Computer Lab Apocalypse - Guns
			    By John J. Aedo


	The fog lifted up from parking lot.  Another day, another 
dollar.  Andrew hefted the bookbag over his shoulder and shut the car 
door.  Seven in the morning and all clear for miles around, it seemed.  
By nine that would change, however.  Papers, final projects, and programming 
assignments were all due within days and every student on campus needed a 
piece of the labs.  Andrew tugged at his vest and drew it tighter around him.
He hated the busy hours.

	The retinal scanner beeped in recognition as Andrew withdrew his 
ID card.  This is ridiculous, he thought.  Why do CONSULTANTS have to 
show their ID to get into their own labs?  Merv greeted him with a wave 
and he nodded in acknowledgement.  The security door unlatched and slid 
open to let Andrew through.  He yawned sleepily and slumped into his 
chair behind the help desk.  A quick review of the monitor array showed 
an empty lab.  Every machine was properly booted and operational, and all 
the printers had enough paper to last them through the day.  The next few 
hours droned by uneventfully.  Merv fell completely asleep at his 
terminal, and Andrew busied himself with mail checks across the half 
dozen or so accounts he held on the Matrix.  It looked like it was going 
to be a pretty good day afterall.

Then the Rush began.  At precisely 9:00:00 AM people began streaming into 
the lab.  By 9:04:59 AM, the lab was full and the line began to form.  
The consultants were swampped with boot chip requests and questions 
about the five dozen or so different applications on the network.  

	"No, these machines won't run Taligent, try Main Lab."
	"The 'trodes are giving bad neural feedback?  You're getting a 
headache?.. uhh...  You need a boot chip.  Please step up to the retinal 
scanner and present your ID..."
	"Uhh...I think you need to switch to keyboard and type 
slash-slash 'exit' or something."
	"Sorry, the lab's full.  If you'll step up to the scanner and 
present your ID, we can put you on the waiting list..."
	"That's right, sir.  You need to take your file to CC III and 
print it from their EBM 7800's...  Yes, I know that's across campus...  
I'm sorry, these machines don't have optical drives."
	"You need to talk to your instructor.  We can't do anything with 
your account...  That's Computer Services..."

	And so it went...  Andrew looked forward to the end of his 
shift.  Only ten more minutes, and he'd be a free man!  Then it happened...

	"We need a toner cartridge on the laser printer!!!" exclaimed a 
student from somewhere in the back of the lab.

	Merv and Andrew stared at each other for a few moments, caught in 
a psychological game of Chicken.  

	"You go."
	"No way, my shift's almost over."
	"Who cares?  I've got seniority.  Consider this pulling rank.  GO."
	"Shit..." Andrew got up and tightened the kevlar vest once more.  
Secure with the armor, he grabbed a Glock-20 and riot helmet out of the 
cabinet and left out the door.  Merv grinned maniacally. 

	Once outside the protective confines of the bullet-proof glass, 
Andrew was smothered by crazed students, all needing some kind of 
assistance or another.  Unfortunately, he didn't have time for their 
trivial matters.  He evaded the crowd with his Ninja Consultant 
Training.  A smoke bomb here, a back-flip there, and a few well-placed 
roundhouse kicks got him to the printer in seconds.  The printer still 
belched smoke and the rollers spun uncontrollably.  Andrew turned the 
machine off and sighed.

	"HEY, I'M TRYING TO PRINT MY PAPER, YOU IDIOT!!!"  Andrew continued 
to pry the machine open.
	The first slug slammed him head-first into the printer.  The 
second one hit the small of his back and his legs collapsed from under him.  
The vest caught both rounds well enough, but their impact knocked the 
wind out of him.  He was going to have some cute welts in the morning.  
On the ground, Andrew cursed the day and drew the Glock.  Time to put 
Order Three of the Student Martial Code to work.  A three-round burst 
snapped the punk's head back and his body slid to the floor, leaving a 
wide red streak down the cubicle partition.
	The lab snapped alive with the sound of safeties clicking and 
clips snapping into place.  Uh-oh, thought Andrew.  Every eye fell on his 
smoking Glock.  Somewhere, a shot rang out, followed by a scream.  Andrew 
dove for cover under the printer's table.  Someone got impatient for a 
terminal and took matter into his own hands.  Of course, retribution was 
in order, and so it went.  Fear and paranoia swept the lab in a tidal 
wave of violence.
	"Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!  Merv, this is Andrew.  We've got a 
Class One alert over here--  Somebody's opened up with an assault 
rifle...we've got casualties.  Call MarkO, or something!"
	"Calm down, Andrew.  It'll pass.  Just chill out and keep behind 
cover," replied Merv through the comm unit.  Newbies..sheesh, he 
thought.  Don't they put them through riot training anymore?
	"Uhh...no can do, Merv.  Crapcrapcrap.."  Another crazed user 
dropped in front of him in a pool of blood.  He was almost out of ammo, 
too.  
	One of the better-armed students held off a small corner of the 
room and let his friends get by while he shielded them with cover fire.  
Dead computers formed a barricade around the stations.  Nobody got 
in.  Another student held printer paper hostage with a butane lighter.  
Others tried to reason with him, get him to put the paper down so they 
could resume their work.  A more violent bunch just wanted to waste the 
guy.  Yet another group tried to calm the violent bunch.  Down in the 
"pits," people cried over the loss of loved ones.  Some shrieked out for 
vengance, others just sobbed quietly.
	Andrew stared numbly at the lab before him.  The various factions 
split off into their own private pockets of pain and death.  He thought 
now would be as good a time as any to get back to the safety of the 
consultants' partition -- the nice, thick, shell-resistive partition.  He 
quietly treaded through the pile of bodies, making his way to the front.  
Halfway there, a loud snap from one of his footfalls brought the lab to a 
complete silence.  He'd accidentally kicked over a shotgun.  Once again, 
all eyes fell on him.
	"THAT'S THE ONE!!!  HE'S THE CONSULTANT!!!!!  GET HIM!!!"  The 
crowed seemed to forget their personal conflicts and focused their 
attention to the single consultant in the middle of the lab, who still 
happened to be holding a printer cartridge and an automatic weapon.
	Gunfire opened up again as Andrew broke into a sprint, taking a 
few rounds in the back as he ran.  He smacked straight into the 
consultant's safety partition and pounded desperately at the door.
	"MERV!!!  OPEN THE GODDAM DOOR!!!  THEY'RE ALL AFTER ME!!!"
	"Huh-whu?" He blabbered, being rudely awakened.  "Oh... well, 
just give it a retinal scan and pop your ID in...it'll let you in..."
	"I DON'T...HAVE...TIME....FOR....WHOOOAH!!! THAT!!! POP THE 
EMERGENCY RELEASE OR SOMETHING!!!  I'VE BEEN HIT!"  
	Somewhere in Andrew's frantic dodging and screaming, Merv 
manually opened the door.  Andrew crashed through and rolled on the 
ground.  He didn't move for a moment.
	Finally, he gargled out, "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"
	"You're not going to die.  We've got a Medevac ETA four minutes.  
Chill out.  You don't look so bad, for your first combat run.  Heck, 
you're not even bleeding so bad.  Probably just a few broken ribs.  It's 
far better than my first time out...geesh...punctured lung, ruptured 
arteries.  Fun stuff.  By the way, did you get that cartridge replaced?..."
	"...shit.  I knew I forgot something."
--
[ John J. Aedo, one hoopy frood that really knows where his towel is. ]
"Don't imagine you know what a computer terminal is.
A computer terminal is not some clunky old television with a typewriter in
front of it.  It is an interface where the mind and body can connect with 
the universe and move bits of it about." -- Douglas Adams, _Mostly_Harmless_