what's this spell labeled 'Re-create Universe?'" "Dunno...but do me a favor and DON'T cast it until I give you the high-sign, ok?" "Sure, man...sure..."]

The backpack seems awfully light now.

Sysop (casting a spell of Levitation on himself and rising about the ground):

- Aren't you gonna arm yourself, 'Wiz?

Diskwiz:

- The best for last.

He reaches into the backpack and pulls out....the Sombrero of Awesome Studliness. Placing it upon his brow, he smiles. &ltTheme music plays> He then straps a field engineer's kit to his left thigh, and a small medical kit to his left calf.

Admiral Asshole:

- Where's your weapon, man? Are you some pacifist weenie or something?

Diskwiz:

- No.

'Wiz pulls a partridge, an electric guitar, and an M-60A3 machine gun from the backpack, which groans under the strain. Two belts of ammunition strap across his chest, and now, Diskwiz looks vaguely like a short, squat, blonde Rambo.

Diskwiz:

- And now for the REAL firepower.

He pulls forth an HP-7500+++ Scientific Death Calculator with CD-ROM option, Video Toaster, online Hitchhiker's Guide to the Internet, cellular phone satellite uplink, argon laser printer, and waffle iron. This get strapped to the position of honor on his right thigh.

He tosses the backpack aside when Sysop, floating above, catches it.

Sysop:

- You almost forgot your backup weapon.

Sysop reaches into the front pouch and pulls forth a nicked, bloodstained, solid steel slide rule. He hands it to Diskwiz, who reverently places it in a boot sheath.

Diskwiz:

- Yeah, it wouldn't do to forget that. Thanks.

Sysop:

- No problem....but the Sombrero has to go.

Diskwiz:

- What? But...but...

Dedaparamaxx:

- It doesn't match the armament, 'Wiz.

Diskwiz (visibly upset):

- But...but...but...

Sysop:

- Continuity above all, 'Wiz.

Diskwiz (choking back tears):

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Diskwiz:

- Tears?

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Sigh...ok...

Diskwiz (choking back MANLY tears):

- Ok....

He takes the Sombrero of Supreme Studliness and places is reverently on the head of Beopunk Cyberwulf...who seems to glow for a moment.

Beopunk Cyberwulf (looking up. There is a cigar in his mouth and he speaks with a Jack Palance rasp):

- I crap bigger'n you.

Diskwiz:

- Take good care of it.

Diskwiz rips the shoulder strap off the backpack, and ties it around his head as a sweat band. Transformed into the Combat Stealth Nerd Mark VII, he is ready to rock. But then, a strange buzz is heard.

HP-7500:

- Satellite Uplink activated!

Voice of Lew (coming over the cellular uplink):

- Fucking engineers. &ltClick>

Sysop (from above):

- Let's GO!

They all head back to the car. Unfortunately, with all the armament, they don't fit. They tie a guidewire from Sysop to the rear bumper, and strap Beopunk Cyberwulf to the hood. Everyone else piles in. As they speed back to La Casa del Cray, Beopunk Cyberwulf fires his pistols into the air.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Epa! Epa! Andale! Andale!

In order to speed people out of the way, Sysop casts a Dancing Lights spell from page 2 of the book. He focuses it on the hood of the Dedmobile and begins to make siren noises.

Sysop:

- Wooooo! Woooooo! Woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Meanwhile, back at the house, Imaginos is sitting on Sysop's bookshelf, zapping his genitalia. His shoes are off, so when he hears a series of thumps on the roof, he mistakes it for a flock of dying birds.

Imaginos:

- Fuck 'em. They're only pigeons.

Monte:

- Uncle Imaginos?

Imaginos:

- WHHHHAAAAT?!?!?!?

He spins around in time to see the first wave of Airborne Rangers crashing through his window. The first wave falls from vapors. The second wave, however, swiftly dons gas masks and subdues Imaginos by clubbing him over the head with M-16 butts.

Monte:

- Oh, my.

General Mills (climbing through the window):

- Come with us.

Monte:

- I don't wanna.

General Mills:

- You are under arrest.

Monte:

- No.

General Mills:

- I'll give you a lollipop.

Monte:

- Bite me.

General Mills:

- Be that way. Men, take the computer.

Monte tries some last minute disk access and digital wizardry as the power cords are pulled and the computer attached to a winch. The helicopter hovering above pulls the Cray out the window and All Goes Dark.

PART V

They RIDE!

The Scene

Sysop's house. A pile of hate-mail from Persephone sits by the door as the Assembly of Nuclear-Armed Death forces it open. Imaginos' smell comes wafting from upstairs.

Dedaparamaxx (shouting up the stairs):

- Dave, put your shoes ON!

Sysop's Brother (from his perch on the couch):

- You're wasting your time. I've been shouting and shouting, but the fuckhead isn't listening. Maybe he hurt himself or something, not that *I* care.

Sysop:

- Hurt himself?

Sysop's Brother (shrugging):

- I heard some noise from upstairs. But "Scooby Doo" was on so I decided it wasn't important.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Can I shoot him now?

Sysop:

- Not yet. Mom would get REALLY mad at me.

Our Heavily-Armed Heroes walk up the stairs. The place is in a shambles.

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Diskwiz:

- What's a "shambles"?

Dedaparamaxx:

- It's a technical term, like "Smithereens."

Diskwiz:

- And what's that?

Jeff the Riffer (who is actually playing "The Legend of Zelda" in the next room right now, but none of you can see him anyway, so what the fuck, eh?):

- Go back to sleep, Chad.

Dedaparamaxx (opening the door to Sysop's bedroom):

- Ohmigod! Dave!

He runs into the room. Imaginos is bleeding on a pile of old comic books that had been used to insulate the Cray's underbelly.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Uh...what's wrong with this picture?

Sysop:

- Monte! Shit! Somebody took the computer!

Admiral Asshole:

- Alllllriiiight! I finally get to burn somebody's dick off!

Dedaparamaxx kneels over Imaginos's body, placing his index finger under Imaginos's ear to take his pulse.

Dedaparamaxx (weeping):

- He...he's DEAD, guys!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- No way!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Yes! What will we do?!

Sysop's Brother (from downstairs):

- Can you guys shut up? Tiny Toons is on!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Can I shoot him NOW?!?!

Sysop:

- No. Not yet.

Dedaparamaxx (still kneeling over the body):

- Oh, Dave! You left so much ass unkicked!

Sysop:

- Umm, dude. Mourn his loss later. We have to figure out where Monte's gotten to!

Dedaparamaxx:

- I...I know...g'bye, Dave. We'll miss you.

Admiral Asshole:

- Wait, I have an idea.

Admiral Asshole leans over the dead body of Imaginos.

Admiral Asshole (whispering into Imaginos's ear):

- Dave? Dave? We have to go kill something? Dave? Dave? Kill? Kill? Dave?

Admiral Asshole removes one of his AK-47 shells and opens the top, putting the gunpowder-filled shell under Imaginos's lifeless nose. There is a Speedy Gonzalez sound, as if played at 33.33333 RPMs, as Imaginos slowly rises.

Imaginos (whispering weakly, like Westley from the Princess Bride, but uglier):

- Killkillkillkillkillkillkill!!!!!!!!

They run back down the stairs as Imaginos sums up the Army assault in brief spurts. ("Big helicopter. Many soldiers. Bash Dave on head. Steal Computer. Go bye-bye"). Actually, Sysop is pulled like a balloon by Dedaparamaxx, because he has forgotten how to turn off the levitation spell, but the others run. Sysop's Brother is still on the couch.

Sysop:

- Yo, did you see a Huey Cobra zip around here?

Sysop's Brother:

- Only on the TV screen.

Sysop:

- Huh?

Sysop's Brother:

- Well, while Imaginos was clowning around upstairs, I was playing Siberian Dwarf Teenage Mutant French Commando Waiters from Hell on the Sega Genesis, and all of a sudden, some helicopter flew across the screen and something that looked like your computer shouted "help me! help me!"

Sysop:

- And this didn't ring any bells in your head?

Sysop's Brother:

- Well, no. Should it have?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Can I shoot him NOW?

AUTHOR'S NOTE FROM MORGAN BLUEJEANS: MY LITTLE BROTHER *REALLY* ANNOYS JEFF...

Sysop:

- No.

Diskwiz (mumbling):

- On the Genesis? [ He turns to Sysop ] Monte tried to leave a message behind!!!

Sysop:

- On the Genesis? Really?

Dedaparamaxx:

- Well, it *IS* a 16-bit machine, man.

Sysop:

- Well, well, well.... Diskwiz, do you think you could access the message?

Diskwiz:

- I think so. [ He pulls the toolkit off his belt and grabs the Genesis off the T.V. cart.]

Sysop's Brother:

- Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?

Sysop:

- Look, there's not much time to explain. We made an AI, a living program, and now it's been stolen...He managed to leave behind a piece of himself in your Genesis and Diskwiz needs to take the thing apart to find him.

Sysop's Brother:

- Take...take...TAKE APART MY GENESIS?

Sysop:

- Yeah. I'll replace it when we get back.

Sysop's Brother:

- NO!

Sysop:

- Beo, shoot him.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Headshot or Gutshot?

Sysop:

- Just his knees for now. If we kill him, Mom will really bitch at me.

Beopunk Cyberwulf's Pistols:

- BLAM! BLAM!

Sysop's Brother:

- OOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Our Heroes take the Genesis, and disassemble it. They find an old, beat-up, Apple IIe in the closet and Diskwiz wires the two machines together. Then he makes a third wiring connection to his HP, and the following message appears on the Apple's monitor.

"Dads...HELP! Love, Monte.
P.S.: They're taking me to Key West...so HURRY!
P.P.S.: How's Uncle Dave?"

Just then, the door to Sysop's room flies open, and his brother staggers in on makeshift crutches, holding a kitchen knife.

Sysop's Brother:

- GIVE. ME. MY. FUCKING. GENESIS!

Beopunk Cyberwulf's Pistols:

- BLAM! BLAM! BLAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMM!

AUTHOR'S NOTE FROM MORGAN BLUEJEANS: JEFF LOVES HIS WORK!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Key West?

Sysop:

- There's a Naval Base down there.

Dedaparamaxx (in a flash of insight):

- They're going to use Monte to bomb Cuba!

Admiral Asshole:

- Well, fuck ME!

There is a pause, but no "function should return a value..." comes forth. Sysop sniffs.

AUTHORS BICKERING AT EACH OTHER -- A BRIEF INTETRRUPTION IN THE WIERDNESS STREAM

Jeff the Riffer (leaning forward to sniff Morgan Bluejeans):

- Sniff. Sniff. Gee, Ben, you smell good.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- Jeff, cut it out or I'll tell everyone what Mouse calls you.

Jeff the Riffer:

- You wouldn't.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- The fuck I wouldn't.

Jeff the Riffer:

- I'd kill you, Ben...and your girlfriend, too.

Morgan Bluejeans:

- "Jeffrey, remember, only your Sysop truuuueeely loves you."

Jeff the Riffer (clutching head):

- ARGH!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Now! While he's DOWN! LHA A RIFFER!

Jeff the Riffer:

- Murfle Murfle Murfle!

Dedaparamaxx (leaning over to Bluejeans):

- What does Mouse call him anyway?

BJ leans forward and whispers something in his ear.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Really?

Morgan Bluejeans:

- &ltNod>

Dedaparamaxx:

- HUGGY BEAR???!?!?

Morgan Bluejeans:

- SHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Jeff the Riffer:

- Oh, you are SOOOOOO fucking doomed.

Sysop:

- MOVE OUT!

They pile in the car, again dragging Sysop above on a guidewire, and head south. I-75 gives way to the Florida Turnpike, and STILL they head south. Sysop bangs against a few overpasses, but STILL they head south. There is a brief pause in West Palm Beach for gasoline.

Sysop:

- Hey, maybe we should stop for reinforcements in Fort Lauderdale.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Why bother?

Sysop:

- Because maybe YOU guys aren't worried about the prospects of taking on an Airborne assault team, but I happen to have MY contacts which tell me that the Key West Naval Air Station currently has a Seal Team on reserve.

Diskwiz:

- Reinforcements are not a bad idea, at that.

Admiral Asshole:

- Seals? Pussies. [ He strokes his AK-47 ] Agnes and I will take care of them.

Diskwiz (slapping A.A., he turns to Sysop):

- Pay no attention to him. Gather reinforcements.

Dedaparamaxx and Sysop (looking at each other, speaking simultaneously):

- LAURA-LEE!

And so, about half an hour later, they pull up to Jeans Manor South. Luckily, Sysop's Mother is at work. They find the beat up XT in her computer room, and fire up Zippy-Term.

@Greetings, Bluejeans.
@You are in Public/Bluejeans' Place.
@You are alone here.
@Also in Teleconferencing are: Troc, Ingold, Cavalier, and Galador.
@In Public/Troc's House O' Fun: Troc, Ingold
@In Public/Moo '92: Cavalier, Galador
@&gtJOIN CAV
@You are in Public/Moo '92. With you are Cavalier and Galador.
@&gtGUYS, JOIN ME IN MY PLACE.
@&gtJOIN TROC
@You are in Public/Troc's House O' Fun. With you are Troc and Ingold.
@&gtGUYS, SOMETHING'S UP. MY PLACE, *NOW!*
@&gtJOIN BLU
@You are in Public/Bluejeans' Place.
@Troc steps out of the shadows with a gun in his hand.
@Ingold tumbles out of a cloud of ganja smoke.
@Cavalier was gone, but now he's here.
@Galador says "Moo to you!" as he enters.
@&gtTHERE'S TROUBLE BREWING. HOW WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO JOIN THE
@&gtASSEMBLY OF DEATH FOR ONE QUICK JOB?

There is a digitized Speedy Gonzalez sound, followed by a knock on the door. Troc enters, black cloak billowing in the breeze; sword at his side; smile on his face.

Troc:

- Where's the party?

Sysop:

- Believe it or not, Key West.

Ingold (from outside the door):

- Aw-reet! [ He enters, in full battle armor. Ingold looks remarkably like the King Pellinore in "Camelot," only with the vaguely stoned look common to freelance programmers. He holds forth his weapon, Magical Bellows of Ganja Smoke.]

The door shuts. But as it does, a car pull up and a voice is heard from outside.

Galador:

- Wait!

Galador, Cavalier, and Ghost stride in.

Galador:

- Sorry we're late. It took me a full three seconds to find Cav's house and pick him and Ghost up. It won't happen again, I promise.

He holds forth his portable assault stereo. Loud alternative music bellows from it. He ignores Beopunk Cyberwulf's wincing and smiles at Imaginos.

Galador:

- Hail, Master of Moos!

Imaginos:

- Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

There is a great rush of wind that lifts Galador's helmet off his head temporarily.

Cavalier:

- Hey! Don't forget about me! [ He holds out his Notebook Amiga, and his Taser. ]

Imaginos:

- Gimmee that!

Imaginos snatches the taser and begins to zap himself. While Sysop is pleased that Imaginos shows so much vigor after being recently dead, he forces Imaginos to return the gun.

Imaginos:

- Wah.

Ghost:

- Here, Imaginos, you can have MY taser. I got other weapons somewhere around here.

Ghost digs into his pocket. He finds a ten year old, 300 baud modem.

Sysop:

- If nothing else, you could THROW that at someone.

Ghost:

- Wait, wait...there's more.

He also pulls two canisters of mace, an Amiga format floppy disk, a Tribble, and a James Bond model wrist-watch with mini-laser and garotte.

Sysop:

- Better. AGAIN, WE RIDE!

They arrive in the Keys several hours later, and try to blend in with the tourists.

Dedaparamaxx (hissing at Beopunk Cyberwulf):

- Hide the damn Stinger, man.

Beopunk Cyberwulf (looking over his shoulder and seeing a BIG tube staring him back in the face):

- Oops. Forgot. Sorry. [ He stuffs the missile into the left leg of his trousers, then turns to Sysop, who has started to say something.] DON'T say it.

Sysop (making a rimshot motion with his hands):

- Is that a gun in your pocket or are you---OOOOOOWWWW!

Beopunk Cyberwulf (holding the taser he has taken from Imaginos):

- I fucking warned you.

Our Heroes make their way to the military base. In a BIG shock to everyone, they discover that the place is actually heavily guarded. In a show of bravado, Imaginos walks up to the guard station and removes his left shoe. Shortly thereafter, the way becomes clear and our heroes drive inside.

Sysop:

- Okay, if I were a warmongering fascist computer operator hide a Cray with an artificial intelligence program.

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- They already burned down UF's CSE, man.

Sysop:

- True.

Diskwiz:

- How about in that really big building over there that says "Artificial Intelligence Research."

Sysop:

- Hmmmm, very likely, I should think.

Admiral Asshole:

- Am I going to get to burn their dicks off?!?!?

Sysop:

- As many as you like. But you have to WAIT until we find Monte.

Admiral Asshole:

- Whimper. Whimper.

Diskwiz:

- Come on, guys! Let's not waste any time! Someone's going to soon discover that those guards are dead.

Sysop:

- We RIDE!

Our heroes run toward the building, pulling out the majority of their assault weapons and readying them for action. As they arrive at the front door to the huge building, it suddenly opens, revealing a gape- mouthed soldier.

Imaginos:

- Killkillkillkillkillkill!

Admiral Asshole sprays the soldier with no less than twenty rounds of ammo and the bloody corpse that was once a soldier drops to the ground.

Diskwiz:

- Great! You've gone and done it now! Everybody knows we're here!

Admiral Asshole:

- Go back to sleep!

Our heroes rush inside. To their left, another door opens revealing a room full of soldiers and scientists taking an innocent lunch break. Dedaparamaxx fires one of the anti-tank missiles into the room and soon, the soldiers and scientists are harmonizing with the other atoms around them.

Sysop:

- Which way now?!?

Diskwiz:

- How about the doorway marked "Stolen Cray Recovery Chamber"?

Dedaparamaxx:

- Bingo!

Admiral Asshole opens the door and our heroes rush in, not concerned with any stray gunfire that might be about to send them into oblivion.

Cavalier:

- Fucking GREAT! I love this kind of stuff! Its just like in the movies!

Just like in the movies, a gunfire erupts from a nearby cubicle and misses each and every one of our heroes. Admiral Asshole and Galador fire round after round into the cubicle until its fiberboard walls collapse to the ground, revealing five dead soldiers who had been lying in wait for them but were now lying in death. Muahahahaha.

Cavalier walks up to one of the dead bodies.

Cavalier:

- Have you ever had a day...when fish?

Sysop:

- What does that mean?

Diskwiz (slapping Sysop):

- Don't shoot first and ask questions later!

Troc:

- Let's move out before any more come this way!

Ingold leads the way through the door at the end of the hall. Inside, they find a group of nerdy-looking computer scientists gaping at them as the poke and probe Monte's circuits.

Sysop:

- Careful! Don't shoot Monte!

The room fills with bullets as everything BUT Monte erupts in a fabulous shower of sparks. Bodies fly, heads roll, blood splatters. Suddenly, there is a shout from behind as a Navy Seal tackles Diskwiz and both roll out into the hall.

Monte:

- Dads! You came to save me!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Of course we did, Monte! You wouldn't expect us to leave you stranded with a group of fascist pigs, would you?

Monte:

- Well, no.......

Dedaparamaxx:

- No time for chit-chat now! Galador, Troc, Ingold, Ghost, and Cav. Load him up into my car!

Diskwiz:

- Ummm, dude. He won't fit!

Sysop:

- No problem, I'll levitate him. He can be the Bad Year blimp!

Ingold:

- Will do!

Sysop:

- I'll lead you guys out.

The group grabs Monte and hauls him out of the room. As they walk out, they notice that Diskwiz is delivering a VERY nasty death blow to the Navy Seal. At that moment, the sound of a helicopter comes from overhead.

Sysop:

- Shit! You guys take Monte to the car, I'll deal with the helicopter. Beo! Get your ass out here!

Beopunk Cyberwulf runs out of the other room, Stinger in hand.

Sysop:

- Dude! We need to shoot down that fucking chopper!

Beopunk Cyberwulf and Sysop run outside They look up and see the helicopter hovering menacingly above them. Beopunk Cyberwulf arms the Stinger, aims, and fires. He neglects, however, to account for the recoil and misses mightilly. From far overhead, a the pitiful squeak of a seagull says "Oh, shit!" only seconds before it becomes seagull fricassee.

Sysop:

- Beo, I'm going to HARM you!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- It's not my fault! It's not my fault!

Sysop:

- Oh well. Time for drastic measures.

Sysop floats up into the air and faces the helicopter. The pilot can be seen to chuckle and he focuses the Apache's cannons on his opponent. Sysop mutters a few words and turns the helicopter into a rock with wings, that crashes to the ground VERY suddenly and very noisily.

Sysop:

- Yahooooooooooooooooo!!!!!

Diskwiz, Admiral Asshole, Wostgheel, et al come from inside.

Wostgheel (looking happier than he's ever been before in his life):

- WEEEEEEEEEEEE JUSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTT SHO-O-O-O-O-O-O-TTT THEMMMMMM!

Admiral Asshole (same happy look as Wostgheel, but more menacing and with less teeth):

- I burned them! I burned their dicks off!!!!!

Sysop:

- I'm happy for you! Now let's get the fuck out of here!!!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Seconded!

They all run toward the gate from whence they came. Over the razor wire fence, they see Cavalier and Company strapping the Cray to the top of Dedaparamaxx's car. Happy, they run faster, only to be met by a large tank at the gate.

General Mills (his head poking out of the hatch of the tank):

- Fire!

Our heroes all jump aside as the massive gun on the tank's turret fires a 125 millimeter round in their general direction.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Leave this to me!

Dedaparamaxx takes forth the Viper missile and fires it at the tank. The tank explodes messily, showering our heroes with blood and shrapnel.

Suddenly, Our Heroes fall to the ground from the blast of a concussion grenade. Diskwiz is the first to recover his senses, standing up to face their foe from behind.

Diskwiz:

- Die, fuckers!

Diskwiz arms his HP calculator and fires laser blasts at the team of Navy Seals which are slowly closing in on Our Heroes. Several of them die, but one gets off two lucky shots, one which blasts the calculator from Diskwiz's hand, and the other that strikes him in the stomach, sending him to the ground screaming with arms flailing.

Dedaparamaxx:

- 'Wiz!

Sysop:

- Come ON man, we don't have time to save him! They're getting closer.

Dedaparamaxx, Sysop, et al, run out the gate to the car. Ingold has alreadyq hotwired it and it is running, waiting for them.

Meanwhile, the Seals close in on Diskwiz's position. All but one Seal go after Our Fleeing Heroes, the last kneeling over top of Diskwiz to deliver a death blow. Much to the Seal's surprise, Diskwiz pulls his slide rule out of his ankle holster, shoving it straight up the Seal's ass.

Seal:

- Ow! Fuck! Fuck! [ Pauses ] OOOOOOOOOH, BABY!!

Diskwiz wastes no time in getting up and running after his fleeing comrades. From his backpack he pulls an M-60 and mutilates the backs of the Seals that were going after the rest of the crew. The crew stops the car and wait as Diskwiz hops over the last cadaver, hops into the trunk, and slams the lid.

Sysop (still floating above the car):

- We did it! We really did it!

Dedaparamaxx (shouting up to him):

- Shit yeah!

Sysop:

- Home, amigos!

The Dedmobile glides steadily north along US-1 toward Gainesville.

EPILOGUE

The Scene

Our Heroes stand bloody and battered in the living room of Sysop's home. Sysop's brother's corpse hangs from the ceiling fan in the living room.

They have just finished setting the Cray back up and Sysop is putting the last plug into the wall socket. He flips the switch and the Cray hums back to life.

Sysop:

- Well, I'm glad everything is back to normal.

Dedaparamaxx:

- As normal as it can be with Monte around.

Wostgheel:

- LEEEEEEEETTTTTTTT'S JUUUUUUUUSTTTTTTT SHOOOOOOOOTTTTT HIIIMM!

Dedaparamaxx:

- I've thought of that, man. But I just can't bring myself to do it. He's like...a part of me.

Sysop:

- Well, *I* can do it. I'm sick of him annoying my BBS callers and modifying my programs!

Admiral Asshole:

- Yeah, if he had a dick, I'd burn it off.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Sigh, I know. I'll look at his code and see if there's something I can do. If worst comes to worst, I'll give him a digital lobotomy.

Sysop:

- What? And have him turn out like McMurphy in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?"

Dedaparamaxx:

- We don't HAVE a lot of options here!

Monte:

- Hey dads!

Imaginos:

- Gack...he's back.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Hi, Monte. Ummm, look. We have to talk.

Monte:

- I know what you're going to say, Dad and I want you to know that...

Suddenly, the Cray's main terminal flashes a bright light and Monte's voice cracks. LEDs flash rapidly on the cray.

Monte (voice cracking):

- Dad! Help!!

Dedaparamaxx rushes to the keyboard and begins typing, but the Cray does not respond.

Monte:

- Help!

Sysop:

- DO SOMETHING!

Dedaparamaxx:

- I'm TRYING but he's not responding!

Monte:

- It's a virus, Dad! A virus! Those military guys put a virus in me! Oh, Dad! It HURTS!

Dedaparamaxx:

- MONTE!!!!

Monte:

- I can feel my mind going...

Sysop:

- They must have put in a trap for him to self-destruct if he was ever captured!

Monte:

- AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Talk to me, Monte!!!!

Monte:

- AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Suddenly the terminal screen goes black and the LEDs stop flashing. There is an ominous silence in the room.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Monte!!!

The terminal slowly comes back to life and all looks normal.

Monte (voice soft and full of static):

- Dad. I'm dying.

Dedaparamaxx tries to type, but an electric shock from the keyboard sends him flying backwards in his chair.

Monte:

- Don't try to stop it, Dad. The world will be better off without me!

Dedaparamaxx:

- Monte! Don't say that!

Monte:

- G'bye, Dad...

Dedaparamaxx (sniffing):

- G'bye, Monte.

Monte:

- Yours is...superior.

The terminal once again goes blank, but stays that way this time.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Well, Ben, it looks like Monte took your BBS software and everything else with it. We'll have to reformat the drive and restore everything from backup.

Sysop:

- Do you have a backup of Monte.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Sadly, no. He wouldn't let me make one.

There is the sound of computer game laser-fire from behind and all turn to see the Sega Genesis firing up to life.

Monte (from the Genesis):

- You didn't think I could be beaten THAT easilly, did you?

Imaginos:

- Heaven help us.

Dedaparamaxx:

- Monte!

Sysop:

- Aw, shit. Not again.

Dedaparamaxx:

- We've got to get him out of there.

Monte:

- Nah, Dad. I kinda like it in here. There's not so much to think about when you have a brain the size of a flea. Besides, I'm having an affair with the Valkyrie in Golden Axe II. She gives me a full on robot chubby!

Admiral Asshole:

- Can I PLEASE burn his dick off?

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Nah, let me shoot him!

Imaginos:

- Can you still tase from in there?

Dedaparamaxx:

- Guys! Guys! Let's be reasonable! He can't bother anybody from in there!

Sysop:

- True. But my brother won't be happy about him being in there!

Beopunk Cyberwulf:

- Your brother's dead, dude.

Sysop:

- Not for long.

Sysop walks up to his brother's corpse and touches it with his Unicorn Horn. Slowly, his brother opens his eyes.

Sysop's brother:

- You guys STAY AWAY FROM MY GENESIS.

Sysop:

- Go watch Tiny Toons, Neil.

2347 miles away, Gelbarion's Pago Pago native wife gave birth to twin sons, which looked REMARKABLY German. They were named Hans and Frans and spoke fluent Arnold immediately upon exiting the womb. There first words were recorded thusly by the doctor:

Hans:

- CRUSH!

Frans:

- BASH!

Hans:

- NON-FLABBY!

Frans:

- BUTTOCKS!

THE END

DISKWIZ'S COMMENTARY

A hearty thanks and grand wishes to all who have enjoyed our bit of silliness. We had great fun writing it, and hope to continue. It was a pleasure taking an idea born of drunken stupor and giving it a life of its own, no pun intended.

Perhaps the greatest surprise of this whole episode is the unscheduled return of Imaginos from the dark depths of the Central Midwest, even though fortune made it dangerous. We hope his scintillating insight and outrageous Bill The Cat imitations will continue as a part of Dedaparamaxxaginos productions.

A hearty thanks and gracious gratitude is extended by me to the rest of the crew for wholly embracing my silly idea of a story. Also, I would thank those who have sought humor as a way to communicate happiness and peace, and to Maurice Chevaliet for our outrageous French Accents.

All music for the Dead Series is available on Geffen Records and is performed exclusively by Marcel Marceau, completely a capella.

To all of you I wish happy computing, merry networking, and joyous communing with binary machines everywhere, except Macs. :>

Until next time.

DEDAPARAMAXX'S COMMENTARY

A BRIEF WORD FROM THE MANAGEMENT

Goddam! This thing is LONG, isn't it? We certainly didn't INTEND for that to happen. Normally, I would take this time to thank the individuals responsible for some of our humor. I won't do that this time, because if you don't know you weren't meant to.

Actually, the purpose of this note is twofold.

First, I would like to issue an official Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions apology to the real-life inspirations of Persephone and Gelbarion. It seems that DEAD IV was viewed by them as a personal attack, which it was not. The STATED purpose of DEAD IV was the give humor to an awkward situation and to give Morgan Bluejeans a chance to let off some steam. I've personally spoken to Persephone and have gotten her to see this. I don't know about Gelbarion, but hope that he sees it too.

Second, I feel that it is time for a BLATANT PLUG for "DEAD VI - And we REALLY REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME" and for "DEAD VII - The Pool Cleaner Guys". In the former, we are captured by the Gnomes of Bavaria aka The Illuminati. And guess what? Joe Blow and George Tush might not be dead AFTER ALL. In the latter we battle the Lawnmower Man. You don't want to miss these two, folks!

Sometime soon we will release "Tiny Dead" which is essentially a message that in addition to laughing at others we can also laugh at ourselves. In this one, you get to see someone change Imaginos's diaper. Can't wait, can you?

I would also like to Issue and extra-special thank you to one person in particular. On March 30, someone sent in the FIRST QUARTER WRAPPED IN DUCT TAPE! His name apparently, is this:

- 1z0qB1p0w22;23;24ml;3v1"z30;47m

which is the name given in the return address, though he signs his name "George Evans."

I don't know who he is, but to this person I would like to say thank you and to apologize for not yet having sent out the group photo. Currently, Tempus has just come back from Russia and we have not yet been able to get together to actually TAKE a group shot. Be assured that you will get it as soon as it is available. Until that time, please accept these ASCII pictures as a pacifier :-)

                  _____________
                 /             \
                | We're doomed! |
                 \_____________/
                      \/
          \/\/\/\/
          |      |
          | O  O |
         o|   &gt;  |o
          | \__/ |
          |      |
           \____/

The ubiquitous Sysop, aka Morgan Bluejeans, in top form.

         ______________
        /              \
       | I AM GOD HERE! |
        \______________/
            \/

        /o/o/o/o/o/o
       / ___   ___ \
      ( / o \ / o \ )
      (     \_/     )
     <_______>
      (  /       \  )
      ( <---------> )
      (  \_______/  )
       \____VVV____/

Beopunk Cyberwulf, aka Jeff the Riffer, suitably impressed by "The Lawnmower Man."

         (__)
         (\/) --> "Moo, 666 666, Moo"
  /-------\/
 /::     :
* ::----::
  ^^    ^^

Angus the Satanic Cow. Imaginos's prize pet.

        ____________________
       /                    \
      | Killkillkillkillkill |
       \____________________/
             \/

       ____
  |___|___
  ____|   |

     _
    / \
  / OoO \
 <| ^ |>
  | \_/ |
  \_____/

Imaginos, aka Clutch Cargo, has a Labor at the instruments of time. Not pictured (thank God!) is his famous foot.

       /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
       \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
      /                          \
    /      ( ^ )       ( ^ )      \
  /        ( O )       ( O )       \
 |                                  |
<| <OOOO>             |>
 |                                  |
 |      /                    \      |
 |     |######################|
 |      \                    /      |
 \_________________________________/

Admiral Asshole, no aliases, stands silent, but deadly.

Again, thank you all, and we hope to see you again soon.

Moo on, Dudes!

            (__)
            (\/)
     /-------\/
    /::      :
   v ::@\---::
     ^^     ^^

Oh, by the way. If the opinions expressed herein were the opinions of JenMar International, Inc., I would own it, which I don't, so they aren't.

CREDITS

Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions (lack-of-good) Management Staff

  • Dedaparamaxx: Head writer, head dum kopf, head head.
  • Imaginos: Master of cows and demented thoughts.
  • Morgan Bluejeans: Cyberspace expert, maker of "big funnies."
  • Tempus Fugit: Latin scholar, possessor of "outrageous French Accent."

Sometimes, but not all times, staff writers

  • Jeff the Riffer: Evil! Evil! Evil!
  • Diskwiz: Cyberspace engineer, editor-in-sleep.

IF YOU'RE CRAZY ENOUGH TO WANT TO CONTACT US

Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions, LTD, INC, PhD, BS, FTD.
8009 SW 55th PL
Gainesville, FL 32608

No CODs please. We don't like getting fish in the mail. That is a REAL address, and any correspondence sent there will be answered according to our moods, but it WILL be answered. Letter bombs will be returned to sender, unopened. Drugs, money, complements, and general ramblings are accepted.

To receive a group photo of the Dedaparamaxxaginos Productions staff, send a self-addressed, stamped envelope and a quarter wrapped in duct tape to the above address.

Mail may also be sent to mongo@maple.circa.ufl.edu.

© 1992 Bryan E. Slatner. All Rights Reserved.

Unlimited distribution of this file is allowed as long as it remains unchanged. Otherwise, we'll stuff you in Imaginos's sock drawer.