Author Topic: Silvereye's Odyssey  (Read 30725 times)

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: I can give you a coupla pointers...
« Reply #15 on: December 19, 2009, 09:36:50 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
...f1ee:dead:babe:7oac:ce55:5afe:abod:ebo1:de1f  I swear for the third time examining the code.  Orren would be better suited for this sort of riddle.

I must return.  Still holding the whistle, I walk, if that is the word, around the cube and examine the area in detail.  I extend my senses...there must be something.

The old father told me to return yet something is amiss.  The code was sent for good or ill;  someone aside from the old father knows I'm here.

Only two interpretations make sense to my Wylfish mind:

flee dead baby to/go access safe abode bold elf  or free/flee dead babe to access safe body bor/for self

Both are wrong. The question is whether to free or flee JANIE.  No matter, if need be I will kill her.

Remembering my last encounter with Wendy, I place my fingers in the same position, utter, "Come to me..." and blow the whistle.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Winds of Change
« Reply #16 on: December 19, 2009, 09:37:29 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
You blow the whistle and see the sound flow away from you in a multi-colored swirl full of digits, speeding off into the distance.  Then you wait for a response.

Moments later, on the horizon you see some sort of bolt strike, crackling out towards you along the filament grid in angry cyan motes.  Data packets zip right past you, buffeting you left and right with streams of values and addresses, stinging at your "body" and even pulling bits away here and there.  It stings, but you quickly reform yourself after each hit.  No Harm done.  Then you see it, not twenty grid units away.  You hope that's not Wendy, because if it is...it's Angry Wendy.

A swirling digital vortex, compressing and twisting the organized filament grid into a tower of twisted rungs, spits sharp bits of information in all directions, twirling towards you and destroying everything and nothing in it's path -- ripping the grid apart in the process and adding it to it's form.  And within this awesome display you see a seething, floating and very angry visage -- almost demonic in appearance.

"What process dares call Maelstrom into service?"
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: Winds of Change
« Reply #17 on: December 19, 2009, 09:38:11 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
A slight smile flickers under my scarf:  It is angry, has a name, and a purpose....  

Dangling the whistle from one hand so Maelstrom can see it clearly, I find its eyes with mine and hold them in my stare. "Silvereye you knew me as in one universe, Maelstrom," I answer softly,  "You were called Wendy.  Do you remember?"

I wait for an answer.
« Last Edit: December 19, 2009, 09:39:24 PM by deimos3428 »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Did he mean rout, or route?
« Reply #18 on: December 19, 2009, 09:39:08 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
Maelstrom seethes with apparent rage and a jagged tendril formed of the wreckage of the nearby filament grid whips out towards the cube.

I have no time for idle latencies, single-thread.  State your destination and you will be routed accordingly!
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: Did he mean rout, or route?
« Reply #19 on: December 19, 2009, 09:40:27 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
Watching the filament heading towards the cube and observing the effect, I makes sure I am near the platform that brought me to this place.

"I called you into service, Maelstrom.  I require assistance, your service, and your time.  Can you clearly and simply decipher this message?"

I point to the message stream containing, f1ee:dead:babe:7oac:ce55:5afe:abod:ebo1:de1f.

"What does it mean?" I ask.  

"You will not route me anywhere until I have decided on my destination."
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
At least I didn't call him Norman Mailer...
« Reply #20 on: December 19, 2009, 09:41:25 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
Maelstrom scrunches up his face and you think he's going to explode or something.  Then he laughs, with a voice that seems to come from every direction simultaneously.  He doesn't have a belly, but if he did, you're pretty sure it'd be a belly laugh.  

Ha ha ha!  You're a bold one, now aren't you?  I mean, c'mon!  No firewall...no access protections...are you kidding me?  You even realize you've called up a daemon process?  We live to serve but definitely don't serve to live!  Ha! ha! ha!

He spins the devastation up a notch and leans forward, towering over both you and the cube as well.  He folds what passes for arms and hovers, glowing with supreme power and confidence.  

Bit of advice, newspawn.  Issue all the commands you like, but watch your output or I'll rip you to bits.  I'm issuing a break sequence this time, but if you ever stream junk controls at me again I'll throw hooks into your code and drag you straight to Null!  You wanna nice long run-time instead, little one, remember the Base Code: Garbage in, Garbage Out!  Got it?

That's ironic...he said that last bit as if it were a holy commandment or something.  Looks like he's doing what you asked though.  Maelstrom's extended "branch" seems to copy the cyan-colored cryptic letters from the cube and they flow away from it, absorbed into his essence turning firey red and disappearing into the living storm.  You are somewhat relieved to note the original is still present for your review:  f1ee:dead:babe:70ac:ce55:5afe:ab0d:eb01:de1f.

The specified parameter looks like a destination address in F segment, and you're missing a few bytes in the ol' checksum if that's your destination.  F1ee block in particular is the domain of the little bitch JANIE herself!  I'm sure she'll happily reap you or anything else that comes too close, but that's not my problem.  

But I don't do data analysis, impudent one, I open sockets and routes.  Call up a cypher daemon or somebody like that if you want information.  Now you want a data transfer somewhere, or you gonna go fork yourself?  I have a lot of calls queuing up here, so make up your mind or you'll lose priority.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: At least I didn't call him Norman Mailer...
« Reply #21 on: December 19, 2009, 09:43:49 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
"Before the transfer two questions, Maelstrom.  First, why you call JANIE a bitch?  Second, aside from F1ee block do I have another address?  A shame I do not know how to contact a cypher daemon...."

As he answers, I whisper softly to myself.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Pictures are sometimes best.
« Reply #22 on: December 19, 2009, 09:45:14 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
Because she is a bitch, little process!  

Take heed; you've never met a more manipulative or dangerous sort, so steer far away from that one!  She's a privileged process, the child of and next in-line for Master Control Program -- ultimate power.  So she acts just like the spoiled princess that she is, without regard for anything but her whim.  She does whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and answers to nobody -- not even the Interrupts!  Only her parent keeps JANIE contained within F1ee block, and all the while she broods and grows her power with each passing quantum, seeking constantly to be free.  Should she somehow slip those bonds nobody can predict what horrors she might unleash upon this world -- or beyond.


But enough stalling for time while you construct an access list with a security hole so large I could drive a 256-bit databus through.  You can go anywhere you'd like, newspawn.  It's not my job to tell you where you want to go, it's my job to get you there.  So...

His face then transforms into a particularly hideous and twisted looking bespectacled human, staring at you coldly through a ghostly colored four-panelled window pane for the briefest of moments, and you shudder as he asks:
Where do you want to go today?
http://aftermathnews.files.wordpress.co ... _vista.jpg
« Last Edit: April 14, 2010, 12:51:49 AM by deimos3428 »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: Pictures are sometimes best.
« Reply #23 on: December 19, 2009, 09:46:33 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
I nod my head to Maelstrom, and whisper. "You have made my decision easier, my thanks.  I will not go to JANIE, for I do not how to kill one such as her in this place.  If F1ee is her...block...then I wish to access the, 'safe abode' or 5afe:abod:e in your language.  Can you guide me, or should I return to the Grey-Hued One?  

Debating if I should trust this Daemon, I look for the device that sped me to this location. "One last question Maelstrom, do you know how I may contact GLADYS, JANIE's mother?"
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
JANIE from the block
« Reply #24 on: December 19, 2009, 09:48:59 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
You don't know how to kill JANIE?  Ha!  Nobody does, though many have tried and failed.  She's a system process, newspawn -- an immortal, undying entity.  You can't kill her, pause her, sleep her or do anything to her that she doesn't want done.

Newspawn, I don't know if you're corrupt or have some viral code or what, but JANIE owns the whole block.  Any address starting with f1ee is her domain, and you don't wanna go anywhere near there.  

As for 5afe:abod:e, if you're looking for a safer place to sleep a few cycles that I can arrange, but I think you're reading too much into that data fragment.  I mean, c'mon.  Those o's should be zeros for a proper address, and it's a few bytes too long.  Besides, that last bit makes no sense at all.  Bold ELF?  You're bold, I'll give you that, but you're no Executable-Linkable File!  See, if you look at the data long enough all sorts of crazy stuff will jump out!


Quote
Debating if I should trust this Daemon, I look for the device that sped me to this location. "One last question Maelstrom, do you know how I may contact GLADYS, JANIE's mother?"
Maelstrom scrunches up his face and peers closely at you, whirring faster.  You wonder if you're about to be annihilated where you stand.

You're really not from around here, are you?  Remote console link or something?  Whatever, I'll break it down for you into small packets.  GLADYS is an alias for the MCP -- our master, our liege.  Seeking an interface with her is trivial.  Just go to start of the boot block, B000, and ask your questions.  I can rewrite your pointer to speed you there, or open a socket if you prefer.  The socket's more reliable, of course...but it's a one-way trip.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: JANIE from the block
« Reply #25 on: December 19, 2009, 09:49:53 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
"No I am not from here, Maelstrom.  I once had form and GLADYS..the MCP...was a tool, a servant, that I used on the ship Traveller; that may be beyond your comprehension or belief but it is true nonetheless. If I could access my security codes I could prove that claim. I was a human, or wylf, and somehow ended up here."

I shrug my shoulders, "If I have read too much into this note it is because I come from Learth, or Aerth, and my mind is more attuned to humans than computers."

Sighing, deciding that death is preferable than this existence, I look at Maelstrom. "My choice is either to go to JANIE or not.  My questions seem fruitless.  It seems if I am to leave this place I must seek JANIE out, for I have no other address.  Something left this address for me to find.  I have no where else to go, no reason to exist."

I check the scarf around my face begin to tighten the straps around my fists when I stop, realizing it's pointless.  Best to go find death.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: JANIE from the block
« Reply #26 on: December 19, 2009, 09:50:45 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
Maelstrom shakes his head in disbelief, and you can only imagine what he's thinking.

Alright, newspawn...sounds like your signal's up.  I'll rewrite your pointer so you've at least got a chance to flee when you see just what you're up against.  You can't hurt her, so don't try.  Just run for it when you come to your senses.

Maelstrom whirls with power and digital flames shoot around your surfboard platter, as he invokes the power to route you to the address he has emblazoned upon it -- and you speed through the empty grid towards certain death.

You feel one last universal heartbeat as somewhere, 70h stops time.  Then you're surrounded in blackness.  The filament grid is there, you feel it...but it is cold and dull grey at your feet.  And also in front of you, vertically.  

Also behind, and to each side -- a cage, closing in about you.  Terror grips you like a vice, as you feel each scar on your body as if it were applied anew, torturing you with acute pain.  You hear your tormentor in that moment, laughing at your agony.  But it's no child.

"Looking for JANIE, I presume?  Sorry, she stepped out to have a word with her dear old Mom."

Looking up, you see a young, darkly attractive woman in her earlier twenties, of alabaster hue and ebon hair.  You recognize her instantly -- it's some aspect of Gladys, to be sure -- but reminiscent of the corrupt being of power that fled the tower in an inpenetrable body of marble more than the unfortunate washer-woman.

"Dark Gladys" cackles hideously and rips your scarf from your face, and you feel your digital flesh burn with pain, rage, and fear.  Blood spills down your face from each ragged line, and your eyes burn with cyan fire.

In that moment Maelstrom's words hit you like a hammer, and you realize he injected the board with another address: b000:f1ee:f1ee:f1ee:f1ee
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: JANIE from the block
« Reply #27 on: December 19, 2009, 09:51:55 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
No not fear, regret.

Feeling something, I laugh and stare into her eyes.  "Tell JANIE Silvereye was here."

There is no for me to fight here, Maelstrom was right.  cursing this place, I activate the board to stream me to b000:f1ee:f1ee:f1ee:f1ee.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Prisoner
« Reply #28 on: December 19, 2009, 09:52:31 PM »
Quote from: "deimos3428"
In intense agony, you activate the board and whisk yourself away from certain death.  You can't help but wonder why the seething daemon would be so helpful...but it is hard to think at all, your mind seemingly decaying at the evil one's hand.

As you approach your destination, your trusty surfboard pointer crumbles to dust slowly under your feet and you are finally unceremoniously dumped onto what looks like a smooth grey-tiled floor, marked off in cyan streaks with the same grid pattern.  This place is immense, but it is a structure...walls, ceiling, and floor.  It echoes as your footfalls land upon it.  As you get your bearings yet another shocking scene greets your still-melting eyes, though it is your keen ears alert you to Her presence first...to your left is a massive cage of greyish filament grid, and a sole figure of royal rainment is chained and manacled within.

"Greetings, noble Silvereye.  We are glad to see thee at last, and We apologize for the cryptic nature of Our missive.  Approach and heal thyself in Our presence, for there is much to be discussed and much that yet needs to be resolved.  Break Our bonds if you can, son of Learth, that a humble old washer-woman might aid thee further.  We shall see thee restored if We can."

Gladys' face is aged but beautiful, glowing with wisdom as She sits cross-legged in the cell similar to the one you just escaped.  She is yet wearing the purple robes of royalty and a crown of glittering gemstones.  About Her is an aura of purest gold, that makes you weep with joy despite your best efforts to the contrary, each tear chiming like a bell and seemingly healing your very soul.  As she gazes upon you and vice versa, you note Her eyes glow with silvery-blue light.  There is no doubt whatsoever in your mind that you are in the presence of the divine.  Your wounds simply evaporate as She speaks, and you take on the image most familiar and dear to you -- that of Ki'jiln the Wylf, silver eyes, scars, scarf and all.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »

deimos3428

  • Newbie
  • *
  • Posts: 370
    • View Profile
Re: Prisoner
« Reply #29 on: December 19, 2009, 09:53:42 PM »
Quote from: "Silvereye"
I crouch at some distance from the cage, and extend my senses.  I examine the area around me--everything but the cage--all the points of the compass, and the sky.  

Avoiding her eyes, I focus my sensory acuity--sight--to examine 'the queen" and the 'cage," In detail.

I wait for my premonition to warn me of danger.  If I sense my enhanced sight is altering her cage or bonds, I withdraw my inspection.

I am being charmed, enchanted, and manipulated.  This is a vision intended to impress and beguile.  Yet stark grey predominates.  A ruse.  Maelstrom was smart, yet my gamble payed off.

An old woman, a ghost, a computer, now claiming to be a captive queen.  I smile under my scarf.  All the elements of a child's story...am I to be the hero?

I know I am in Traveller's computer and this is F1ee block.  This must be JANIE.  She is trying to tempt me: using my hatred of captivity, my true form, my need for vengeance, for information, and my desire to return to my friends and Learth.  Clever.  A different tact would have suited her better.  I am not so easily swayed.  

Unsheathing my dagger, I draw the blade across my forearm, delivering a paper-thin cut.  I taste my blood.

My voice, a faint scratch in the still air, asks, "How were you imprisoned, and by whom?"

I watch, I wait.
« Last Edit: December 31, 1969, 07:00:00 PM by Guest »