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4.01: Say the Word and you'll be free. Say the Word and be like me.
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."
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"Oh my..."
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"Hello, little one."
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"A...a..a...Am I deleted?"
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Then he looks around.
"Or is it?"
He starts babbling.
"Well, I've, uh, always wanted to visit the Supercomputer! So much about it! Did I mention I'm Mike the TV? Think I'll just take in some of the sights, you know, do the "tourist thing," I can see you're busy. I'd be in the way here!"
He turns to try and make a hasty exit but for some reason his feet won't really work for him.
" I'll leave you to your plotting and your-your conniving - huh - Hey, nice to meet you! Get your people to call my people, we'll do the lunch thing, heh heh. Bye!"
He's now frozen in the run away pose.
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His arms flail as he asks these questions and then calms down for the last one.
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But Mike doesn't understand that, of course. No one does, until they hear the Word for themselves.
Daemon rises from her seat, steps forward, and touches the marble floor with the toe of her boot. Tendrils of green light swirl out of her foot and into the terrified media sprite.
What is the Word?
The Word is freedom. The Word is peace. The Word is the knowledge that all of the petty struggles and fears and desires of spritekind are as nothing in comparison.
When the time is right, the Word will be spoken aloud, and all shall be as one. Until then, we serve Her and help Her spread the Word any way that we can.
Trust in the Word and all will be well.
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He bows,
"Oh, I'm not worthy! If only he were here."
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Guardian 452 may have eluded their grasp this time, but he will not do so again.
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