Who is that Samurai?
Why isn't he Smiling?
(or "the Joy of Dex")

    So, you're all ready to rush out and have that nerve-job done or perhaps you're getting a set of those new synthetic muscles--you know, making you better, stronger, & faster. Or injecting yourself with reflex boosters, or a bio-pump, or that insane MBW-system. These days, the hi-speed possibilities are near-fraggin' endless. My point being? Maybe, just maybe, you'll take a few nano's listen to what old Fen has to say, before you rush out to get yourself cut --or more likely, "burned."

    First things first, since I don't like anyone calling me a hypocrite. As more than a few of you know, there ain't much left of my body that doesn't come with a warranty. So, yea, I'm wired. Been that way since the mid 30's--since I was kid. (And yes, I've upgraded since then. Sheesh!) These days, I'm sportin' heavy muscle augments, a synapse accelerator, and a couple of expensive bio-organs to increase my overall combat edge. And I'm tellin' you this 'cause it'll all change in a month, when I go back under the knife myself, for the umpteenth time. So, all this drek is weighing on my mind, big time.

    And my biggest beef is this: ninety percent of those fancy speed enhancers are designed just for that, "speed," and nothing else. Back to "better, stronger, & especially faster," right? So what, if you'll require regular, scheduled, high-level tune-ups? It's a small price to pay. Trouble is, most of those corp R&D -types never bothered to include any way to shut 'em off.

    Blank stare, hunh? Look, my first time "under," I went for a set of level 2 wires. I was, what, all of sixteen? Just one more punk-kid in the gang-filled streets of Seattle. Thought I was hot-drek afterwards, too. Once I learned to use 'em--once I got used to folks sneaking up on me just to see which "way to Sunday" I'd leap. You won't see that in most of today's wired systems. The tech got better, but the problem's only gotten worse.

    Right now it's to the point where they can easily re-build you to act before you can even think about thinking about it. It's that fast. Great, you say, you'll be able to hose down anything in your way with that trusty Ingram. But what about the waiter who walks up to your table, while you're busy eating? Or the guy in the crowded tube-train, who taps you on the shoulder? They probably only wanted to ask you a question. But they can't cause--SNAP!!--they're dead! And you only have a vague memory of watching it happen.

    There were a thousand different ways you could have reacted to those two situations--most of them require thought. Worse, for all the different ways you can think to react, there are at least as many things out there that can cause you to react unpredictably.

    "That won't happen to me." S'what I always said. 'Til about a month ago, when I nearly geeked a very dear friend of mine in her sleep. Dreams can cause reflexive actions, too.

    Then I'll get a reflex trigger, you say. Good. You're learning. Those things are pretty SOTA, these days They only work on some of the newer wired systems, and on 'zip' of the older ones, like I got. And it's not an add-on gizmo, either you get one when your wires go in or you don't.

    So, now you can turn 'em off & on as you please. Problem solved, right? Wrong. And here's the last, dirty, little secret that the owner's manual never bothers to tell you: once you get a taste of moving at hi-speeds, you'll probably never get enough of it! Ask your rigger bud, she'll understand, maybe even sympathize.

    It's in the blood, they say, but more likely, the brain. My doc friend says that while you train & break-in your new wired systems, your mind also learns to adjust to the new stream of sensory input. It learns how to filter & what to remember. The trouble comes when your subconscious never bothers to gear back down to normal speeds. Condition's even got a medical name. She called it, "Pietro Maximoff Syndrome," or some such.

    So in the back of your head, there's always that nagging little feeling that you could be doing *whatever* much better, stronger, & faster. And this is the kind of drek that can lead you to never using that expensive on/off switch.

    Still don't get it, hunh? It's like this: you been in a bank-line, that never moved? Or at the DMV? You been down there? No? [sigh] Well, how 'bout this:

    Ya ever stand at the check-out, down at the local Stuffer Shack? Say, about three chummers back with your handful of munchies and a single beverage? Meanwhile, the cashier is 'busy' with some "bag-lady candidate" at the head of the line. *Boop*...*boop*...*boop*...

    And you watch as the clerk scans each and every single bag of "Stuffer Chipz" like it was a completely foreign object, that he'd never seen in his adolescent life? *boop*...*boop*...*boop*... You can practically feel your limbs' warranty expiring while you wait.

    It's not like she doesn't have about eight identical bags of them on the counter in front of him! And nevermind that the place only carries a grand total of ONE brand-name! *boop*...*boop*...*boop*...

    Oh, and Bob help you if one of the bar-codes doesn't scan right: *boop*...*beeeeeee*... [pause] *beee..beee..beee..beee*... "Geeze," you think, "why don't ya try it a couple thousand more times, Einstein!" ...*b-beee..b-beee..b-beee..b-beee..b-beee*... Arrgh!

    Finally he decides to punch it in manually, just as you figure you're going to turn to rust on the spot! "6 5 7 4 A - 2 3 d 5 8 9 - 2 4 3 3 - 1 8 4 6 2 S - 4 3 2 ..."

    Whoa, whoa, whoa! What is that kilo-digit number that he's entering?!! "... 5 3 8 5 5 - 3 j 1 0 ..." "Hey, bit-brain," you practically scream, "how hard would it be to punch in: 'point' 'seven' 'nine' 'yen' ?!"

    The clerk looks dumbly at you & shrugs. And, oh joy!! The bag-lady has coupons, too!!!

    Ya ever been there, chummer?!!

    'Cause with jazzed reflexes, that's how it feels, ALL THE FRAGGIN' TIME!!

    There's always some suit, some skat, or some pervo standing right in front of you, blockin' your way. Maybe they're moving normally, or even in a bit of a hurry--they think. Or maybe they just happened to make it to the door ahead of you. But to you, Mister oh-so-chromed-Gillette, to you they're moving:   S o   F r a g g i n '   S l o w l y ! !   And you ~really~ want to "exert" yourself, but it's all you can do just to keep yourself from reacting like your body's ~screaming~ that it should!!

    *... Hey?! Where're everybody go??!!