Going Shogun Read Online Free Page A

Board
is why we have to pay LX, or someone called The Minotaur, to get us access to
the internet.
    Actually, the law is one of many
reasons.
    RollerNinja.com is hosted on this
satellite server that orbits the planet.  You can only access it to post or buy
items during these hour-long windows as it passes a certain set of
coordinates.  I’ve heard that there’s one over Old York, one over Hong Kong,
and another one somewhere in the Middle East.  We have to pay someone to hack
the timeframes and access codes, and hijack an IP address to use out of the
Board’s Hoard.  Our someone was LX.
    The Board has a listing of all
computers with internet capabilities that it monitors on a daily basis; if an
unapproved system logs in, it sets off a red flag and there’s a Board Agent
knocking on your door in the next twenty minutes.  Getting access to these IP addresses
equates to having a fake identity created – driver’s licenses, birth
certificates, whatever the troglodytes used to do way back when.  But just like
the olden days, you can get anything for a price.
    The site is run by these two guys
that call themselves Lewis & Clark, because they think they’re Digital Age
pioneers.  Truthfully, they’re two-bit gonzos with a good idea and godlike
status in the underworld.  But, I shouldn’t down them.  Somehow they’ve managed
to hack a satellite, keep The Board from shutting it down, and maintain a
freeroam for the past three years.  How they’ve been able to keep it running
and elude capture is anybody’s guess.  Some speculate that they give Board
Leader Gerry Johnson a cut of the profits to ignore them, but only true
conspiracy theorists, like Forklift, believe that nonsense.
    See, only R10s and up have valid
access to the internet, but there are probably a million other risky souls who simply
can’t do without it, so they find a gonzo and slip him a few hundred bucks to
drum up one of these semi-legit IP addresses to gain access.  It’s illegal, but
everybody’s doing it.  Like moonshine runners during Prohibition, or kids
drinking before they’re 25 (the age was bumped...again), or potheads smoking
their weed after it was made illegal ( again ).  (I majored in Cultural
History...which is probably why I’m still waiting tables.)
    Since I refuse to get hip and roll
with the proper technical knowledge, I have to trust Forklift with his plan to
get on RollerNinja because he’s the one with the know-how and the connections. 
And according to him, LX is the only guy he really trusts.  So conversely, now
that Forklift is screwed, I’m screwed.  We have to find The Minotaur, get
access to RollerNinja, steal the recipes, figure out what the secret ingredient
is, find LX and, and , avoid getting busted by Board Agents for a murder
we didn’t commit, whether it was done by LX in self defense or not.
    We’re getting diddled in the shiz,
true.

Chapter
3
    Forklift does a drive-by on Elite
and we see the line trailing back around the corner.  A dragon’s tail of early
twenties angst and apathy.  From the looks of it, with their designer shirts
and skirts and shoes, most of these people are there just to say they’ve been
to one of the hottest new clubs.  This isn’t their kind of hangout.  They’ll
walk in, have a drink or two, then move on to someplace where they can sulk and
mope without having to pretend like they’re enjoying themselves.
    Word is, Elite is gonzo territory,
and people say that Lewis & Clark themselves, the Holy Grailmen of the Hacker
Kingdom, funded the setup costs.  Maybe, maybe not.  It’s simply another point
for the lower levels to meet and greet and gripe about how The Board purposely
and personally has a grudge against their Ascension efforts, as if they really
cared.
    If I were on my own, without
Forklift, I wouldn’t fit in.  Not with my normal looks and my normal shirt and
my normal desire to make something of myself.  It’s the type of place I
generally