A hitch hiker is standing by the side of the road, his Back Pack is strategically placed to catch the eyes of the on coming traffic and to protect his legs should a driver take it into their head to run him over.

Where he is standing, exactly in the scant shadow cast by the only tree for miles, with enough room for even an 18 wheeler to pull up shows that he is no stranger to the delicate art of hitch hiking, however the purity of this road side performance is lost on the technocrats mainstreaming past him at 100k.p.h.

They don’t even notice him as they rush past, intent on their next buck or the next fuck. To them he is just another outstretched hand, probably too lazy to work and obviously incapable of conforming to their modern world and societal niche.

Any of these technocrats mainstreaming by, would, if they could take a close look at the items inside his back pack, radically revise their 100 k.p.h assumptions of the owner of the pack, for carefully packed amongst the travel worn clothes is a state of the Art Cyber Sled connected to HERE

As each vehicle passes he steps back out onto the road, a "Traveller's Twist of Strings" is briefly visible as he hangs out his thumb, he slowly retreats behind the shelter of the Back Pack as the next car draws closer. He is obviously no part-time hitcher, it shows in the way that he watches the traffic until it has passed and in the way he smiles and shows the peace sign in response to the faintly ridiculous sign language employed by those who would normally pick him up but are too loaded, turning off or too busy to help him out at this exact time.

Not a flicker of annoyance crosses his features while he waits, he looks like he enjoys the wait more than the ride. He takes out the makings of a handmade cigarette, adds a pinch or three of green to the coarse tobacco, deftly rolls the concoction, inserts a small roll of cardboard torn from a business card into one end, and lights up.

An indeterminable amount of time passes, the sun sets on the post card background as a battered HK Premier circles back and stops in a cloud of Gravel..

"I was past you before I remembered that Old Holdens don't drive past hitch hikers, so I circled back."

"Thanx."

A brief flurry of activity as the car is loaded, names exchanged and they were back in the traffic before the next 18 wheeler appeared. The HK was jukeboxing down the East Coast Elevator, it's creaky old ball joint's were slapping in time with the music as the Hitcher asked.

"Okay If I smoke a Splifferette?"

"What's a Splifferette?"

"A combination of 60% Spliff and 40% cigarette."

"A Spliff is?" asked the driver with a knowing grin.

"Is more commonly referred to as a joint."

"This would be a sharer you'd be rolling?"

"Actually" said the hitcher as he removed his hand from his jacket pocket, "I got an 'In-case-ya' burning right here," the Splifferette he produced was burning, but only just, the hitcher toked slowly on the Spliff, glowing it back to alight, then passed it across saying, "Splifferettes are not designed for Bogarting, just draw slowly on it, in an unrockconcertlike manner, the buds are encased in a outer tube of tobacco that slightly raises the combustion temperature in order to maximize the THC yield of the sessile and non-sessile glandular Trinomes, here suck it and see. By the way," he added BondJamesBondically, "I prefer my buds torn apart, not sliced."

"Why?"

"Chopping up destroys the integrity of the Trinomes."

"Sounds like you know a lot about Marijuana."

"Not really, my knowledge of ganja is similar to a knowledge of wine or roses. Since it's a substance I inhale, rather than sip or sniff, I tend to take a particular interest in it."

"Do you grow it?"

"Nope, I live in that back pack back there in the back, not enough room for a pot plant and a potpal"

"You sure speak funny."

"Sorry dude, I been jacked in to the cyber space colony for the last couple of months and I haven't quite achieved full reality reintegration, but I should be right by Kempsey."

"Huh."

"I will fully explain during the course of this journey."

"I understood those words" said the driver, now smoothly in the bubble, "but what I can't understand is why I haven't heard about the Big Bong before."

"That is probably due to the fact that the dudes most likely to want to access the BBt-PPP are also the dudes least likely to have wwweb access. Most of Generation X prefer their entertainment in a T.V / video format, which is next, but I suppose the main factor is that the BBt-PPP went totally cyber in 1995 and it's been developing a fringe niche global cyber audience as opposed to a specific local or national reality audience."

"Cool, do you get paid when some one visits your web site?"

"Nope, the only thing the BBt-PPP wants you to pay is attention and the frequency of that is up to the individual. Some come weekly, monthly, yearly, basically wwweb-ever they want, as for the rest, well, every time any cyber dude finds something on the wwweb that's boring or otherwise offensive to their tastes, they simply don't return."

"Cool, So what is is gunna be like? The Peace Zone I mean?"

"Okay, just imagine that when we go around the next corner we see a huge Billboard saying Do Not be Alarmed, you are about to drive past the Movie Set of the Big Bong Peace Pipe Project Now Hiring, Casting and mostly Constructing... we would?"

"Drop in and check it out." said the driver with an anticipatory twitch of the wheel.

"Perzactly, at first glance the Peace Zone looks like your typical road side attraction, it has the usual assortment of human and transport refuelling devices, how ever the restaurant section is called "The Big Bong Burger Bar."

"Big Bong Burger Bars? Too Cool."

"Then, after your "Initial Concept Exposure" so to speak, you decide to enter the Peace Zone and participate in the Peace Pipe Project, you buy your ticket and enter. As the entry poem goes,

If you've read the book and cerfed the site that's great,
but only a Teeshirt is gunna get you thru the Gate.

"Cool."

"The BBt-PPP is a place to visit, to hang out for a while, help out for a while, then drift on, returning when ever you like. Of course, in the beginning the webbed and internationalists/back packers will be the primary preferred "Labour pool" for the BBt-PPP, in other words you will need Passport Proof that you are over 18."

"Why the No Kids rule?"

"Kids are already at peace with each other, as are most teenagers. It's the adults who cause all the wars." 

"Good point, I never thought of it like that before. What will be like once you get inside?"

"The cyber script requires a construction camp / village made up of tents and teepees of woodstockian appearance, this happens AFTER the initial "Campfire," scenes have been staged and filmed."

"Cool"

"At first the main effort is directed to digging the foundations of Peace Pipe and constructing a Qwerty Enclosure for all the Image Transmission Hardware. Once the Image is getting to the wwweb Okay, then it's concentrate on providing interesting content on a 24 hour basis."

"Cool."

"So the first stage is campfire scenes, whilst we are setting up for that, the "Official Approval Sub Plot" is activated."

"What's that?"

"Well, one of the reasons that I have been concentrating on attracting the attention of the cyber space colony primarily is so that I will be able to take a web-eyed potpal (and the connected conspirators) into the offices of the local council when I start the "Reality Application Process."

"Cool, so you gunna fix the unblinking eye of wwworld peace on them?"

"Yeah, hey, that's a cool way of putting it Dude, mind if I use that sentence on the wwweb?"

"Long as you give the credit to me."

"Done Deal Dude."

"No wucking furries, we are almost up to where I gotta turn off."

"Thanx for the ride man."

"No problems, I am gunna tell heaps of people about the Big Bong."

"Thanx dude, even if you only tell 1 person, it still means we all move just that little bit closer to green freedom."

"Don't you worry man, I'm gunna tell a bunch more than one dude about the Bee Bee Tee -Pee Pee Pee, Hee hee hee, it's about the coolest thing I ever heard of."

"Kewwwl." said Glitter as the HK creaked to a stop.

And then, with a puff of oily smoke, the old holden was back in the traffic and Glitter was alone with the road again.

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