Biohell (3 page)
Authors: Andy Remic
Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Fiction, #Adventure, #War & Military
The
biomod robots operate at a molecular level and have two basic states called
binaries. The biomods fall into the category of a
create
binary, or a
destroy
binary. To lose weight, destruction biomods are used. The same as those
which kill cancer. Growth packs (for example, for body-builders) use create
binaries to increase muscle mass. But
relax!
Most biomod tablets and
injections have a balance of binaries to cover for every eventuality.
Biomod
robots operate within the framework of a patient’s DNA, so don’t worry about
your body rejecting things—in the old days an implanted organ could fail due to
a body’s own defence mechanisms. With biomods, the biomods themselves simply
build a new liver, kidney, heart valve, etc adhering to an organic system’s
intrinsic DNA structure. Your body won’t even know the difference! And once
they’re finished? Don’t
worry!
Unless you have a time contract, the
biomods will be easily and harmlessly flushed from your system with other
natural waste. No fuss, no mess! And they’re 100% bio-degradable, so they won’t
pollute the environment!!!
WHAT SHOULD YOU DO
BEFORE TAKING
YOUR BIOMOD?
You
must tell your doctor or Biomod Sales Representative before taking your biomod,
if:
• you
have taken biomods before and suffered any unpleasant side effects
• you
have taken biomods before and suffered really
nasty
and/or fatal side
effects
•
you are pregnant, intend to become pregnant, are gestating externally, or have
inhabited another organism in the mode of parasitic invasion
• you
are breast feeding [excludes GG5 spindlers with rotating mammaries]
•
biomods have been prescribed to a child or hatched offling younger than 13
years of age
•
you know you suffer from liver, kidney, heart, mental, or any internal or
external problems not endemic to your race.
HOW SHOULD YOU TAKE
YOUR BIOMOD?
Swallow
your capsules whole. Do not chew. Take your capsules as directed. You can take
them with water, alcohol and most common A Class and H7 Class drugs. Anal
applicants should follow the anal application pack [form ANA1].
CAN YOUR BIOMOD HAVE
ANY
SIDE EFFECTS?
Very
extremely occasionally and very extremely rarely, occasional rare side effects
may possibly might be experienced whilst taking biomod upgrades. The side effects
are:—stomach pain and cramps and skin reactions (such as itching,
discolouration, peeling and the emission of curious bad smells), feeling or
being sick (including the vomiting of blood and pus and internal organs),
drowsiness, increases in urinary uric acid, dizziness and dry mouth (including
the swelling of the tongue sometimes creating an incurable blockage of the
airways). Swelling of the stomach, gout, constipation and paralysis of the
stomach have rarely occurred, as have allergic reactions including swelling of
the skin or severe skin rash, swelling of the joints and sexual organs, anaemia
and other blood disorders, inflammation of the pancreas, liver, heart or
kidney, other liver and kidney disorders, hair loss, muscle loss and muscle
pain, convulsions, psoriasis, porphyria, vertigo, allergic reactions and fever,
peripheral neuropathy, psychotic episodes, depression, anxiety, panic attacks,
obsessive compulsive disorders and schizophrenia, visual disturbances including
blindness, blocking of the arteries, myocardial infarction, liver and kidney
failure, leukaemia, blood clotting disorders leading to possible bleeding from
orifices such as eyes, ears, mouth and anus, brain haemorrhage, bone-marrow
depression, hepatitis, HIV, all your skin peeling off, and the random snapping
of bones. Consistent use may lead to brain tumours and various cancers
including cancer of the breast, prostate gland, throat, lungs, skin, liver,
pancreas and kidneys. Sometimes, instant death may instantly occur.
If
you should suffer from any of these unwanted side effects or any undesired
effect, then please tell your pharmacist, doctor or Biomod Sales
Representative.
BUT... HEY!
DON’T WORRY!
If you DO suffer a
side-effect we’ll simply
prescribe another
biomod
FREE OF
CHARGE
to counter the
undesired effects!
You’ll always be a
winner! You can never
lose out in the
genetic race for molecular
improvement!!!
SO RELAX.
SIT BACK.
YOU JUST CAN’T LOSE!
BIOMODS
THE WAY TO A HEALTHY
FUTURE.
©NanoTek Corporation.
Please note that at point of distribution you
signed a legal disclaimer holding NanoTek Corporation (and all of its contained
subsidiaries, chemical plants, laboratories and associated companies, including
marketing and advertising divisions) non liable to prosecution or legal action
of any kind. This deletion of responsibility on the part of NanoTek does indeed
affect your statutory rights.
Product License Holder and Manufacturer:
NanoTek Corporation (Sinax Cluster, KILL Subsidiary: [New York Clusters, San
Francisco World, New Tek London, Paris EH, Old Athens, The Stockholm-Moscow
Consortium, POSH Town, Cairo, The Sydney Pipe, Cape Town Smash, Bombay,
Shaghai, The Dregs, Down-side, Low-Tek, Sub-City, SubC, Sub-City Catacombs,
NewLon, CoreCentral, DOG Town, Black Rose Citadel]
Manufactured by:
NanoTek (KILL Subsidiary) Pharmaceuticals Ltd, D1RT1260 Vanlose, Black Rose
Citadel HQ.
*The anal application pack contains the newly
patented Anal Viewing Console™ whereby the biomod contains a microscopic camera
linked to your TV set so that all the family can gather round and enjoy the
experience of seeing an anal biomod in anal operation! It’s great family fun,
and
the
recommended comedy application method for any biomod upgrade
according to Renwells, Steiner and Steiner MD Ltd.
~ * ~
PART I
BIOCURSE
“Let us beware of saying that
death
is the opposite of life.
The living being is only a
species of
the dead.”
Nietzsche.
~ * ~
CHAPTER 1
TRUE ROMANCE
Franco
Haggis was in love.
Love. Such a small word. A simple
concept. Yet it happened so fast he didn’t see it coming. It decked him like a
right-hook, a well-aimed brick. Dropped him useless and gasping to the
titanium-tox soil. Stomped on his head with bully-boy size 12 electrified
boots. Ripped out his spine and beat him with the wriggling CPU end.
Love left Franco gasping and
begging for mercy. But love
has
no mercy. Like God, love’s victims are
chosen indiscriminately. Without fanfare. A bolt from the blue.
Never happen to me, Franco always
said. Well, it bloody had. He was smitten. She was called Melanie. Mel. She was
a babe. A chickpea. A
peach.
It all started, as these thing
do, with Franco Haggis, Combat K squaddie (retired), rampant horny womaniser
(active), voluminous quaffer of beer (guilty, m’lud) in the pub. The pub was,
as SEC16 pubs went, a nice one. A good one. A clean one. A
cool joint. A
place to hang.
A
place to chill.
It was one of the few SEC 16 bars
from which Franco had not yet been banned and
ejaculated
—such was his
infamy: scarred knuckles and a tendency to launch furniture whilst singing
about goats. Franco had a reputation. No, he had a
reputation.
On this evening, however, Franco
was having a quiet drink after a hard week at work. A quiet drink, for Franco,
constituted ten or twenty pints, with a Vindaloo encore. A hard week at work
constituted carrying out unsavoury acts—indirectly—for a certain Mr Voloshko,
head honcho of a City-wide gangsta outfit named The Hammer Syndicate—one of the
seven ruling Syndicates on the planet.
Now, The City was a planet. And
the planet was a city. A
big
one. A synthetic mish-mash jungle of stone,
concrete, alloy, a cacophony of contrasting architectural styles from every
human, alien and basic
organic
life-form Quad-Gal side. The City had
once been a planet; and the city had
consumed
the planet. Not an inch of
the world in its whole had not been terraformed.
The City was the epicentre of
wealth in the Quad-Gal. Nowhere could come close to the economic and private
military
might
of The City. With a population of 112
trillion
there
was
nothing
that could not be bought, sold or exchanged, a situation
perpetuated by the fact there were no regulations. The City had no written
rules, laws or taxation on immigration, trade, import or export.
The City was mad and bad, trick
and slick, hunter and hunted, killer and victim, a world of contrasts, a planet
of anarchy, and Franco
loved it
with a raw energy and the embracing
punk-gusto of all true slightly deranged nihilists.
Franco rested his elbows on the
bar. The barman, a dude called Jed, waddled towards him with a pint of Greene
King. “Ahh,” said Franco, accepting this proffered gift. “Luvverly jubberly.”
He drank. A cream white moustache ingratiated itself with his short ginger
goatee beard. “Ahh.
Ahhhhbhbhhh.”
“Not working tonight, Franco?”
asked the ever-amiable Jed. He proceeded to polish a glass with a brown-stained
beer-rag, not so much cleaning the vessel as spreading grease.
Franco peered over his beer.
Shook his head. “No. The Boss is out of town. On a job. A mission. Worth a lot
of cash, or so I believe.” He grinned, showing a gap where one front tooth had
been knocked clean free. Six pints had loosened Franco’s tongue. This was
probably
not
a good thing, considering Voloshko—Head of The Hammer
Syndicate—was probably
the
most feared and revered gangster leader of
all the ‘families’ in The City. His current
frag rate
numbered in the
thousands. You did
not
dick with Voloshko.
Franco, however, was mad.
Admittedly, it was a sporadic and
random madness, controlled by a cocktail of drugs, therapy, therapeutic drugs,
beer and sex and chips and gravy; it was the sort of madness which could take
him in its wings for long periods; or, conversely, leave him be—sane, or a
close approximation thereof—for
years.
In his past life, Franco
had
admittedly
been locked away at The Mount Pleasant Hilltop Institution, the “nice and caring
and friendly home for the mentally challenged” under the watchful supervision
of a certain Dr Betezh... but that had been a long time ago. It was a different
story entirely.
Franco scratched his shaved head.
“Business slow?”
“Aye,” nodded Jed. “I think
people are saving their cash for TQC. It’s always the same vibe this time of
year. We’ve only two weeks to go until the celebrations begin!”
“The Quantum Carnival,” mused
Franco, scratching his beard. “God, is it that time already? I should get me a
proper calendar.”
“An expensive time of year,”
nodded Jed, deep in thought.
“Aye. I usually do three months’
wages.”
“I know,” said Jed. “You spend
most of it in
here.”
“Well, I know you appreciate
loyal customers.”
