2020-10-02: Web of Horrors: An Interlude in Spy's Demise
| An Interlude in Spy's Demise | |
|---|---|
| an3ris and Noire Automata meet at the Grand Bar at Spy's Demise. N/A promises to be able to take certain actions and work with the VA who in turn gives limited information over to the other. | |
| IC Date | October 2nd, 2020 |
| Players | an3ris and Noire Automata |
| Location | Spy's Demise in the Digital Web |
| Prp/Tp | Web of Horrors |
| Spheres | Mage |
Last night's post by "Gumptious Gal" lead to a query that didn't fully trace the identity of the poster but managed instead to alert the poster. This lead to a set of exchanges thoughout the day where each person attempted to figure out who the other was without giving away their own identities. Then, finally, by mutual decision an online meeting was decided on at what some people think of as a chat room while others know its a virtual space on the Digital Web - the Grand Bar at the Spy's Demise. Handles were exchanged so that easy identification could be had.
Gumptious Gal shows up using the alias an3ris and wearing an icon that identifies itself as Galatea GalaxSee. After passing Maxine's test she enters the bar and looks for her contact Noire A.
Noire was a floating polygonal tesseract, the cube changing and morphing as it drank a Guinness and slipped off its barstool. Obviously a completely custom icon designed by the handle owner. It glows red like a happy face emoji, <<Hey! That's the name of my robot. Galatea...>>, the cube said in a digital voice as the black box welcomed the stranger. <<Would you like to sit at a table or booth?>>, the changing and shifting hyper cube asked while spinning around slowly. It was a bit disorienting to try and watch it, but perhaps that was the point. To make our momentary features like eyes and a mouth only to watch them vanish. Completely alluring and hypnotic to watch. <<I'm Noire Automata or ... N/A. A bit forgettable at times. I'd like to help.>>
"Call me an3ris and whichever you'd prefer will work for me" the icon voices silkily while an image of a [table] and a [booth] appear to either side of her head. The swirling galaxies in the icon's eyes slowly twirl and she waits for N/A to select one or the other. "Do you have much experience with IOS, N/A?" she asks in response to the offer.
Noire glides over to a booth, then fidgets like a Rubik's cube shuffling in her seat before facing An3ris. <<Booth it is...>>, invisible fingers strumming the table between them. <>, still strumming fingers in a musical fashion like playing a piano. <<... I'd rather not debate the symptom or exact cause. I'm merely stating I've seen similar things like this happen to other users. Some of them have been recovered, some are permanently brain dead. Some stuck in life support and comatose, with consciousness transfer attempts made to wake up the Ghost in the Shell.>>, Noire nods. <<Mostly from my experience this happens due to viruses or corrupted data streams. Either way, I'd like to assist with solving the problem. Whether this is new or old.>>
an3ris follows Noire A to the booth and gracefully takes her place in it. A clear glass bottle - Snapple(tm) shapped and branded at the top fully of pink fluid - appears within easy reach of her hand. "Internet Overload Syndrom" an3ris clarifies "Its the term we use for it where I am from."
Opening the bottle the icon drinks some of the fluid. Is it mirroring the real person behind it or is this just a part of the program? Its unclear.
"Not here to debate. Here to find out if I can trust you with the information and/or my methods of gathering it." As she says the words the symbols [&&] and [||] appear to either side of her head in small popup windows. "I think I found a corrupted sector is related to at least one of the cases." she states after an appraising glance over the icon again.
A soft digital chuckle, <<Too many users probably suffer from that... IOS.>>, the black tesseract not asking where Galatea was from as Noire ordered a sandwich. A plain grilled cheese, which was quickly paid for with credits as she nom'ed it to pieces like a cartoon figure or garbage disposal eating bits. <<Gathering it? You mean understanding it's source code to fix the problem?>> she asks between polite chews. <<There are forces in this universe that will always right the ship or sink it. Whether you involve me or not, individuals remote from us are headed towards their destinies that are unfolding. It will be resolved one way on another, like a fly drawn to a spiders web. The universe like balance and static environments otherwise we'd all fall apart under molecular destabilization. Pixelated into oblivion. The corrupted sector should be quarantined first, so no more users can access it. Then cleansed or completely reformatted. That's standard operating procedure. Besides rescuing those inflicted with... IOS.>>, nodding as the grilled cheese was inhaled into the cube. <<Super tasty. I'd recommend one in the future.>>, the cube turning happy pink.
"My first goal is to prevent more so catch" an3ris says as she runs her hand over her hair and pulls away a strand of flickering 1s and 0s. When she tosses it towards Noira A it doesn't move like a strand of hair though air, more like a coin (in the shape of a strand of hair) across the surface of a table despite it being a hands span from the surface of the booth. "That's the address of the sector that one of the victim's mind is in, use that to quarantine the area if you wish but as my goal is to try to see if we can recover the patients cleansing and reformatting is contraindicated. Does that make sense?"
Noire takes the hair/coin/mobius strip and processes the information rather rapidly - as laser scanners read the information and the data is absorbed from cubit like eyes. <<An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.>>, the cold hearted black box replies rather nonchalantly. <>, the cube looking out the window as if she could see the dreaded sector now.
"Same Grilled Cheese" an3ris replies. She then asks "You don't seem concerned that there are people being affected by this. Are you truly that inured against the suffering of others or are you masking this?" She almost sounds like this is a quid-pro-quo for the given information, not that she's in a position to demand a response.
<<Have you looked at the time an3ris? How many seconds have passed just between our meeting and conversation. If you are using a chat log on the timer you can calculate the difference between us meeting and now...>>, waiting for Galatea to get her digital sandwich and take her first bite once ready. Noire leaned in over the table to whisper in her digital voice, <<... a child dies from hunger every ten seconds. Before you finish that grilled cheese sandwich another will die from malnourishment. Certainly I care... certainly I'm not a cold heartless machine. But there is realistically only so much I can do. There will only be so many I can save in this lifetime, when I have dedicated a lifetime to saving. Emotions are illogical, biochemistry not needed for this equation. Should I be upset, worried, cynical, focused, saddened, happy?>>, her voice was penetrating before a sigh. <<I'll be professional. I'll be calm, cool and collected. I'll be proficient and save as many lives as I can. I'll treat the situation with respect and give aid to those who need it.>>, the machine tilting its head to the side. <<Does that compute?>>, tapping the table top. <<Another ten seconds. Let's do our best. We are on the same team. Same goal, same objective. Of course their lives matter to me. I just don't have time to cry about it. We got lives to save.>>, Noire states slipping off her end of the booth and standing. <<Don't make enemies out of friends.>>, a holographic hand and arm manifesting to shake hands politely with Galatea.
"It computes" is the first reply and then she asks "Are we friends or convenient allies?" This is not asked harshly, just factually. She doesn't otherwise respond to the barbs - intended or not - from the other icon at her table. "You can DM me as well. There are five patients at the hospital. Do you want their names before we end the meeting N/A?"
Noire's tiny cubes rearrange into a smile; as she unmutes her headset and actually speaks in a semi-familiar voice, "I like to believe in the power of friendship. This ... is sadly a repeatable event. Once something occurs in a timeline, the probability of it happening again - is almost inevitable. If a situation like this occurs again. It would be nice to have a familiar acquaintance to help solve the error.", pausing for a moment. "I'll take the data on the patients. See what can be done on the other side for them.", her voice hauntingly vague and familiar as Noire listened to a response.
"A familiar acquaintance and ally, yes, that's for sure" she says as, again she brushes her hair and pulls a strand out. This time she somehow grabs both sides of the hair and draws it out into a sheet. Upon it are the names Charles Castor, Alice Langley, Yolanda Rice, Vincent Rhys, and Edna Stein. She hands the sheet over to Noire A. "If we've met before, and I think that there is a chance that we have, then friendly may be more true than I initially thought" she pauses and starts to put her hand to her throat but then shakes her head and says "But we'll have to see how our relationship unfolds, N/A"
If a cube can flirty wink, it appears too. Taking the new information and knocking on the wooden table twice, "Take care, then. Don't be a stranger.", as Noire disconnected from the lobby and logged out. Probably to go check on patients on the other side.
