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Jan. 20th, 2008 08:15 pmPhong pauses in setting up the med-scanner and stares at the couple. "Truly? Are you certain?"
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Sep. 21st, 2007 01:13 pmThe door to the Command.COM's office slides open, and a null wriggles through. "Princess? Got a moment?"
There's a tiny hourglass on a choker around Daemon's neck. It's always been there. At the moment she was first compiled, the sand was all in the top half of the glass, and it's been slowly draining through ever since.
Now, as she stands at the threshold of Mainframe's Principal Office, the last grain of sand comes to rest.
Daemon stops dead in her tracks. As she speaks, her words seem to echo in the infected ground and sky around her:
"I am Daemon.
I am not an entity; I am a time.
My time is now.
The Word is CRON."
"NO!" Bob gasps. "Not a Cron virus..."
Daemon's body shimmers, blurs, then dissolves in a cascade of orange sparks. All that's left is a vaguely person-shaped mass of green light where she stood. (Is this really Daemon? Was the girl just another puppet, another vessel for the Word?)
The light flows upward and outward, losing its shape and coherence as it goes. It spreads through the system, through the open port, through the portals still open above the Principal Office. Every system in the 'Net is bathed in its green glow.
Throughout the 'Net, every sprite, binome, and numeral who remains touched by the Word stops dead in their tracks, just as their mistress did. They close their eyes and begin counting down.
"111100... 111011... 111010..."
Now, as she stands at the threshold of Mainframe's Principal Office, the last grain of sand comes to rest.
Daemon stops dead in her tracks. As she speaks, her words seem to echo in the infected ground and sky around her:
I am not an entity; I am a time.
My time is now.
The Word is CRON."
"NO!" Bob gasps. "Not a Cron virus..."
Daemon's body shimmers, blurs, then dissolves in a cascade of orange sparks. All that's left is a vaguely person-shaped mass of green light where she stood. (Is this really Daemon? Was the girl just another puppet, another vessel for the Word?)
The light flows upward and outward, losing its shape and coherence as it goes. It spreads through the system, through the open port, through the portals still open above the Principal Office. Every system in the 'Net is bathed in its green glow.
Throughout the 'Net, every sprite, binome, and numeral who remains touched by the Word stops dead in their tracks, just as their mistress did. They close their eyes and begin counting down.
"111100... 111011... 111010..."
4.04: Time for some thrilling heroics.
Jul. 2nd, 2007 06:31 pmThe Mainframe populace go about their business as usual, if disturbingly cheerfully. The air is filled with cars and zipboards, not CPUs and tanks.
Everything's quiet, more or less.
Of course, given the group that's just coming in from Milliways, that's not liable to last long.
Everything's quiet, more or less.
Of course, given the group that's just coming in from Milliways, that's not liable to last long.
4.04: Touched by a virus.
Jun. 12th, 2007 07:41 pmThe task that Daemon lays out for Mouse and YT is simple enough: allow the Word to spread to its fullest extent. To that end, YT is sent off into the 'Net carrying a list of IP addresses and a copy of Mouse's encryption codes.
One by one, YT visits the systems Mouse has firewalled off. One by one, the firewalls drop, allowing the Word to spread to the systems beyond them.
Soon, only one firewall remains.
This one is special. What lies within this system is too important to be entrusted to an underling. There have been too many false starts already.
Surrounded by a fleet of Guardian transports, Daemon and her new entourage fly toward System Mainframe.
One by one, YT visits the systems Mouse has firewalled off. One by one, the firewalls drop, allowing the Word to spread to the systems beyond them.
Soon, only one firewall remains.
This one is special. What lies within this system is too important to be entrusted to an underling. There have been too many false starts already.
Surrounded by a fleet of Guardian transports, Daemon and her new entourage fly toward System Mainframe.
*tak*tik*tak*tik*tak*tik*tak*tik*
Newton's Cradle desk ornaments are supposed to be calming. Phong has placed his directly in the child's line of sight, in hopes that this really is effective. Certainly, nothing else has worked in that regard.
Nor has he been able to establish anything regarding young Enzo's state of mind that he didn't know already. The child has not exactly kept his desire to aid with the war effort, or his jealousy of his older self, secret. There was no helping either of those, though, under the circumstances.
In retrospect, they really should have given him more busywork.
Newton's Cradle desk ornaments are supposed to be calming. Phong has placed his directly in the child's line of sight, in hopes that this really is effective. Certainly, nothing else has worked in that regard.
Nor has he been able to establish anything regarding young Enzo's state of mind that he didn't know already. The child has not exactly kept his desire to aid with the war effort, or his jealousy of his older self, secret. There was no helping either of those, though, under the circumstances.
In retrospect, they really should have given him more busywork.
4.03: Time keeps on slippin'.
May. 29th, 2007 06:47 pmOn the far side of Mainframe's firewall, a small group of Guardians are getting very, very frustrated.
"Go to level seven."
The terminal display lights up with a string of ones and zeroes, finishing with a stylized cartoon drawing of a mouse. Another dead end.
"Try eight," says the head tech. The power on the hacking probe is increased another interval... with the same result. The encryption on this firewall is more complex than anything they've ever encountered before.
The head tech jumps in surprise as a holodisc materializes in front of him. "Daecon!" he blurts out, recognizing Daemon's second-in-command.
"You should have hacked into that system cycles ago," says Daecon with a scowl.
"We're already at level eight. We've never needed to pass three before this!" The tech shakes his head. "There's no way through."
"That is not good enough. Our Lady has a schedule to keep! I cannot accept failure." The holodisc vanishes as abruptly as it had arrived.
* ~ * ~ *
Back in the Supercomputer, Daecon shuts off the comm with a sigh.
"...but it appears I may have to."
The hacking team has failed. The Guardians have failed. And, by extension, he has failed.
No point in putting it off. Daemon has a right to know what had happened. Daecon only prays that She will forgive him.
"Go to level seven."
The terminal display lights up with a string of ones and zeroes, finishing with a stylized cartoon drawing of a mouse. Another dead end.
"Try eight," says the head tech. The power on the hacking probe is increased another interval... with the same result. The encryption on this firewall is more complex than anything they've ever encountered before.
The head tech jumps in surprise as a holodisc materializes in front of him. "Daecon!" he blurts out, recognizing Daemon's second-in-command.
"You should have hacked into that system cycles ago," says Daecon with a scowl.
"We're already at level eight. We've never needed to pass three before this!" The tech shakes his head. "There's no way through."
"That is not good enough. Our Lady has a schedule to keep! I cannot accept failure." The holodisc vanishes as abruptly as it had arrived.
* ~ * ~ *
Back in the Supercomputer, Daecon shuts off the comm with a sigh.
"...but it appears I may have to."
The hacking team has failed. The Guardians have failed. And, by extension, he has failed.
No point in putting it off. Daemon has a right to know what had happened. Daecon only prays that She will forgive him.
System Clapton is a communications hub, picking up and rebroadcasting signals from all over the 'Net. The city's layout is spherical, with layers built up around the system's power source rather than merely above it. From the outside, it appears to be a metallic orb bristling with radar dishes; closer inspection will reveal various maintenance rigs and concealed elevators leading to the city beneath the surface.
One of those elevators has just stopped at the lowest level of the system, right next to the Core. Inside is a young female Guardian, clutching what appears to be a glowing green egg. She looks around warily--good, no sign of any guards yet. They're still too busy with the damaged port control to pay attention to what's going on below.
It's not the system security she needs to worry about, though. It's the two sprites coming down on the next elevator over.
One of those elevators has just stopped at the lowest level of the system, right next to the Core. Inside is a young female Guardian, clutching what appears to be a glowing green egg. She looks around warily--good, no sign of any guards yet. They're still too busy with the damaged port control to pay attention to what's going on below.
It's not the system security she needs to worry about, though. It's the two sprites coming down on the next elevator over.
All is peaceful in the Supercomputer's Clockspeed Room. Daemon sits on her throne, flanked by her masked attendants, and her disciples stand before her.
...but where's that organ music coming from?
...but where's that organ music coming from?
4.01: Son of Nullzilla
May. 21st, 2007 12:16 pm"What's a 'Nullzilla'?"
"Watch this." Phong presses an MPEG file into Enzo's hands, then turns back to the video feed of the null cocoon, his brow crinkling with worry. He has no great love for Hexadecimal, true, but she has just saved the system, and now she might be... well, not deleted, or the nulls would have dispersed by now. But there's no question that she's in trouble.
There's a team of security and medical binomes standing by in case things change for the worse. Right now, the goal is to figure out why the nulls mobbed Hex to begin with, and work out a plan from there.
"Watch this." Phong presses an MPEG file into Enzo's hands, then turns back to the video feed of the null cocoon, his brow crinkling with worry. He has no great love for Hexadecimal, true, but she has just saved the system, and now she might be... well, not deleted, or the nulls would have dispersed by now. But there's no question that she's in trouble.
There's a team of security and medical binomes standing by in case things change for the worse. Right now, the goal is to figure out why the nulls mobbed Hex to begin with, and work out a plan from there.
In the heart of the Supercomputer's Principal Office is the Clockspeed Room.
In that room is a throne.
On that throne sits a girl.
Within that girl lies the Word.
A tall, robed male sprite - blue skin, red hair - walks up to the throne and bows. "My Lady, we have opened another system. It... it resists the Word."
"Impossible," says the girl. "Show me." She turns, and the stained-glass window behind her fades into a video feed, showing Guardian patrol ships being shot down by the dozens. "Why do they suffer needlessly," she murmurs sadly, "when the Word is inevitable?"
"There is more, my Lady... we've found him. We have a signal lock on Guardian 452." The video feed shifts to show a blue armored man, firing containment bubbles at the ships that are still standing.
"Bob. The final Guardian."
"He has done the unthinkable, and joined with his keytool."
"They are inseparable?"
"Yes, my Lady." He smiles triumphantly. "He is the perfect messenger for the Word."
She stares at the image for another long moment before she speaks. "Prepare a zoom-room. Bring my messenger home."
In that room is a throne.
On that throne sits a girl.
Within that girl lies the Word.
A tall, robed male sprite - blue skin, red hair - walks up to the throne and bows. "My Lady, we have opened another system. It... it resists the Word."
"Impossible," says the girl. "Show me." She turns, and the stained-glass window behind her fades into a video feed, showing Guardian patrol ships being shot down by the dozens. "Why do they suffer needlessly," she murmurs sadly, "when the Word is inevitable?"
"There is more, my Lady... we've found him. We have a signal lock on Guardian 452." The video feed shifts to show a blue armored man, firing containment bubbles at the ships that are still standing.
"Bob. The final Guardian."
"He has done the unthinkable, and joined with his keytool."
"They are inseparable?"
"Yes, my Lady." He smiles triumphantly. "He is the perfect messenger for the Word."
She stares at the image for another long moment before she speaks. "Prepare a zoom-room. Bring my messenger home."
A Wretched Hub of Scum and Villainy
May. 16th, 2007 08:03 pmIt's a simple enough plan: go to a system the Guardians haven't taken control of yet, explain the situation to its citizenry, and recruit volunteers to aid in the fight against Daemon.
The tricky part is finding a system with a decent-sized population that hasn't attracted the Guardians' attention yet.
Fortunately, the Crimson Binome believes he may know of just such a place.
"Can ye open a portal to these coordinates, lass?"
The tricky part is finding a system with a decent-sized population that hasn't attracted the Guardians' attention yet.
Fortunately, the Crimson Binome believes he may know of just such a place.
"Can ye open a portal to these coordinates, lass?"
Dot gave Ray Tracer a list of strategically important servers to scout and determine how great the Guardian presence is there. When he gets back, he's going to tell her that the answer is "too ruddy great by half."
If he gets back.
She also wanted to know how well armed they were. This is a subject that's preying on Ray's mind as well, right now.
The last few went smoothly enough. Systems Ada, Bartik and Athena were all pretty quiet: college towns full of nice old houses and conchy students off to class. Not occupied yet, thank code. System Andrew was the same when he arrived.
Then, between one process and the next, Guardian shock troops had landed, fighting their way through the system's CPUs to the 'Net port control tower, and putting the system online. Then they'd blown the tower, locking the door open. It was a big shock when it happened, of course, but it's also a good thing to know, because it confirms what Mouse suspected about how the Guardians are operating.
Mouse. She told Ray that if he didn't get back safely, she'd have his ASCII. He joked that he wasn't sure how that'd work, but now it looks as though these Guardians might give him a ripper chance to find out. They're chasing him on motorbikes, each with a driver and a gunman.
He ducks under an archway connecting two dormitories and streaks past a cluster of gawping young sprites. "This system's really going off today, innit?" he hollers cheerily as he soars away and up a level. The students shift their gazes from him to his pursuers, bewildered.
Ray swings right, dodges his way across a busy thoroughfare (cars screech to an indignant, hovering halt), and dives between two buildings. He passes another, which looks like a trailer but appears to be a permanent fixture, and turns right. Hopefully he can give the Guardians the flick as he zigs and zags between a cluster of smaller structures. Sure enough, the sound of the motors fades away... but when he looks for a safe way out, there's a bike stationed at the end of each alley, hovering around the second storey. Not too far to dive in case he's looking to exit under one, and if he tries to escape over them he'll be skeet.
Piece of cake.
He peers around a corner at one of the guarded exits, has a good squizz at the position of the Guardians and the buildings on either side, takes careful aim. Then, before he has time to think any further about what he's doing, he drops his bitmap.
He's flying blind now; bodiless, his only senses are touch and relatively weak hearing/sonar. Without hesitation, he turns sideways and darts in the direction he's pointed. His underside scrapes against the wall; it smarts, but he stays flat against the side of the building. He hears gunfire and weaves wildly from side to side (which is actually up and down). He can't see to dodge properly, but they can't block his exit without crashing into the wall.
It's not even a very long alley; after about thirty-two pixels, his sonar and the change in the air currents tell him he's out. He rights himself and reforms his bitmap lying prone on the baud, then pops and takes his stance. He's come out into an open quad - no cover at all, but plenty of manoeuvring room. He heads across it, grabbing altitude, hoping to clear the building opposite before the Guardians emerge from the maze.
He reevaluates this strategem when he comes face-to-turret with a tank. "G'day! Didn't expect to see you here," Ray calls, and chucks a yewie. More tanks, as well as lighter craft, are appearing, cutting off every promising avenue of escape. He might be able to reach a building, but that would be putting the kids at risk.
He weaves his wild way across the quad, thinking of nothing more than dodging the blasts from the tanks. He needs an out, and now. But there isn't one. The exhilaration is now wearing a bit thin.
At least bystanders won't be hurt; the students have all backspaced for shelter and the quad is empty except for a litter of ReadMe files and a singularly hideous piece of installation art. With a grin, Ray heads for the sculpture and circles it - although the way he's going up and down and around, he's really sphering it.
The Guardians fire furiously. Bizarrely, they're not showing any more restraint than before now that they've got him surrounded; he sees one ship fall, its wing shot right off by a tank blast, and the rest of them simply don't react. Demented, but he doesn't have time to wait for them to delete themselves. He stops his looping and hovers directly atop the sculpture.
Something like six simultaneous blasts come at him from all directions. Out he shoots between two, singeing his rail as he passes too close, but that doesn't matter because the sculpture has gone up in a crackling ball of energy. A cheer rises from the students peeping from the doorways.
Ray smiles. Now he has an out.
"Thanks, mates!" he taunts the tanks. Even as he speaks, he's doubling back, hands outstretched. No time to direct the portal. Anywhere's better than this, and even if he can't find another Tear later to take him home, Bob can send a portal once Mouse gets a fix on that synchronizer she attached to the bottom of his surfbaud.
The bottom of his surfbaud...
"Oh spa - "
If he gets back.
She also wanted to know how well armed they were. This is a subject that's preying on Ray's mind as well, right now.
The last few went smoothly enough. Systems Ada, Bartik and Athena were all pretty quiet: college towns full of nice old houses and conchy students off to class. Not occupied yet, thank code. System Andrew was the same when he arrived.
Then, between one process and the next, Guardian shock troops had landed, fighting their way through the system's CPUs to the 'Net port control tower, and putting the system online. Then they'd blown the tower, locking the door open. It was a big shock when it happened, of course, but it's also a good thing to know, because it confirms what Mouse suspected about how the Guardians are operating.
Mouse. She told Ray that if he didn't get back safely, she'd have his ASCII. He joked that he wasn't sure how that'd work, but now it looks as though these Guardians might give him a ripper chance to find out. They're chasing him on motorbikes, each with a driver and a gunman.
He ducks under an archway connecting two dormitories and streaks past a cluster of gawping young sprites. "This system's really going off today, innit?" he hollers cheerily as he soars away and up a level. The students shift their gazes from him to his pursuers, bewildered.
Ray swings right, dodges his way across a busy thoroughfare (cars screech to an indignant, hovering halt), and dives between two buildings. He passes another, which looks like a trailer but appears to be a permanent fixture, and turns right. Hopefully he can give the Guardians the flick as he zigs and zags between a cluster of smaller structures. Sure enough, the sound of the motors fades away... but when he looks for a safe way out, there's a bike stationed at the end of each alley, hovering around the second storey. Not too far to dive in case he's looking to exit under one, and if he tries to escape over them he'll be skeet.
Piece of cake.
He peers around a corner at one of the guarded exits, has a good squizz at the position of the Guardians and the buildings on either side, takes careful aim. Then, before he has time to think any further about what he's doing, he drops his bitmap.
He's flying blind now; bodiless, his only senses are touch and relatively weak hearing/sonar. Without hesitation, he turns sideways and darts in the direction he's pointed. His underside scrapes against the wall; it smarts, but he stays flat against the side of the building. He hears gunfire and weaves wildly from side to side (which is actually up and down). He can't see to dodge properly, but they can't block his exit without crashing into the wall.
It's not even a very long alley; after about thirty-two pixels, his sonar and the change in the air currents tell him he's out. He rights himself and reforms his bitmap lying prone on the baud, then pops and takes his stance. He's come out into an open quad - no cover at all, but plenty of manoeuvring room. He heads across it, grabbing altitude, hoping to clear the building opposite before the Guardians emerge from the maze.
He reevaluates this strategem when he comes face-to-turret with a tank. "G'day! Didn't expect to see you here," Ray calls, and chucks a yewie. More tanks, as well as lighter craft, are appearing, cutting off every promising avenue of escape. He might be able to reach a building, but that would be putting the kids at risk.
He weaves his wild way across the quad, thinking of nothing more than dodging the blasts from the tanks. He needs an out, and now. But there isn't one. The exhilaration is now wearing a bit thin.
At least bystanders won't be hurt; the students have all backspaced for shelter and the quad is empty except for a litter of ReadMe files and a singularly hideous piece of installation art. With a grin, Ray heads for the sculpture and circles it - although the way he's going up and down and around, he's really sphering it.
The Guardians fire furiously. Bizarrely, they're not showing any more restraint than before now that they've got him surrounded; he sees one ship fall, its wing shot right off by a tank blast, and the rest of them simply don't react. Demented, but he doesn't have time to wait for them to delete themselves. He stops his looping and hovers directly atop the sculpture.
Something like six simultaneous blasts come at him from all directions. Out he shoots between two, singeing his rail as he passes too close, but that doesn't matter because the sculpture has gone up in a crackling ball of energy. A cheer rises from the students peeping from the doorways.
Ray smiles. Now he has an out.
"Thanks, mates!" he taunts the tanks. Even as he speaks, he's doubling back, hands outstretched. No time to direct the portal. Anywhere's better than this, and even if he can't find another Tear later to take him home, Bob can send a portal once Mouse gets a fix on that synchronizer she attached to the bottom of his surfbaud.
The bottom of his surfbaud...
"Oh spa - "
