LeeSki_SkiMore's SciFi Site: Future.Novel: Lev.UP, page 23

Fortunately, OBee's over-rides of the chair's safeware had been over-ridden by his
medware's legalware. The chair screeched to a stop inches from a pile of razor-edged,
jagged scrap metal. Tornado-tossed junk OBee had collected out in the uninsured zone
that consequently ended up cut up, welded, glued or vel'd to the floors, walls and ceiling
of the warehouse. "OBee L'Artiste," thought Eller, "considering it stays stuck in one
mode, the same, day after day, it wasn't bad at all."
They had a lot more space than most people because of where they lived. More
unusual, they physically used most of it. OBee was a realie like Eller and Florie. OBee
remembered life before the pixel.

"Home, home on the rangenet, without my digi-display, where the walls are all bare and
the shelves sit empty all day..."
The Pixel Wranglers, from the VR Pixel Pokes collection,
Deflowered Distributing, Gov.Sub Productions.

Forced from his laughing fit due to a lack of oxygen, Eller gasped, "Sorry I didn't tell
you. . ."
"You can stuff the apologies where the VR don't shine," said OBee as he pushed away
Eller's lame attempt to make an apology. "I still don't like what you've done. We're only
a little safer than we were a couple of minutes ago."
"I know, that's why you've got to do one more thing."
"Yeah? Like what, sit on it when the cops come looking for you?" returned OBee as
he slid across the floor towards Eller. OBee clic'd up a VR that grew until OBee's non-
existent butt hovered over Eller.
"Damn you sure were ugly," said Eller. He flushed OBee's net access for a few flops to
clear the air.
"I want to go out and get back before anyone calls," said Eller, "The comp needs to be
stashed in the Waste so we can pick it up on the way to the next storm. Then I can get
some rest. It's been a long night."
"Yeah, well, you do look beat. I just got up a bit ago so why don't you stay here and
get some rest? I'll go hide it while I'm out on my regular scrounge-around," volunteered
OBee, "I was about ready to go when you got home."
"Turbo max, that's really great. I'm going to hit the shower right now. Don't wait, get
out of here. Stash it as quick as you can."
"No problem. I know of a great place, not too far out, just off the main line. We can
even keep an optical fiber finger on this baby from there. Got to admit, it would be one
hell of a tragedy to loose all these flops when we need them so badly," said OBee,
subbed through the homenet to Eller who had all ready disappeared into the corner of
the warehouse that was partitioned off for their living area.
The hoverchair floated over to the empty pod that usually transported Eller's storm
board. OBee clic'd on its door. It opened in OBee-mode. The pod's door rotated, then
lowered one edge to the floor where it formed a ramp for the hoverchair. OBee rode up,
bouncing into the cockpit. Once inside, the door closed automatically behind him. After
he clic'd on the hanger's exit program, OBee waited impatiently for the hanger door to
roll up. When it was just high enough for the pod to slip under, OBee's virtual foot
popped the clutch.
The pod's powerful flywheel spun the drive wheels against specially-armored
spongesteel. Tires screamed, streaking the spongesteel with another layer of tireplast to
complete his ritual takeoff. Dust and gravel showered the door as it lowered. OBee
disappeared behind a dust storm of his own making.
Eller grinned tiredly at the noise of OBee's exit, took off his fibersuit. He wrapped it
around its restorer mannequin. Happy to be out of the form-fitting suit, he scratched at
his itchy body as he stepped into the shower module. H clic'd off the water-saver, cost be
damned.