Cyberpunk Read Free

years since the last time I shut him off utter
    cold.
    I scowl, and hit the switch. Then I yank the power cord for good
    measure.
    It wasn’t a virus, it was a message from Rayno. He caught
    somebody else poking around in OurNet. And if that’s true/true, I’m in
    trouble so deep I need a snorkel.
    Cyberpunk 1.0 9
    ©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
    Chapter 0/ 1
    Soon as I’d finished with the total disconnect, I tore off my cosmojammies
    and threw them in the corner, grabbed my blue spatterzag
    jumpsuit off the floor and zipped it on, then dug out my blitz yellow
    hightops from under the bed and laced them up loose. Subroutining off
    to the bathroom for a mo to flush my bladder buffer and run a brush
    across my teeth, I popped back into my bedroom, threw my video slate
    and a couple textbook ROMs into my backpack, and hit the stairs flying.
    Mom and Dad were still at breakfast when I bounced into the
    kitchen. “Good Morning, Mikhail,” said Mom with a smile. “You were
    up so late last night I thought I wouldn’t see you before you caught your
    tram.”
    “Had a tough program to crack,” I lied.
    “Well,” she said, “now you can sit down and have a decent
    breakfast.” She turned around to pull another pod of steaming
    muffinoids out of the microwave and slap them down on the table.
    “If you’d do your schoolwork when you’re supposed to, you
    wouldn’t have to cram at the end of the semester,” Dad growled from
    behind his caffix and faxsheet. I sloshed some juice in a plastic glass,
    gulped it down, and started for the door.
    “What?” Mom asked. “That’s all the breakfast you’re going to
    have?”
    “Haven’t got time,” I said. “Gotta get to school early to see if the
    program checks.” Bobbing around her, I faked a dribble, lobbed the
    empty glass into the sink. Two points.
    She looked at me, shook her head, and took a slow step forward like
    she was going to block me. “You’re not going to school dressed like
    that, I hope?”
    Cyberpunk 1.0 10
    ©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
    “Aw, Mom .” Ducking back around the table, I grabbed a muffin—
    rice bran, sawdust and rabbit raisin, I think.
    “I mean, look at you, you’re nothing but a mass of wrinkles. Where
    did you find that jumpsuit anyway, in the laundry hamper?”
    “No, Mom.” Faking a step back towards the hall door, I stuffed the
    muffin into my backpack and velcroed the pouch.
    She followed the feint. “And what about your hair? I don’t mind if
    you wear it long, but honestly Mikhail, it looks like there’s something
    nesting in it.”
    Dad lowered his faxsheet long enough to peer over the top edge.
    “Kid needs a flea bath and a haircut, if you ask me.” Oh, perfect , Dad.
    Just the exact reaction I wanted. That’s why I got the horsemane style!
    Mom turned on Dad and spoke to quiet him—ragging on me before
    school is her job—but I didn’t hear the rest ‘cause I’d seen my opening,
    taken it, and was already out the door and halfway across the porch.
    “Don’t forget to boot Muffy!” Mom yelled after me.
    Hand on the outside doorknob, I stopped, turned around. “Yes,
    mother.” Taking a quick scan around, I spotted Mom’s Mutt lying in the
    corner, curled up around the battery charger. Oh, I wanted to boot that
    dog all right! But then, foot cocked, I remembered Muffy was a lot
    heavier than it looked and decided I didn’t need the pain. So I bent over,
    lifted the dog’s stubby little tail, and unplugged the power feed.
    “Arf,” Muffy said. It stood up and began twitching through its servo
    diagnostics. I gave the charger cord a sharp yank, watched it retract.
    “Arf,” Muffy said again, and it began toddling towards the kitchen. I
    turned around, gave one last fleeting thought to the cheery mind image
    of Muffy being drop-kicked into the mock oranges, and then zipped out
    the door.
    I caught the transys for school, just in case Mom and Dad were
    watching. Two blocks down the line I got off and caught