4.02: Praise the Word and pass the ammunition.

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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?

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Daemon beams and applauds the media sprite's dancing. Then she rises to her feet.

The cycle's entertainments are over. Now there's work to be done.

The assembled Guardians all turn to face her as she steps forward into the crowd. Each Guardian is carrying an egg-shaped purple capsule; Daemon touches each capsule in turn, making them glow green with viral energy.

Her work ends there. The Guardians' work, however, is just beginning.

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Actually, Daemon's work might not be done just yet.

"My Lady... bad news, I'm afraid."

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Daemon raises an eyebrow, then turns back to the crowd of Guardians.

"You know your functions. Now go."

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"The Mainframers are stronger than we thought," says Daecon quietly after the Guardians have left. "They are actually fighting back. They have protected another hub..."

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"Time is against them." Daemon fingers the tiny hourglass strung around her neck. "They do not realize that it is already too late."

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"But, my Lady... they close systems that have not yet been seeded."

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Now Daemon is starting to look concerned. "Show me."

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The great stained-glass window at the back of the Clockspeed Room fades into a map of the 'Net. One large system glows red; everything beyond it is an even blue.

"It is now impossible to gain access to these systems without a portal."

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"Only my messenger can help us now."

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"Then Mainframe," says Daecon solemnly, "must fall."

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"We need information," replies Daemon after a long moment. "Bring me our two 'Net-surfing friends. It is time for Matrix and AndrAIa to hear the Word."