[PLN Archive] A Paranoia Noir short storyText below has been recovered from the Paranoia-Live forums
OccamIt was dark in BRT sector, as I limped my way back to my cot. I had 3 shots in me, 2 of simuhol and one of lead.
I smiled through the pain, so's not to arouse suspicion. These Yellows could smell fear like large-toothed aquabots could smell blood in the water.
A particularly oafish Yellow blocked my way. He made a better door than a window. "Wut's a Red like you doin' in a Yellow place like dis?" he said.
"Official Computer Business", I snapped a bit too briskly. I turned my gritting teeth into a as happy a smile as I could manage. I needed out, to get away from this Yellow jumpsuit that was making my head pound like a scrubot tackling a particulary nasty B3 stain.
"Oi, your IntSec, arn't ya?" he snorted. At least he lost his original train of thought. No surprise really.
"No, I'm a troubleshooter. How do you spend your time serving Friend Computer, citizen?" It was of course a loaded question. Literally. I had a green barrel painted red in my gun. Possession punishable by death, but death was the least of my worries in this place.
"Wut? I scrub the 'terror-gation rooms when Friend Computer is done with the likes of you."
I had no time for this petbot. "REALLY?!", I stammered, oozing as much charm as I could.
"I've NE-ver seen one of THOSE, are they as COOL as EVERYONE says?!" The sarcasm flew over his head like a Vulture on fire. "Gosh, can YOU show me one?"
He beamed.
"Sure!" he said. If his smile got any bigger, his head was gonna split. "Dere's one roight o'er 'ere."
Fifteen paces I limped, directly behind him, watching for prying eyes, either circuit or clone.
He reached the doorway, I bumped into him pushing him into the interrogation room while surreptitiously and simultaniously dropping my pistol-with-the green-barrel into his toolbelt. I knew the paintjob wouldn't hold up against that density of sensors.
The door closed behind him immediatly.
Ah, that sweet voice well all love and hate: "Good eveningcycle citizen," i hear muffled behind the door, "How is it that you come to have in your posession an item beyond your security clearance? and why is it painted red?"
" Ummmmm...". Too slow, i whisper. You gotta be quicker than that.
"Why don't you have a seat on this plasteel re-enforced, yet very comfortable couch. Go on, and try on the shackles, they're in fasion this yearcycle. They look good on you...yes they do....now tell me your earliest memory...."
The sweet voice and the screaming fade as I pop another happy-happy pill, and make my way back to my sector; my cot. The few witnesses avoid me for now, smarter than my hapless victim. But now I'm a marked man in BRT, all i have to do is give them a reason...any reason at all.
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