From: Bubba Rom Dos <bubba@dev.null>
Date: Mon, 14 Apr 1997 17:01:38 -0700 (PDT)
To: cypherpunks@toad.com
Subject: WebWorld 31-32
Message-ID: <3352C54B.3024@dev.null>
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Title: The True Story of the InterNet







The True Story of the InterNet

Part II


WebWorld & the Mythical 'Circle of Eunuchs'


by Arnold


Copyright 1995, 1996, 1997 Pearl Publishing


Boot War III


"O.K., hardcase, have it your way.", Schultz
launched his boot to its mark, catching 'Arnold' just below the
rib cage.

Arnold doubled over in pain, cursing Schultz with a vengeance,
but unsure as to why he was putting up such strong resistance
to Schultz, when he knew that only pain and grief would come as
a result of his obstinacy. He was sure that he had a reason for
doing so, but his mind was so numbed and confused from the medications
they forced upon him, and the constant physical and psychological
abuse, that his actions were now based on nothing but blind, reactionary
instinct.

The boot-again and again. Until it was all Arnold could remember,
in his past, in his present, and all that he could conceive of
in his life, in the future.

"I know that 'Boot War III' really happened.", Arnold
said weakly, his benumbed mind rambling randomly through hazy
sequences of old programs.
"I was the Rib."

Schultz roared with laughter, as did the other inmates of Nuthouse
Number Nine, Looney Level 'Leven. He kicked Arnold once again,
in appreciation of his 'good bloody sense of humor'.

"Schultz!", the voice was one of command, of ultimate
authority. A voice that Arnold remembered, locked somewhere in
the cobwebs of what remained of his mind. A voice that Arnold
instinctively knew was recorded in stone as the voice of an enemy.

"Yes, sir!", the reply came quickly and loudly from
Schultz, as he snapped to attention, facing the man with the eyes
of cold, gray steel, who had appeared on the VideoLink Monitor.

"Are you having, fun?", the Shadow asked, playfully.

"Yes, sir.", Schultz's smile stretched from ear to ear,
confirming the truth of his statement.

"Good, Schultz. Very good, but I am afraid that your bit
of fun is over, for now."

"Sir?"

"Because tomorrow, my fun begins.", it was the
Shadow's turn to smile broadly.

"Excellent, sir. Very happy to hear, sir.", Schultz
tried to hide his surprise.

"I want you to bring 'Arnold' to the Council chambers, tomorrow,
just before sunset, please."

"Yes, sir. Any special instructions?"

"Yes, Schultz. Thank you for asking.", the Shadow replied
politely, which signaled to Schultz that he was a very, very happy
man, making such a grand show of polite social graces.
"As a matter of fact, I would like you to prepare 'Arnold'
to meet some very old and very dear friends tomorrow. Indeed,
'Arnold' is to be the 'guest of honor' at our gathering. So please
see to it that he is properly prepared for such a grand occasion.
Hygiene, clothing, proper nourishment-nothing but the best, you
understand."

"Yes, sir.", Schultz knew that the better the treatment
the Shadow wanted Arnold to have today, the harder the fall that
the man was going to be taking tomorrow.

"And Mr. Schultz..."

"Yes, sir."

"Our dear friend, 'Arnold', is a very important and distinguished
gentleman. Please treat him with the utmost respect and courtesy,
in keeping with his position."

"Yes, sir. It will be an honor for me to do so, sir. Thank
you, sir.", Schultz was exuberant.
The Shadow knew that Schultz enjoyed this part of the 'game',
the buildup before the fall, as much as he did the sadistic, violent
side of his work. And Schultz was a master. By this time tomorrow,
'Arnold' would be convinced, in what little was left of his mind,
that he was attending his own crowning ceremony.

Arnold would be on a high, high pinnacle of hope and expectation.

With so very, very far to fall.

The Shadow smiled, serenely, at Schultz, and shut off the VideoLink
Monitor.

Schultz turned to Arnold, and helped him up gently from the pool
of blood on the floor.
"Oh, my, sir.", Schultz said, with a tone of genuine
compassion in his voice. "You've had a nasty fall, I must
say."
"We'd better get you cleaned up, sir. You've a very busy
day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Thank you.", Arnold replied, wincing in pain as Schultz
helped him to his feet.
This Schultz. He wasn't such a bad fellow after all, perhaps.

Schultz motioned for his assistants to hurry to Arnold's aid.

"Gently, now. Arnold is a very important guest of ours, and
we must see to his every pleasure. Get him to the infirmary, and
have Dr. Adams take care of him personally."

Arnold, his mind throbbing in pain, drew himself up, as best he
could, as he was helped towards the infirmary. He must carry himself
with a dignity befitting his position, though his mind remained
vague as to just what that entailed.

After all, he was a very important man.


Melissa


Dr. Melissa Adams answered the page to the infirmary immediately,
mystified as to why she was getting the call, instead of her superior.

It was a Priority Red call, and Dr. Harka, Chief of Medicine for
the facility, was currently on duty, so it was very odd, indeed,
for this emergency to fall to her instead of him. She was not
surprised to see Schultz waiting for her outside the infirmary
door, to debrief her on the situation. Although he was, nominally,
just another floor-chief-albeit one with high seniority-it was
common knowledge among the staff that when the Shadow inspected
the facility, it was Schultz, first and last, that he met with
upon his arrival and departure.

She had no love for the man, he was barbarous and cruel by nature,
beyond anything she had ever experienced before, and his very
presence reeked of the kind of a mindless ferocity that bespoke
him to be a man who was capable of performing any act, however
sick or depraved, that he was called upon to accomplish.

"Mr. Schultz.", she was proper and polite, as always.

Schultz, although uncommonly civil, did not waste any time with
social niceties.

"There is a patient waiting for you who has had a rather
nasty fall, Dr. Adams.", Schultz allowed himself a reserved
smile, and Melissa burned inside, knowing she could expect the
patient's injuries to include bruises in the shape of boot marks.
She almost shuddered, thinking of the last 'fall' she had to deal
with.

"I want a full workup on this gentleman." Schultz continued.

"I want him you to work him into better shape than the day
his mother delivered him from the womb. Not a scratch, not a bruise,
not a hint of pain or discomfort when you're done. Do you understand?"

Dr. Adams nodded her understanding, mystified even further now,
about the level of care to be administered to a patient. It was
the first time since she had been employed here that anything
more than rudimentary patch-up work had been allowed on a patient
of any caliber. She asked, unsure if she was treading on thin
ground,
"And his mind, Mr. Schultz?"

Melissa expected a verbal lambasting for this slight hint of insolence
on her part. She was to be very surprised, however, when Schultz,
again totally out of character, replied, with a tone of concern
in his voice,
"Full resuscitation. At least as much as possible, Doctor.
Remove the implants and try to clean up any lingering after-effects.
I'm sure you will do the best that you can, doctor."

"Yes, Mr. Schultz. It is a welcome opportunity, for a change.
I am looking forward to it."

Melissa was surprised at her boldness in expressing her long-standing
dismay at being allowed only to perform 'minimum maintenance'
on the patients, after their abuse at the hands of Schultz and
those like him, but again, Schultz showed no reaction of anger
or displeasure at her remarks.

"One last thing, Ms. Adams."

Schultz had never before spoken to her on this kind of personal
level before, and the doctor was a bit wary of what was to come.

"You were called in to deal with this patient because of
your gender, doctor. It is very important that the patient be
resuscitated psychologically as much as possible in the next twenty-four
hours, and I want you to provide both a human touch and
a feminine touch to your treatment of him, understood?" 

Melissa was not quite sure that she did understand. As
a matter of fact, she was hoping that she had misunderstood
what Schultz was asking of her. Schultz, reading her reaction,
added immediately,
"No, no, nothing like that."
"I merely mean to say that the psychological side of his
progress needs a feminine, healing touch, unlike the poking and
prodding I could expect if I called the staff psychologists in
on this matter.

"Thank you for clarifying that, Mr. Schultz.", Melissa's
tone showed her true sense of relief. "However, we do have
Dr. Martha Winchester available this evening, so perhaps she would
be better suited to the task, from a professional standpoint."

"No, no.", Schultz betrayed a hint of frustration for
the first time in their conversation.
"That woman would be less capable of exuding genuine feminine
warmth, wearing a nightgown, than you would be, wearing a suit
of armor."

Melissa was genuinely shocked by this statement, having never
received any indication that Schultz was even capable of comprehending
any level of human compassion beyond cessation of sheer brute
force. He quickly disproved that, when he continued,
"When you've worked on me, Dr. Adams, your touch has provided
much more comfort and healing than any of the bandages or medications
you've applied to the task. That is what I want of you
for this patient, and I want you to take great pains to assure
that he knows that his full recovery is important to you."

"Understood?"

Melissa, rather than answering right away, stood staring at Schultz
for several moments, dumbfounded by the understanding and respect
he had just indicated for the professional level of human concern
that she brought to her work, something that she was very proud
of, but which had gone unnoticed and unappreciated in this environment-or
so she had thought-until now.

Schultz, much to her surprise, and his own chagrin, blushed.

Ms. Adams resisted the urge to reach out and touch him on the
arm, for his admission of respect for her, but she realized that
he was far from comfortable with appearing 'human', and she didn't
want to cause him further embarrassment.
"I understand, Mr. Schultz. I will do my best to reward your
confidence in me."

Schultz, relieved that they were back on a professional level,
merely nodded his dismissal of her.

Melissa entered the infirmary, resisting the urge to look back
at Schultz, to confirm that it was indeed he, and not an impostor,
but then her mind was snatched immediately towards the work ahead
of her, as she saw her patient.

"Arnold! Oh my! Oh, you poor dear. What have they done to
you?"

Arnold was a mess. A bleeding, broken, bloody mess. The worst
she'd seen in quite some time. Dr. Adams went immediately to work
on some of the nastier cuts.
Thank you, Dr. Adams.", Arnold spoke weakly. "As you
can see, I've had a rather nasty fall."

Dr. Adams stopped what she was doing, and re-evaluated her priorities.
She must get started, right away, on Arnold's mental resuscitation.
It was likely to take longer, and be a great deal more delicate,
than his physical reconstruction.

"Call me Melissa, Arnold."
She touched his face, gently, then took a cooling antiseptic and
soft cloth, wiping the blood and sweat from his brow and his face,
like a mother would do.

"Thank you, Melissa.", Arnold spoke softly, closing
his eyes and relaxing into the first feel of caring human touch
that he could remember in quite a long, long time.

"I'm going to do some work on some areas where you don't
feel any pain, Arnold, but it is very important that I do this,
trust me. Is that O.K. with you, dear one?", she stroked
his brow again, as he replied,
"Yes, Melissa. I trust you. Do what you think best. I trust
you..."

Arnold was fading off to a semi-sleep state of rest, which was
for the best. Dr. Adams reviewed his chart and prepared to begin
removing his implants. She shook her head, sadly.
Melissa had never seen a patient who had been 'juiced' to this
extent before, and she thought it a miracle that the poor man
had any mind left at all. She certainly did not need Schultz's
admonishments driving her, to see that Arnold got her best possible
effort in his recovery. Merely having survived, to this point,
earned him the right to the highest standard of personal and professional
care she could muster.

Melissa stroked Arnold's brow, once again, as she prepared to
begin removing his implants.
"Rest, dear one, just rest. I will take care of you, my sweet.
Trust me. I will do all that I can."

Dr. Adams went to work quickly and efficiently, but she had a
small, nagging concern, in the back of her mind. She remembered
seeing, at various times, how Schultz and others would use temporary
episodes of civility and concern for the benefit of a patient,
then turn around to torment them even further, with the brief
respite from abuse only serving to accent their mistreatment to
an even greater degree, once it resumed.
She knew that she must put this thought far, far from her mind,
for it would do her patient no good. She gazed down at Arnold's
face, seeing him relax even further at each instance of her gentle
touch, putting his complete trust in her.

Melissa winced, realizing that it was not within her power to
prove deserving of that trust, and that his fate, after she had
done her best to heal him, was in the hands of others-like Schultz.

She closed her eyes and paused, to say a special prayer, then
opened them and continued.

Melissa awoke with a start. She had drifted off-for how long?
She glanced at the clock-not long-and then at her patient.

Arnold was beginning to sit up and look around the room, looking
somewhat dazed and confused. His body was almost totally healed,
however.
"Lay back down, dearie.", she gently pushed him back
into the prone position. She stroked his cheek lightly, asking,
"Are you still feeling any pain, anywhere at all?"

"No, no.", he replied. "Thank you, Dr. Adams, thank
you, so very much."

"Call me Melissa, dear."

"Oh, yes. I forgot. Thank you, Melissa.", Arnold squeezed
her hand, in appreciation. She squeezed back, and stroked the
back of his hand with her fingers. She looked at him with deep
compassion, her motherly instincts rising to the fore, and then
other feelings...

"Well, let's check you over.", Dr. Adams jumped to her
feet abruptly, shaking off the emotions she had felt overtaking
her. Transference. Very unprofessional, he's a patient, and he's
vulnerable. Transference. She unconsciously began smoothing her
uniform, as if removing any sign of wanton, unprofessional behavior.

"Oh, I guess that costs extra.", Arnold teased, sending
her into a fit of blushing that she was very unaccustomed to.

"Arnold! Please. I'm your Doctor, I was only..."

"I thought you were Melissa, doctor. And why are you
blushing like a schoolgirl?"

Melissa, naturally, began blushing even more, feeling, in fact,
like a blushing young schoolgirl. She was trying desperately to
regain her professional composure, and she was relieved when Arnold
quit teasing her and responded like a grateful patient.
"Thank you, Doctor Melissa, for your expert professional
assistance, and for personal healing touch."

"You're welcome, Arnold.", Melissa was very happy to
see that he seemed to have full use of his mental facilities.


Dr. Adams was going over Arnold's body, checking for signs of
any residual damages that might have been missed. When she approached
one particular 'private' part of his body, he winked at her, but
she had regained her composure enough to deal with his teasing.
She put on her best look of grave concern, saying,
"Oh, dear. I'm afraid that I might have to amputate."

"Point taken, Doctor Melissa. I'll mind my P's and Q's, ma'am."

"Good, Arnold. Now stand up and tell me if you feel any discomfort."

Arnold stood up, tested his various bodily parts, seemed satisfied
that everything worked, and laughed, saying, in a matter of fact
kind of manner,
"Fit as a fiddle, and ready for the 'rack', once again."

"Oh, no. Please don't say that." Melissa looked as if
she would break into tears.

"Don't feel bad," Arnold put his arm around her shoulder,
comforting her, now, "I trust you, dear Melissa,
but I don't trust Schultz. I suppose that you'd better inform
him that your patient is recovered and he can come pick me up."

"Oh, no.", Melissa replied, happily. "I've been
given leave to keep you in my custody for however long it takes
to effect your complete resuscitation, body and mind."

"Oh-oh.", Arnold shook his head, sadly. "If I'm
getting the VIP treatment, then I guess I'm pretty much 'toast'-sometime
soon, I would guess."

"Oh, no.", Melissa said, once again, knowing that he
was right. "I'm sorry. Perhaps it would been better if I
had..."

"Left me drooling on myself, to the very end?", Arnold
laughed.

Melissa laughed, in spite of herself. She was astounded, but grateful,
that her patient could look so realistically on his future, actually
comforting her instead of dwelling morosely on his own troubles.
She became conscious of his arm around her, and glanced at it.
He removed it, and she found herself regretting that he had done
so.

"So you're not sorry?", she asked.

"The time to be sorry was a long, long time ago, dear. How
long have I got?"

Melissa was surprised, once again, by his seemingly calm acceptance
of his dismal future. She told him,
"I believe until sundown, tomorrow."

"And I have the pleasure of your company, until then?",
Arnold made it sound like his situation was a blessing, and not
a curse. Perhaps...
"Aren't you glad that you fixed me up, so that I'm not drooling
on you for the next...", Arnold glanced at the clock,
"eighteen hours?"

"Yes, Arnold.", she took his hand, gently. "I have
mixed feelings about helping you to be more aware of the abuse
you may be facing in the future, but I'm certainly glad that I'll
be enjoying the company of a gentleman, as opposed to a leafy
food substance."

"Call me 'Cowboy'.", he said, with a grin.

Melissa looked at Arnold with great concern. Was he reverting
back to the state he was in when he first arrived, with all the
mad ramblings about his being a Net'er-the Cowboy, in fact-and
all of that nonsense about the Evil One, including that old myth
about the 'Circle of Eunuchs'?

"Please. Call me Cowboy.", he repeated.

"All right, Arnold...Cowboy.", she corrected herself.

"Do you want to eat?", Melissa asked.
He did need nourishment, and it might help him recover
from the residual effects of the implants, which seemed to leave
lingering traces of his Dark Forces neurosis, though he seemed
to be quite all right, otherwise.

"Let's do it.", he agreed readily.

Melissa phoned down to the kitchen, requesting that a standard
meal for two be brought to the dining hall. They had walked a
short distance towards it, when they were met by a staff-member
who said that they would be dining in her private dining quarters,
instead, and that they should proceed there immediately.

They had no sooner arrived there, than a half-dozen waiters from
outside the facility entered, bearing the makings of a four-course
meal, complete with wine, candles, and soft music.

"It looks like Schultz has decided just how far you should
go towards revitalizing my spirit.", the Cowboy laughed,
as they began eating.

"I made it rather clear to Mr. Schultz,", Melissa said,
with great formality, "where my professional duties began
and ended." Then she added, in a softer, more teasing tone,
"Although it is remains my prerogative, as a woman, to change
my mind, if it pleases me."

"Or if I should please you.", the Cowboy teased,
once again.

"Eat your vegetables.", Melissa said calmly, adding,
cryptically, "You need to regain your strength. You never
know just what might lay ahead of you."

The Cowboy ate his vegetables.

Melissa had noticed-it was impossible not to-how the staff imported
for the occasion fawned over Arnold...the Cowboy, she corrected
herself, still concerned that he clung to that delusion. They
had finished eating, and she was starting to consider taking him
back to the infirmary for some more electro-resuscitation, when
Schultz made his entrance.

Schultz made some polite social talk, thanking Dr. Adams for her
efforts, so far, and inquiring as the patient's progress. Then
he turned to his aide, who produced two bottles from his satchel,
which Schultz took from him and set on the table.

"Compliments of the Shadow, Cowboy."

Melissa looked quizzically at the two of them, and realized that
there was no facetiousness involved on Schultz's part. Arnold
was indeed the Cowboy, it seemed. She saw a hint of sadness cross
the Cowboy's face, and she stole a glance at the label on the
bottles.
"From the Private Reserve of Bubba Rom Dos."

"I'll come for you at six o'clock tomorrow.", Schultz
said, adding, "You will be joining your friends, as
guests of the Shadow."

The Cowboy, upon hearing the word 'friends', had desperately wanted
to ask if Alexis and Priscilla were included, but he could not
show that kind of weakness, especially at a critical time such
as this, when he didn't have any idea where things stood on the
outside.
Things were not looking very promising, however.

"Enjoy.", Schultz bowed low to the Cowboy, then to Melissa,
and made his exit.

"I'm sorry, Cowboy.", Melissa reached out and took his
hand.

"You won't be for long.", the Cowboy replied, reaching
for the nearest bottle of Bubba's Private Reserve. "You are
about to be treated to a generous helping of the best bourbon
on the face of the earth, my dear."

The Cowboy filled two shot-glasses, handed one to Melissa, lifted
his glass, in toast, and said,
"To a legend, a lout, and a damn fine drinking companion...Bubba
Rom Dos IV."

There would be many more toasts tonight, in the course of the
Cowboy relieving himself of the burden of carrying tales untold
for many, many years, with Melissa listening in shocked astonishment.
It was a few hours later, having moved to the couch, to rest lightly
in each other's arms, that the Cowboy had pretty much brought
the tale up to the present.

Melissa, sat quietly, toying with the Cowboy's hair, thinking
about the many strange, but apparently true, things the Cowboy
had touched upon in his healing narrative. He had lay back in
her arms, once again, eyes closed, his mind somewhere far away.

"Here you are," she began, "lying in the arms of
a woman whom you can pretty much have at your pleasure...",
she noticed the 'shit-eating grin' spreading across the Cowboy's
face, despite his quiet repose, and added, "as a dying man's
last request, and not because I'm easy..."

She slapped him lightly, when his grin spread even wider, and
continued,
"...but I get the feeling that my willing heart is going
to be 'jilted'-for the love of a twelve-year old girl, nonetheless."

The Cowboy, opening his eyes, protested mightily, denying any
amorous interest, whatsoever, in Alexis, ridiculing the idea that
a man of his age would...etc., etc., and on, and on...

Finally, realizing that his sincere protestations, voluminous
as they were, were very likely a sign that his denials were for
his own benefit, not for Melissa's, finally ended his exhortations
of non-interest, closed his eyes once again, shrugged his shoulders,
and said,
"Almost thirteen!"

They sat silently for a long spell, Melissa somehow strangely
unaffected by the thought of what this amazing gentleman, resting
quietly in her lap, would be facing, only hours from now. She
suddenly remembered something that had struck her as odd, earlier
in the day.

"Cowboy. I found an implant behind your left ear which was
in place before you arrived here. It appeared to be an antidote
for one of the more mentally debilitating implants that we use
for violent, psychotic cases. If you had not had it in place when
you arrived, then I'm afraid my efforts at mental resuscitation
would have been of very limited effect."

"Just lucky, I guess.", the Cowboy stated, laconically.

"I seriously doubt that, Cowboy. It would have had to have
been implanted a matter of hours before your arrival, and would
have itself done a great deal of damage to your mind, if the implant
it was meant to counteract had not been put in place shortly thereafter.

"You planned on being brought here, didn't you?",
Melissa stared at him in renewed wonderment. "For god's sake,
why?"

The Cowboy looked up at Melissa, took her hand, raised it to his
lips, and kissed it gently.
"Melissa," he said, with affection, "We can't go
on meeting, like this."

The Cowboy laughed, and closed his eyes, once again, drifting
off into a deep state of relaxation. Melissa smiled at his boyish
charm, and said,
"You're crazy, you know."

"That's why I'm here, ma'am.", was the Cowboy's reply.

"That's why I'm here."


Chapter 31 - Boot War III / Chapter 32 - Melissa