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nofileextThere'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..."
