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lives
in.
    "Just might."
    "No, I don't think so, oke. Not today,
anyway. I'll have this sorted out for you. In the mean time, watch
how you go, and let me know what you need."
    "Thanks, Deon. I'm good for now. But it's a
good idea to keep an eye on the sky."
    Deon laughed. "All manner of things fall from
the sky, oke. Not just birdshit and fools. Later?"
    "Yeah."
    "Go see your lovely. That will clear your
head."
    I left on that note. Fired up the FJ, pulled
away from the scarred brickwork where Deon's shop had been hastily
repaired after the gunfight we'd staged with certain baddies not so
long ago, and drove down to the Chain of Lakes to clear my
head.
    It didn't work.
     
    Dee Dee Kozak
    Dee Dee was on a roll. Working the Net was
like that. Just like jamming on an Old School pinball machine:
tilt, whirl, give it a bang and sooner or later it would give up
what she needed.
    Just like men.
    Any operator, no matter which side of the
fence you stood on, has a network of private sources to get things
done: provide weapons, cars, shelter, hide/wash money, run errands,
partner up.
    Right now she was in her's, looking for
someone who could do the hacker thing, someone more controllable
than most of the hackers that the civvies thought about. Think
hacker, what do you see? An emotionally immature, generally fucked
up adolescent or post-adolescent case of retarded development,
whose entire life is focused on a keyboard and proving that he
(mostly he, though some shes, these days) is smarter than everyone
else...and probably so in coding and deceit of the keyboard kind,
but pitifully fucked up when it came to dealing with the rest of
the world.
    So since the skill set went hand in hand with
the lack of social competence and maturity, she had to apply a
certain filter to her selection criteria. Most outlaw hackers want
to be caught -- it's no fun being a teenage genius if no one sees
your work and applauds you, and the need for attention generally
leads the dogged investigator to the well hidden and spoofed IP,
the place where the hacker entered into his electronic relations
with the world.
    So they get picked up, put in jail, if
they're lucky they don't get butt fucked and turned out, but
sometimes they do, and then they are at least a bit more discreet,
because just like pedophiles, they've got a disease and they can't
stay away from the keyboards, which are the playgrounds for the
hacker-addict.
    Dee Dee could ply her formidable sexual
charms on most any man, but most hackers would rather cyber-fuck
with someone else's computer (or brain) than have sex with a real
woman, so she had to engage her top shelf social engineering skills
to utilize a combination of flattery, cajolery, challenge and
straight up money, as well as facilitation to deliver various
services and goods (which ranged from blow jobs to custom pistols,
all in a day's work for her) to get a small stable of unstable
computer nerds, any one of which, on any given day, might be in
jail, locked in a sugar frenzy from overdosing on Ding Dongs and
Mountain Dew, or immersed in the one millionth level of some
massive Multi Level Player game.
    But today, if she was lucky...
    Ping.
    On her monitor: This is Neo Dark God. Who
dares to invoke me?
    Loud laughter of pure dee-light from Dee Dee
Kozak, the cheeriest assassin in Lake City.
    "Why, my goodness gracious, it's Neo Dark
God," she said. And then typed those words out.
    Who dares to interrupt my rest?
    Reach down and unbunch your panties, Dark
God. It's Double-D Bodacious, your favorite equal opportunity
employer, seeking an audience on the clock. You still interested in
what I've got to offer?
    In Kansas City, MO, a 13 year old girl in a
severe Catholic school frock, sneaked a look up from her laptop in
the library, studied the room, and then typed:
    Bet your sweet ass, Double-D Bodacious. Go to
this link and we'll run deep and secure.
    Dee Dee laughed.
    Oh, you bet, NDG. I got something to bust
your cherry wide open!
    LOL. I