2020-10-02: Web of Horrors Chapter 1C: The Future is Now
| The Future is Now | |
|---|---|
| The problems on the Digital Web are gathering greater attention. Mister Li investigates one of the victim's homes and discovers what might be the cause. | |
| IC Date | October 2nd, 2020 |
| IC Time | Afternoonish |
| Players | The Eternal Shi and Vivian Starr (ST) |
| Location | Prospect suburb, Edna Stein's house |
| Prp/Tp | Web of Horrors |
| Spheres | Mage |
Edna Stein's neighborhood is an aging suburb of Prospect populated mostly by retirees. The place has seen better days and everything around has that sense of bone-weary tiredness that associates those nearing the end of their lives. The houses are maintained, but a lot of the more fiddly and exhausting work has been left alone by the occupants; there is peeling paint, broken fences, rusting junk in the yards -- but at least the lawns tend to be in fairly good shape.
Mrs. Stein lives in a small two-story house that looks like it was built sometime in the fifties or sixties. Like the rest of the housing in the area, there is evidence of attempts to keep the place in good repair but entropy has more energy than the elderly and that battle is slowly being lost. At one time, the house must've been painted a brilliant white, but now is more grey than anything. There is a picket fence around the property, a few of the slats broken here and there. In front there is a covered porch with a bench swing attached and some potted plants along with the front door, covered by a swinging screen partition.
Arriving 'by driver', Mister Ji Li Xuiyuan is dropped off at the end of the block. The van that delivers him does a 3-point turn and parks 'over there'. The Asian man in the suit walks toward the house casually, and probably not noticeable. Despite the neighborhood's quiet mood, he's just kinda not worth noticing.
In the van, the driver moves into the back, flips open his laptop, and focuses one of the zoom cameras to run overwatch. The guy in the van is not armed, but that's not why he's there.
Mister Ji opens the fence gate and walks up to the door.
Someone must've come by and locked the door after Mrs. Stein was taken to the hospital, because it is definitely locked. Fortunately, it's only the tumbler on the front; the deadbolt doesn't seem to have been fastened.
Mister Ji does not actually have noted Lockpicks. So while he's trained in bypassing them, he forgot to requisition them. However, he's also expertly skilled in figuring out a better way insdie without needing to worry about it.
Thanks to his near perfect situational awareness, he'll pick a window around the back. Without even a glance around the street, he walks around the house.
"Moving to rear of property. If you lose sight, I'll stay in contact."
A window is found on the left side of the house that provides easy access. It seems to lead to a parlor. Slatted wooden floors extend the length of the room, at one time polished but now rather dull. There is a piano in the corner, set on a large throw rug with an appropriate bench in front. A couch and two chairs sit at an angle to one another facing a surprisingly modern LED widescreen TV. There is also a wooden table nearby filled with various decorative items: a bowl of plastic fruit, some porcelain figurines, a few wicker dolls. There is an archway that leads out to a hallway that links to the front door and a set of stairs that can be seen.
Mister Ji slides inside, lowering the window back in place behind him. He does not expect anyone to be home, but you never know. With a whisper, he alerts his backup.
"Inside. Rear of house. Checking for occupants. Standby."
Moving slowly and carefully, the Asian Agent calms his breathing and takes assessment of the house. He listens, reaching out with his awareness, to sense the Feng Shui of the residence - searching for the signs of life (breathing, a heart beat, anxieties, dream state).
It seems that apart from some rodents in the basement, the house is clear.
Mister Ji stands up like a normal person and speaks into his mic.
"All clear. Give me a headsup on any traffic. I'll contact in 5."
He moves to the piano, brushing the tops of his fingers across the keys, though not strong enough to bring a tune. He walks around the sofa and coffee table, and looks over the figurines and dolls. White people and their knickknacks. (Irony being Chinese have way more silly toys and props).
He moves to the bedroom, looking for any kind of computer or digital device beyond the TV.
There is a small accumulation of dust on the keys of the piano, but nothing that wouldn't be unusual considering that Mrs. Stein has been hospitalized for several weeks by this point. The knickknacks are of the cheap variety one might see in any elderly white person's home. Exiting the parlor reveals...
A long hallway extends the length of house from the front door, ending with a kitchen directly ahead and a parlor through an archway to the left. On the right is a set of stairs that goes up to the second floor and on the wall below those stairs is a doorway, likely leading to the basement. There's a small sideboard beside the door that has pictures of presumably family -- an elderly man with advanced male pattern baldness dressed in a suit that looks about a size too big for his wizened frame, a picture of a younger woman and man smiling in that bland way one does for family photographs, and several smaller framed pictures of young children. The house is dead quiet. Considering the lack of possible egresses, the bedroom is undoubtedly upstairs.
Another long hallway is at the top of the stairs, which abruptly curves to the left at the last few steps. Surprisingly, there is another (smaller) kitchen here on the right, complete with a small deck that looks out into the back yard and neighborhood beyond. Beside the small kitchen on the same wall is a bathroom with a rather grody looking shower-tub combo and a toilet. There are three bedrooms: two beside each other on the left and one at the end of the hallway directly forward. All of the doors are slightly ajar.
Mister Ji continues his exploration. The furnishings and decor are noted, not just because they are quaint and adorable, but also because they tell a story. A story about the woman and her place in the Market, as well as her Fate. Whatever happened here is a threat to the Consensus. People -should- live these kinds of lives. It's their purpose. It's their duty.
He'll check all of the upstairs rooms, but only for obvious elements of interest - things that would connect the victim to the Web.
If nothing turns up on this floor, he'll head back down. To the basement.
The first bedroom looks like it was converted into a sewing room. Swaths of cloth lie in haphazard heaps around the room, like a static tornado with a sewing machine and station at its eye.
The second bedroom is definitely a bedroom, but doesn't look like anyone has slept here in months. The bed is neatly made and there is a chest of drawers on the far wall. The only electronics here is a lamp on a sideboard and an old CRT TV at the foot of the bed.
The final bedroom is both the largest and the most interesting. The place is wrecked, with furniture moved away and toppled over and the bed a heap of comforters and sheets. There is a computer here, set on a wooden desk near the window; it looks several generations behind the times -- definitely a computer for those whose main online activities are light web browsing to look at cute cat pics and email. Whoever locked up the place must've done only that and not gone inside.
"Second floor. Found a computer." He moves over to it, pulling gloves from a pocket and slipping them on. He taps a key to see if it comes to life.
What's that? It looks like there is something in the overturned trash can near the computer desk.
Mister Ji pauses before hitting the keys... and squats down to look in the trash.
In the trash is a UPS package addressed to Mrs. Edna Stein, Contest Winner. The label says it's from something called Maxar Technologies with a return address in Prospect.
Mister Ji mutters, "Son of a bitch." He pauses, "Run a search for Maxar Technologies here in Prospect. Find out if they're the only location, or if they've got other branches."
He slowly topples the trash can over, so the contents spill onto the floor.
"Roger," the voice from the radio comes affirms as the contents of the trash are dumped out onto the floor. There's the package, of course, and a few papers of little consequence. But among them is a small note:
Dear Contest Winner,
Thank you for entering our exciting online contest and congratulations on your win! Here is your new Maxar VR headset. The included instructions are as easy as one-two-three! If you have any questions or concerns on the setup of our equipment, please feel free to contact us at: 1-800-MAX-TECH or through our online app.
Maxar: The Future is Now!
The radio voice comes back, "Maxar Technologies is a new videogame hardware startup. Looks like it was established five years ago and focuses on 'immersive technologies'. It doesn't have any products for sale at the moment according to their website, only 'prototypes'. Corporate registration lists an office and a factory."
With gloves on, Mister Ji folds the note up and slips it into his jacket.
"Copy. Our Victim received one of those prototypes. Log that, and this number. 1800-MAX -TECH. We'll run it up the pipeline in debrief."
He squats down, then goes to one knee, to look beneath the bed. Maybe she passed out and the headset rolled over there.
"Roger," the voice from the radio affirms again.
Looking under the bed seems like it was the right thing to do. The eye-catching red plastic of the device is easy to see even among the disorder of the room and the darkness under the bed. It is, indeed, a VR headset, but much smaller and slimline than normal commodity devices of this type. There doesn't seem to be a cord or other obvious linking method. There is a small indicator light on the side which is pulsing red slowly -- this is odd considering Mrs. Stein was hospitalized weeks ago and any internal battery should've long since died.
Mister Ji's gloved hand pulls the device out and he sets it on the bed. Stepping back, away from it... he moves to the doorway. The Feng Shui of this room is horribly out of balance, but he's used to that here in the West. The old woman's life is behind her, the memories and years leaving their presence on the Chi that flows through the house, and through this room.
Again, measuring his breath, he focuses on that flow of Chi. And within his mind, he rebuilds the last moments of her conscious will in here. Focal elements... the chair. The computer. The Bed. The Headset.
The device is warm to the touch, but otherwise seems benign. Fully out from under the bed, the VR glasses are easily visible; they are indeed quite slimline, being perhaps only as thick as an e-reader. It has a strap that presumably goes around the head made of stretchy fabric. There is a jack on the side for plugging in an audio device -- Mrs. Stein apparently used some black earbuds which dangle from the glasses.
Time coalesces in the room as the Chi is directed, revealing the past acts that the victim did in this room. The vision is hazy and dreamlike, but definitely clear enough to get a good read on what's happening.
Mrs. Stein is at her computer, hesitantly plugging in a small dongle about the size of a thumbnail to the back USB port while pensively following some instructions on the monitor. The vision is too indistinct to make out the words, but she seems to be following them quite carefully. After a few unsure mouse clicks, there is a bit of electronic fanfare from the computer and the old woman claps her hands in delight. She takes the VR glasses and moves over to the bed, settling down on it and lying back before placing the device on her head. After a few moments of adjustment, she sighs and presses a button on the side of the glasses. The indicator light turns green and the woman gasps. With trembling hands, she reaches out into the air and murmurs in a voice breaking with loss and want: "Arthur... is it really you?" She moves to embrace whatever her mind's eye sees and that's when it happens.
The indicator light on the VR glasses turns a solid, angry red. And Mrs. Stein gasps, her body convulsing. Through the wonders of Dimensional Science, one can see a glowing stream being dragged out of the poor woman. It takes several seconds and, as the last part of the glowing stream exits her body, the elderly lady gives one last back-bending arch before collapsing again against the bed, head at an angle and a small bit of drool oozing from the corner of her mouth. The red light on the glasses begins to pulse before the vision ends.
With a long sigh of released breath, Mister Ji frowns. He'll need to consider what happened, maybe replay it back in his mind and analyze the energy transfer. But for now, he moves from the doorway, reaching behind the computer to grab the USB Dongle. And the headset. Both slip inside his jacket.
Mister Ji gathers the items, checks around to make sure he didnt leave any fingerprints... and confident he did not, he'll head back downstairs and leave.
It's tragic what happened to the woman, but it seems like she had a final moment with her lost love. It's the best anyone can hope for... and besides, she led her life. Maybe this saved her from dwindling away to nothing, alone, until she just faded away.
He will leave.
