\documentstyle[twocolumn]{article}
\setlength{\oddsidemargin}{0in}
\setlength{\textwidth}{6.5in}
\setlength{\topmargin}{-1in}
\setlength{\textheight}{9in}
\begin{document}
\setcounter{page}{54}
\parindent=20pt

\title{On Humanity}
\author{\copyright 1990 Steve Mays}
\date{}
\maketitle

{\it
{\noindent \Large T}his story is about something most of us don't like
to contemplate much less confront. Yet, in gaming, it is a thing with which we
learn to tarry on a fairly constant basis. Steve brings the topic home with a
flash of cybertech for glitter and morality for garters.\\}


{\noindent {\Large L}ooking out the window of the hovercraft, Harvey saw none of
the scenes of his childhood, only a mesmerizing blur of color and
shape.  Harvey Bartok, a youngish man, almost invisible in his
nondescript appearance, was going home.  For him, this was a new
experience since he could barely remember his home. At the age
of three, he was given up by his parents to be used in scientific
experiments at the National Disease Research Laboratory at
low Earth orbit level one.  He could never understand
why his parents gave him up, but he was told it was because he
had some terrible disease that could infect and kill many; now he
had his doubts.}

	The neighborhood was the typical American neighborhood,
almost perfect. Harvey hated that, perfection. Too much of his
life was spent in ``perfect" conditions, he ate the most pure
foods, breathed the most perfect air, and was kept in a
temperature controlled room.  Now the he was {\em out}, he wanted to
enjoy the sensation of {\em imperfection}.  He slowed down to wind his
way through the residential neighborhood. On the left side, a blue
and white house was displayed on his video screen. 
 
	``Ah, there... that's the one... left, yep, blue, yah, that's
the one," came the voice from inside Harvey's command helmet.  

	Its turbofans down to one tenth power, the hovercraft made a
swift, almost acrobatic forty five degree turn, to rest neatly on
the driveway of a house on Maple Ave, in Billingsly, Vermont.  

	``Shutting down all systems, and I'm outta here," Harvey
said to nobody in particular as he took off his helmet and turned
a large amount of switches to their off position.

	Pushing the big red button marked {\em door release}, a solitary
figure emerged from the hovercraft.  Looking around, Harvey saw
that his hovercraft was unique in this neighborhood, alone in a
sea of gasoline-burning ecology killers.

	A snort of disdain escaped his tight lipped mouth as Harvey
said, ``You'd think that people would learn; ozone disaster of
2050 didn't teach these apes very much, did it!"

	With a spring in his step, albeit a nervous one, the black
jumpsuit clad Harvey Bartok approached the ornate wooden door.  A
face came up on the monitor beside the door.

	``Hello, and welcome to the Bartok residence. One of the
Bartoks will shortly answer the door. If you will please make
yourself comfortable on the bench behind you...", a plush couch,
more than a bench, arose behind Harvey as the face spoke these
words, ``...I will inform them of your presence."

	``Damn electronic door! Can't anyone do anything for
themselves any more? Just once, I would like to see..." His
thought was cut short as a man with greying black hair opened the
door.
	``Yes, may I help you?" asked the man in the doorway.

	``Ye... yes," Harvey stammered as he looked into the eyes of
the man who might or not be his father, Justin Bartok, ``My name
is Harvey."

	``Nice to meet you Harvey, may I ask the purpose of your
visit?"

	``I am from the... that is... oh, what the hell, my name is
Harvey {\em Bartok}."

	``Are you a relative of mine from out west?"

	``No sir; I am your son. That is, if you are Justin Bartok."

	``I flopped badly on this one," thought Harvey to himself, ``I
could even have the wrong Bartoks. Either that or this man to
whom I`ve just confessed my kinship is the Bartoks' butler!''

	``I am Justin Bartok, but I have no son."

	``Sir, I was told that I was your son from the National
Disease Laboratory Director Michael..."
	
     ``Hunt," came the voice of the man who had just taken a step
back from the door, eyebrows knotted in shock. ``Yes, I know his
name very well. Come in, won't you?"

	``If you do not mind, sir, um... Mr. Bartok... um..." Harvey's
bravado was beginning to slip, and noticeably.

	``Denise, we have a visitor."

	``Who is it?" came the answering voice.

	``It is, um... {\em Harvey}."

	``Mr. Bartok, if this is any inconvenience..." Harvey
managed to spit out the words from his quivering lips.

	``Nonsense, I want to find out for sure if you are who you
say you are."

	From somewhere in the house, Harvey heard a TeleTalk
activate; its high pitch whining seemed noticeable only to
Harvey.  The voice on the other end of the phone seemed very
familiar. Funny, didn't the voice coming from the phone sound
like Michael Hunt?

	``You must have traveled a long way, let me make you
comfortable. Would you like a small snack, or a drink? Mrs.
Bartok will be here in just a few minutes and we can clear this
whole matter up."

	``Yes I would like something to drink," intoned Harvey,
knowing that something was wrong here. The man was definitely
stalling for some reason. Also, there was that voice, Michael's,
almost positively.

	The house was well furnished, a new modern kitchen led off
through the opening to the left of the entryway, and a black
lacquer paradise lurked ahead.  The living room was an example of
a modern nightmare.  Pictures of natural landscapes stood in
stark comparison to the unnatural sculptures of twisted metal on
the coffee table that were dubbed incorrectly as {\em modern art}. 
Modern refuse recycling seemed a better description.  The closest
couch was a black lacquered wicker framework with what looked,
surprisingly, very enticing.  

	``I have come a long way, and must be more exhausted than I
thought," said Harvey.

	``Here... yes here, dammit. What do we do?" came the
voice that was now absolutely talking about him to Michael.

	Looking around casually as if nothing was happening, Harvey
made small talk with Mr. Bartok while he tried to think of a way
out of this situation.  Sliding glass door to the left, bay
window in front, hallway to right, possibility of hostage
situation with {\em Mr. Bartok}, these were some of the thoughts
running through Harvey's mind, though the last was a very
distasteful one.  

	``Mr. Bartok, may I use your restroom?" asked Harvey in a
very disarming tone.

	``Why sure, um, Harvey, it's down the hall to the right."

	``Thanks, I'll be back in a second."

	He could not believe that the man who said he was Justin
Bartok did not know that Harvey could hear everything that
{\em Denise Bartok} was saying about him to Michael Hunt.  At least
he made no appearance of knowing, if he did. 

	The bathroom hid behind a small closet and a heating
compartment.  Having the bathroom visible today was considered
tacky by polite company; at least that's what Harvey had read in
{\em Vogue: 2060}.

	Closing the door, the lights automatically switching on because of his
entry, Harvey saw that his escape {\em (yet another one!)} wasn't going
to be as easy as he thought.

	``{\em Shit!} Why can't these fuck heads at {\em least} have a window in
their bathroom," growled Harvey to himself as he noticed the
acute lack of a window in the bare wall facing him.

	Still, the voices continued on the phone, outlining a plan
for the recapture of the {\em Harvey Bartok experiment}.  ``Experiment!
What the hell were they talking about?  I have been cured of the
Wayfarer's disease for 10 years," Harvey thought.

	All of a sudden the phone connection broke and {\em the
experiment} new it was time to act.  He came out of the bathroom,
and approached Mr. Bartok. 

	``Mr. Bartok," said Harvey in an apologetic tone, ``I am
sorry, but I am unable to stay. Mr. Hunt has requested me
immediate return on my miniphone."

	``You {\em must} stay and meet Mrs. Bartok so that we may determine
whether or not you are our son!"

	Something was wrong with the way Mr. Bartok said, ``You
{\em must}."

	Faster than humanly possible, Harvey's hand reached out and
grasped the unsuspecting man's gun hand and its enclosed stunner
in a vice-like grip. Leaning closer to emphasize his point, Harvey hurled his
hushed words at the surprised and obviously hurting Bartok.

	``If I were you Mr. Bartok, or whoever you are, I would be
{\em dead} quiet or I may do something that both you and I, mostly you
of course, will regret."

	``Aggggk," gasped Bartok as Harvey's hand on his became
tighter and tighter.

	``{\em Oh Shit!}" yelled Harvey.

	As the still befuddled Mr. Bartok looked to the right where his
wife should be coming with her own stunner, Harvey's hand shot
into his solar plexus making it impossible for him to breathe,
much less warn his accomplice of Harvey's actions.  

	``Dumb fuck! Never take your eyes from your enemy,"
whispered Harvey.

	Like a bolt of lightning, the man who was one second ago
holding the now incapacitated man's hand, was down the hallway
ambushing the second occupant of the house. As she came out of the
bedroom, stunner at the ready because
of the commotion in the living room, the woman who pretended to
be Denise Bartok met an oncoming fist that stopped about a
millimeter from her face. Gasping from fear, the woman was not
prepared for the hand in front of face to reach down and snatch
the stunner from her limp hand.

	``Now then, tell me who you are, since obviously you weren't
sent here for my health?" questioned the now angry Harvey.

	``We.. aaa.. are... your parents Harvey!" lied the woman.

	``How do you know my name? I have met only the man in the
living room, who right now, by the way, is gasping for breath."

	``I.. uh... i... i... know your face, you are my son." Again
another lie, and a bad one too!

	``If you do not tell me who you are, and right {\em fucking now}, I
will quite probably rip your shitty little head off!"

	``Okay, Okay! We went sent by..." With a sudden burst of energy,
the woman tried to surge past Harvey, only to be met by a fist in
the back of the head.

	As the woman slumped to the ground, Harvey heard the man
getting back up and through the bedroom window. He saw three
ground cars careen into the back yard. Running as hard as he could,
Harvey bolted for the front
door. Mr. Bartok stood in front of him to bar his path and was
met by a grim end as the speeding Harvey sent him flying through
the kitchen window. Once outside, the blur that was Harvey Bartok jumped into
his hovercraft.

	``Main turbo... on. Gyros... on. Turbofans and lifters... on.
C'mon, {\em c'mon!!} God Damn it!! {\em Start!!!}"

	His last words were met by a resounding boom that marked
the start up. At full power, the fans were capable of blowing
over the house in front of him. His right hand shot to the thruster
control and pulled it
all the way back, and at the same time, his other pulled the
control wheel all the way back.  The effect was spectacular, a
still grey sleek machine became a ball of fire shooting backwards
into the air.

	``Steady, steady." His left land pulled the thruster back to
50\% while his right leveled out the wheel.

	``Let's see them catch that!" cried Harvey triumphantly.

     Three blips showed up on his aerial doppler as if to refute his
statement.

	``Oh goody! Just like the tube races!! Only with a whole sky
to work with!" laughed Harvey.

	Over the radio came, ``This is the United Terran Federation
patrol. Please land your vehicle immediately."

	Wasting no time, his left hand pushed the thruster
control towards its maximum, but this time, his right hand did
not echo its partner. It pushed the wheel down. In among the houses,
the flashing needle that was Harvey's
hovercraft quickly lost the pursuing blips.

	Back on Lagrange one or, Low Earth Orbit, as the scientists
called it, Harvey was the champion of the most popular sport,
{\em Tube Racing}.  Tube Racing consisted of ten speeders inside
vacuum-sealed, magnetically-charged duralineum (a clear plastic polymer
stronger than titanium).  Each speeder was inversely charged to
the tube (if the tube was positive, the cars were negative), but could vary
the charge in their own field to take corners tighter.  This was
a very dangerous sport as the tubes criss-crossed, making it very
easy for the amateur to get hit by a speeder moving at about mach 
one or roughly 600 {\em mph}. Thinking back on his experience,
Harvey was surprised at his
speed, and also at what had happened to the man he had now come
to think of as his enemy.

	``I hit him, sent him flying about 20 feet and through a
window, but I didn't even feel it," mumbled Harvey to himself.

	Seeing his ship up ahead, he knew that if he wasn't even
safe on Earth, the only place to find out what {\em Harvey Bartok
experiment} meant was back in Michael Hunt's office.

	``Dammit, I don't wanna go back there! I just got away, yet
I'm going back! What kinda dumb shit am I? Simple, the kind who
would go back to a place that he escaped from; that's what kind!"

	The N-wave signal he sent to the lander told it to open the
entry portal.
 	
	``Open the pod bay doors Hal," came to mind as Harvey
chuckled to himself and landed in his ship, or at least the one
that became his. ``Possession is 9/10 of the law, is it not?"

	In a few seconds, yet another fireball shot into the sky,
this time a much bigger one, and much faster.

	``Once in Lagrange," thought Harvey, ``I'm gonna have a bitch
of a time gettin back into the Lab!"

	The National Disease Research Laboratory looked much larger
and much more imposing when going towards it, wondering how to
get in, rather than flying away from it.

	``Security outpost one-zulu-foxtrot, unidentified vessel,
please send vehicle identification code, and clearance number,"
came the harsh voice on the receiver.

	Looking around for the paper he had found in an old shoe,
Harvey hoped madly that the code would not be deactivated,
reported to the authorities as possessed by a pirate!

	``Aha! This better work, or I'm dead meat," whispered a
now worried Harvey.

	``One-zulu-foxtrot, this is federal shuttle Omega, clearance
six-niner-alpha-seven, on route to National Disease Research
Laboratory on Lagrange one."

	``Omega, clearance," there was a pause which put Harvey on
the edge of his seat, hoping against all hope that the next words
would say that he was cleared. ``Okay, continue on indicated
route."

	Breathing a sigh of relief, Harvey joked to himself, ``Gotta
remember to clean out these underwear when I get home!!"

	As he approached the Lab, he saw another ship entering the
landing bay.

	``Tower control to vessel Omega, transponder signal okay.
Proceed to bay six, slot thirty-eight," rasped a voice from the receiver.

     ``Holy Shit! I made it! I'm in!"

	The bay doors closed behind Harvey and the receiver spoke
again, this time it was a much different voice, and one that
Harvey did {\em not} expect.

	``Mr. Bartok, please land your vehicle and come out unarmed.
A defense garrison is awaiting your arrival at slot thrity-eight. Please do
not keep them waiting." Michael's voice had not changed, except
for the noticeable glee in it.

	``All this way, just get captured, {\em bullshit!}" roared Harvey.

	``{\em Eat me Hunt!}" was the reply Michael Hunt got from Harvey.
``Kill his engines, right now!" was Michael's response
to what was quite a rude statement in his opinion.

	``Mr. Bartok, your engines are now dead," said Michael, and
he was right.  At that instant, all his engine power dropped to
zero, and like its engine power, so did the ship, zero feet.

	With a crash that shook the whole landing bay, fifty tons of
steel and plastic hit the deck. When he woke up,
Harvey was staring at Michael Hunt.

	``Mr. Bartok, that was a rash act of yours. I mean, Piracy!
Surely we did not program you to do such things!"

	``What do you mean, programmed?" growled Harvey.

	``Exactly what you do to a machine, you program it to do what
you want; only this time, something odd happened. The machine
programmed itself!"

	``I am no machine. I am a man, the same as you, and {\em nobody}
programmed me."

	``Harvey, think about it. Did you ever notice how fast you
are? How strong? How, well... everything?"

	``Yes, I am fast and strong, but I work out fiercely for the
races and eat well."

	``You do not eat. You merely take in food, process it, and
release it. It is to simulate normal human digestion."

	``{\em Bullshit!} What do you think you are accomplishing by this
weird shit?  Why would you lie about my humanity?"

	``You are correct. Why would I lie about your humanity, or
lack thereof?"

	``I am done talking to you Michael. I ain't finding nothin'
new from you anyway... so I'll be leavin' now."

	``That is not possible. I will not allow it."
	
	``I don't give a rat's ass about what you think, dickhead!"

	``Really, you have been watching too much tri-D. Your
language has become abdominal!"

	``Later, dude. I'm outta here."

 	Just then he felt very weak, almost as if drained of energy. 
As he looked up, Harvey saw Michael standing above him with a
device.

	``You see? You are a machine. I can neutralize your reactor,
thus draining you of your power."

	``No, no {\em NO!!!}\ " came Harvey's insane reply.

	With amazing strength, Harvey leapt to his feet and ripped
through the steel straps binding him to the chair.

	``This cannot be!" gasped Michael upon seeing Harvey's
returned strength. ``I have neutralized your reactor!! You
shouldn't have any power!!"

	``If I was a machine, I am more now, I am {\em human!!!}"

	``No you are a machine, not capable of sentient thought. We
programmed you...."

	``I am now human. And now, let me show you one of my {\em human}
emotions... {\em hate!!}"

	Both Michael Hunt and the machine that came to be known as
Harvey Bartok were erased from reality as a Photon cannon atomized them
both from a before unnoticed hatch.
	
	``Damn, neither one of them worked," said the real Harvey
Bartok.

	``I wonder what went wrong?" said the real Michael Hunt.

	``Humanity. That's what went wrong."

	``Will we ever get this God thing right?"

	``I don't know, but I'm hungry. How about lunch?"

	``Harvey?"

     ``Yes Michael?"

	``What if we are the same thing as them? Are we gonna be
eradicated? Is that what death is?"

	No response came from the real Harvey Bartok as both men
left the control room.

\end{document}
