I thought I would try something a little different here, as I enjoyed very much reading some of the Evil Cub's back-story sketches he wrote while developing his Nanowrimo project.

     APE, the main character in this story is Alfred Palmer Emmerson.  He goes by the acronym created by his initials, and it suits him, because he is a big, big, man.  He has a long and complicated history I don't think I want to inflict on you right now, but basically, he's a sport...genetically speaking.  He's mentally, physically, tempermentally, a superior person, but he was born very disadvantaged.

     The world this story is set in is very cyber-punky...with very stratified and ridgid class structures.  Movement between strata is possible, but unusual enough to cause confusion and consternation.

So, without further ado...

     The three little men across the table fidgeted.  It was professional and polished enough fidgeting.  Decades of grooming and practice had made it all but impossible to spot.  There was no shifting in the seats, no pen tapping, ring twisting, eye shifting.  But still, Ape could see it in the jaw muscles, the nostrils, hear it in their breathing.  

     He kept his eyes steady on the middle guy.  He was the link.  Instinctively, the other two had gravitated to either side of this polished GQ pastry before him, signaling that he was the backbone of the negotiations. He was the one that could not crumble.  Which made him the one that Ape was determined to break.

     Finally, the pastry on the left spoke, his voice was calm, measured, and confident but Ape could hear it…some small tension in the throat.  The boy had been voice-coached from toddler hood to conceal it, but Ape could hear it, because from his toddler hood, he had been trained to sense weakness.

     “Mr. Emmerson, are you absolutely certain that you would not feel more comfortable having a broker to represent your interests during these negotiations?”

     Ape allowed himself a small smile, and deliberately brought his hands up off his lap, and set them on the table.  They were not folded politely, but splayed out showing their full size, which was massive by any standards, and black.  Not the black these men were used to either.  Not the black known where he came from as boardroom mocha.  No, his hands were a deep ebony, and even more menacing…they were heavily calloused.  On both sides.

     “I’m sorry, gentlemen,”  Ape’s voice was like the idling of a finely tuned sports car, “I wish I could oblige you, but I really have yet to meet a broker that sufficiently represents my interests.  I’m afraid that I will just have to take my chances with you.”

     “In that case, let’s get started, shall we?”  The young man in the middle finally spoke, “I have before me an application for employment in our new 'sleep geek' squad.”

     APE smiled and waited.

     “Are you aware, Mr. Emmerson, of the nature of this work?”

     “I am.  Cyber-cops jacked into the net full time, running investigations on the neural net.  I assume that you are asking me if I know that only the very most intelligent, nimble minded and creative people are required.  Perhaps you are implying that my background makes me unsuitable?”

     “Not at all,” said the man on the right, jumping in to deflect any negative implications from the center figure.

     “Your scores and performance in that are have been nothing short of exemplary.  It’s actually your physical attributes that concern us.”

     Ape smiled at the reaction of the other two men.  The speaker had left an opening for him to play the race card.  They knew it.  From his smile, they knew he knew it.  He left it sit there. 

     “When I was in military training, I frequently went for days without eating, and I did quite well in the sleep-deprivation and sensory-deprivation trials for special forces training.”

     “Of course you did very well on these things, but you know that someone of your considerable stature and temperament can’t maintain physical health during prolonged periods of inactivity.”

     “Sleeper cops are supposed to come out at fairly regular intervals for physical conditioning.”  Ape replied evenly.

     “True, and you will certainly be considered for the new squad should you insist on that placement, but we had another proposal in mind.”

     Ape’s ears perked up at this.  He had expected resistance to his application, but he hadn’t anticipated a counter offer.  It could be a legitimate offer, or it could be something just to cover their asses to make it look like they weren’t playing the class game.

     “I’m listening.”  He said.

     “We are finding a dramatic increase in bleed-over from cyber-crime to street crime, and some disturbing new trends in the entertainment market that indicate significant piracy of intellectual property.”

     “There’s been a drop-off in sales…across music, movies, print media…everything.”  One of the flanking pastries jumped in.

     Ape smiled at him, and gave a small nod.

     The head pastry continued, “We were hoping to assemble a small task force to provide a link between ordinary copyright enforcement on the street, and the cyber-stalker units that we have up and running.  Kind of a best of both worlds sort of thing.”

     Ape nodded, “Meat Geeks.”

     The head pastry nodded, “Just so.  Not just meat cops, but more in-the-world than the sleepers can be.  You and your team would have to be able to work with both, talk to both…keep up with both…in either world.”

     “My team?”

     “We were hoping you would be the captain, yes.”

     Ape smiled a slow smile, “Gentlemen, I do believe I’ll give that some thought.  When would you like my answer?”