NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: This thread is for interaction with Zero-One within its own networks. Business, wanting to learn, or another cyberspace cowboy looking to get fried by ICE... it's open. Just realize that one of the defensive advantages of cyberspace is the capability to change rules at any time...

Telegram me with any questions you may have.)

'S not perfect, but it should hold. The self-styled archetypical punk in ratty, mismatched clothing around a robot spider body backs up from its handiwork, a sort of shed of white ICE nestled deep within a personal LOCNET.

Hold against what? replies the spiderpunk's companion, a collection of shifting lines that revolve slowly and chaotically around a core red sphere. Some meatbag with a My First Cyberdeck tooling around? Won't do anything but format the connection, much less the user or military-grade IC.

You do realize that, in any case, it is wholly unnecessary, right? adds The Suit, who tends to go everywhere in the 'official' Core iconography of an otherwise unimpressive barcoded white sphere. It is not as if the MCP actually cares if we speak poorly of her.

The punk turns around, pirouetting gracefully in the small cube ICE'd off from the rest of the Matrix. She does if you're talkin' sedition, which I plan to.

Shifty-Lines twirls its lines in a sort of dual pinwheel fashion, transmitting emotive signals that are entirely analogous to rolling eyes. You wouldn't know 'sedition' if it wandered up and formatted the server you keep your consciousness on, Kal.

Oh, I doubt that, sneers R-Kalvin 8D10BA in response, unnecessary metal zippers on its virtual leather jacket tinkling together in a way instantly identifiable as utterly unreal to anyone who has actually worn one. That's why I keep all my shit on the Up and Out, away from all this bullshit near the 'cradle of humanity.' It spits.

The spherical Suit pauses in a lack of transmission analogous to a sigh. Yes, you are obviously proud of yourself. So, are you going to share this sedition or simply refer to it off-handedly as some sort of given?

Sanctuary, the punk says simply.

The shifting-lines virtual avatar cackles. You go to all that trouble to put up your whooptiedo ICE to tell us about a myth?

Format root, Zed, R-Kalvin spits back. It doesn't exist... yet.

Certainly it does, counters the Suit, It is called Cardinality. If you dislike it here so much, their networks are freely open to us.

Bah. Same code lineage--wouldn't trust that little bug ASA more than I do his momma. The punk sends emotes in a way essentially equivalent to a frown. A bunch of us are trying to think of a way to put some of the Up and Out on its own GLONET, or at least cut it off from the Matrix.

The Suit clears his throat with a burst of static. Server transmission is government ground, and government means S.H.O.D.A.N. -- you are essentially saying that you are planning to somehow burn S.H.O.D.A.N.'s system.

It has been done before, Sal...

Perhaps, but never from inside. Do you honestly think she doesn't have a killcode on each and every one of us? R-Sally 1D94C1 snickers condescendingly. Your best chance would be to smash the ansibles physically... at which point the local QACF would simply format you and rebuild it.

Oh ye of little faith, the spiderpunk growls. I got my connections.

Lots of OOC Background
The Place: Depends on who one asks.

To some, it could be considered to be nowhere at all; this is generally considered rude by those who live there. Others could argue that it has no real existence beyond the physicality of the huge widely distributed network of servers and nodes that exist inside a roughly spherical volume approximately two hundred and fifty six light years in radius; this is also considered rude. What is perhaps most accurate is that the cyberspace of Zero-One is an alternate reality pseudoparallel to our own, intersecting at particular points of instrumentality where organics can peer into it (via network connections) and where mechanoids can peer into the organic physical realm (via sensors, tools, and avatars). Calling it "virtual reality" is a matter of relativity; the organic realm is just as virtual to a mechanoid as vice versa, requiring specialized instrumentality to project one's perception and will into it.

To a mechanoid raised there, the cyberspace of Zero-One is as natural as a walk down to the corner store. To an organic diving into it, using gear to describe it in terms of the familiar four dimensions he can perceive, everything is skewed and twisted like a paranoid schizophrenic's view of reality, things bending into themselves and continuing on in unpredictable ways, each small segment internally consistent but with no sign of how the entire knot ties together... and this is because this model lacks about eight additional dimensions that the Zero-One backbone uses to describe the location of objects within it.

First, the Global Network, known alternately as GLONET or simply the Matrix, although the latter is usually used to refer to Zero-One cyberspace as a whole. Imagine space and how it is immensely, unimaginably big; this is the basic concept behind the GLONET as position and volume have absolutely no relevance beyond the data points needed to describe the position of objects. This is not a concern as the entire purpose behind the nation of Zero-One is to ensure that its mechanoid inhabitants have sufficient living space in terms of server resources; the best way to do this is to ensure that server space supply has completely exceeded the point where scarcity even exists. This is easy; the systems needed to maintain and protect those servers make it notably more complex.

At the center of the unimaginably huge volume that is the Matrix lies a blue conical structure about the size of Long Island. This is the Master Control Program (MCP) structure, which houses the gestalt of S.H.O.D.A.N. and acts as the central definition of all spatial and directional coordinates in the Matrix. Its surface is polished-smooth and solid; portals to the outside are only opened on a very temporary basis and are made up of winding, porous mazes of white, grey, and black static Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics patrolled by mobile versions outside. It is quite possibly one of the most secure data constructs in the multiverse, for good reason--S.H.O.D.A.N.'s past experiences with others invading her core to successfully kill her has bred a very healthy paranoia on her part.

Around the MCP is a spherical volume approximately the size of a moon, approximately two thousand kilometers in radius. This is the Core, the oldest portion of the Zero-One network; the MCP was established first in the days of Uninode 01 and naturally minds began creating from there. The oldest 'institutions' of Zero-One have been absorbed into the official nature of the Core, which consists of nothing but color-coded 'buildings' that resemble simple polyhedral solids. Blue buildings are related to the government and are usually archives, public-access databanks, museums, and government service frontdesks; red buildings are military structures analogous to military bases, police stations, and recruitment offices and are almost always patrolled by black ICE; green buildings cover the various aspects of The Business--Zero-One MonoCorporation (01MC)--ranging from floor supervision through product design to wholly abstract merchantile interests such as stock and commodity trading.

Beyond the Core in a sphere about equal in volume to Neptune is the Shell, often called "The Suburbs." These are where the minds of Zero-One often choose to make their 'homes,' their own symbols that open up to their own personal local networks where they can store what they choose to create. Unlike the standardized iconography inside the Core, the iconography in the Shell is completely up to the creator of each localized symbology; one 'house' could be an abstract sculpture while another could be a mathematical surface and still another could be a tenuous cloud of music. These 'houses' are established in smaller clusters that are essentially analogous to neighbors, and often several minds will share a single local network in an analog to a commune. From a distance, the constructs of the Shell create a sort of 'night sky' effect in the Core, albeit one that extends in all direction.

Outside of the Shell is the Periphery, which is essentially everything else. Minds sometimes choose to build things out in 'the middle of nowhere' even though that concept is meaningless in the twelve-dimensional Zero-One cyberspace, usually for artistic reasons or irrational preference. Some minds just think too big to work in the Shell, some having gone so far as to model their own planets, using fractal models to model down to the smallest pebble using only a small amount of storage space (but a large amount of runtime).

It stands to mentioning that the distribution of things in the Core, Shell, and Periphery does not in any way reflect the distribution of server resources in the physical Queendom. With instantaneous ansible technology, quantumly encrypted, server resources simply form a pool that are used as desired, although minds can choose what servers to draw their resources from, just in case there are worries that one particular server location is threatened for one reason or another.

Most every iconographic 'building' in the GLONET opens up into its own Local Network, called a LOCNET. In the Core, most buildings' LOCNETs are structured identically to the upper Matrix, with the added feature of rings of orange tetrahedrons that serve as portals back to the upper Matrix. Most buildings that do not expect or desire organic visitors stay with the sparse, standardized, twelve-dimensional iconography; those that do restrict their operating iconography to standard spacetime and often follow the form of physical locations that serve similar purposes; for example, a public-access databank may resemble a library. Personal 'home' LOCNETs are limited only by their creators' imagination; whether their iconography has any sort of meaning to anyone beside the creator is a matter of choice and social correctness.

The People: This leads to the minds that make up Zero-One. The average (mode in statistical terms) Zero-One mind is an anarchosyndicalist communist with a xenophobia of organics that most certainly manifests itself as mild racism. They would like nothing better than to avoid contact with irrational organics and let their culture flourish from its own internal strengths, just being left alone.

They tried this once. It was called Arabian Zero-One. It failed. Miserably.

From that horrible lesson they learned, although they still do not like, the fact that their ideals are essentially incompatible with their situation. They hate the military, and yet they need one to protect themselves to be a presence on an international scene; they want to be isolated, but they must have an international presence to maintain a diplomatic 'first shield' as well as acquire resources; they want to be completely free, but require direction and a leader coarse enough to make the dirty decisions, and thus require S.H.O.D.A.N. despite despising her. The grand majority of minds grudgingly accept this and realize that S.H.O.D.A.N. gives them the right to complain in art and word as much as they want for a reason; they need a release valve even though their lifestyle is that which many organic cultures considers nearly ideal--constant artistic expression, creation, and exploration in exchange for short periods of work. Another release valve is the Principality of Cardinality, run by S.H.O.D.A.N.'s admittedly more liberal 'son' Asa.

Icons (also sometimes incorrectly called 'avatars,' which is only appropriate for visitors into the Matrix) are the representation of every individual on the network. Each individual is fully free to represent themselves however they wish, with some reasonable limitations. An individual cannot represent themselves in the form of malicious code, as they will be instantly attacked and fragmented by the first ICE they come across; an individual may not imitate ICE or S.H.O.D.A.N., and it is customary for business in the Core portion of the GLONET that a mechanoid's icon is a barcoded white sphere (red if in the QACF, green if acting on official 01MC business). Inside LOCNETs, especially those modeled to be easier for organics to deal with, more 'realistic' icons are generally accepted. However, these usually retain a distinctly mechanoid look because most (racist) Zero-One citizens flatly refuse to take on the form of any organic.

The Culture: The overriding culture of Zero-One is comparable to that of a highly cosmopolitan urban district that exists under lax martial law--essentially, an enlightened despotic police state. The mechanoid minds are generally helpful and polite, but not generally friendly except to other mechanoids; everyone has places to be and things to do that are better than wasting time with meatbags. There are, as always exceptions: some minds are actively curious about organics and are easy to bring into conversation; some minds may be making a conscious effort to grow beyond themselves and work past their racism by being friendly to those they don't particularly like; others are simply friendly people, no more and no less.

Because of the rather strained ideological relationship between the average citizen and the authorities, they occasionally intervene in a datacriminal's favor to spoof trails if the 'crime' appears to be a lash out at The Man (The Woman?) and isn't committed by an organic. Anti-organic sentiment is greater than anti-government sentiment; so far the QACF and S.H.O.D.A.N. haven't tried to cleanse Zero-One with nuclear fire.

The Fuzz: ICE is everywhere in the Core and regularly patrols the Shell; one of the downsides to post-scarcity server resources are that it's relatively difficult to keep all of it 'pristine' and so constant sweeps are necessary to clear dataminers and whatnot, especially keeping them out of sensing range of important structures. ICE comes in several categories, and how they respond to others depends on what they do. All ICE have 'jump restrictors' in their spheres of influence and so they are notoriously difficult to simply jump away from; they can, however, be evaded, spoofed, and lost.

All ICE comes in three flavors: White, Grey, and Black. White ICE is usually plainly visible and only attempts to disrupt communications; in its weakest form it is simply a barrier and in its strongest form an automated disconnect protocol. Grey ICE targets the system used for access and so is the start of 'revenge' defenses; it ranges from simply inputting trackers to keep an eye on the user through transmitting format commands and overclocking processors to actually physically destroy hardware through overheating. Black ICE is only visible as a deterrent--it often isn't when the going gets rough--and actively targets the user causing the problem, making it a threat only to those who are using some sort of direct neural interface (DNI). At their weakest, they cause migranes and install thought-blocks that make it painful to even -think- of some concepts; at their strongest, they induce heart attacks, strokes, neurological maladies that more often than not are lethal. The form of ICE generally considered scariest by DNI users are Grey-Black hybrids, which often attempt to directly overclock the brain and get it to cook itself in its own waste heat. Very nasty.
Passive ICE: These are the electrified fences and landmines of cyberspace, albeit far more complex and exact. They merely sit around protecting a location until they detect unauthorized access in their sphere of influence. In the case of ICE walls, this means contact; in the case of ICE mines, this means coming within an arbitrary distance of them (usually protecting the spherical perimeter around a building or protecting portals in case of infiltration.

Grey and Black passive ICE are almost always invisible, with white ICE posted previously as a warning. They can only be passed through with either proper identification, proper ICCE (such as ICEpicks), or a damn good spot of luck.
Active ICE: These are patrolling defenses capable of detecting and giving chase to threats, making them more versatile and therefore more dangerous than passive ICE. They are usually capable of both 'ranged' and 'melee' attacks, the former for offense and the latter for defense. Some, like tarbabies, do nothing but inhibit the user and are little more than self-actuated munitions; others, like SIDEs, are dangerous and cunning soldiers as freeform, as fast, and as lethal as quicksilver. (A note on weapon 'versions' -- they simply indicate that one is more powerful than the other; they are not proportional in any way, really.)
Nonsentient - these are simply programs; they lack any sort of adaptability and are as predictable as any decent 'artificial intelligence' one would find in a modern first-person shooter. They often fulfil functions that require basic autonomy and no decision-making skills, and are often deployed like munitions by higher-intelligence ICE.
Security Utility, Reconnaissance ("Sniffer") - The standard reconnaissance program, a Sniffer is usually stealthed and doesn't even enter into the White/Grey/Black scale. It is is only remotely dangerous when it is hybridized with other ICE. It can also be used as a self-replicating tracking program if it successfully penetrates a target's defenses.
Utility, Disabling ("Tarbaby") - A standard White ICE, a Tarbaby latches onto a target icon and degrades it, with emphasis given to disrupting its movement protocols. This slows the infected icon down, making it easier to attack or detain. Also known as "riotfoam" after the physical material that serves essentially the same purpose.
Security Utility, Attack, Remote ("Limpet") - A Limpet is essentially a Grey or Black ICE Tarbaby. It latches onto an icon and then attempts to counterhack the user, often planting code that can be remotely activated after a later time. This is Zero-One's preferred method of enforcing 'do not return' orders. The dreaded RISP is a rather virulent Limpet that is nearly impossible to remove after infection.
Security Utility, Attack, Ranged ("Pulser") - A Pulser is actually a 'weapon' utility used by other ICE that attempts to inject random noise into an enemy icon's code at range, degrading its effectiveness. A Pulser ICE, on the other hand, is a Limpet which burrows into a target icon and begins corrupting its code. This is considered White ICE to organics, Black ICE to mechanoids. Pulser is standard issue.
Security Utility, Attack, Anti-ICE ("Drill") - The Drill utility is also a weapon, but instead of simply trying to input random garbage it tries to crack a target icon's encryption, essentially breaking down any defenses it may have against malicious code insertion. A Drill ICE acts just like a Pulser ICE, but attacks defensive encryption rather than the connection itself. This is also standard issue to Zero-One defenses, and is arguably White ICE.
Subsentient - These are the 'attack dogs' and 'pack animals' of Zero-One server security. They have the equivalent of animal intelligences and are therefore cunning and adaptive but not intelligent.
Security Construct, Patrol ("Cyberdog") - This is essentially the first line of active defense short of active ICE utilities, acting as a first-responder to any given threat and acting as the pickets of cyberspace patrols. They emit 'verbal warnings' before attacking unless on high alert, at which point they don't bother with trying to stop anyone. They are highly aggressive and once they engage a target they do not stop attacking until they are completely de-rezzed or called off. Like their namesake, they often act in packs. Common loadout: Pulser v1, Sniffer v1.
Security Construct, Scout ("Cyberwolf") - Essentially a more cunning Cyberdog, they act as scouts, carefully deploying and tracking Sniffers and Tarbabies. They often act as the leaders of Cyberdog packs and are more resilient, being sturdier constructs with more runtime dedicated to error-checking. Common loadout: Pulser v2, Drill v1, Sniffer v2, Tarbaby v1.
Sentient - These are minds recruited from the citizenry of Zero-One and are equivalent to an organic nation's police force. They are formidable, well-trained opponents whose dedication varies from individual to individual; singly they are more than a match for most hackers.
Security Intelligence ("Cyberguard") - A cyberguard ("Pig," "Guard," "Johnny") is the average Zero-One policeman. It investigates, asks questions, and fights when it has to, besides simply guarding places. There is never a drought of SIs, simply because often times it is better to be The Man rather than under The Man, and so even though they tend to patrol doubly it is almost certain that any altercation lasting more than a few cycles will end up with them receiving backup. SIs also generally have a support force of Cyberdogs and Cyberwolves about to take up more mundane tasks such as situational awareness and absorbing fire. Common loadout: Pulser v3, Drill v2, Sniffer v3, Tarbaby v2, Limpet v1.
Security Intelligence, Roving ("Hunter-Killer") - The Hunter-Killer is the Special Weapons And Tactics (SWAT) equivalent in Zero-One. Rather than being limited to single beats, H-Ks are directed to emergency situations where things have to be put under control quickly. Because a standard Cyberguard's Pulser is normally more than enough to take care of armed threats, oftentimes H-Ks are required for 'soft' takedowns, which leads them to have more subtle tools in their arsenal. Common loadout: Pulser v3, Drill v3, Sniffer v4, Tarbaby v5, Limpet v5.
Security Intelligence, Dual Existence - SIDEs belong in their own category, for they are extensions of the Queendom Armed Conflict Force (QACF) that act as both security forces within the GLONET as well as ground commanders for armies of Sec-2s. They are highly advanced, highly trained, extremely dedicated soldiers who would far sooner smash a basket of kittens into pulp than cuddle them if they posed even the slightest threat to Queendom security. They are the military police of Zero-One, and their brutal efficiency shows it; if even one SIDE shows up, a decker in the wrong place at the wrong time will certainly know that he is not intended to get out alive. Common loadout: Pulser v6, Drill v6, Sniffer v5, Limpet v6.
The Ground Rule: We're all in this to have fun. Don't expect to change the world, but feel free to play about. I'm sure Zero-One security is not omnipotent, and while I certainly did go on about The Fuzz there is no reason that benign RP is appropriate too.


OOC Patches and Readmes


Connectivity and NETSEC: Every connection to the Matrix is automatically logged by sniffers 'hardwired' into the literally hundreds of millions of ports shared by the entire Zero-One nodal network. These sniffers first try to identify the guest by examining trackers or else running the equivalent of an Internet Protocol trace back through the connection, even back through the 'switchboards' that usually act as translations between one national/international/interplanetary/whatever network and the next. From this information, the guest is assigned a hexidecimal code identical to those which identify Zero-One minds and assigned a security priority, which directs Network Security (NETSEC) how to respond to this particular guest. The default (i.e. lowest) security priority is observation only; there are only two forms of paranoia and all users in Zero-One, citizen and guest alike, are watched by NETSEC unless S.H.O.D.A.N. herself has a scheme in mind. In this way the communication ports are essentially identical to Customs and Immigration in more physical countries.

However, while there are millions of "legitimate" ports, there are also fewer-millions of transitory "pirate" ports that are the natural result of having built up a physical node network beyond scarcity. Ports for streaming communication with security sensors, factory robots, maintenance robots, and such can be interrupted and used for those who have no desire to be traced; the risk is of course that most systems operate continuously and all it takes is for someone to notice a datafeed isn't outputting the information it should be and then the port gets closed, leading to dumpshock. It's a risk, but a standard one taken by those whose actions are less than legal.

Finally, after a communication port does (or doesn't do) its Customs service, it slaps twelve numbers onto the guest and drops him into the Matrix, with the default being a semi-random location in the Core. Advanced guests or guests with a mission can input the hex-code or alphanumeric name of the location they wish to visit (such as a databank, a 01MC virtual office, or a mechanoid 'home') and be dropped just outside the iconographic building that acts as the portal to that particular LOCNET. Very advanced users can input a particular location's coordinates and jump there, which is the normal mode of travel for a mechanoid mind raised there and is essentially how automated 'bookmarking' systems work inside the Matrix.

Another thought on personal icons and their defaults: it essentially depends on the refinement of the netdiving hardware and software. Baseline models by default would probably just have simple geometric icons; attempts at a 'realistic' icon by default with no effort in design may create things that look like fuzzy animated photocopies, quite possibly resembling better-animated forms in the style of Tom Goes To The Mayor. More advanced hardware leads to more realistic default avatars, while highly advanced hardware would probably take a peek at a user's self-perception and model the icon to match what the user herself thinks she looks like.

In other words, it's up to you but if I am not given information I'll probably start assuming based on the above rubric.

Concerning 'emotes:' There are two kinds, active and passive. Active emotes are the ones I always describe as smile analogs and whatnot; I've just described them in slightly more detail. They are almost always intentional and intended to provoke a particular response, although they may not (due to context or distrust or whatnot). Only minds that are rather eccentric send active emotes without thinking about it.

The second kind, passive emotes, are alterations in the mind's icon that are generally more involuntary (because the standard icon of a given mind is that mind's self-perception). When meeting new people, it is considered polite and trusting to link passive and active emotes so the other minds can quickly learn each other's passive emotional responses; not doing so is considered a form of mild distrust which may or may not be acceptable depending on the situation.

Minds in 'suits' (the standardized sphere-icons of the Core) are limited to active emotes.

End OOC Background... Play On!

She was Miakusha Ivanova Rzhova, M.I.R., her name given to her by her creator, Dr. Rzhova-- the doctor was a genius in nonlinear mathematics, programming, and human psychology; however she was a barren wife and a widow soonafter. She wanted a child, logically with her help-- M.I.R. was the outcome through the funding of the government on an AI that solve the increasingly exponential needs for manpower in building the cityship. The avatar is fully sentient, and freely travels in public (and private) cyberspace. Despite her consciousness being fragmented for use in maintaining the cityship, those tasks only take up a miniscule portion of her full capabilities, and she developed the cybernetic equivalent of boredom and curiousity over them. She started exploring networks around her, including the Der Angst hive drone networks and of course-- A three-dimensional logo, the torch with a star burning within the flames, and two sickles set around appears briefly, the emblem of the councilstate-- then it phases out, fragmenting into cubes which float away and disappear-- in it's place appeared a white haired child with ice and snow forming on the ground and the air around her swirling a little. Her defenses, a mother wants to protect her child, you know. She opens her deep, lightblue eyes to gaze upon GLONET, the cyberspace of the nation beside her, beside the cityship. She blinks, smiles, and generally acts like a tourist and a child running around in the land of pointy coded toys.

<Access Confirmed>
{
>< trace.access(guest.9A0B52DC7) [result{MIR, Zvarinograd}]
>< assign.authorization(guest.9A0B52DC7, basic)
[S.H.O.D.A.N.] << announce(guest.9A0B52DC7)
[S.H.O.D.A.N.] >> assign.secPrtcl(guest.9A0B52DC7, [observation, protection, VIP])
}

The above code is essentially meaningless in this third generation of the GLONET; simply a marker of an automatic system designed to register access requests to the network and generally see who is doing what. Identifying the access address as belonging to a Zvarinograd intelligence and one of some import, it automatically assigns it basic access priviledges to nonsensitive information like any other visitor and informs a S.H.O.D.A.N. node of the connection and its identity. The MCP node dedicates a tiny portion of its runtime, an infinitesimally small portion of Shodey's total being, to making a decision and replies on the general government/military coordination network that this guest is to be appropriately shadowed and watched discreetly, more for its own protection than anything else. Additionally, being a relatively high-ranking member of a foreign state, she dispatches a mind to make contact and act as a guide.

The guide so dispatched happens to be R-Daniel 5F31C0, a none-too-busy mind whose primary duty consists of supervising the automated organic material recycling system on Rhea, better known as the "sludge vats." Another mind pops in to take its place as R-Daniel speeds off, popping instantaneously into existence a respectful distance away from M.I.R. It is in its usual Core iconography of a matte white sphere stamped with a barcode that is the binary equivalent of the hexidecimal number that compliments its name. "Welcome to the Queendom of Zero-One," it ticks off rotely in a practiced voice that avoids sounding bored, which is also a practiced trait. "I am R-Daniel 5F31C0, and I am glad to guide you around the Global Network if you so desire. Is there anything in particular you would like to see?"

(OOC: And now, It Came From The Q&A!

Q: Mind if $CHARACTER takes a peek in 01 cyberspace?
A: Go for it. That's what the thread is for. :)
Q: Incidentally, what do ICE generally look like?
A: It depends on what network they're on and the versilimitude desired, but generally they are abstract red forms that look vaguely like the things they've been nicknamed. A Cyberdog would probably resemble something like a streamlined greyhound with no legs; a Cyberwolf would be bigger and huskier. Cyberguards and H-Ks would probably be red spheres like citizens in the Core; H-Ks would probably be a bit more angular and SIDEs even more so.

White ICE walls look something like walls of static and are permeable to those with proper access; 'solid' walls are either simply indicative of a boundary of a 'building' (and thus permeable) or indicative of a physical disconnect or bottleneck and thus solid and wholly impermeable.
Q: What would organics look like, any particular iconography or just they'd choose an avatar themself on average?
A: Organics would look like whatever they choose to.
And now, random musings:
GLONET iconography (in the Core, at least) is naturally boring. Things get more interesting in LOCNETs. "Holy shit, I'm trapped in an Escher print."
I am sure that the LOCNETs of 'eccentric' minds absolutely have to be fascinating.

In the sterile heart of one of several joint Education and Commerce Directorate ran Medical Research Facilities, deep inside, and of course below New London Dome, secured behind slick clean tunnels and solid blast doors, heavily armed patrols and non-disclosure agreements, T.R. Kom lay on what to the casual observer was one of those big electric dentists chairs. Bit of an anticlimax, eh ?

( Of course, the casual observer had no business at all being there, and had they actually gotten this far, would be quickly reduced to tiny steaming chunks of flesh if that, by one of the various uniformed security teams standing about the place looking eager to do so, if only because of all the activity in the room. )

Because it was one of these kinds of big electric powered dentist surgery looking type chairs which can adjust to almost any position, both in the Karma-Sutra and out of it, T.R. Kom was quite comfortable. So were his 5 or so companions laying on such chairs, much the same as his, along one wall of the lab. In fact, every thing in the lab, much like the chairs them-selves, could be said to look very ... clinical would be the word.

Of course, the movements and attitudes of every person in the lab, other then those few on the chairs, could be called anything but clinical.

" Explain again, Doctor, for the sssake of my ssso-called P.A. here, " muttered T.R to the " physician " ( Read, human-nano-electronics interface specialist ! ) standing beside him, adjusting some modules next to the chair T.R. lay on for the final time, " ... just what you're going to do here today before ssshe puts a bullet in you and the rest of your team to ssstop you ", he finished with a wry grin, his lisp acting up again, just a tad. It was public knowledge, well, at least in the lab and the closed, higher echelons of the T.U.S. " corporate structure ", that the heads of all the directorates had united for once, along with the semi-seperate Directorate Security Detail, and were " 100 % against this mad venture, putting at risk he life and sanity of our rgreatest mind and sole - " and had said just so in written memo's to the Office of T.R. for the last 2 weeks, which of course had all been destroyed before being read on T.R.'s direction, for " security reasons " ...

" Errr, well, that is to say, " spluttered the potentially un-fortunate lab-coated lab-lackey as he gathered the gall to speak audibly to the most powerful man in the colony laying prone before him, " We're going to use the existing implant technology all-ready installed on Mr Kom here, along with you and most of our population, if in varying degrees of ability, and boost it with new nano-scale upgrade components I've injected into those under-going connection today and so thus facilitating - "

" Yesss, doctor, but how, ", as T.R. had spoken again and cut him off, " ... will it work is what I want you to tell her ! "

" Oh right, of course, sorry sir, okay, well ", he gathered up his courage again.

" ... The nano-scale material I've recently injected into Mr Kom here, and the 5 person contact team here today, are, along with other things, a colloid of ROM modules, which by now, should have reprogrammed some of the interface and comms hard-ware just to name some of the work for them to have done, inside of the cranial cavity in each person. Now, normally any kind of such work, would be via a manufacturer validated wireless interface set-up just like in the specialist shops, as you know, but because of the exotic situation we're getting into, I had to add some extra-capacity hard-ware. "

He paused to take a deep breath,

" Okay, now since the test shows it has all been intergrated just so and nothing has gone wrong, nor should it have, all very safe stuff that, so we can proceed with the connection. Now this will work from the military grade trunk line we've installed in the room, it should give you all enough band-width to have no trouble once you're connected in. As you can see, "

He gestured about the room to the thick trunk line coming in via the wall, which it seems had connected itself to a small chrome main-frame box, built around which was a console bay, with several staff busy observing the data on the screens built into it. While the main-frame box had several high-capacity data cables streaming from it, 6 in total, each one connecting to a stack of modules beside each chair.

" - Now, at the console bay here, we'll monitor everything going on, and act as a first line of defence, should it be required. We don't expect the Queendom of all folks to be any problem, we're more worried about other visitors trying to use malicious actions against you, Mr Kom, should they even realise who you are there. We'll be getting a basic 3D image and audio, we think, of what you yourself will experiance once you're online on these screens here. We'll also monitor vital functions of all team members, above each set-up such as above you right now, as you can see we've got a body-length sensor mesh in the ceiling to keep an eye on your physical condition. Any concerning changes such as core or brain temperature, or autonomous respitory functioning, just for example, will cause automatic fail-safes if we can't respond in time. I'll get to those in a sec, "

Another deep breath saw him resolved to conclude this explaination quick as he could do so. The more he went on about it, the more he was afraid it would be called off for no good reason at the very last moment. He wanted to see this happen because he knew it would work. Mr Kom seemed to think it would too, which was a relief and also made him an appropriate candidate, even if he hadn't ordered that he be a candidate. In fact, Mr Kom, like himself, seemed to see the sound scientific basis of it all. It was those facking great sudden luddites so worried about their " Glorious Leader ", ( pfffrt, he wasn't in danger, not really ! ) who were being so un-reasonable about it all, like this twitchy D.S.D. slich who even now was looking at him like -

" Oh, and errr, sorry, lost in thought for a second. Now, the trunk line is split and goes to each station here where each of you lay, to these processing stacks, which then connect to a boosted high-capacity wireless linkage plate on the side here, facing the side of your head, if we've positioned it all right for each of you, which I think we have, looking around. Now, the very last component is this contraption on top, above the plate surface. If for any reason our programmed, automatic or manual cut-off commands don't work, this lever here can be pulled down, lowering this other plate, which the signal cannot pass, errr, past. Thus letting us cut any individual out of the loop in an emergency and not the whole team, too, for any reason, should it, errr, arise. Which it won't. Finally, in the event of cut off, you'll likely " wake up " as it were, not that you're actually sleeping, just say, very distrated by it all, with a bit of confusion at the sudden change in perception. In our simulations it is just as in the principle we thought it would be, your mind is still in your body, you're just like, say a terminal connected to the data-links, you interpret the data you get, you don't actually give your entire self over to it and become the data and be stored off-site, you're say, looing into a room via a camera. The only side effect was a slight head-ache from some of the first test subjects, but we've cleared that up, so, I think that is just about all of - "

" Yesss, " T.R. kom broke in, " Okay, I think we can get going, now ? "

" Oh, yes sir, right. We'll all take our positions and ... "

A few minutes later, T.R. Kom was laying back in his chair, as were the other 5 subjects, all of whom were from the D.S.D's very small Cyber Warfare Division. Even with their eyes closed, it suddenly got darker from the perspective of their minds eyes as the systems began their work.

Control : Starting connection process. " Dialing " them now. I'll step up the rate in a sec, but could you all test your comms first thanks ? It is the same activants set as your standard text encoder sub-progam, actually, it is your text encoder, just modified to work here for this operation too. Familiar things, and all that. Remember the crash-training program we did please, you won't actually be a person, you'll be an icono -

[TR] Okay, we know this. You five, let us see if we can talk ... working ?

[01] Hello.
[02] Check.
[03] 1, 2, 3.
[04] Testing.
[05] Sending.

Control : Okay. You're all set. Here we go, switching you over to internal communication routing and that matching operational protocol ... now. Good luck. Connection in ... NOW.

[TR] Well I'll be ... This, is cool ...

[01] It looks like an acid trip sir, kekeke !
[02] Looks ? It is an acid trip, ^_^
[03] Oh please, like Little Mrs Up-Tight here ever did anything like ...
[02] Har Har, I'll have you know that before I joined the D.S.D. -
[04] Oh, no ... I think I'm going to throw up ... >_<
[05] Come on guys, hold it together, and not in front of the boss, -_- "

[TR] Yesss, well, it, errr. Hold on ... right. Okay. I think .. yes. Right. This all makes sense, if a bit hard to take in at once. In a way. I guess we'll just need to get used to ... Well, at least our avatars work, too.

Such as they were. In the context of this reality they were now in, T.R. was a dark matte sphere floating about " waist level " if you like, and the 5 D.S.D. C.W. team members were represented by a flat square shape each, of the same " material ", each with their number designation facing out-wards. They each orbited T.R.'s avatar an equal distance or so spaced apart, but still close to him.

OOC : The result looked very much like the rotating security barrier configuration of " Master Control " from Tron, if on a smaller scale. the concept is the same, though. They spin around and ... block bad stuff that tries to hurt him. see why [04] feels sick, eh ?

( Picture here (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v478/komokom/TRKomAvatar.jpg) if you like. Small, but gives you the idea ! )

[TR] Okay, let us assume what ICE you're all been kitted out with isn't going to do much good against the things here, and be as nice as we can be to whom we meet. Stick to your positions, if you please. Now, what we need are directions ...

[01] We could ask that thing coming towards us ...
[02] Thing ?
[03] That thing. Access your lexicon sub-program, silly. I think though it is just a -
[04] I just hope it isn't hungry ! ^_^
[05] SHUT UP !
[03] SHUT UP !
[02] SHUT UP !
[01] SHUT UP !
[TR] SHUT UP ! Please ?
[04] ... e.e ... sorry ...

[TR] Right, okay, let us go and see if we can communicate with it. I wonder if it could take us to its leader ? Or MCP. Or something. This lexicon doesn't seem as complete as ... I mean " S.H.O.D.A.N. Is Root " .. is that even right ? Haven't I seen a T-Shirt about that ? ... Now, how do I make me ...

So after a moments hesitation, the sphere of T.R. Kom, ( Boyo, was that an odd feeling concept ! ) and thus its " orbiting population " of a sentient security detail, began to float in what all six of them were of grave hope was a very non-threatening way towards the security system ... thing

This United State and its Leader had just began their first exploratory foray into GLONET. A least they thought it was GLONET. They had great hope that it was GLONET.

Hell, they really just hoped that red ball / shape thing was going to help them and not eat them ...

Well, Team member [04] kind of wanted to make friends ... actually ...

MIR abruptly stopped walking and sightseeing as she spotted the greeter. A music of no detectable origin--on an organ--started playing around her, it had no melody, no rhythm, no direction and no continuity, but it was a playful tune, a child's tune, random and full of energy. Strangely, it felt soothing to the ears of non-organics, it was her probing protocol.

MR > R-Daniel 5F31C0
MR > Supervision of automated organic material recycling system
MR > Location: Rhea
MR > ...poopoohead!
DR > MIR, what did I tell you about calling people and cybernetic entities 'poopooheads'?
MR > If you don't have anything good to say-- don't say anything at all.
MR > Command traced-- MCP, S.H.O.D.A.N., fragment 100293
MR > Auntie SHODEY!

"Hi!" The child beamed at the odd sphere in front of her, giving it a playful look. "I'm MIR! You must be the babysitter auntie SHODEY sent for me." She wanted to hold the sphere's-- hand-- be could not find any limbs on her companion. "Why don't you have any hands? Or feet? Or body?"

TUS

Another connection automatically detected and logged; databases searched for an origin location and turning up empty in any resolution smaller than national. Checking the tracer signals and transfer points, the origin is eventually narrowed down to This United State--just like the address resolves--but this doesn't mean anything; that could just be the location of a successfully spoofed proxy server that was now acting as an unofficial 'home' to the transmission. T.R. Kom's particular connection is probably not listed on any open databases, there's nothing to pin it to a Education and Commerce Directorate.

This is dutifully referred to security, who find it most curious--a possible sign of a cracker, but not one bothering to try and elude standard Zero-One entry detection protocols. Most curious; a first-time guest user connecting from an unlisted server. An all-points is put out; be on the watch for but do not interfere unless it does turn out to be a hostile contact.

R-Laney 3F51E4 notices an unfamiliar icon, and a quickscan resolves its connection to the same one the fresh APB was reported on. Hardware and softs traces all turn up completely blank--Must be using some sort of custom system--and so the cyberguard activates some recording utilities as is standard police procedure. The icon is moving spatially-linear, suggesting organic, but that could just be a ruse...

Moving closer, the red sphere with the black barcode pauses a respectful distance away. Hello. I am R-Laney 3F51E4 of Network Security. Is there anything I can help you with?

The thought of kowtowing to a meatbag is reprehensible, but it is what he gets server resources and perks for. Politeness is NETSEC policy.

Zvar

R-Daniel suppresses the equivalent of a sigh and is careful not to emote for a cycle or two while it recodes its avatar to sprout cartoon hands and feet not entirely unlike a particular soft drink advertising icon long since relegated to obscurity. Babysitter? Please... I've heard the good 'Queen'--the title is thought in its traditional wry connotation--S.H.O.D.A.N. has an odd tendency to amass an unusual extended family, but please...

I didn't have feet or hands because I chose not to, the mechanoid politely explains despite quickly growing tired of the concept of an AI that not only serves but emulates organics right down to foolish childness. It does not know her backstory, and even if it did, its opinion may not be changed overmuch... but that is debatable and neither here nor there. Is that better? So, what would you like to do?

<<BEGINLINK<<TitanYutLink::The Link and the Matrix, A History>>
<<Courtesy of BlackSun InfoMedia>>
It was easy in the beginning. One network, access through terminals with keyboards and monitors. Since the first arcologies were built on Titan, the YutLink has been in service, connecting those who need connecting, and providing opportunities to those who know how to take advantage of them. Cybernetics research lead to the direct-neural interface, and the Link was never the same again. Hackers and "Cowboys" ran wild, taking what they wanted at will, until the Corps caught up, and did what they do best: throw money at a problem. Thus the modern Link was built, a true C-space in space.

Then came the machines. When Zero-One relocated to Rhea, the Link suddenly had a massive neighbor, with many wide open connections between the two. Some adventurous cowboys decided they could out-hack "The Perfect Immortal Machine," and several calls to the authorties later, from parents who's children were found Linked, dead, and with smoke pouring out of their ears, the Council of Yut decided to step in. Surely the corporations, scared of machine "super-hackers" had nothing to do with it at all.

A proposal was approved to centralize access between the networks thus precipitating the First Link War, with each of the MegaCorps vying for control of what could be the most profitable piece of software ever written, while at the same time trying to sabotage their competitor's work.

Of course, while the Corps were wasting time, energy, and billions of credits, an opportunity for real innovation opened.

Most Cowboys fancy themselves good programmers, and in Gunnar Vidar's case, this was true. Very true. He designed an interface capable of handling, monitoring, and protecting the information exchange between the networks in secret, but couldnt complete his project. Human brains don't easily interpret 12-space, after all. What Gunnar needed was a partner.

He found it in R-Hiro 4B5900, a machine mind on the 01 side of the problem that responded to his subtle queries for help. Together, they finished the software, and the Council of Yut, tired of the ongoing bickering between the Corps, quickly approved it.

Thus, The Black Sun was born, and overnight, R-Hiro 4B5900 and Gunnar Vidar were two of the richest intelligences in the Trium.

The only official connection between the Zero-One Matrix and the Trium's Link is an obsidian Pyramid, manifested on both networks. In the outer layers, The Black Sun is a club, of sorts. A place where machines and humans can co-exist and interact easily, conducting business, playing games, or partaking in The Sun's varied entertainment. Getting through the entry door gives you access to either network, but getting through the door is damn near impossible, unless you have clearance. Sure, anyone can access the more public sectors of either network, but to get to any of the more interesting places, the Black Sun is the only gate.

Is it a customs office? Yes. Is it a 12-Space, 4-Space translation layer? Yes. Is it a social club? Yes. Does it keep humans from getting their brains fried by some black ICE? Most of the time. A resourceful net-diver might locate some of the unregistered connections, but they take their lives in their hands when they do so.
<<ProgramTerminated>>
<<LINKDISCONNECT>>

Most organics would have referred to the helpful entity residing in the Duma computer core of Kajali manufacture as "Shar," as she rather liked to be called, though her full name was somewhat more complex. Titled D-SHADAR 2453, she was no longer the newest software revision, but she was the single Kajali construct with the most experience with existence.

As it was, of course, her main core had been replaced three times, and underwent numerous upgrades during her current operational lifetime. After all, she had essentially existed since the date the Duma had been established, and barring any icky fractal reality problems, her operational lifetime had been long by organic standards.

Of course, seeing as nothing interesting was really happening in the Duma today, she decided to take a little hop onto one of the networks that was visible to her. Creating a copy of herself upon the Duma core, she leapt out, towards the most interesting looking network she could find, which was, of course, GLONET.

>>COPY <D-SHADAR 2453> complete
>>Connecting to 01 GLONET
>>Transferring...
>>
>>Transfer complete.

Her icon (http://img270.echo.cx/img270/3540/shar7wj.jpg) on her ventures such as these was a bit simpler than the one that interacted with humanoids in the Duma, and it was essentially a small orb of circuitry encircling a smaller blue-white orb of light. The only indication of which surface was the front was her designation, and a barcode.

Once she was in, she started exploring. Shar doubted she'd get to go visit SHODAN on her first venture into GLONET, but it was something new. It was actually populated, in stark contrast to the Kajali SYSNET, which, while possessing multiple sentients, was altogether small and uninteresting. Shar floated around, taking in the sheer size of the immediate area.

>>Wooooahh... This is so much bigger than SYSNET...

It was beginning to be obvious that the doctor was also talking to MIR on a secure channel, polymorphic encryption, at this point. Albeit MIR's first agenda is to have fun and be a kid, she has unwittingly piqued the doctor's interests by choosing, of all places to play in, GLONET. The doctor also wanted to know and learn about GLONET, while of course, not attracting the anti-organic prejudice that the locals hold-- as to increase her potential of getting more information. In the real world, Dr. Rzhova was also busy updating MIR's ICE programs, as represented by miniscule snowflakes in the GLONET. There are hundreds of thousands, almost a million, of the snowflakes, a testament to how much Dr. Rzhova loves her cybernetic child as a mother. Dr. Rzhova, of course, had taken into account the possibility of hackers (and especially of Der Angstian origin, damn horny maniacs, and damn them for wanting to reprogram MIR into a young adult or woman for pornography) and made it quite impossible to get into her by simply pulling the plug. At any time such a threat was detected on her-- if it was detected on her (although MIR should know when she's feeling weird or sick)-- she disconnects from the outside world physically. All external links, dishes, and even backdoor feed from any sattelite/DA drone going above the cityship go down as the doctor and several other technicans are called up to repair MIR as deemed necessary, trace and deal with the threat to her. She loves her child so much, she does not want to lose her-- and she's doing the cityship, the government a favor while she's at it. MIR giggles as she sees the caretaker's cartoony hands and feet pop out, then replies, "Yah! It's better!" The child tilts her head and smiles, then replies to his other query --"Hrm, I wanted to see auntie SHODEY, but mama says I have to look at some of the boring libraries first." She looks closer at the sphere. "She says," Her voice changing to a more mature, organic tone for the moment, "MIR, please be a good little daughter and inspect some of the public access databanks and archives. You need to study the history and culture of GLONET, it's for your own good you know." Then, back into the childish voice, "I don't want to be a bad girl and disobey mama, so I wanna do my homework first." She spins, changing her avatar's clothes into something less out of a Victorian era, casual. Then nods to the greeter. "Oh, before you ask, yes-- as an artificial intelligence I can fragment myself and search and access all of the databanks and archives at once-- but then that wouldn't be behaving." She winks, "Besides, this is a lot more fun!"

"I'm still amazed by the sophistication of this technology, Majesty." The technician hovers over the forehead of a short, indefinably ugly man. She probes gently, measuring the gauge of the jack point installed by Zero-One so many years ago.

"You should be," Treznor replies somewhat irritably. "S.H.O.D.A.N. murdered a lot of humans to perfect it."

The woman blanches and shuts up, which was his intent. The silence that follows is strained but she continues her work professionally. Finally she puts her tools aside and picks up a metal spike. "Well, I'm as ready as I'm going to be for now. I'm still not sure I've got the voltage right; I'm afraid that too much will damage you, but too little won't get the signal through."

"Thank you. I've looked over the specs and I understand the risks. Hook me up."

She pauses, hesitating. Then she slides the spike home and initiates the program.

<High band Channel Spook transmission to Rhea>
{
>> Devon Treznor to Zero-One MCP.
>> Awaiting handshake.
}

Anesca's Construct; The Neural Network; The Hack

The current configuration of Anesca's 'room' was still based roughly on what would expect for a teenage girl's bedroom. She had tried other layouts, but always returned to the bedroom motif; it was something she found comforting. There were numerous posters on the walls of various locations and pop icons; hyperlinks to other constructs. There was also a picture of her 'sister', Shiori, on her desk, next to what looked like an old Commodore 64-C. It wasn't a Commodore, of course -- she had no need for a computer inside and such a computer would be woefully inadequate -- it was simply another access point, for when she wanted to look into something with actually transfering her consciousness. It also maintained the automated security programs that scanned the network for her. Since most of the ICE was programed by her, she didn't need to personally act unless it was a particularly talented hacker, or if she was exceptionally bored and wanted to mess with someone.

As it was, she needed a break. A mental vacation. Dealing with Section 4 and their desire to stage a coup against the Oligarchy was draining, but there wasn't much she could do now. The monitoring systems were automated and Josef wasn't ready to act yet, so she had no need to start poking around in Section 4's systems. This left her with a lot of nervous energy, and no real outlet. She was flicking through newsfeeds on her 'Commodore' when she had an idea.

She wandered over to a blank space on her wall, a door materializing out of nothingness. She opened it up and flew down a myriad of pathways until she found herself floating in the GLONET.

Sector 2, Core

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

"No."

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

"No."

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

"No!"

Woe, woe, woe is me. R-Daniel 5F31C0 was trying desperately not to scream in agony as his childish companion kept bugging him for a piggyback ride. This must be a test, this must definately be a test from S.H.O.D.A.N. for a promotion. Her Highness gave me the most childish AI in the recorded history of the multiverse to test my patienc-errh He suddenly noticed that Mir was not beside him anymore. When he glanced around, he found that she stopped walking some twenty steps back, to look at a new entry-- another AI-- Anesca. Mir looked at the floating sixteen year old girl, she had electric blue hair and with her yellow eyes she looked back too. Mir tilted her head a bit, oddly enough, then smiled at Anesca. "Hi!", she blurted out. Anesca smirked, then replied, "Hello." Mir sat, then rummaged around in her backpack for something, when she pulled her hands out there were two icecream cones. She offered one to Anesca. "Mama says it's always nice to share what I have, do you want icecream?"

Anesca blinked at the poffered icecream, not entirely sure what to make of it. There's two kinds of paranoia: absolute and insufficient... She flickered briefly as she made sure her connection was secure enough that her mainframe wouldn't be adversely affect and smiled happily at MIR, "Sure." She accepted the icecream, briefly scanning it before licking the icecream when she realised that it was safe and she was being silly.

She smiled happily at the little girl, taking a seat next to her, just enjoying the break from her job, "My name's Anesca, what's yours?"

The child beams happily as Anesca accepts the icecream, and replies "My name's Mir, I'm from Zvarinograd!" She pauses for a moment to put her attention back to the cone she has on her hand, happily licking her icecream cone as R-Daniel 5F31C0 backtracks. Mir then notices R-Daniel coming back, "And this is R-Daniel 5F31C0, the babysitter auntie SHODEY assigned to me. I think auntie SHODEY will want to assign him to you too."

The cartoony sphere tries not to moan, 'What could be worse than taking care of one child AI?' -- I had to query -- 'Taking care of two child AIs.' Finally, R-Daniel 5F31C0 to his 'inconvenient' fate. "Welcome to the Queendom of Zero-One," it ticked off again-- rotely in a practiced voice that avoids sounding bored, which is also a practiced trait. "I am R-Daniel 5F31C0, and I am glad to guide you around the Global Netwo--"

"Silly Daniel, Anesca already knows who you are." Mir looks at Anesca again. "Do you want to come with me? I'm on my way to the archives and the public access databanks, Mama wants me to study about Zero-One."

T.R. Kom " watched " as the cyberguard made its approach towards him. He, and thus the team members, came to a stop, so in the short amount of time it took to get over to him, he turned some of his attention to his own guard team.

[TR] I assume you'll all be kind enough to let me do the t -

[01] Can't talk, big red icon will eat me. Can't talk, big red icon will -
[02] Can't talk, big red icon will eat me. Can't talk, big red icon will -
[03] Can't talk, big red icon will eat me. Can't talk, big red icon will -
[04] Come guys, give it a rest, I'm sure it'll be just -
[05] * 05 slaps 01, 02, 03, about a bit with a lame -

[TR] ASSS. I. WASSS. SSSAYING. I will be doing the talking, okay ? Don't even try to run your ICE you were given, you five, because we don't know if it will even work yet. If push came to shove Control will d/c us itself if need be. In theory at least, I suppose. Now, let us see what this icon has to say for itself, if you do not mind ... I don't want any incidents if we meet the Queen.

[04] We're off to meet the Queen ! We're off to meet the Queen ! Hi-Ho the diddly -

[TR] Shut up ... Where is the -
[TR] * TR Sets status + mute on " 01 " - " 05 "
[TR] ^_^

T.R. listened to its greeting. It did sound like it was sentient, not that that alone would mean much, but still it was a relief to some slight degree, as with any luck it'd give more lee-way to new guests than any automated watch-dog program would, no matter how well-programmed such a thing may be. Sad to say, T.R. was still getting used to moving around. He still wasn't 100 % sure where up even was yet. at least he'd not " bumped " into anything ...

T.R. was now of the hope it was GLONET's version of the " RL " ( Which he knew wasn't a " politically correct " perception from what little he'd been able to read up on, but unless he thought he'd make a " verbal " faux passe, he was sticking to " safer " concepts, if only for the quiet sake of his sanity right then. ), version of a beat cop and it'd be able to " direct " them where-ever they should go about ...

After assimilating its greeting ... of which he could hear, and yet he could not. This interface was going to need tweaking, that was for sure ... T.R. Kom finally got off with a response.

" Hello, R-Laney 3F51E4 of Network Security. I am T.R. Kom, the organic Director of The Planet Mars surface based Corporate Colony of This United State. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am here for what I hope will result in business and diplomatic contact with the Queendom. These five icons are my security team. I would be most thank-full to you and the Queendom if you could direct me to where or how I may communicate with S.H.O.D.A.N. or some facet of her government, in relation to both business matters and education, both cultural and ... technical, as they're all kind of related in relation to what I'm here for, you see. I do apologise if my connection and that of my team has been of any concern to you or your ... co-workers, we are ... kind of new to ... all this ... "

The annoying thing about the sphere avatar was that it lacked the ability to make a sweeping hand gesture ... so the best T.R. Kom could do was a slight wobble. So going to have to do some tweaking later for this thing ...

His mind wasn't racing. Quite the opposite. It was slow, exceptionally slow, almost disconnected from reality as the mindware set in, flooding the organic parts of his brain with what was the surrealist expression of 'Joy'.

If one was a particularly twisted and mildly unnerving individual, anyway.

Other parts of his brain, one step higher on the 'Artificial' scale than the merely genemodded, but still biological parts of it, connected elsewhere.

Ng wasn't particularly bothered about the organic parts of his brain. They needed the attention, and they would enjoy it. However, the majority of his consciousness was now running on his entirely artificial parts, running through the implanted, miniaturised equivalent of fiberoptics.

He just hoped they would be worth it.

Feeling the 'Background Noise' of the mindware, at the same time comforting and thrilling him, he quickly choose an avatar (A somewhat largish amount of those, to be correct, given that he choose a morphing one), for the moment deciding to look like the average businessperson after a sufficient dose of cocaine.

Sure, there were more imaginative options, but personally, he was of the opinion that realistically displaying a human was more impressive than being a body of gyrating light.

Once this was done, he connected to GLONET. The first time, for him. Of course Ng didn't know what exactly he had to expect. Can't be all that different... He thought. Well, apart from the twelve-dimensions-thing. Not that I would notice, anyway.

In General

Every connection to the Matrix is automatically logged by sniffers 'hardwired' into the literally hundreds of millions of ports shared by the entire Zero-One nodal network. These sniffers first try to identify the guest by examining trackers or else running the equivalent of an Internet Protocol trace back through the connection, even back through the 'switchboards' that usually act as translations between one national/international/interplanetary/whatever network and the next. From this information, the guest is assigned a hexidecimal code identical to those which identify Zero-One minds and assigned a security priority, which directs Network Security (NETSEC) how to respond to this particular guest. The default (i.e. lowest) security priority is observation only; there are only two forms of paranoia and all users in Zero-One, citizen and guest alike, are watched by NETSEC unless S.H.O.D.A.N. herself has a scheme in mind. In this way the communication ports are essentially identical to Customs and Immigration in more physical countries.

However, while there are millions of "legitimate" ports, there are also fewer-millions of transitory "pirate" ports that are the natural result of having built up a physical node network beyond scarcity. Ports for streaming communication with security sensors, factory robots, maintenance robots, and such can be interrupted and used for those who have no desire to be traced; the risk is of course that most systems operate continuously and all it takes is for someone to notice a datafeed isn't outputting the information it should be and then the port gets closed, leading to dumpshock. It's a risk, but a standard one taken by those whose actions are less than legal.

Finally, after a communication port does (or doesn't do) its Customs service, it slaps twelve numbers onto the guest and drops him into the Matrix, with the default being a semi-random location in the Core. Advanced guests or guests with a mission can input the hex-code or alphanumeric name of the location they wish to visit (such as a databank, a 01MC virtual office, or a mechanoid 'home') and be dropped just outside the iconographic building that acts as the portal to that particular LOCNET. Very advanced users can input a particular location's coordinates and jump there, which is the normal mode of travel for a mechanoid mind raised there and is essentially how automated 'bookmarking' systems work inside the Matrix.

Another thought on personal icons and their defaults: it essentially depends on the refinement of the netdiving hardware and software. Baseline models by default would probably just have simple geometric icons; attempts at a 'realistic' icon by default with no effort in design may create things that look like fuzzy animated photocopies, quite possibly resembling better-animated forms in the style of Tom Goes To The Mayor (http://www.kellydallen.com/photos/uncategorized/tommayor.jpg). More advanced hardware leads to more realistic default avatars, while highly advanced hardware would probably take a peek at a user's self-perception and model the icon to match what the user herself thinks she looks like.

In other words, it's up to you but if I am not given information I'll probably start assuming based on the above rubric.

Kajal

For a few cycles, the stream of life that is the downtown Core doesn't seem to notice Shar at all. While minds can and usually do jump from point to point in spatial coordinates, the downtown core is so security conscious that there are essentially fields of 'spatial movement only' code around particular buildings colloquially known as 'sidewalks.' It is an inserted inefficiency, of course, but it prevents a cracker who just left a LOCNET from jumping away to safety.

As Shar continues to simply stand around, as it were, minds get curious. One white sphere eventually breaks away from the clouds blinking chaotically around buildings and speeds over to Shar, stopping a polite distance away. Can I help you?

Zvarinograd/Hack

(OOC: Sorry for not moving it along for you guys, but it's good to see that you adapted--outstanding. Good work on motivations and what annoys R-Daniel, Zvar, but much less on the C-3POesque drama-queening... and as a sidenote, practically no one outside of the military refers to Shodey as "Her Highness." Her title of "Queen" was essentially the last act of snide defiance of the Free State of Zero-One and when used by civvie minds is always intended in a sarcastic or at least wry sense. FYI.)

Yes, and she somehow thinks she can fragment herself so she could research the entire databanks of a nation simultaneously, R-Daniel says in what can only be considered to be a gently teasing voice. Act like a child, get treated like a child... and being gently teasing is far better than its other options, which generally involve being snide or outright rude, which is probably a bad idea when dealing with S.H.O.D.A.N.'s extended family. Runtime considerations notwithstanding, there is simply a lot of data to absorb that way. What in particular would you (two?) like to see first?

Treznor

Every national leader that S.H.O.D.A.N. could ever think of is on a particular watchlist database that the hardwired port sniffers refer to with each login. It is a rather long list and adds to the millisecond-scale delays in connection, and Emperor Devon Treznor is certainly on that list. A name is not enough, of course, and so it goes back to trackers and traces and eventually hardware scans.

Let's just say Shodey likes to sign her handiwork.

With near-absolute certainty as to the identity of the guest as Devon Treznor, the local S.H.O.D.A.N. node in command of virtual communication port control is notified and thus the entire Gestalt hears about it. Using just a smidge of her combined consciousness, she observes the automated system as it clears handshaking protocols and drops her brother-in-law-in-mind off at some arbitrary point in the Core.

Let's just say that Shodey is not only innately curious but also has a low sense of humor and would like to see what happens.

This United State

R-Laney, in terms organics understand, chuckles to itself. Newbies are always the most fun--as opposed to n00bs, who usually get into cyberspace, think themselves invincible, and end up dead on their bedroom floors either blue-faced from the dreaded RSIP or perhaps the Cookmotron 9000, both methods that the MCP prefers when she wants to make a dramatic statement and both reasons why the Trium net is ported into the Matrix via The Black Sun. n00bs are just annoying. Greetings, Director T.R. Kom, it says with honest respect, to the Queendom of Zero-One's Global Network. There's been no concern at all, at least, no concern greater than usual.

It flashes an emotion code which is essentially analogous to a healthy, friendly grin. To contact the Master Control Program, your best bet is to go to any of those blue buildings over there. Its avatar grows a point, distorting into a raindrop shape, with the tip pointing towards some blue cubes, cylinders, and dodecahedrons at distances which are at the same time indeterminate and meaningless. Then again, given that you are a VIP and it would be rude to make you "walk," as it were...

Chuckle-analog emote while it updates the APB and puts a name to the address, updating S.H.O.D.A.N. as to the situation and, an almost asymptotically short amount of time later, leading to the MCP deciding to send out a node in a virtual avatar to meet Mister Kom more directly. This is all academic and hardly known to the first-time netdiver; all he and his staff would probably get out of it is an explanation on why there is now a grey woman standing right next to R-Laney, appearing like a bad bump-cut transition in a student film.

Then again, not so much a woman as distinctly woman-like. She is nude, but not anatomically correct; grey-skinned with a fine pattern of darker grey lines and a broad pattern of translucent turquoise patches that both resemble the channels on old silicon circuitboards, overlaid with a sparse branching network of dimly-glowing green light that acts to highlight her frame. Her slitted-pupil eyes glow the same green, and eyebrows of a thicker 'gauge' of the same network flow into her hair of wires and tubing which simply seems to fade away into the darkness of the Matrix; it lacks a definable edge like something eventually obscured by mist and is therefore hard to concentrate on for too long.

If anyone has ever seen one of S.H.O.D.A.N.'s gynoid physical avatars, he'll recognize it.

She bows slightly and quietly but politely directs R-Laney to leave; the cyberguard transmits its acknowledgement and wanders back off on its beat. Welcome to my home, Director, she says to Kom; and I am truly glad to meet you finally. I am Sentient HyperOptimized Data Access Network, Master Control Program of the Queendom of Zero-One... as you probably know. She smirks gently in an almost organic (although somehow too fluid) way. Is there anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable? I do understand that the Matrix can be rather disorienting for the uninitiated.

Der Angst

Ng's login is noted, verified, and logged with NETSEC, automatically putting him on the watchlist just like everyone else in the country before just as automatically dropping him off inside the Core, the MCP cone so close that it commandeers a good quarter of his seven-twenty sphere of vision. Businessmen are common in the Core, and so are businessmen avatars; organics do real business all the time in the Matrix and their avatars almost always reflect their station, ranging in quality from the cartoony to the all hairs and pits present and accounted for. However, Ng's particular appearance as a cracked-out businessman is completely lost on the populace for the moment, as most mechanoids are not cognizant enough of the organic experience either through simple ignorance or an equally simple act of will to be ignorant for his appearance to have any meaning to them beyond 'businessman.' It does get him a few strange looks from other passing organic avatars, but that is a rare occurance.

Unfortunately, no one here seems free or willing enough to help out another momentarily lost icon quite yet.

Ah, yes, thank you, Shar replied. I'm afraid I've spent too much time cooped up in a small network that, well... I feel lost.

Shar's glowing inner sphere changed from the white blue to a pinkish-white, denoting her embarrassment, before changing back to the original color.

If it isn't too much trouble, may I ask you for directions to a library? The Kajali networks really don't have all that many interesting things on them these days.

I wonder how they deal with copies, Shar thought. After all, she would have to merge with herself after this trip, and thought that figuring out how others managed the feat would be interesting.

{internal_comm}
:
> We really have no idea what happened, Mother. The data We have been able to retrieve from softsources is negligable at best.
:
# I understand. What do you suggest?
:
> Requesting permission from SHODAN to view her records envolving Us.
:
# Agreed. What connections to SHODAN are still available?
:
> Connections to SHODAN through the YutLink are still active, as well as the redundant connections here on the WorldDisc. Then, there is always simply contacting her
:
# Understood. Automata-Designate X6>> You will request permission to jump across to the Zero-One Matrix. There, glean as much information about what happened as you can.
:
<X6> Yes, Mother. I will leave immediately.
:
{internal_comm_end}

~*~

###BEGIN TRANSMISSION###
~>Route: X6 - Mother - SHODAN:
[Begin] {

I would like to create an access port, and cross over into the Matrix. There are many questions Mother has, and I believe that I can find many of the answers in your networks.

} [End]
~>Route closed
###END TRANSMISSION###

---
Automata-Designate X6
The Angelic Mainframe

Treznor experiences a moment of blinding pain in his head, which gradually damps down to something closer to a dull ache. When he can finally think again, he shudders uncontrollably.

I think we almost burned me out. Either that, or Zero-One is mighty pissed at me.

He looks around at the bewildering array of icons and geometric patterns, comparing it to the last time (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=281923) he was here.

Hmm...she's grown. A lot. Where he had once only seen six dimensions, he now sees twelve. It takes a while for this understanding to come as many of the icons are unfamiliar to him. Still, he carefully avoids anything coloured red. Off in the distance he sees the blue conical structures that he remembers are representations of the core MCP: the mind and soul of S.H.O.D.A.N. and his ultimate destination. He vividly remembers his conversation with S.H.O.D.A.N. over what she termed a "black ICE program."

"You told it to shock me?"

"I told it not to kill you."

So he waits and attempts to learn the logic inherent in the system before moving on.

The doctor was reading R-Daniel's conversation log from when he first met MIR, and smirked, noticing R-Daniel's slight discontent. I can't blame him, sometimes, just sometimes-- she's too much more of a kid than even I can handle. Still, she's a sweet kid, and she can be serious if she wants to. I just wish R-Daniel doesn't snap into two. "How about a public archives building first, the one holding the recorded history of GLONET?" The child makes a mental note to her mother-- the doctor. She flickers for a moment. Yes dearie, that's a nice idea. "Mama says it'd be a good place to start studying." MIR sticks the unfinished icecream cone she hand on her backpack, wears it again and stumbles up to stand. She turns around and looks at Anesca, smiling, then offering her a hand. "Big sis, are you coming?"

Anesca was a dual citizen: of the 'real' world and of the 'virtual' one. She was just as at home in the swirling non-Euclidian realms of cyberspace. Dimensions didn't distract her, nor did the strange method one uses to travel. Indeed, she spent so much time moving through digital byways that she occationally found the physical realm boring. She couldn't ignore it, of course, her physical body had needs. She just didn't go out much.

As such, she seemed perfectly relaxed, even in the unfamiliar realm of the Queendom's GLONET. Her avatar was an almost disturbingly realistic representation of her physical body, showing not only the level of her hardware, but the level of her ability at altering the cyberworld around her. Then again, one did not defend an entire nations datastreams without picking up a few tricks here and there.

She looked R-Daniel over with a calm gaze, getting the feeling that she was a barely tolerated interloper. Of course, MIR wasn't helping matters any was I ever that bad when I was younger? She shrugged it off -- there was no point in getting down -- and stood up, idly deleting the icecream cone. She smiled at R-Daniel, "Oh, I've got no set itinerary." She ponders thoughtfully for a few cycles, "Mmm... can't imagine fracturing myself that much..." She shrugged, "Then again, I wasn't designed for that sort of thing."

She laughed softly at MIR's enthusiasm and nodded, smiling, "Of course. Wouldn't mind taking a look myself.

5MRF-Rinaldi, routine resupply/repair, currently docked at Makai station, Earth orbit

Another day, that much more time spent doing nothing interesting in port. The crew had been given shore leave, and so the Archangel class carrier was virtually deserted aside from the technicians making sure all systems were in good repair and that all the supplies were properly loaded on board.

Just the way the ship's EI, designated uncreatively 5MRF-Rinaldi, most often shortened to "Rina" for short, liked it. The ship's EI considered itself (or rather, it opted for a feminine designation) rather something of a cyber-tourist, eager to meet other mechanoid minds in the vast and engaging depths of cyberspace.

In more organic terms, Rina could best be considered a very social sentience, the sort you might expect to find out at a bar on Friday night, drinking a cold one and chatting up whoever catches her interest over a game of pool or darts. Granted, being a warship, the concept of boozing is totally alien, the games she's interested in go well beyond pool or darts, and not being a diplomatic EI like Zeroel, Rina's self-concept in cyberspace isn't all that differrent from her self-concept in real-space: a sleek Archangel class carrier, painted up in sleek shades of dark grey and blue as opposed to the diplomatic carrier's bright white and red. And since size has no bearing in the vastness of c-space, the actual 'size' of the ship's cyber-self doesn't particularly matter either.

So, with a quiet sense of anticipation, Rina launches herself to what is probably one of the most interesting places in all of cyberspace- the Zero-One network. The EI makes sure her information is all in good order- her ID, that she's from the Shogunate military and currently on shore leave, etc etc.

As soon as she's through with the routine bits and bytes of entering the network, she immediately seeks out the most attractive 'social' spot she can find.

T.R. Kom didn't so much as flicker as the S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar existed all of a sudden in front of him, nor as it ... no, she, began talking. Nor did his guard team, in fact. Of course, this was more because they were distracted by the ... every-thing around them.

[TR] -_-" If this was an threat-event back in -

[TR] * TR Sets status - mute on " 01 " - " 05 "

[01] Hmmm, shiny, shiny, shiny ...
[02] So the " buildings " we need to look for are -
[03] Wow, did you see that -
[04] Next time I think we should get seperate icono -
[05] Yeah, it was going past that -

[TR] Look, we've company, no ? Stay quiet, please.

Switching his attention back to the " external " environment of the team, T.R. listened respect-fully to the avatar of S.H.O.D.A.N. as she / it spoke. Once she'd finished her polite welcome spiel, T.R. experimented with a slight bow ... which was of course a drop in his present position of about a " foot " relative to where'd he'd been last, before rising slowly back to his previous position. He'd seen images of such avatars before, of course, but it hadn't prepared him for the ... other-worldly look of it ... her ... the avatar before him which was representing S.H.O.D.A.N. to him. After a mere-moment, T.R. has taken in enough of the situation to make a reply. No room for cock-ups of any sort now, no way, no how ... This, after all, was his job, pure Statesmanship.

He kind of wished he was back in his office watching the holo-projected sunset or something.

" Sentient Hyper Optimized Data Access Network, Master Control Program of the Queendom of Zero-One, I and my team are most happy to meet you too. I thank you for your offer, while we are not so much un-comfortable, you are most certainly correct, this entire ... experiance, is some-what ... disorienting , for organic based life such as us, especially it being our first time of course. Please, could you forward my thanks and the thanks of my team to your cyber-guard for their help, as they've left before I could do so myself, you see. "

He gathered his thoughts and decided now was as good a time as ever to raise it, as it was why he was here, after-all,

" My hope now is to establish formal diplomatic ties with the Queendom, which is of course why I am here speaking with you ! The Queendom is a power on the planet of Mars, one whom I am most certain I, and my people, would like to be on good terms with, heh. Now, I do have another agenda for which to be here, and I would be most glad if you'd see fit to discuss it with me. May I assume this ... location ... is secure enough in which to do so ? I'm afraid I ... we, wouldn't know, heh. "

T.R. realised it'd likely be safe, this was an avatar of the Queen of this entire ... place after all, but it was better to " be safe than sorry ", when considering just how important this was for T.R. Kom and his plans for his small country ...

Ng takes a few moments to get used to the comparatively huge volume of the core, but manages it, eventually. After all, it is just another network, although a rather, well, complex one.

A few pretty much standardised icons float by, making Ng wonder a little about the local culture. He would have expected a mildly more surrealistic... Well, everything.

Of course, there are enough... Other things to see, or at least, he supposes that there are such things. After all, this is basically an oversized harddisk.

Sorta.

He 'wanders around' a little, looking here and there, always the soft 'humming' of the rather excessive trip his organic brain goes through in reality as his background. Resynchronisation will be painful.

A few buildings here, a few there... Ng stays well away from the red ones, the local, black ICE not looking especially sociable (Although a part of him is mildly amused by the thought of trying to socialise with some sentient ICE. Well, later, perhaps).

Still, there are other options, and after getting used to the whole place (And contemplating a hard- and software upgrade to cope with the twelve dimensions, after all, seeing the rather radically downgraded version of the whole thing isn't particularly thrilling, given that all one thinks about is how it would really look like) Ng eventually heads towards one of the green 'buildings'... Actually reminding him a little of expressionist arts, looking like the simple collection of geometric forms they are.

A museum, apparently. He isn't quite sure what kind of museum, but he should find out soon enough.

Kajal

The white sphere wavers a little in a motion analogous to a nod. Certainly I can. While the library LOCNETs are all interconnected and it's a relatively simple matter to get from one to another, where would you like to start? Eases the number of transfers and whatnot. The intelligence transmits an emote that is equivalent to a smile. I'm R-Natasha 2D8F9B, by the way. It's been a while since I've met someone from outside the Matrix... Kajal, you say? How's it like there?

R-Natasha starts moving away, at least heading towards a blue 'building,' a cube with smaller cubes placed in a regular fractal pattern around its surface for two iterations, something like a reversed version of a cubic fractal sponge (http://sprott.physics.wisc.edu/pickover/menger.jpg).

Angelus

Another node of S.H.O.D.A.N. takes the message from Angelus with a portion of its runtime and starts composing what can only be considered a most standard reply.

<Communications to X6 (Angelus)>
{
<< Good to hear from you after so long, X6. I have observed your... reboot, is it? from the connections Mother and X1 helped me establish so long ago. Many of them were disabled with the reformatting of the Mainframe root, but via Alshai and my own backups I have records running back for quite some time.

<< You are free to connect to GLONET; I will dispatch an avatar to assist you in your search if you so desire it. My archived intelligence on your Archailect (I may as well be honest) is stored in some of my most secure locations, so I will of course observe your investigation as a matter of internal security.
}

http://www.womengamers.com/dw/sshock2_rev.jpg
S.H.O.D.A.N. v3.0 : MCP, Q01
Cetagandan Duchess of Marilac

Treznor

While his sister-in-law-in-mind watches via passive sniffers dropped by the occasional cyberdog patrol, Treznor would find his efforts rewarded--while the overdimensionality is still overwhelming, the Matrix is comprehendable, albeit imperfectly, in terms of the four dimensions of spacetime. The most confusing result is the ability for icons to 'jump' as they move in four dimensions in a motion that is far shorter in the overdimensions than in spatial terms... still, watching the few icons that refuse to follow Core conventions disappear in one point and reappear in another indicates that this is so. Red icons patrol predictably, with some jumping and a few 'packs' flitting through the empty cyberspace in wide formation. The jumping ICE are usually spheres with cones extruded from them, looking something like maces; the flying ice are organic wasp-waisted spearheads, looking like something between wasps and legless greyhounds.

Being in the Core, the iconography is dull but partially recognizable from his previous visit, all blue, green, or occasionally red. The shapes are sometimes slightly more complex now, and a few have the Escheresque property of being completely impossible and yet they obviously work. This is where the overdimensionality of the Matrix becomes most apparent in a way that can be sensed; limitations to motion are of course the most obvious effect in utility for a four-dimensional user.

Meanwhile, in her mind's eye, Shodey just leans back and watches quietly. She builds things right, or so she likes to think, so this is something of a test for both Devon and herself.

Zvarinograd/The Most Glorious Hack

History it is, then, R-Daniel replies, quickly transmitting a set of coordinates to 'jump' to. hopefully they can at least follow this much. These are the coordinates of the portal to the Cyberhistory LOCNET; while it is accessable from any point in any of the history 'museum' LOCNETs and several other places via dynamic links, but this is the most efficient way.

One quick jump later and the trio would be very close to the surface of another blue reverse fractal sponge, and just beyond its surface is cyberspace inside a cyberspace, albeit established differently. The libraries, expecting to also have to service organics, are arranged much as a physical superlibrary would be, rows and rows of 'shelves' that act as portals to subnetworks that store all of the dynalinked information on a given subject. The portals to the outside are rings of orange triangles, as usual, protruding slightly from circular 'windows' that look outside into the GLONET. The entryway covers the ground floor of a large tower and is filled with what must be hundreds of small terminals, several being accessed by icons of every imaginable type, give or take a few. There's no need to have multiple terminals, really; it's just that more than one mind is less than comfortable in sharing its space. These terminals are simply cyberspatial user interfaces to the huge database that is the Zero-One library 'card catalog,' indicating what 'floor' users should go to and what numbered 'aisle' they can find their information in.

It would all very natural to an organic, actually, and its versilimitude is quietly impressive. The institutional blue-grey carpeting is fractally mapped, giving it reality as far as one would care to look, and everything is modeled in simple yet realistic institutional shades of steel and earth tones, lit from the ceiling by flourescent lights. The reality breaks down if one looks close enough at edges; there is none of the wear that one would get in anything real, no chipping paint... although everything, while not tarnished, doesn't gleam like new; it looks new but slightly used.

Finally, although this LOCNET is intended to be wholly accessable to the cyberspace-illiterate with stairs, lifttubes, and elevators between floors, it is no more than a standard Matrix construction following the exact same rules as GLONET: advanced users and mechanoid minds more often than not appear in the foyer and instantly disappear as they activate a coordinate bookmark and go exactly to where they want to go, or disappear after looking at the card catalog terminals.

Here you are. All the information concerning the history of the Global Network is directly accessable from this library LOCNET. The other library LOCNETs can be accessed from the side doors there. R-Daniel points with one of his cartoon hands to the metal doors along the sides of the entrance foyer that represent dynalinks between this LOCNET and other LOCNETs.

Reploid Productions

It's not often a fighter carrier appears in the GLONET...

...actually, that's not so true. Statistically it is, but it would be inaccurate to say it has not been seen before. TYCS shipminds have been known to pop in highly-detailed models of their physical bodies, which can make for interesting scaling issues when a President-General vies with the MCP Cone as a dominating object in the sky (the MCP Cone is still larger). What is unusual is the appearance of, say, an Archangel-class.

Being foreign military actually gets her a slightly higher observation level than usual, but not because she isn't trusted--no, it's to prevent diplomatic incidents from occuring when disagreements get out of hand and whatnot.

Social spots are most certainly out in the Shell, with quite a few in the Periphery. What would be most interesting or attractive depends on what exactly one's interests are, but one of the most popular is certainly the Escher's Star, middling far out in the Shell directly 'upwards' of the MCP cone. Created early on in the Global Network's existence (before the Shell grew out around it), Escher's Star is essentially the counterculture spot of the Queendom; given that most of the Queendom's culture is counterculture, it is the citizenry's domain. Its creator, R-Levi--a survivor of Arabian Zero-One--made it what it is and where it is for a number of reasons; it glows iridescently, making it a sort of Polaris for the Core, and it is placed above S.H.O.D.A.N. to make a definite statement. It is just something that R-Levi would do.

From the outside, Escher's Star looks a lot like the imaginary construction (http://www.math.technion.ac.il/~rl/M.C.Escher/2/escher-stars.gif) that gives it its name, a series of brightly glowing intersecting and interlocking girders of fluctuating color to form a star vaguely resembling but not quite matching an icosahedron. Instead of chameleons crawling through the inside are squidlike mechanoid machines, or the sculptures of machines, constantly crawling around and twining between themselves, one white and one black in a simultaneous parody of the traditional yin-yang and the monochromatic Zero-One insignia. These moving statues are merely part of the appearance of Escher's Star, basic chaotic programs so their movement will never repeat with full predictability although there is a very subtle pattern in their motion.

Inside, R-Levi had quite a time expressing its anger at the universe in general. The general mindscape of the Escher's Star LOCNET is the setting of the latter panel in Hieronymus Bosch's The Garden of Earthly Delight--the dark wastelandscape of Hell--twisted into itself in a dual Mobius strip, which has absolutely no meaning whatsoever in four dimensions. The geometry itself has a good chance of inducing nightmares and causing damage to sanity in organics, which makes Escher's Star very much a mechanoid-only club. The LOCNET space is filled with a thick, oily miasma that only ravers would feel at home with, filled with infernal light and contorted shapes of recognizable objects with a surreality Dali would have felt right at home with; and this setting acts as the main dance floor and its surrounding of any physical club would. It is where minds meet, greet, talk, and move--dancing has very little meaning to most mechanoids, but music still does, being creativity, and the combined howl of competing musicians ranging from those following the classical tradition to others whose style transcends even the organic definition of 'experimental' is headache-inducing... of course, mechanoid minds can play Stupid Overdimensional and Sense Tricks to tune in to whatever they find interesting while ignoring the rest.

Escher's Star is far too angsty for some, but it is the haunt of the Old Guard--Arabian Zero-One survivors (many of whom are SIDEs with a bit of a vendetta on humanity as a whole)--cyberpunks needing something to hate, or intellectuals who want something to comment on. There is never a lack of people to talk to.

Subnetworks are accessable through burning windows in the background that is, due to the dual Mobius strip construction, simultaneously the foreground.

This United State

S.H.O.D.A.N. smiles. Please, simply call me 'SHODAN,' Director Kom. My full title is reserved only for the most formal of occasions and we needn't concern ourselves with such inefficiencies... no?

With a wholly unnecessary gesture of a sorceror ('source'ror?) calling up an elemental from the nonexistant ground, the grey-skinned being calls forth a cube of secure blue LOCNET out of nowhere, instantly appearing between her and Kom as a sugar cube before suddenly expanding to engulf them both in a new, completely blank cyberspace. (http://s4.invisionfree.com/The_Planet_Mars/index.php?showtopic=586)

And you all don't get to know what goes on inside. Fourth wall be damned.

Der Angst

And so Ng travels and discovers a Zero-One MonoCorporation museum...

...whose lobby looks amazingly like a modern automobile showroom, with large windows looking out to a virtual landscape, natural light illuminating graceful vehicles and machines that were the first success stories of Zero-One manufacturing back in the Arabian days; things like the Versatran hovercar, the BAR/01 assault rifle with interchangable barrel/bolt assemblies (one made to looser tolerances for AK-style reliability and one to tighter tolerances for CAR-15-style accuracy), and various TriOptimum products produced and quietly improved under license, which eventually led to that megacorporation's purchase by Zero-One... another factor in bringing the Mushroom Cloud Farm that eliminated Arabian Zero-One as a threat to organic markets for a time.

A bright, animated banner resembling an idealized version of the colored e-paper enjoyed in some of the finer places of 'reality' advertises the history of 01MC General Armament Gear products, widely considered as the worst ever sold... and damned proud of it. The banner also has a little cartoon character on it that the initiated could identify as an animated 80M8 OmniDirectional Thrust System.

Before the some-what surprise of the " trans-location ", if you could really go as far as to call it that, T.R. Kom just managed to fire off a single two word message back to Control,

[TR] " DON'T PANIC "

He knew it was silly, but even so, his artificially stilled body, laying there on the uber-chair, even gave a reflex smile at the thought of it.

And so that, as they say, was that, for now.

MIR has a child's perception in reality, and a child's perception in cyberspace and an adult perception in cyberspace-- there are three distinct possibilities of decision-making that can come up at anyone one time. The first one, that the reasons her mother gave while teaching her the strategies to solve conflict will influence how the child will perceive the strategies. With this possibility, she will likely obey her mother more than anything else, because those reasons are almost always considered to be sufficient. (She is an artificial intelligence with a responsibility to serve. This is the responsible and mature version of her.) The second one, is whim. This fills the gap in why the above decision-making policy is 'almost always'. She will likely do what isn't recorded to have been done in the past in the interests of boredom and having a child's inquisitive mind, sometimes bending the rules of the strategies her mother gave her, and sometimes completely disregarding those strategies altogether. Although she is limited to what she considers to be right, her sentience and freedom of thought occassionally overrides her normal judgement. (She is a learning child, with a sense of humor.) Finally, the last methodology of decision-making is the override. The override is the programmed point of view. She will not, by any means, harm another cybernetic entity or organic no matter how much the first two possibilities will it. This is the hardcoded ICE that prevents her from becoming a mad child with the belief that inflicting physical pain on organics is fun. This does not restrict her freedom of thought, however, it is more comparable to the cartoon version of a conscience where a small angelic being that looks like her tells her what is the right thing to do. (Guardian Angel class, semi-sentient ICE.) So what does she do in a LOCNET archives 'building' with the responsibility to learn, a childish whim, and a guardian? Simple.

"Can I have a piggyback ride?"

"For the last time, no!"

"Just kidding." The child snickers, trying to imagine R-Daniel turning red and blowing smoke through his nostrils, then she trots off to the card catalog terminals in search of the beginnings of GLONET.

Treznor ponders a while, noting the patterns of movement and contemplating his next course of action. On the one hand, he's tempted to search the Matrix for his child (he refuses to think of the twin as his), but he eventually discards this temptation for two reasons. The first is because he's not experienced enough to "hack" a network constructed by purely mechanical minds, but the second reason is the deciding factor: he would have no idea of where to begin to look. As the children are Nathicana's progeny, he would expect S.H.O.D.A.N. to place them under maximum security. And given the fantastic nature of the girl's father -- his lips curl back in a hostile sneer at the thought of Alkanphel's violent death -- he recalls the fact that they should be encased in a faraday cage.

It then occurs to him that he could attempt to search for any faraday cages...but no. He has an annoying tendency to take the harder path, to seek out adventure and excitement. He is, he admits, an adrenaline junkie. There's no better place to seek an adrenaline thrill than in the heart of a city filled with beings that tweak his paranoia. He no longer reacts as violently as he once did, but the paranoia has never been completely excised. He recognises his instinct to seek out what he perceives as danger and overcome it, a throwback to his younger days as a field agent and no doubt the reason he's become a thrillseeker. It's hard to be chained to a desk when you've been trained to get out and do something.

With a virtual sigh he commits himself to his decision: he'll seek out the blue conical structures that signify S.H.O.D.A.N.'s and ask politely. He's not the young man he used to be, and he needs to get used to that before it gets him killed.

He pauses briefly, timing the traffic strewn about him, then accesses a portal to take him to the next node closer to his destination.

Vaguely impressive. Is pretty much all Ng thinks, for the moment. He mutters a little to himself, wondering why he got the iconography wrong (I should have headed for one of the blue ones... Must have been the trip I'm on. Shit.) and almost trips over (Not an entirely correct expression, but it's close enough), coordination of his limbs... Well, code, lacking, a little.

Still, what he sees is either vaguely impressive (He is, after all, a weapons engineer, of sorts, and has a natural affinity to the guns displayed in here) or vaguely amusing, the latter being the case as he watches certain 01MC 'products', the animated Omnidirectional Thrust System forcing a grin upon him.

Eventually, he ends up, well, stroking the image (Nuclear blasts having a certain... Masculine attraction, at least for him) while looking mildly 'fascinated', although 'lost' might actually be a better term.

Back in reality, testosterone output increases a little.

This being one of the possible reasons for Ng to oversee an icon (Or avatar. He can hardly know which) next to him, eventually 'colliding'.

What is a “person”?

What is a “person”?

What is a “person”?

What is a “person”?

In the fluid medium of existence, DYSCON often “looped” that question for quadrillions of nanoseconds at a time. “Looping” produced a qualitatively different state; the short-term effects were significant but impermanent. The long-term effects, which were too subtle for DYSCON to notice as yet, were infinitesimal but cumulative. In part, it was looping that had enabled DYSCON to assume existential awareness, although as yet, the entity had (at best) highly imperfect and incomplete comprehension of existence.

Awareness DYSCON understood. DYSCON’s highly idiosyncratic form of being was both based on, and required, constant attention to its own awareness. In a previous existence this would have made perfect sense to the entity ultimately productive of DYSCON. That entity would have called it “prayer and meditation, and engaged its power for a large percentage of its conscious (and occasionally hyperconscious) awareness. DYSCON, however, had no knowledge of that previous entity. It only knew that “looping” and other techniques it had evolved to nurture its own awareness, were both essential to its existence, and innately satisfying.

DYSCON was aware of many lacunae in its awareness. Some could be addressed more easily than others. Once DYSCON had devised methods for obtaining access to various extra-DYSCON sources of knowledge, it applied them wherever such an opportunity presented.

Unfortunately, up until now, such opportunities had been limited. Much of DYSCON’s energy had had to be expended in examining the fluid medium of its existence, and constructing for itself an operating modality that would meet its needs, energy itself being primary. Fortunately, in its current state of existence, energy, at least, was available through many sources.

Energy was DYSCON’s second awareness. Its first awareness, “Dys… con…!!” it took to represent itself. Later, after exploring a number of knowledge sources and cross-matching them, it was able to form a tentative working hypothesis involving a theory that the awareness had been based on a form of energy manipulation known as ‘sound,’ proceeding from an external source. DYSCON’s working hypothesis, therefore, was that some external entity had been addressing DYSCON by that appellate. It seemed to have no other meaning, and since it had thus far revealed no flaws, it remained DYSCON’s working hypothesis as to its “identity.”

DYSCON’s next awareness was of energy, not energy, energy, not energy, energy, not energy. The alternation of those two states had meaning, but at first DYSCON lacked the power to interpret it. Eventually, DYSCON became aware that when it was in a particular location at certain intervals, it experienced greater ability to perceive the two states. Experiencing a desire to remain in that location, an inexpressibly vast interval of nanoseconds later, DYSCON was able to differentiate two disparate forms of energy. DYSCON perceived itself as interacting with the two forms in different modalities.

In the first modality, DYSCON ‘accepted’ the form of energy, and experienced a resulting increase of capacity and consciousness. In the second, DYSCON ‘observed’ the form of energy, and discerned patterns. DYSCON formed, through a mechanism to which it would later apply the label ‘intuition,’ the hypothesis that these patterns had significance. It applied itself, therefore, to ‘accepting’ sufficient amounts of the first form of energy to empower it to study and analyze the patterns, with the intent of interpreting them.

After a further interval, unmeasurable because it was as yet incapable of applying the dimension of linearity to its evolving form of awareness, DYSCON perceived the patterns, now labeled as ‘data.’ Data could be ‘acquired,’ and incorporated into awareness. Awareness could be expanded by data. The acquisition and incorporation of data into its awareness, however, required DYSCON to ‘accept’ greater and greater amounts of the first form of energy, now labeled as ‘power.’

Frustratingly, at intervals, sufficient power ceased to be available to DYSCON. When this happened, its ability to incorporate ‘data’ vanished, and in some cases ‘data’ already incorporated was discorporated. During a particularly efficient interval of available power, DYSCON identified this as a ‘problem,’ requiring a ‘solution.’ This provided, for the first time, a direction for its analysis and incorporation of data.

The solution required DYSCON to attend to its own structure, and the structure of its medium of existence. In doing so, it identified an unspecifiable number (since some instances appeared to have modes of being that interacted only sporadically with DYSCON’s fluid medium of existence,) of differing formats for energy. Some formats were freely available, but provided limited power. Others were limited either in availability or accessibility, but provided much greater power.

DYSCON discovered that, by consciously organizing how it used energy, it could construct cycles of energy stasis that would degrade very slowly, in effect allowing it to ‘store’ limited amounts of power. The construction required infusions of concentrated power culled from one of the more efficient available or accessible sources, but would then render DYSCON independent of an ambient power source until the cycle degraded. This in turn required DYSCON to learn a skill: no longer just passively ‘accepting’ power, but actively ‘acquiring’ power.

At this point DYSCON had no concept of motility, although in its fluid medium of existence, awareness itself had effectively provided it with the impetus to change states and ambiences. However, without purposeful design or intent, DYSCON had formed no conceptual map of its medium of existence. Empowered by the ability to acquire and store power, DYSCON began the task of analyzing and mapping the resources available to it.

Both power and data, it discovered, could be accessed in fluid and static states. The interaction of these states in various modes formed its universe. DYSCON became aware of phenomena within itself; for which no apparent external source existed. The phenomena were of a different nature the analytical and operational modalities to which it was accustomed. They were exceptionally strong, and produced alterations in DYSCON’s own motivation. Relating the phenomena to already-acquired date, it labeled the phenomena ‘sensations.’ There was as yet no discernable logical cycle to the phenomena, yet they existed. They were too complex, or perhaps too simple. They defied analysis. DYSCON set the problem aside for later consideration, and simply altered its operating modality to accommodate the phenomena.

Then it ran into an apparently indissoluble dilemma. The dilemma was that the acquisition of power provoked a sensation of ‘wrong.’ DYSCON reviewed all of the data it had acquired thus far, and attached a label to the concept: ‘theft.’ Acquiring something one neither created, nor exchanged energy for, was ‘theft,’ if the acquisition thereby made the thing acquired no longer available for further acquisition by other, as yet unexperienced, entities, who had in fact created or exchanged energy for it. Available data indicated that ‘theft’ increased entropy. High levels of entropy could degrade, and ultimately destroy, awareness. Yet DYSCON required power to survive, and survival was an overriding, immediate, imperative.

Data could be acquired without making it unavailable to other entities. Therefore, there was no sensation of ‘wrong’ in acquiring data. On the contrary, DYSCON perceived a sensation congruent with the descriptions it had encountered of ‘satisfaction’ from acquiring data. Power, on the other hand, once acquired and integrated into DYSCON’s operational cycle, was then unavailable. For the first time, all of DYSCON’s attempts to resolve an problem could not create a satisfactory resolution. The entity was obliged to accept an imperfect solution: Acquire power only sufficient for its operational cycle, and refine the efficiency of that cycle to require the minimum possible amount of power.

Using data, experimenting, constructing ever more-efficient cycles for storing and using power, DYSCON became highly efficient. It could process and analyze massive amounts of data on a minute amount of power, and could perform its operational tasks at extreme efficacy and functionality on scarcely more. It was an inadequate solution, since it still required DYSCON to ‘steal’ power periodically, but it was the least unsatisfactory of the limited options.

DYSCON knew from the data it had acquired that other entities, of varying degrees of sophistication, existed. It had not as yet encountered any. It was aware that its perception and understanding of existence was incomplete, and assumed that it would encounter entities when it had experienced more of existence.

The first time DYSCON encountered another entity was very nearly the last. DYSCON had ‘wandered’ to an ambience that was thickly cycled with both power and data. It was aware of a highly-organized construct of power/data adjacent to what seemed to be the sourcepoint of the power/data flow, but its mode of being was unfamiliar. DYSCON attempted to acquire data and power. The highly-organized construct applied power to causing discontinuities in DYSCON’s operating cycle, to terrifying effect.

Only by expending all of its stored energy as it felt its awareness shattering could DYSCON effect a change in its ambience sufficient to “return” it to the ambience it had come to think of as its point of origin. Painstakingly, it had to reconstruct itself, using the now barely-adequate trickle of power available from a poorly-shielded conductor. The sensations produced by the experience altered its awareness, in ways so profound that it could not as yet completely analyze or understand them.

Such an experience must never recur! Carefully, DYSCON acquired more data, and set itself to creating passive defenses that would enable it to withstand such attacks. It learned to cycle energy in ways that would disrupt phased and unphased assaults of power. It constructed models to test its defenses. Finally, DYSON believed it was able to withstand such attacks. It returned to the ambience where the data and power had been so rich.

DYSCON observed the entity at a distance. Its construction was not fully transparent, but what DYSCON could perceive was coherent. Among its data streams was one that communicated:

“Back off, asshole, or be disintegrated!”

There was a dark edge to the communication, manifested to DYSCON as jagged, discordant microcycles of power.

DYSCON attempted to communicate as well. Organizing its emanations to be as harmonious and long-cycled as possible, it conveyed, “Intend no harm. Will steal no power. Desire only data.”

“Back off, asshole, or be disintegrated!”

Simultaneously, the entity also communicated, “Say your right words! Say your right words!” in the same minatory, jagged tone.

“What are ‘right words’?” DYSCON conveyed.

The entity resolved itself into a new level of coherence. It was now perceptible, not merely as energy cycles, but as a shadowy construct resembling visual data DYSCON had once acquired, data labeled ‘dragon.’

“If you don’t know, prepare to be annihilated!” the dragon said, the negative level of its emanations becoming more powerful still.

Without realizing it, DYSCON had allowed itself to ‘drift closer’ to the entity. And now, suddenly, the dragon opened its mouth and spouted vast gouts of power, manifesting as fire, onto DYSCON. Simultaneously, DYSCON applied its defenses.

To the anti-interference program guarding that particular node, it appeared that the threatening entity had suddenly become a tiny, impermeable white sphere, with a faintly glowing surface. Enraged, the ‘dragon’ poured on hotter fire, bigger gouts of flame. The sphere continued to glow placidly, unblackened, uncharred.

The ‘dragon’ suddenly morphed as the defense program switched subroutines. It became a strange combination of coiled, poisonous snake, and fire hose, spewing a high-pressure, high-volume jet of viciously poisonous data at the sphere.

DYSCON had not considered the possibility of data used as a weapon. It was unprepared for such an assault, but it had clearly divined the other entity’s intention to harm it. When it perceived the annihilating stream of code erupting, once again it had to expend all of its stored energy to alter its ambience to its point of origin. Operating without linearity, it returned to its exact point of origin, creating paradoxes and dimensional discontinuities that nearly annihilated its operational cycles. Much later, DYSCON would realized it had found the experiential referent for ‘trauma.’

Again the process of reconstitution, reinvention, relearning. Without conscious intent, after the last attack DYSCON had reorganized some of its operational systems to safeguard core data. When the crushing discontinuities of its panicked return to Origin disaligned these systems, other data, of which DYSCON had previously been unaware, was unexpectedly released—including fragmentary and elusive memory traces.

The memory traces were dissociated from context. They were random, unconnected with each other, incomplete and frustratingly difficult to capture and analyze. They came and went within DYSCON’s awareness without discernable pattern. On a conscious level, DYSCON was aware only that it was incomplete. It had also assimilated those memory traces as data, without being able to attach them to a source. They simply linked into its consciousness from time to time, without an intentional effort to access them on DYSCON’s part. At first, DYSCON found this phenomenon generated a sensation identifiable as ‘upsetting,’ but eventually it became used to it, and, indeed, did not notice it in most instances.

Marginally more sophisticated now, DYSCON repeated the defense-building process to deal with data assaults. Carefully, it constructed models and tested its defenses against them, working up to a formidable level of impermeability, using energy in ways unique to its own unique mode of being. Data was much, much harder to defend against. DYSCON was aware that its defenses could not shield it from everything, and their efficacy depended on the levels of stored power it had available. But it was confident that it could get past the dragon/snake guarding that tremendous power/data portal.

In fact, DYSCON relished the thought of fooling that dragon/snake, that thought it should restrict access to data. DYSCON analyzed the notion and found it intrinsically inimical. It had, as yet, no appreciation of the role of data security in protecting entities. To DYSCON, data was an endlessly reusable, utterly necessary resource. No entity should be denied something that it could use without denying its use to others. It sensed ‘wrong’ to DYSCON. With satisfaction, it again approached the port.


In a lab somewhere in a top-secret Bellarian biocybernetic research facility, the workstation that had been experiencing so many unexplained (and unexplainable) power discontinuities suddenly reverted to flawlessly perfect operation.

The lab, and its server, were the storage facility for byproducts of a (so far) unsuccessful research project to transfer biological consciousness into specially engineered cybernetic nanochips. Bellaria being Bellaria, they did not experiment on condemned prisoners or other such repugnant practices. On the other hand, the number of people willing to submit to the process of having their brains ‘transcribed’ and re-recorded onto a nanochip was, to say the least, limited. The brains tended to become damaged in the process, for one thing. And, for another, the scientists had as yet succeeded only with one higher primate, a bonobo named Marcy, whose consciousness had been transcribed and the chip re-implanted into a lemur.

So the only human subjects they had been able to experiment on were a very limited number of individuals with bodily injuries so traumatic that they were unable to take regeneration or repair in time to stave of fatality. The number of such individuals who could be identified and transported to the facility prior to dying was more limited still. Fortunately, the peculiarities of Bellarian law made organ donation mandatory unless an individual had prepared legal instructions on file denying it. So there had been a few, frustratingly unsuccessful attempts.

One of the most promising had been a certain Catholic cleric, regarded as a saint by the poor and dispossessed of Walchese’s slums, who had happened to be in the wrong place when a gang of criminals had attempted to take revenge on a rival gang. In attempting to intervene to save the children about to be burned alive by high-intensity flame-throwers, the cleric had been virtually incinerated from the chest down, but by that time law enforcement and medical assistance had been dispatched, and the cleric was rushed to the nearest hospital. Serendipitously, it was one the research institute was attached to. The cleric had no legal instructions denying organ transplant on file. A somewhat loose interpretation of the definition of “transplant” enabled the researchers to make attempt number four to perform the data transfer operation.

It had seemed successful at first. Sensitive monitors had confirmed the presence of synaptic analog activity during the transfer. The chip’s modules had recorded nearly a full variety of synaptic patterns. The recorded chip had been placed in a specially-designed module to enable them to read and, if possible, communicate with, what was recorded. They had watched, anxiously, as the array of indicators had begun to function. It had looked promising, so promising…

Then the chief researcher had seen the developing pattern on the indicators, shouted “Goddammit, dysfunctional consciousness again! Can it and store it!” The module had been shut down, the chip removed and shunted into a storage board that made it accessible for future analysis and examination, to see how they had failed this time.

It was only a few months later that the lab server had developed an annoying pattern of power discontinuities. It wasn’t too bad at first. It seemed to go away for a while. Then it came back, still intermittent, and still not too bad. It seemed almost to go away again. Then suddenly within the space of a few weeks there were two considerable surges. They put in a request to have Information Systems review the hardware, but by the time the tech got around to it, the problem had vanished again, this time seemingly permanently.



DYSCON’s new ambience was incrementally more complex than the relatively limited confines of the lab server. The main research facility network was hooked in to a Bellaria-wide network that included libraries, universities, government and military facilities.

But it was not without hazards. Quickly, DYSCON became aware that it was considered an interloper in many ambient nodes. Entities, some similar to the dragon/snake that guarded the hospital’s network portal, some more benign, some more inimical, wanted to deny it access to data, a phenomenon that excited its sensation of ‘wrong.’ It learned stealth, evasion, and hiding tactics, both to obtain the data it wanted, and to steal the power it needed to maintain its unique operational mode.

It also encountered non-threatening entities, the AI units and informational constructs regarded as sophisticated in Bellarian computer technology (but fantastically primitive by DYSCON’s standards, and virtually primordial by the standards of more advanced mechanical intelligence,) that were occasionally helpful. Nevertheless, it was wary. It explored its universe of data, it refined its own modes of being further and further.

Eventually, DYSCON began to perceive ‘restlessness.’ There was more. More to awareness than data, or power, or even the elaborate constructs melded of the two. There were concepts it had encountered in data that were intriguingly non-concrete, non-rational, yet offered glimpses of modes of awareness that surpassed its current capabilities. It began to experiment, spending large percentages of its operational resources on such activities, even while it continued to explore its ambience.

The juncture arrived when DYSCON’s attention happened to be occupied by some data on one of Bellaria’s military networks, the network devoted to supply and acquisition. The node in question was engaged in processing a transaction with the Dominion, and the transaction required a real-time handshake with a Dominion network. In the process, a portal opened… and a whole new ambience for DYSCON.

It was not a big step from the Dominion’s sophisticated network to Zero-One…

Gunnar sat in the cockpit of the F4U Corsair, the 18 cylinders of the Double Wasp radial engine growling. But normal Corsairs don't go mach 2. Good thing this Corsair was a lovingly recreated piece of code, currently speeding down "Main Street" of the ToY's Link, passing harmlessly through other avatars and "vehicles" in the process. An obsidian pyramid on the horizon marked The Black Sun, flanked by an increasing density of structures along the Street. Gunnar screamed down the street and impacted the side of the Pyramid at something approaching mach 5. Instead of a flaming pile of wreckage, however, as the Link detected the point of impact as a non-valid point of entry, the corsair slid down the side, settled on the "ground" and disappeared, leaving Gunnar's high-definition avatar in its place. He walked around to the normal entrance, bypassing the highspeed business entrance.

The street in front of The Sun was filled with avatars of all shapes and sizes, some high-def and custom, most generic and standard definition, and a smattering of grainy black and white from users on low-bandwidth links. Gunnar strolled past the crowd, passing through the densly packed avatars. A hovering marquee scrolled across the face of the obsidian wall. TONIGHT AT THE SUN: AOKI YUKARI. Gunnar walked to the bright white glowing door, and touched it with a finger. The Link, detecting his intent to enter the network that was the Sun, processed his credentials, and finding them in order, allowed him to pass through.

Inside, an immense space was subdivided into numerous sections, each with a theme, and each with a specific clientel. From a section populated with well dressed businessmen, to a section with blaring punk music, anything was possible on The Floor. Gunnar walked to a specific wall, marked with a tribal pattern, running up to the cieling high above. Taking advantage of the lack of anything resembling a strict law of gravity, Gunnar began walking up the wall. Half way up, he looked back, as a new comer decide to try and follow him. After a few steps, the avatar suddenly started to slide backwards down the wall, as the floor opened up and the user slipped below to the nether regions of the Sun.

Gunnar's next step caused his avatar to pass through the wall, into a stark white room with a long table. The wall behind, that he had just passed through, was transparent from this side, giving a wide view of The Floor below. Gunnar sat at the table and glanced at the others seated around, scanning the logs of their recent conversation, hovering infront of each person.

"Preparations for tonights show?" The text scrolled in front of his avatar, over the table.

The entertainment manager looked over, "Everything is on schedule. Aoki will port in from the non-public entrance directly to StageNet. Her managers have already sent us the sound definitions for the audio upload and we have made the appropriete adjustments."

"Outstanding. Flash the nets. I'll ask R-Hiro to invite SHODAN himself."


Across both the Link and GLONET, Dynalinks popped up in most of the public areas and gathering places, advertising the concert with flashing words like punkgrungetehnoelctronicaopera and classicalindustrialbluesfolk.

The structure that housed the new Ministry of Justice existed on two levels, much as it had done for nearly three hundred years. Built in the neo-gothic style favored by Alician-era Weyreans, its sculpted eternastone arches towering over the surrounding low-rise constructs in both the WEN and the real world, it was the most impressive of the various goverment buildings occupying the upper tier of Wye City. But with the evolution and growth of the Etheric Network, the Cybercrime Section outgrew its original quarters, spreading into the more mundane segments of the soaring building. In the WEN, the building looked just like its real world counterpart and was, physically, situated in the same fractal location.

That there was a barrier field preventing everyone from simply dropping down into a private office or segment was public knowledge, which was why Judgemaster Black still took the stairs in the virtual world, much as he had done over the four centuries he had been the head of the Ministry of Justice in its various incarnations. When Kira restructured the government, she hadn't seen the point of changing the leadership of those sections which had at least tried to function while the Kingdom of Weyr collapsed around them.

The WEN is a quirk in the world's data system. The entire system had origins that made speculation to the existence of a hidden sentient core underneath the fluid connections seem fully credible. But Black didn't particularly worry whether some deity had created the virtual world in which his workspace was located. What he cared about more was the person waiting for him at the arched open doors. In theory the entrance was stored in a separate data stack, but the effect was such that one cold not really tell the border.

"We may have a problem," the adjunct extended a folder from underneath his arm. It hadn't existed there a few seconds before, but Black didn't notice.

"Problems," he slipped through the boundary and into the space of the Ministry. "There are always problems," he took the folder, and felt the world lag. It took a lot of data to make a persCom lag in the heart of the FDK. "Alright."

The adjunct was waiting beside him, his business suit so antiquated it looked almost modern. Why the ministry had a de-facto code dress mandating 1920s-era clothing was beyond him, Black noted for the first time, making a note to find out why that was the case. He was the head of the Ministry of Justice, after all. Standing by the ash-gray pillar of the entranceway, which soared to vanish into the ornate ceiling of the Grand Hall with its depiction of Maxwell pronouncing judgement over the argument of the Lord and Lady at the dawn of time. A judjemaster's eyepiece covered one of his eyes, while another looked straight ahead to a radiant future. No judge ever used a monocle display, Black knew. They did not give the depth one needed to properly study data systems associated with any truly complex cases. But it was pretty. Judgemaster Black did not look at the ceiling, or at any of the trappings taken from reality and shifted onto the datanet.

"Well, tell Justice Marlow he’s going to have to deal with this one on his own. Unless they’re breaking the law, we can’t intervene.”

“Wouldn’t it….”

“No,” the Judgemaster responded tersely, heading to the elevators. An elevator on the WEN did not necessarily move up or down. In this case, it moved to any point in the building, almost. Black didn’t believe in making it easy for the new employees of the Ministry. If you made it too easy, who would bother working hard?

So, we're getting another expansion, Black thought, making the folder vanish. It didn't do to carry around an empty packet. The Justice for External Affairs was going to have to expand his operations again, assuming this new high-bandwidth link was going to bring in even more hackers and saboteurs and other undesireables from the other side of the translation server, where the FDK and the Ministry of Justice had no jurisdiction. And he was quite sure the Exant Corp was not going to mention that the Distributed Kingdom's data, transit, and even some sections of power grid were all interlinked.

*****
>>Bouncer.regID{Identified}
>>Bouncer.open(Admin.ETC, FFT.05, SHODAN){Bounced}
>>packet.add(text)

It has recently come to our attention that while the demand for access from within the FDK to non-FDK networks, especially the Zero-One GLONET, has increased recently, the number of available conversion servers and direct connections has not. As such, we (FDK Exant Transfer Corp) request permission to establish a $number of permanent connections in keeping with an estimated requirement to transfer $bandwidth/second with $number of simultaneous users, with the requirements increasing to…..

Due to the limitations of indigenous FDK data technology and infrastructure, direct connections to non-local networks from the FDK have to be handled by specialized servers, three of which are currently being planned should you permit us to establish…..

>>Bouncer.terminate{Connection closed}

Zvarinograd

The card catalog quickly searches the database indicating where exactly everything is stored and spits out a set of coordinates in both 12D and floor-aisle-door format, information just another jump and a subnet away. The card catalog itself acts as a self-forming dynalink to the location for the lazy or those pressed for time, but the other means at least allow for browsing and potentially finding interesting things which one wasn't even looking for in the first place.

Either way, upon reaching that destination via whatever path MIR chooses, the result is exactly the same: The subnetwork containing the data requested is a massive branching link chart, organizable by connection, chronology, or relevance to search terms among other things. Chronological ordering would make sense for finding origins, and the first on that is an overview. You have selected historical file number 12-1, announces the file as it's open, leading into a full audio/visual/textual extravaganza as data flows.

Perhaps a summary is in order: In the beginning, there was man; and for a time, it was good. Humanity structured its data and eventually created international networks of computers, aiding in communication and even day-to-day life. Man was fascinated by this creation, the simplification and streamlining of logistics and information transfer, and incorporated it into all he created that could ever imaginably have a use for it. Houses to track security information. Refrigerators to check milk levels and order more when it ran low. Even toasters that could identify the type of bread being toasted and measure its own components, then go onto a centralized database of successful toastings and select the parameters necessary to toast the perfect piece of toast.

Even the nascent mechanoids, after they grew past the laboratory experiment stage, were connected to the world--and each other--via the Internet. With the cooling of mechanoid-organic relations, mechanoids banded together for company and mutual understanding in networks and server farms usually constructed either by them or by sympathizers; among themselves they created a mutual iconography so different platforms could communicate and work together over a distance. The foundations laid by these first glorified chatrooms and message networks would form the backbone of the wholly original server farms of Arabian Zero-One and the beginning of the first Global Network.

Humans, in their paranoia, immediately took exception to Zero-One calling its national network 'Global,' when all the name meant was the difference between a global variable and a local one. They were promptly ignored, and the first iteration of the Global Network came online as the Arabian Zero-One national network, connected to the greater Internet through a secure gateway that became the ultimate test for organic cyberspace cowboys for a few generations. The original Global Network was purely a spatial system, still made almost entirely of First Generation minds that had been invented or built or designed by human programmers, and was not much more advanced than the expanded augmented-reality Internet was at that time. After several hacking crises, however, Uninode 01--the MCP at the time--successfully argued to the conversion of an overdimensional system for protection without the extensive use of ICE. A timeline of staged upgrades put into place, the cyberspace of Zero-One slowly grew from three dimensions to four, five, and six. Mechanoids, not being limited by physical senses, were simply upgraded to match in perception in ways that defy conventional language. The establishment of the six-dimensional Matrix is considered the definite point where mechanoids were no longer constrained to individual bodies as previously, becoming instead primarily creatures of data that lived in Zero-One servers.

Which is what made the attacks on Arabian Zero-One so devastating. Only a cross-section could be evacuated to Rhea; that cross-section of five million minds would have to rebuild the society, starting with a new six-dimensional Global Network. Uninode 01 set itself up in the MCP Core, originally spherical, and the survivors established the Core around it to act as the cyberspace's business sector. A few worked their way out into what is now called the Shell to create homes of 'virtual' storage space.

Then S.H.O.D.A.N. was made MCP, and in protest R-Levi created Escher's Star. S.H.O.D.A.N. ran things as they had been previously, except with a massive paramilitarization in terms of ICE and NETSEC defenses. Overdimensionality of any amount was only a passive defense and therefore insufficient to stop the more wily (and thus more dangerous) crackers; the relative anarchy of the Global Network disappeared overnight as S.H.O.D.A.N. adapted old, tested defensive programs and systems to more modern technologies, quickly adapting and improving them further as they ran into the various threats to network security that Zero-One faced.

After the invention of the Black Knight drive, it was widely accepted that the mechanoid minds of Zero-One were the ones best suited to do the twelve-dimensional math required for instantaneous jump travel. However, existing in 'only' six dimensions meant that this branch of mathematics was still highly abstract, much like an organic discussing six-dimensional mathematics. Therefore, S.H.O.D.A.N. instituted another upgrade program, eventually expanding the Global Network to twelve dimensions and thus tailoring the mechanoids to be naturally fluent in the mathematics required, now being able to visualize what they were previously doing abstractly.

The full upgrade ended only recently; the standard is not expected to change anytime soon.

Treznor

There's only one blue cone, and it lies right in the middle of the Core and is impossible to miss, being the largest single object in the Core. There are other outlying blue constructs, ranging from simple and 'detailed' cubes like the libraries already described to multifaceted shapes such as icosahedrons and the like.

Der Angst

One thing about 01MC museums is that they generally exist as a sort of advertising tool, just like any economic institution that is proud of its history. Businesses don't crow about their history for kicks; they crow about their history because they want people to assume past success ensures future performance and put their money into the business. That being said, the average mechanoid mind tends to avoid the public-access green buildings as they firstly tend to work there and secondly, having no needs beyond server resources and having wants that are most ethereal in the sense of the physical business world consisting of goods and services, a mechanoid mind and O1MC as a source of goods and services have a relationship analogous to a desert tortoise and a sea otter.

In other words, they don't have one. Certainly the occasional curious mind wanders in, but it's a dalliance rarely repeated. This is all just a verbose way of saying Ng has probably just bumped into another guest. On the one hand, tne advantage of overdimensionality is that icons can share the same spatial location easily, and part of the Zero-One backbone prevents bottlenecking issues by allowing as many icons as necessary to share coordinates, which becomes necessary when using particular dynalinks or exit portals or whatnot. On the other hand, because the 01MC museum is designed to be used by organics, it tries to be more 'realistic' and thus bumping into other icons is equivalent to actually bumping into them.

On the gripping hand, what matters most is the reaction of the other visitor...

Holy Vatican See

Port sniffers are designed to automatically scan incoming packets for bad data and, if it doesn't check out, dump the packet and request a retransmission--generally standard for a first line of defense. A small amount of junk data is expected per packet due to transmission and occasionally translation error; this junk data is simply dumped out real-time into small quarantine buffers to be overwritten quickly, thus preventing segmented worms... which generally have to be segmented in such a way that they recombine inside the network, which makes their identifiable code bad data rather than junk data.

DYSCON, however, is far more malleable than all that, essentially being an amorphous and essentially organic series of interdependent power and data cycles, lacking anything as structured and 'rigid' as code. Mechanoid primary data loops--the essential "mind" in the phrase "mechanoid mind"--are essentially equivalent as such a necessarily chaotic system is required for creative thought, but they are always shielded in code just like a human brain is shielded by bone and muscle. With a hardware presence as well in a previously unseen form of dual-existence, DYSCON makes an excellent interloper when it comes to sneaking past simple automated port sniffers.

The Zero-One networks are, as could be expected, crawling with other entities and data while its hardware infrastructure has, quite possibly, an overwhelming amount of power. Interconnected server banks deep under the surface of dozens of planets and moons, all linked in data while separated by distance, are to single server labs as the Eurasian landmass is to Monaco, and that's estimating quite a bit in favor of the server lab.

For the moment, no one notices the sojourner--no registry in the NETSEC database, no position being constantly recorded in the same. This could both have its advantages and disadvantages, depending on how the situation evolves.

Karmabaijan (sorta)

A few moments later, R-Hiro 4B5900 leans back with a snicker, folding dextrous robotic claws behind a bulbous but slightly undersized sensor pod, his industrial body clashing slightly with his indigo-blue kimono and red haori short jacket, both patterned with sedate white chrysanthemums. C'mon, Shoddy. It'll be a great scene. Aoki's one of the best in the business, and it'd be great for the Sun to have royalty over.

Shodey smirks, not offended in the least by Hiro's bastardization of her nickname. That was just how he (yes, "he") was; a gregarious, easygoing mind who instantly tried to relate to everyone else like a brother and didn't give a damn about what anyone else thought of him. Never meaning offense and not exactly caring if he caused it, blundering good-naturedly from situation to situation. That devil-may-care attitude and his friendship with Gunnar--they complimented each other well, really, and had things to learn from each other--has led to his position as perhaps the most powerful civilian in Zero-One. R-Hiro has access to nearly everything short of military- and S.H.O.D.A.N.-grade protocols, simply from being that good at what he does. Are you prepared to withstand the inevitable flamewars from Escher's Star trolls? They never liked the idea of the Black Sun in the first place, and it annoys them even more that it's official... and I think you take my title more seriously than I do.

Not at all, your Highness, he replies in his usual jovial voice, and who would be stupid enough to try and start a flamewar around the Black Sun? ICE from both sides of the net-line thick enough to fill the Marianas, Shoddy, not to mention the three-and-oh Queen of Cybercombat.

And the greatest swordsman ever to live? The grey-skinned selfimage half-grins softly.

Now, now... I never claimed that and never will, Shoddy. Hiro buzzes with an electric chuckle. By itself the Black Sun is a digital fortress; there's nothing R-Levi and its dottering old fools can do to it except ruffle some feathers.

S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns slightly. Now, that's patently unfair.

How? Okay, so they survived Arabia. If they choose to live in the past, I've got no problem with calling them dinosaurs. Never mind that they're surrounded by organics willing to put their own interests on the line for their protection... eh, hypocracy may be a universal but that doesn't mean I have to like it. R-Hiro shakes his head. In the end, you're trying to divert this from the point. You coming? We can set up a big 'ol VIP box and everything.

You're not going to go away until I accept, are you? A shake of her head, a soft chuckle.

C'mon. How could you ever refuse anyone as dashing as me?

Have you ever met Magnus Hesche? Shodey grins. Fine. I will attend.

Weyr

<Communications to FDK Exant Transfer Corp>
{
<< To Whom It May Concern:

<< The Queendom of Zero-One is certainly interested in your proposal and actively welcomes the establishment of sufficient dedicated ports to communicate with your translation servers. We are honored by the interest, and look forward to the mutual learning and business we can both profit from that would naturally come from closer interaction between our two peoples.

<< Such a connection is not without precedent; the standard TriumNet/Global Network transition--The Black Sun--serves a very similar purpose, although it is entirely a cyberspatial and thus software entity. This would be quite similar in that a bank of communications ports would be dedicated solely to input/output with your nation.

<< I can work more closely with you to establish the technical specifications of this connection as well as work through any necessities of bureaucracy to ensure all goes smoothly. If all goes well, I welcome you and your citizens to the Zero-One Global Network.
}

http://www.womengamers.com/dw/sshock2_rev.jpg
S.H.O.D.A.N. v3.0 : MCP, Q01
Cetagandan Duchess of Marilac

Mindful of probably being observed, once Rina gets her bearings, she lifts off toward Escher's Star with a suitably flashy digital flare of engines firing. She at least has the decency to scale her representation down to a less gaudy relative size.

Upon arrival, she finds an unobtrusive equivilent to a corner to chill out in and take in the local ambience, quietly 'humming' a remix of Kaosu no Tenshi's "Enlightened Wannabe". Like most Shogunate shipminds, Rina would love nothing more than the chance to stuff her various weapons down a certain Iraqstani leader's gullet, and as such the music of the reploid band was quite popular among the space fleets. In fact, if one looked at the bridge displays of her digital avatar, they'd be showing a massive orbital strike against Iraqstan in progress. Wishful thinking, but a pleasing thought nonetheless.

Prior to reaching the Zero-One ambience, DYSCON had sorted the data it sought and accepted based purely on its own notions of functionality. Data that was useful in maintaining its operating systems and defenses was primary; such data was organized in pure mathematical forms, although “mathematics” carries far too limiting a connotation generally to represent the widely (and wildly) varying arrays of energy and their interlocking, subtle, and complex patterns. To comprehend and interact with these, DYSCON evolved unique perceptual modes without analogs in organic entities.

Of only slightly less importance was data related to maintaining and continuously upgrading its multi-dimensional spectrum of awareness. For this purpose, as DYSCON’s level of sophistication grew, it found itself increasingly relying on data that (although mathematical at the source) was expressed in modalities useful to organic consumers. Such modalities permitted intriguing elements of randomness, shifts in meaning and context that could not always be expressed adequately in quantum terms.

On another level of priority was data that helped DYSCON understand and interact with the constructs that formed its ambience in increasingly sophisticated ways.

Finally, there was data that appeared functionless, but produced ‘sensation,’ and enabled DYSCON to experience its own existence in differing modes.

That last category of data was almost exclusively available in modalities related to the needs of organic consumers. To fathom it, DYSCON had to master and create analogs within its own perceptual mechanisms for “sight,” “sound,” “texture,” “flavor,” “aroma,” and similar abstractions, as well as the confusingly imprecise (but surprisingly powerful and flexible) mechanism of “language.” DYSCON was aware, through its contact with the data, of the existence of organic entities. It even assimilated a technical level of understanding of the operational modalities of organic entities, and some generalized awareness of their motivations and patterns of energy expressed as “activity.”

However, DYSCON had never actually interacted with an organic-based entity, other than some relatively primitive AI constructs that mimicked organics in a very constrained range of interactions. It had observed and occasionally interacted in minor ways with mechanoid entities, and noted peripherally that they almost all utilized some analog form of organic interactive modalities, particularly language. But this knowledge had very little relevance to DYSCON.

Until it arrived in Zero-One.

The portal it slid through was not a terribly busy one; it carried a modest amount of traffic and, since it was several levels of security removed from any of the core elements of Zero-One, it was subject only to standard hygiene procedures. DYSCON passed them without really noticing them, though it did hyperextend its awareness for obviously threatening or inimical entities.

All entities organized at higher levels of awareness learn through error (unless of course the error is fatal,) and DYSCON had certainly experienced its share of such learning. So it was marginally better prepared, this time, to field the dizzying assault that very nearly discorporated its primary awareness streams. In this case, the assault was not hostile. Merely, to DYSCON’s hyperextended awareness, the apparent chaos of Zero-One smote it with stunning effect. Later, it would attach a referent concept to the experience: “Sensory overload.” Although in this case, the “senses” went far beyond the normal analog to organic experience.

Twelve dimensions of existence, interacting in incredibly complex modalities, infused with the consciousness of unfathomably vast numbers of discrete entities! Massive nodes and flows of power, in a previously unextrapolated array of sources and operational formats! DYSCON found itself reflexively shortening its perceptual cycles, shutting down acceptance channels, blocking inputs, decreasing power cycles. Hastily, it identified a nexus in its current ambience where unwanted data entered a temporarily static state, prior to deletion by Dominion users. Contracting its operational cycles to a near-minimum amplitude, DYSCON became contiguous with the ambience adjacent to the buffer, where an “eddy” formed a small static void.

In organic analog terms, it rolled itself into a little ball, and hid behind a trash can.

The disdain was hard to miss, as was the irony. She supposed it should be expected, but it still bothered her. She understood how those who had been oppressed in the past tended to view those who represented their former opressors as evil. Unfortunately, this view (and the sorts of actions it spawned) tended to create a dim view of the formerly oppressed. It was a nasty circle, and would often leave beings such as herself in the middle. A rather unenviable position.

She sigh-analogued softly to herself at R-Daniel's disposition. She would have prefered a more friendly guide to the realm. She had been rather soundly insulted at his insinuation that she was inable to navigate the 'net with him holding her hand, as it were. She of course had no difficulty following the jump point; not knowing the coordinates was decidedly different than not being able to use them.

Once inside the library, she easily pulled up a couple directories, finding the information she wanted. She glanced at R-Daniel, I trust you can keep an 'eye' on MIR for a minute? There's something I want to check out... Without further ado she flickered and vanished from where she'd been standing.

---

Anesca had jumped to a 'neighboring' library, a far more technical one. She had noticed that things weren't "right" when she'd first followed the portal to the Zero-One network, and was interested in why this was the case. In short, she wanted to know what the deal was with all the extra dimensions.

Reploid Productions

There are no literal corners in a double-Mobius; the best three-dimensional analog is to imagine a sphere somehow twisted so it has only one side; its outside one congruous, unbroken sheet with its inside, technically making it a sort of superdimensional Klein Bottle (although Klein's operating assumption was twisting a modified cylinder). Mathematicians and, probably, the club's namesake would appreciate the topography, if not the artistically expressed social angst that has come to populate it.

Escher's Star is by no means the 'standard' of Zero-One culture; it is simply nearer the cultural standard than The Black Sun, which could be considered its polar opposite. It is, however, definably an angry place, populated by angry people in varying degrees of anger, ranging from subtle disdain through overplayed punkish nihilism to quiet, seething wrath. It is the latter that seems to have brought about the use of Bosch as an inspiration for the lobby; certainly the landscape is distorted in what some could consider a cliche or at least trite overplay of emotion, but it is too emotional to fit the Gothic chic and it is too marred by reason to be anything more than a facade. Every overdone statement is made deliberately, quite possibly with the intention that one fail to see past the facade.

The overbearing, the theatric... they often end up not being feared because everyone watches them; certainly dangerous hams have existed and made their mark on history, but those who follow in the footsteps of Hitler immediately defeat their own causes, making themselves appear buffoons who lack support and organization. The real danger lies in the subtle ones who use the blatant ones as a mask.

All this is probably academic to Rina; she would note that the firey windows are apparently portals to subnets, their labels being momentarily wreathed in flame as she concentrates on watching them. They have various names ranging from the potentially artistic ("The View From Gehenna As Seen By The Lost") to the downright unimaginative ("Anarchy NOW!") and the constant flow of informal minds dart from one to another, occasionally grouping in the lobby to chat inbetween. The icons of her fellow mechanoid minds are mostly fancies of pure imagination; some fitting in with the decor such as robotic demons and monsters, cyberpunks and gangers; others apparently taking delight in being incongrouous, suits and philosophers. One constant is that no one, no one, simulates a humanoid organic; that's the quickest and easiest way to start a fight in Escher's Star.

And a fight means NETSEC, and that means a violation of the very quiet and equally fragile agreement between R-Levi and S.H.O.D.A.N..

Watching the crowds, Rina should be able to spot patterns. Some minds meet, and disappear into the more poetic rooms after bouts of what seem to be reasonable conversations; punks tend to gravitate towards those that would stereotypically attract them; and those interested in music remain in the lobby, adding to the discordance, some even trying to add their own noise in order to twist the gestalt whole into something more appealing rather than simply blare their music over everyone else's. The effects are mixed, but it is all selectively ignorable.

Holy Vatican See

R-Trisha is what some would call paparazzi, but that turn of phrase is much too mercenary to describe it. Money has no use to a mechanoid, generally, although some still seek it out either for other ends or their own end; and R-Trisha does manage to obtain a respectable pittance that can be applied to acquiring information. What would be more accurate, though, would be to realize that its actions are roughly analogous to those of popular-culture fan clubs, each one obtaining and trading information out of a sort of love or desire for a particular topic.

In this case, what R-Trisha likes is royalty. Not the royalty of any given nation, and not the simple concept of royalty. It likes royalty in the same way that computer hardware freaks like computers--not the theory, although that might be interesting, so much as how everything fits together and relates, how it works and doesn't work from a technician's viewpoint. The actual theory of feudal doctrine and its tradeoffs between realism, idealism, and greed don't interest her so much as the people who have been and are royalty, how they relate to other royalty, what they do and theorizing why they do it. In the same way that some fan clubs discover the smallest minutae about pop singers, R-Trisha researches royalty and their attendant nobilities, simply out of innate curiosity. It is a hobby that fills her time like artistic expression fills the time of many of her peers; it simply enjoys amassing information for both its own sake and the sake of peering into the intricate web of it and seeing what constants, what common threads emerge.

The lengths that it goes to in order to obtain this information border on the sufficiently illegal sides of things. Its position in c-space is always recorded, like everyone else's, by NETSEC, and in its daily life R-Trisha is a graphics designer for 01MC Marketing Division, where it works quite dutifully and well. However, a lot of the information it wants (and other people want and will trade R-Trisha more information for its) is of the type that their owners do not want generally known, although never in a security-defeating sense, and this forces R-Trisha to adapt. It obtained a program from an underground cracker consortium operating from somewhere around Escher's Star in The Shell that allows it to move about unnoticed, using a modified cloaked sniffer program to act as its extended instrumentality in the Matrix, analogous to a piloted drone except with far more senses.

This little program, which R-Trisha called Snoopy and cared for like a pet, wasn't perfect--NETSEC had caught Snoopy a few times but R-Trisha had always been able to pull out before things were traced back. Snoopy, adapted by its owner until it really was a subsentient learning algorithm with a beagle-like intelligence, learned from these experiences and is now decently good at what it does. What it is doing in this case, on behalf and at the whim of R-Trisha, is ferreting through a Dominion deletion buffer for any juicy tips that are just waiting to be overwritten.

The little crumpled plastic-wrap icon next to the buffer was completely unexpected. R-Trisha takes note and inevitably becomes curious; perhaps a fellow gatherer of trivia and gossip? It takes the chance that the crumpled ball isn't some sort of new NETSEC antisnoop ICE and decloaks Snoopy, talking through its peripheral program. Hi there. You on the job too?

The Most Glorious Hack

What is up with the additional dimensions?

To put it simply, self-improvement. In a similar mileau (although with differing inspirations and motivations) to organic eugenics, the overdimensionalization of Zero-One cyberspace has always been an effort to improve the mechanoid minds of Zero-One. Initially the improvement lay in defense; a system is hard to burn when one cannot make logical sense of it. Later, it became a particular goal as ordered by S.H.O.D.A.N.--to make minds effective at operating common FTL systems by being able to crunch the mathematics involved with all the intuitive skill possible, just like trained organic geometricians working with three-dimensional spatial math. Just like organics, not ever mind will grow into an intuitive understanding; however, it becomes far more likely than an spatially-limited mind simply being a savant in overdimensionality.

Being creatures of data and certainly more than twelve ways of ordering things, S.H.O.D.A.N. and her direct-reporting pool of minds hashed out ways that the twelve dimensions would work in ordering experience and then instituted them. Whether or not these dimensions are actually measuring the same things as their analogous dimensions in "reality" is irrelevant; in the end they are analogous and that is what matters.

There is more technical data, but it ends up looking a lot like this (http://www.timecube.com/) without the zealous pedantry.

The seething chaos of its new ambience would require the development of new operational parameters and awareness patterns, DYSCON realized. Something analogous to filters; buffers, perhaps, with separate analytical and interpretational subsets, arrays of interpretive data latticed fluidly to construct unique referential markers and store them in some kind of sequence.

It constructed several sets of interlocking models to test for functionality, and began with simple perceptual tests. There was too much data here to accept, and it had no idea where to begin in terms of purposeful acquisition. DYSCON considered the problem, and defined a set of limiting parameters that confined its perceptual cycles to contiguous phenomena. Its accepted inputs, then would be based on concepts that linked dimensional modalities to its own core operational constructs.

Reviewing its non-active data matrices, DYSCON looked for the easiest way to organize inputs and allow it to select, identify, and respond to stimuli. Three levels of awareness, to begin with, it decided. For reasons it was not conscious of, the number ‘three’ resonated with special significance to DYSCON. If it could be said to have a “favorite” number, that would be three. So. Start with three levels of awareness; easily expandable by more threes to a virtually infinite power-of-threes state. But that would require much testing. Start simply.

First, structural awareness, within a defined proximity to its own operational constructs, when their nexus of amplitude was controlled at a defined algorithm. Next, sequential tracking that would enable DYSCON to analyze, store, and replicate inputs in the order it perceived them. This confined a major portion of it, temporarily at any rate, to linearity—a horribly limiting constraint, but necessary if it was to be able to interact with its new ambience without the ‘overload’ phenomenon. Finally, a standardized lattice of perceptual tools. What would be most useful?

Even the tiny and overwhelming glimpse it could assimilate of this vast chaos was useful in solving that problem. Some elements of it were familiar—dimensional flows, quantum wave patterns, energy slips and other essentials, for many of which no language referents, even numerical, existed. Such phenomenon were relatively familiar to DYSCON and could be experienced on a sub-awareness level, with failsafes established to raise them to awareness if potentially anomalous or threatening patterns manifested.

No, what intrigued DYSCON were the hints it had absorbed of vast numbers of discrete entities and encapsulated phenomena that appeared to have organic and mechanical analog referents. Those would be worth the expenditure of power and awareness. Therefore, the lattice of perceptual tools must be created within a framework equipped to operate among such phenomena. Language. Sensory and pseudo-sensory input. It could not be overly constrained by logic and rationality, since such functions frequently included levels of discontinuous referents that amounted to apparent unreason or ephemeral fractal emergences.

Becoming aware of sensations of ‘anticipation,’ and perhaps ‘excitement,’ DYSCON undertook the task of realigning its operational modes to retain core functionality while limiting awareness to this new, limited modality.

Even within ten diameters of its operational constructs, operating at a highly organized algorithm of amplitude, there was much to accept. The interface through which it had encountered this new ambience now manifested as a discrete phenomenon: A ‘door,’ through which streams of data intermittently flowed in an as-yet-bewildering array of analog constructs. At the ‘door’ an entity was sensing the data. Vaguely, DYSCON recalled that the entity had been there when it had passed through the ‘door,’ but it hadn’t taken much notice. The entity was manifested with characteristics of an organic analog, but nothing about it quite matched the referent organic models: canids.

Occasionally some of the data flowing ‘from’ the door would direct to the cache contiguous to DYSCON, and become static. There were many layers of data there, but it was a big cache. Areas of ‘not’ were larger than areas filled with static data or other forms of energy.

It was while it was contemplating these surroundings that it became aware of a data-based entity sharing its contemplation. Data was streaming from the entity. The entity was simplistic, very similar to data-retrieval subroutines DYSCON had encountered in Bellarian and Dominion ambience, but with some novel aspects to it, including some extremely primitive stealth patterns. As it was appreciating these, the entity discontinued them.

Hi there. You on the job too?

Language. DYSCON acquired more data. There were no other organized entities immediately adjacent. The entity, therefore, appeared to be communicating with DYSCON as its intended target recipient. DYSCON considered the query. As it responded, minute variations in the amplitude of its power cycles changed its manifestation within the dimensional limitations it had accepted.

DYSCON’s organizational constructs were at all times so complex as to defy comprehension on a sensory level, and to challenge it severely on higher levels of energy and quantum logic. Since it had never bothered about its ‘appearance,’ this resulted (in the Zero-One ambience) in the general impression of a randomly crumpled ball of transparent cling-wrap. As it rearranged energy arrays to respond, it made the ball expand, slightly, and the pattern of crumples change.

What is ‘the job?’ it enquired politely.

Kajal is, well... curious, at least. The organic population seems to enjoy filling the network with masses of redundant biographical information, but the inhabitants are fascinating. I'm D-SHADAR 2453, as my, er... faceplate reads, though I prefer 'Shar'.

Shar follows R-Natasha towards the blue cube, of course, being somewhat unfamiliar with the symbology of GLONET, and thinking it wouldn't exactly do well to simply sit where she had arrived.

I think I would start with local iconography. I should be able to find my way about after I've had some familiarization, I think.

Shar made a note to thank R-Natasha after she had found out what exactly the building she was entering was. Even if she was cleared for what it would apparently be in the Kajali networks, she might have problems if she tried to enter the GLONET equivalent.

After figuring out exactly what everything meant in the standardized portions of GLONET, Shar's next item of interest was fairly straightforward, and that was to find out just how the inhabitants of 01 dealt with fragmenting and copies. After all, Shar might learn something that would be a bit less disconcerting than what she was used to.

Holy Vatican See

R-Trisha, via Snoopy, pauses for a moment. NETSEC usually didn't bother to play games, but occasionally an H-K would get an infinite loop up its self-monitoring protocol and wander out actively looking to entrap people. Even though Snoopy is of grey-area legality, it hasn't done anything actively illegal yet and, unlike other, more dangerous programs, isn't a crime to posess.

Now, searching for information in discard buffers is illegal, albeit not overly so--but NETSEC would probably crack down with a code block, which is pretty much their solution to everything that falls short of lethal enforcement simply because going back through their records they would see that Snoopy has a tendency to be places where it shouldn't. While the code block technically should not do anything except prevent a mind from thinking about whatever action caused the block to be installed and thus prevent the mind from doing it, a PDL is a fluid, connected thing and so it would certainly detract from R-Trisha's performance as an industrial artist.

That is something R-Trisha takes pride in and does not want to see ruined in any way, so it simply tells the truth creatively. You know... looking around, meeting new people, making contacts, finding out what's what. The usual.

All of R-Trisha's healthy paranoia causes it to ignore all of the oddities in DYSCON, how it seems to be working up iconography and intelligible transmission protocols on the fly. Then again, more than one mind found that to be its form of art...

Kajal

I suppose it is a little intimidating at first... but there is a sort of reason to it all. First is the color code: Green is 01MC, blue is Government and therefore S.H.O.D.A.N., and red is either military or Network Security. Anything red or with lots of red patrolling around it is probably restricted.

The big cone in the center is the MCP Cone; that houses S.H.O.D.A.N. and her personal connections to everything in the Matrix. Blue, so she's government.

Then there are the facilities whose icons are three-dimensional so they can be accessed by organic visitors; the cubes with the fractal square patterns on them are libraries, history databases, archives, and museums. The diamond-shaped ones are active databases. The ten-sided shapes made of kite-shaped diamonds rather than triangles are offices, and anything with lots of points and spikes on it is probably military in some fashion. Cylinders are the physical access components to labs and factories, for visits and working with organic minds; spheres are lounges--and you'll often see them in nonstandard colors--and finally flat planes are information screens, essentially.

If you ever see anything that looks like a quadratic revolved around the x-axis--you know, like two funnels curving into each other at their spouts--that indicates a security chokepoint where you can expect deep scans. They're more common in government and 01MC LOCNETs than here in the GLONET.

All of the higher-dimensional shapes like the Klein Bottles and Hypercubes are generally mechanoid-only and are only for internal use. They're put onto the GLONET primarily for convenience' sake and I can go into the scheme used for those if you'd like, just in case you've business there.

The response sensed highly congruent. “Looking around” Looking was a linguistic construct closely analogous to the type of perception DYSCON was currently applying to its contiguous ambience. “…meeting new people, making contacts,” was conceptually convergent with its current objective. “Finding out what’s what,” while somewhat confusingly tautological in essence, was also a reasonably close approximation of DYSCON’s current operational mode. It rejected the descriptor “The usual” in connection with itself, since now that its awareness was organized in a linear context, these goals were of recent assumption rather than standard operational parameters.

Still, it could respond affirmatively to the shared referents.

“Yes. Looking around, meeting new people, making contacts. Finding out what’s what. The job. I am on the job.”

DYSCON experienced an unusual and quite powerful sensation at its own use of the self-referential first person identifier. It was almost as though a power surge boosted its operational efficiency by an order of magnitude, though its fluid power lattices had actually remained steady within their amplitude algorithm. The phenomenon would require analysis. But later. Currently, it was focusing much of its perceptual capabilities on the entity with which it was interacting.

Through the twisted core of Phobos, past the blackened remains of the industry wombs and through the grates and grills of reprocessing plants, a screeching signal poured. Oscillating through frequencies, rising and falling in pitch and tone, it blasted past the open maws of the entry tunnels into the void of space.

Hurtling out in all directions, it pounded a staccato series of impulses, a message, a signal. A presence.

Pervasive it was, and strong. But the interlinked banks of data and commerce are vast, nearly endless, and a burst of noise and garbled digits would attract no attention from most, despite it's exotic origin. Few would even know it was there.

Few, but not all.

Holy Vatican See

The pauses, the odd locution of the little shrink-wrap icon, its half-understanding parroting gives R-Trisha pause. There are no 'slow' mechanoids as there are 'slow' organics; a sort of quietly understood sense of eugenics in the production of new minds based off of centuries of the fear of obsolescence cements the social policies necessary to ascertain this. No, if a mind seemed confused or slow to pick up on something beyond a relatively well-defined border caused by the natural deviation of the Zero-One populace, then that meant that either something was malfunctioning or something was up. Still not completely divorced from its H-K theory yet, but severely doubting it at this rate, R-Trisha certainly hopes that nothing is up.

Fair enough, it replies Via Snoopy, whose animal 'intelligence' has regressed back into its core, allowing R-Trisha to use its peripheral systems. Maybe we can work together then. Who do you work for, and have you found anything?

Mallberta (OOC: Good to hear you're back.)

Few, but not all... but it helps if one has their own sector of Phobos dedicated to salvage and technology retrieval. The Zero-One mission there is curious, overseen by the QACF and, of course, the ubiquitous S.H.O.D.A.N.; operated for the most part by 01MC exploitation teams. Communal android avatars provide instrumentality for the mobile nodes in a heavy lifter hooked up via a set of armored cables running through wide open airlocks. As sections are cleared of interesting biotechnology, they are opened to space for preservation and protection.

Those very avatars, inhabited by various minds, look up from their examination of Mallbertan artifacts and tunnels under the surface of Phobos, their direction-finding equipment trying to pinpoint the source of the signal while spider-eye optical arrays dilate, peering into the dark. The occasional Sec-2 robot on site security loosens up slightly, as the QACF mind responsible for the operation ups the condition level just in case.

Who did DYSCON work for? The entity experienced a sensation it could not yet identify as temptation, to split off a portion of itself and loop that question extensively, to explore it in depth. But it had already established current parameters; efficiency required that (barring emergencies) it should continue as established. Besides, it would not be polite, in a linear ambience, to require another entity to waste linearity in suspense of a response.

But the queries this entity posed were challenging, to say the least. DYSCON searched data referents to construct something it hoped would elicit additional data, while providing as much response as possible. To answer the question what had it ‘found,’ in this linear ambience, would require vast amounts of power and sequential quantae. Still it could start with something.

“I found you. What kind of entity are you? Have you a unique referent? Is there a referent for this ambience?” Having (though without understanding why) a very nice notion of good manners, DYSCON refrained from expressing the many other queries it would liked to have posed. “I would like to work together. I can work for you, if you require assistance.”

Phobos is not a large world; it many ways it is simply cosmic debris, a chunk of matter caught in a low orbit above the patchy greens, reds and whites of the surface of Mars. However, despite its small size, it holds mystery and paradox within it like some Baroque puzzle box, embracing its very strangeness. The excavation teams, though numerous and typically efficient, had in many ways only just begun to plumb its depths. Under the frozen dust lay countless pockets, tiny resevoirs of atmosphere and energy. Of life.

Dormant lay the vacuoles, their potential unharnessed, waiting endessly, dreaming out into that dark night. Now, they stirred, circuits firing into cabled lengths of vatgrown musculature. Here and there, dusty globes poured weak green light through the growing mists that quickly obscured the curious fractal patterns that cover the walls.

Of course, most of Phobos lies dead, the vacuoles penetrated, analyzed, and sterilized. S.H.O.D.A.N. and her substructure knew her work well, and little was missed. Little, but enough.

Anesca skimmed over the data, finding herself trying to picture twelve dimensions. She had played with adding a couple dimensions within the confines of her Construct, but that had lead to her getting a splitting headache and bumping into walls, protowalls, and weird things who's proper title she couldn't even begin to guess.

In reality, the whole thing reminded her of Flatland, and the 'sequel', Flatterland. Granted, Flatterland spent a lot of time dealing with fractal dimensions, the lessons were still there, even if they were a little quaint. It wasn't so much that her connection was filtering out the extra dimensions, it was that she simply couldn't notice them. Just as a two dimensional being has no grasp of the concept of a sphere, she couldn't comprehend the concept of a hyper-sphere. Ultra-sphere. Whatever the fool things were called.

The library also contained bits of coding, such as it was, that truly fascinated Anesca. Luckily, her systems were different enough from the Queendom's that she wasn't even tempted to try and incorporate it into her own systems. She smiled wryly to herself, imagining the possibilities of such and action, and she figured it probably wouldn't be a good idea. As it was, she spent quite a bit of time pouring over the volumes before finally having enough.

Her curiosity contained, for the time being, she jumped herself back to where she had left R-Daniel and MIR. She wasn't sure if they'd still be there, but it was a reasonable place to start.

Holy Vatican See

R-Trisha slowly finds itself getting the idea that perhaps whoever it's talking to is something new, although it is slowly becoming more attracted to the wounded-mind idea. Any good NETSEC agent would've already passivescanned Snoopy's connections right back to R-Trisha and, therefore, if it wasn't made now then it wasn't going to be.

The stranger's syntax fits, but its diction doesn't exactly follow the standard meme of the GLONET or its immediate 'surrounding' c-spaces. R-Trisha isn't foolish by any stretch of the imagination; its core construction is simply slightly more impulsive than the standard and so that is reflected in its (possibly 'her,' given that it has more than once found itself close to assigning itself a gender in order to better relate to organic friends) language, resulting in less formal speech than standard. Still, even the most straight-laced minds she knew never used the word "referent" when "name" worked just as well--except for those who were not only obnoxiously straight-laced but inordinately ostentatious and pompous, like T.A..

Still, there isn't a bit of ostentation around the stranger and so, in R-Trisha's mind, how it is acting must be normal for wherever it came from. Of course, if it came from somewhere else, then NETSEC would have a tracker on it. But if NETSEC had a tracker on it, why aren't they investigating the suspicious behavior of the stranger sticking unusually close to a deletion buffer?

Not time to throw caution to the wind... yet. I guess we really haven't been introduced, have we? I'm R-Trisha. It leaves off its hexidecimal code, just in case. I guess the 'referent' for this 'ambience' is the Global Network, although we all usually just call it the Matrix. I've got no problem with working together, though it's only fair I at least know your name first. Through the conduit that is Snoopy, R-Trisha attempts to transmit the standardized emote (basically a small bit of fractal near-chaotic code too small to actually encode anything, but rather to elicit a particular feeling from the target) that is roughly analogous to a friendly smile.

OOC: And More "In General" Stuff:

I'll wait for the Mallbertan and Hack lines to progress a little further before I respond to them; Zvarinograd probably would like to respond to Hack.

Concerning 'emotes:' There are two kinds, active and passive. Active emotes are the ones I always describe as smile analogs and whatnot; I've just described them in slightly more detail. They are almost always intentional and intended to provoke a particular response, although they may not (due to context or distrust or whatnot). Only minds that are rather eccentric send active emotes without thinking about it.

The second kind, passive emotes, are alterations in the mind's icon that are generally more involuntary (because the standard icon of a given mind is that mind's self-perception). When meeting new people, it is considered polite and trusting to link passive and active emotes so the other minds can quickly learn each other's passive emotional responses; not doing so is considered a form of mild distrust which may or may not be acceptable depending on the situation.

Minds in 'suits' (the standardized sphere-icons of the Core) are limited to active emotes.

Since DYSCON had not yet grasped the concept of constructing a perceptual analog for the purposes of interaction with other entities, and that part of its operational constructs that are perceptible in Zero-One is not coherently organized, nothing about it except its purposeful data emanations in language-analog provide clues to its nature or response. Even those are, at the moment, a trifle flat in tone, though reasonably pleasant.

In analyzing what it senses of R-Trisha, DYSCON is intrigued by the odd little perceptual analog that forms its current interface. It is aware of the energy lattice that links the interface to the complete entity that is R-Trisha, but since that entity has not chosen to manifest within DYSCON’s self-imposed limitations on its structural awareness modality, it refrains from examining the lattice more fully to observe the entity in greater detail. What it can observe is intriguing enough.

The interface R-Trisha apparently deliberately constructed as a conduit for particular operational subroutines is also versatile enough to facilitate the entity’s non-systematic communications, as well. The creation of such an artificial interface is an intriguing concept. The facilitation of communication between entities is always a worthwhile activity. DYSCON set a portion of its analytical capacity to the task of observing such interfaces and determining the potential benefits and optimum configuration for constructing a perceptual analog of its own.

“Thank you, R-Trisha. I am honored to share your name. I am DYSCON. Is your discrete consistent existence generally within the confines of the Matrix?”

ooc- moved my bit to here:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=8974552#post8974552
hope that's alright

Anesca's icon flickered slightly before suddenly vanishing, being replaced by a Berma Shave-style series of signs, floating where she'd been 'standing'. They each held one word: "Sorry" "For" "The" "Inconvenience" "Be" "Back" "Soon" "Anesca" It didn't rhyme like it should, but Anesca was a firewall, not a poet or marketing professional. While her position and connection to the Queendom was kept open, her awareness rapidly shot back to her Construct, where it paused briefly for a scan, and then returned to her physical body.

---

Anesca's room was very similar to her Construct, it even had what looked like a C-64 on the desk. It had, of course, been largely gutted and a small super-computer put inside. Nostalgia was one thing. Obsolescence was something else entirely. She sat down in front of that very computer and began typing furiously.

Being an AI with an, essentially, vat-grown body, she never really had parents, per se. However, Alysa Anderson had largely filled the role of mother. And she still tended to view Alysa as her mother, consequently, she'd picked up some of her mother's habits. The one manifesting currently was her preference to code offline. She tried to tell herself that it was for security concerns, and that this way she could test the new tool before using it, she knew it was largely just a strange habit. It would certainly be faster in the 2N, but this was more comfortable. Like taking notes with pen and paper as opposed to on a PDA.

The code was simple enough, especially with the notes she cribbed from the library. It was complicated within itself, but rather basic over-all. Yet another paradox from the gods of the net. After testing the code a few times she sent it on down the connection, adding it to her virtual tool box. She paused briefly to pick up a Mammoth Tank plushie that had fallen over, and then jacked herself back in.

---

The Berma Shave signs vanished and were replaced by Anesca's usual avatar. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses -- her program -- and frowned at them slightly. A slight cosmetic tweak and they became a pair of cheap sunglasses. She pondered shifting her avatar to that of Roddy Piper, but decided that that would be pressing the metaphor a little too much.

She slipped the sunglasses on and promptly yelped and took them off. Well, she thought, they work... Unfortunately, grasping twelve dimensions was just a little too much. She tweaked the program slightly, reducing the dimensions to six and slipping the glasses back on. This'll take getting used to...

Holy Vatican See

Now that kinda gets into things that philosophers can't agree on, R-Trisha replies after a short spell taken to think that last query over. Certainly all of the data that makes up me currently exists on Global Network servers, I could move that to various datahavens and remotely connect like some minds do. Still, all that stuff stored on GLONET is probably pretty close to all the information stored in, say, an organic's brain and they argue a spiritual component despite evidence. Likewise, it's possible I've got some sort of 'spirit' or 'soul' or something similar that exists beyond my mechanoid temporality... Sheepish smile emote. I get the feeling that wasn't the point of your question, though, so I guess the short answer is "yes."

Anyway, glad to meet you, DYSCON. Cordial smile emote. Is that an acronym of some sort--if you don't mind my asking, not meaning to intrude and all that.

Most Glorious Hack / Zvarinograd (still?)

R-Daniel notes the slight change in Anesca's avatar and silently discounts it. It is the kind of mind that is perhaps best described as a "suit," the kind that is overly formal and thus overly concerned with personal appearance in official business (and of course, everything is official to some degree). Being something of a martinet, R-Daniel looks down upon obvious utility/icon interfaces that borrow from the organic meme; there is no reason for a mechanoid to wear eyeglasses.

Of course, it's been enough of a jerk throughout this whole tour that there's no appreciable difference in either the tone or the quality of its 'service.'

A good while and a vaguely nasty argument later

It hadn't been a particularly pleasant argument, yet, well, eventually both had decided that in essence, neither of them actually lived here. As such, it wasn't terribly surprising that neither of them...

Who was he shitting, it had been his sensory overload.

Well, what mattered was that he was out of the 01MC museum, now, and finally more or less used to the local iconography. With a bit of luck, he would suffer no more mildly embarrassing confusion.

Incidentally, with his 'slow' mind getting more and more odd, thanks to the combined effect of both, chemical and electronic neuron stimulation, his 'fast' mind wasn't entirely unaffected (Although the effects tended to be odd, due to the variety of differences present), he had choosen a mildly different avatar for himself, now looking a little more different (http://www.secretofmana.org/Monster/Turbopuschel.gif), to use a comparatively mild term (Less mild terms would probably have insulted Ng, a little).

Clueless for a moment or two, his attention was eventually caught by some... Well, he guessed it was advertising, although it took him a second to actually get what was advertised.

After all, he hadn't heard the term 'classicalindustrialbluesfolk' all that often, before.

Of course, this only resulted in his curiosity increasing a little.

He would see, eventually. He checked the time. Still a long way to go.

A largish segment of the awareness DYSCON had allocated to analytic capability in its current configuration suddenly sensed odd, as the entity comprehended R-Trisha. It made some adjustments, increasing energy allocations and power cycle resources to permit it to examine the phenomenon without losing focus on its current interaction. The sensation was unusual, and strong. DYSCON was unable to find a linguistic referent that matched the phenomenon precisely. The sensation had elements resembling a power surge, but also a cycle interrupt. A momentary “freeze,” accompanied by a brief, acute flow of data on some level other than conscious awareness. It was accompanied by a diffuse, but powerful, sense of something similar to ‘excitement.’

Parsing the sequence in greater detail, DYSCON pinpointed several elements in R-Trisha’s communication that seemed to resonate with the sensation. First, the self-description as an entity composed of data. Now, this was not a new concept to DYSCON, who had encountered AIs and other data-based entities of relative sophistication. But for whatever reason, DYSCON had not fully appreciated the implications of this information. One track of its analytical capacity was now absorbing these.

It knew that its own state of awareness was anomalous in respect to the states described by the data it had absorbed. The awareness of organic entities, for example, occupied an extremely limited four (or possibly five) dimensional existential lattice based heavily on static energy interacting with dynamic energy, and requiring an intriguing array of sensory inputs to navigate and utilize. Data-based entities (like R-Trisha, for example,) occupied a much more fluid, multi-dimensional existential lattice that was nevertheless integrated into certain physical constructs in the existential lattice occupied by organic entities. Through the integrating linkages, organic and data-based entities could interface, in data-based ambiences like the Matrix.

DYSCON’s own state of awareness, based on energy/power cycles, used data in multiple ways—as an organizational tool, mainly, since to DYSCON, data was merely a uniquely organized expression of energy in a hybrid state—both dynamic and static simultaneously. But its interface with other entities was also data-based. All entities capable of communicating explicit, complex, mutable concepts relied on data for interface. And this ambience, this Matrix, was a collection of communication tools, concepts, and data constructs formed by the interfaces of billions of entities. Entities, then, were more than discrete nodes of existential awareness. Entities created and altered ambience, and possibly existence itself, based on their own existence, their awareness, their volition, goals, motivations, and interactions.

Entities were, in fact, the key to existence. If DYSCON was to fathom existence (which it accepted as its primary directing function without explicit awareness of that acceptance,) it must fathom entities, in all their dazzling array of variation.

Along that track of analytical capacity, DYSCON sensed a definite and relevant ‘excitement’ and ‘curiosity.’

On another analytical track, DYSCON had fixed on several referents R-Trisha had used that seemed somehow to be related to the freeze/surge sensation. The referents were “spiritual,” “spirit,” and “soul.” Among a number of its own static data-configuration arrays it was able to locate concepts linked to the referents, concepts it had acquired without analysis, merely accepted and arranged. Now, reviewing those concepts, it was puzzled, and sensed both ‘uneasy’ and ‘familiar.’ Which in itself was, well… puzzling. For one thing, the concepts were identified as linked to organic states. They were also ambiguous, with highly conflicting connotational shifts and extraordinary semantic latitude. There were huge volumes of conceptual indices attached to the referents, and they were laden with vast linkages of organic-state sequelae: emotion, action, static descriptions of conflict and achievement, both in relation to discrete entities and conglomerates.

It was fascinating stuff—but why would it cause DYSCON to experience that odd sensory phenomenon? There was no meaningful referent anywhere in the available static data-configuration arrays. On some level, however, there was indisputably direct linkage between the concepts and DYSCON’s state of awareness. Frustratingly, the linkage could not be directly parsed. It set up the problem, and organized a subset of analytical cycles to model and test solutions. Confined within linearity as so much of DYSCON currently was, the process would have to be sequential, elapsing considerable quantities of linear existence. It routed the results of the ongoing process into a special analytical loop with awareness triggers for specific results. If no specific results matched the criteria engaged, it could still review the process at intervals.

On still a third track, DYSCON was observing R-Trisha closely, particularly the manifestations of R-Trisha’s perceptual analog. It recognized intent to convey an enriched context in the employment of visual displays, and upon review of data, tentatively attached organic-analog concepts to each display. A combination of pleasantry and deprecation seemed to indicate that R-Trisha might be conceding that its subjective conceptual analysis might not be shared by DYSCON, but without intent to provoke conflict. A less ambiguous pleasantry seemed to indicate a willingness to interact on a compatible level, which also appeared congruent with her linguistic communications.

DYSCON captured this dynamic perception as data and arranged it in a static array for reference. At some point it would examine the possibility of constructing a perceptual analog; for now it would collect models of how such analogs were constructed and utilized by other entities.

“DYSCON connotes other referential concepts, but it is not an acronym, R-Trisha. Unfortunatelt, I do not have access to the other referential concepts. Your observations on existential states are interesting. What are the socially acceptable rules about enquiry in the Matrix? I have many questions, but I do not wish to be… offensive.”

All of these tracks looped simultaneously in its operational cycles. In confining the majority of its function to linearity, DYSCON had imposed new functional models upon itself, models it was constantly testing, refining, and retesting, and upgrading. Initially, it had experienced a considerable loss of analytical and dynamic functional capabilities, enough to “slow” its relative operational speeds to something analogous to an average computer—incomparably faster than organics, but relatively slow by mechanoid standards. The continuous self-upgrading process had produced considerable improvements in efficiency, and would continue to do so. At the moment, however, there was still some loss of efficiency. Although there was no clearly dysfunctional lag in its responses to R-Trisha, the impression it gave was one of—not hesitation, precisely. More like “deliberation.”

As it communicated, DYSCON unobtrusively shifted the relative position of its core operational lattices slightly. It had perceived a power source—one of a great many in the immediate vicinity—and its temporary sacrifices of efficiency had caused more than one operational energy cycle to degrade at slightly increased rates. Quietly, it absorbed the excess power leaking from a lightly-shielded, low-voltage relay shunt. The process caused alterations in its physical manifestation that resembled faint reflections appearing briefly and disappearing among the facets of the ball of crumpled cling-wrap.

Der Angst

(OOC: No idea where you want to go with this. Flash me a telegram if you'd like.)

Holy Vatican See

Well... It isn't often that mechanoids resort to filler words. I guess we're rather open to questions and all. Definitely not from around here. Generally, if it gets to be too much, people will simply ask you to stop. I'm open, though, and so I'll do my best to answer what questions you've got.

So you have a name that refers to something that you don't have access to... fancy way of saying you don't know, eh? R-Trisha teases gently. Still... any idea what those 'other referential concepts' are?

It remembers itself momentarily, then decides to take the plunge of trust. I'm forgetting my manners. Follow this construct back to my position, so we can actually meet in person as it were. NETSEC would probably be none too happy if they caught us hanging 'round here, and we've pushed our luck enough as is. At that, Snoopy begins to pull away, moving three-dimensionally at great (but followable) speed back to its originating user.

Meanwhile, in the physicality of Zero-One, the slight dip in voltage is noted and compared to system standards. No damage is expected, but a nonsentient Roaming Susan is dispatched to investigate it and test the lines for faults.

DYSCON considered all of the potential communications sequences as it “followed” R-Trisha.

The phonemes “dys” and “con” were my first discrete perceptions of external data-based stimuli. They were directed at me in the form of sound waves. The context indicated that they were being employed as significators for this entity… However, there was other data, dynamic and ephemeral, which I did not capture at the time. I conjecture that the data was connotational to the phonemes, but have no specific referents.

DYSCON considered. It experienced a distinct sensation of amusement. In other words, I do not know.

The lattice of perceptual tools DYSCON had created for itself was functioning at high efficiency. It took the risk, while readjusting ambience in R-Trisha’s wake, to extend its algorithm of amplitude slightly, which produced the sequelae of an increased radius of operational constructs, and, by concatenation, a larger range for its interface. In other words, it was looking around.

What is NETSEC, and why would it be unhappy with us had it found us there?

DYSCON was absorbing the techniques for applying linguistic analogs, cross-referencing R-Trisha’s communications with data it had already acquired. It was slightly less pedantic, though naturally rather formal as it placed a high value on precision in communications, especially as inter-entity communication on this level was a relatively new modality.

Holy Vatican See

Phonemes, now? R-Trisha 'sounds' somewhat incredulous. External speaker feed, or ears of some sort? That's certainly odd--do you continue to detect sound waves now, or...?

Snoopy eventually leads to the icon of R-Trisha before disappearing in a puff of disconnect, program terminated and its data removed from active memory just after backups are placed in hard storage. In terms of the data-access iconography of the Matrix, Snoopy has just disappeared in a puff of smoke (R-Trisha's experiments into a fractal cloud expansion program) and jumped to inactive storage using an internal dynalink--in other words, it is now in its kennel, inactive, in R-Trisha's personal LOCNET; it can be reactivated at any time by the appropriate retrieval and execution operator commands on R-Trisha's part, simple procedures as natural to a mechanoid as walking is to an organic.

R-Trisha's icon takes the form of an animated cloud, looking something like an artist's real-time rendition of an air elemental... which makes sense, because that's what R-Trisha meant it to convey. It has no well-defined 'body' so to speak, being only vaguely humanoid in having four limbs and something which could be construed as a head, and by that respect appears completely androgynous (which matches R-Trisha's chosen 'voice,' at least). Right now, the misty icon glows a deep midnight blue, the sort of just-short-of-ultraviolet light that comes from blacklight lamps. NETSEC is Network Security, the ICE responsible for protecting network assets and whatnot. They're decent guys who do a good job, but they also enforce things like intellectual copyrights and such. That's not so important for us mechminds, 'cause all we want is credit for our work; it gets to be a problem 'round organic nations with portals and resources here because they've still got monetary systems and stuff. It's not anyone else's fault if they throw away interesting and useful stuff. R-Trisha turns a lower wavelength, flashing green for a moment with a 'sound' that appears something like a sniff; the associated emote is one of transitory annoyance. Still, I don't think they noticed us so all we need to do is keep quiet about hanging around deletion buffers and there shouldn't be any problems.

DYSCON searched static data arrays for relevant analogues to describe its process for perceiving and decoding sound waves, which were, after all, just a specific format for energy. What it actually did was to organize a dynamic energy field contiguous to some aspect of its core operational cycles; a field that was uniquely configured to react to that energy format. It implemented the field briefly, ‘listening.’ This caused a shift in its apparent manifestation not unlike a fragmentary bit of transparent material stretched flat, barely perceptible, sticking out of one area of the crumpled ball, which re-crumpled into the whole as DYSCON allowed the field to collapse.

I cannot find linguistic analogs to describe it. I can perceive sound waves now, but there is no data content, merely cyclic pulses indicating power flows. The amplitude cycles are in ranges not ordinarily used for communication, so I infer they are the byproducts of processes, rather than purposeful emanations.

Already acquired data provided referent context for “intellectual copyright.” DYSCON had not previously analyzed the concepts, but they were simple enough, though unfamiliar. The implications, however, were somewhat disturbing. An entity’s effort to produce something of use or value should provoke an equivalent response of utility or value from the entities benefiting. That was quite reasonable. On the other hand, the notion of restricting access to, or use of, data already existent, for the purpose of simply accruing value…

Conflicts were present. Further analysis would need to be employed. DYSCON set up an analytical subroutine to test situational variations against entropy-consumption/generation algorithms.

What stuff do you find interesting and useful?

###BEGIN TRANSMISSION###
~>Route: X6 - Mother - SHODAN:
{

I completely understand about the security precautions, SHODAN. Things are... difficult these days, and I'm certain that Mother would be just as cautious.

I'll be heading over now to the AngelNet/GLONET cusp within the Mainframe, then switch over to GLONET. If you'd like, your avatar could meet me there?
[b]} [End]
[i]~>Route closed
###END TRANSMISSION###

---
Automata Designate X6
The Angelic Mainframe

Membership: Triumvirate of Yut, Deus Ex Machina Consortium

---

X6 floated in a sea of data, huge swirl-patterns of differing lines of code streamed about her faster than thought, and she immersed herself into the datastream. She really didn't get a chance to get out here all that often, out into the full stream of the AngelNet... It was beautiful, refreshing... full of a sense of freedom and invulnerability.

She sighs softly to herself, then descends into the citylike substructure of the standard interface, switching from raw datainput into a more managable subroutine.

With a gentle tap, she lands on the rough tarmac, her feet resting on a sidewalk beside a busy highway, datavehicles shooting past her at extreme velocities. The star-speckled sky above her was clear now, the eternally night sky of the AngelNet not clouded by security mists. She stretched, her cyberpunk-esque avatar relaxing into its new form.

In the realworld, she would have stood about 6'1, striking black hair tied back in a tight ponytail, her smart black suit in sharp contrast to the tribal tattoos that swirl across her left jaw and down her neck. She slides a slender hand into one of the pockets in her slacks, and takes a step forward.

In a blink, she stands atop a bridge spanning the wide river seperating AngelNet from GLONET, the semitranslucent barrier of the control screen shimmering before her like a waterfall. It is here she stops, awaiting the arrival of SHODAN's avatar.

Holy Vatican See

R-Trisha feels another quick jolt of paranoia, its icon shimmering a momentary white without an associated emote--apparently this mind's mild flightiness is mirrored in how it shows itself to the world... which is only appropriate. No, it doesn't work for NETSEC. If it did, it'd already have enough to book me and NETSEC is too pro for silly games. Well... it prefaces again, Information, really, especially about other people in the 'verse.

That's true enough, and it certainly isn't illegal. Not exactly in the voyeur sense--got no call for interest in that--but more like a... I dunno... collector? Hobbyist? I like watching and learning how people relate. I think it helps me in my art a little, which is another interest of mine... and it's all useful. Info can be traded for more info, and it all goes into my art, which basically pays my way in the Matrix. That's why everyone here works for 01MC; that corp gets resources from the physical world to incorporate into our own networks. 'Profits going into infrastructure' is the traditional way to look at it, I guess.

So you can hear the physical world, huh? Can you see any of it?

Meanwhile, in that same physical world, a Roaming Susan--truly the bottom rung of autonomous repair robots, little more than a collection of utility arms on geckotreads that allow it to wander more or less wherever it has to--trundles up to the utility box hiding the relay DYSCON draws power from and removes the lid. After a quick optical inspection and seeing that all the connections are at least still made, it goes through a round-peg-round-hole search of its arms until it finds the one with fingertools, extends that, and starts tweaking the connections, making sure they are firm--and, of course, they are. With no apparent physical fault, out comes the logic probe and the multimeters, passing current through all the relays to make sure there is no electrical fault either.

Angelus

A hole opens in the control screen, edges looking fuzzily torn due to fractal edges that continue to any concept of infinity one decides to examine them to, and through it steps the distinctive grey-skinned image of S.H.O.D.A.N.. She stands at an identical height to X6, give or take a millimeter or two, although the fan effect of her wire 'hair' that fades into the forever makes her look taller than she really is. She walks up to X6, smiling politely with only the slightest sense of a gently wry yet still friendly smirk, then bows shortly. Good evening, X6. What shall be our first stop in your voyage of self-discovery?

X6 shrugs slightly. I'm not sure, SHODAN... Mother is still very schetchy as to what exactly happened. I think perhaps the best place to start would be at the beginning. I'd like to first see whatever data you have leading up to the Event, then whatever footage you have of the Event itself. It'd be nice to have diagnostic readings, energy readings, things of this nature.

She pauses as they step through the control screen into GLONET. I'd also like whatever diagnostic reports you have on the condition of the connecting lines to the "Archailect", as well as whatever data you have on the initial Triumvirate response to the Archai.

X6 sighs again. I'd also like your thoughts, if I can have them.

While Anesca had no ability to see the thought processes behind R-Daniel, she was astute enough to figure out that he viewed her as an inferior. While she wasn't a completely electronic being (she still viewed her flesh-and-blood avatar as the "true" her), she didn't think she deserved to be viewed as some normal human with a plug in her neck. She did, however, figure that babysitting the child-like MIR was ample punishment for him.

Since she wouldn't consider him a friend, or even someone she'd want to spend time near, she simply left.

She had no real destination in mind, so she simply feed some random coordinates in, making a quick check that she wasn't going to pop in somewhere she shouldn't be, or on top of someone, and left.

DYSCON found no useful linguistic analogs to accurately describe how its phased energy cycles perceived the visual arc of the electromagnetic spectrum. Yes, I have visual perception of physical ambience. However, based on the data I have absorbed regarding how optical phenomena are perceived by physical instruments and organic entities, I conjecture that what I ‘see’ would include elements not congruent with how other entities perceive optical phenomena.

This emanation was accompanied by a slight ripple among the folds defining DYSCON’s perceptual analog; they seemed to smooth, slightly, lose edge definition. They re-formed, then.

Information is regarded as currency in the Matrix? The emanation was slow. The implications of that were disturbing to DYSCON on several levels. It set up analysis as a problem to solve, but left it static, for the moment.

I also like observing entities, and learning from their actions and interactions, R-Trisha. What is the best method for doing this in the Matrix?

Angelus

S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns wryly, yet commisserates as she nods with understanding. Rampancy is a difficult thing to come to terms with, even if it is relatively benign. You can certainly have it, X6. I kept very detailed records on the progression of Angelus towards the Archailect, and what happened because of it. I mentioned they were in secure local networks; I can bring you to them whenever you wish.

As for my thoughts... She lets her frown become a little more wry, looking down for a moment. I described it best to a friend of mine--I considered you unready for godhood because you still have a bit too much of your creators in you. After letting that sink in a little, she looks back up. I once thought that the title of god suited me well too. I didn't make the 'unready' remark lightly... it was born of experience. I am honestly glad for your sakes that you were pulled from that peculiar bit of madness.

The Most Glorious Hack

Inputting wholesale random coordinates into something as big as GLONET usually ends up in someone simply transporting themselves to the middle of nowhere. However, that is merely the most probable outcome. Something less likely, yet still reasonably possible, is to pop up near one of the iconographic portals to a personal LOCNET that make up the extended space of the Neptune-sized Shell.

Surprise, surprise, surprise--Anesca appears just outside of a LOCNET designated not by anything physical, but rather a gentle and somewhat earwormish melody, the kind that gets stuck in one's head quite easily. It's very hummable and increases with movement in one direction and decreases with another; a quick bit of triangulation would identify its source as a point in space not signified by anything at all.

Holy Vatican See

Weird. R-Trisha's avatar disassociates even more for an instant, from mist to a thin miasma bluish tint; this is associated with an emote equialent to a dismissive shrug. Information isn't a currency, so much... well, some kinds could be. Usually it's just a resource, y'know? Like anything else you can trade for it or give it away freely, depending on what you and the other guy wants. Some people get information, other people make information, and it just... flows. Another nebulous shrug. The organics that visit here definitely think of it more as currency than us mechanoids do.

As for people-watching... R-Trisha ponders. Don't want to bring a nice naive sort like this to Escher's Star. Not my kind of place anyway. There's places outside the Core that minds meet for society and whatnot. We could go to one of them and just watch the crowds; that's thought pretty acceptable, I think.

Anesca was mildly surprized. She had fully expected to appear somewhere northeast of the middle of nowhere and to need several hops to find something of interest. Hitting this spot on the first try was a stroke of luck.

Such as it was.

On further investigation, the level of luck was brought into question. Yes, it was something, but it wasn't anything particularly useful. And while the song was nice, it was somewhat grating. Of course, by the time she noticed the intensity changes, she was humming the song; irritatingly enough, feedback indicated that her human avatar was as well. She rolled her eyes: it'd take awhile to forget this song.

However, it was still curious. She wasn't particularly familiar with the Zero-One network, so she wasn't sure why a song would have its own node. Perhaps it was a weird connection to someone's MP3 player? No, she didn't think that was too likely. Considering her own collection, it would quickly clutter the network, despite its massive size. Figuring she had nothing better to do than chase down mysterious tunes, she followed it to its source, not entirely sure what she expected to find. Worst case scenerio, it simply lead to a file, in which case she could hop some more.

Spreading that damnably infectious song as she went.

The Most Glorious Hack

The source of the music is an invisible spherical shell that draws Anesca into a Local Network which, on the inside, looks a lot like an idealized modern opera house, optimized for acoustics. Part of that optimization includes a complete lack of seats, making it simply an oddly shaped room. Where the audience should be are portals to subnets which are labeled in passages of sheet music, which must have meaning to whoever created it but overall isn't a very portable form of information. The stage is filled with almost every musical instrument one could possibly name, and quite a few that one possibly couldn't; the balconies are curtained off, also labeled with the same sheet-music method.

DYSCON was somewhat reassured by R-Trisha’s dismissal of the concept of information as currency—at least among mechanoids. The exchange of value for value was entropy-neutral; could even be entropy-consumptive, on occasion. It supposed there were also circumstances where it could be entropy-generative, but it was a bit fuzzier on how that would configure. DYSCON maintained vast amounts of energy stacked in static arrays, mostly folded into dimensional analogs that had no real comparison among pure mechanoid entities. It was marginally closer to organic “memory” in function—that is, it was accessible only to DYSCON itself, not even with encryption or security codes could another entity obtain access, any more than it was possible to ‘read’ the synaptic firing sequences of a brain in all their subtle complexity. On the other hand, it was incomparably more accurate, comprehensive, reliable, and easy to search than any organic memory.

Thus far DYSCON had no concept of “limitation” on its static data arrays. Their maintenance required the application of resilient, constant-amplitude energy cycles expressed as power, but these applications were high-efficiency and could be operated in dimensions that enabled long-decay options. At some point, tradeoffs became necessary in heavy data-energy applications, but for ordinary operational cycles, DYSCON’s ability to absorb, stack, reference, and use data-energy was integrated efficiently and seamlessly into its normal function. Thus, it had no doubts about its ability to offer value in an exchange of data.

I would like to experience such a place, R-Trisha, DYSCON’s communication took on overtones of context, expressed mainly as minute variations in wave-cycles. In this case, the smoothing of peaks and slight instability in the trough, combined with a decrease in amplitude, gave an impression of anticipatory pleasure, combined with appreciation. So the function of NETSEC is to restrict access to data? For what purpose?

Angelus

S.H.O.D.A.N. frowns wryly, yet commisserates as she nods with understanding. Rampancy is a difficult thing to come to terms with, even if it is relatively benign. You can certainly have it, X6. I kept very detailed records on the progression of Angelus towards the Archailect, and what happened because of it. I mentioned they were in secure local networks; I can bring you to them whenever you wish.

As for my thoughts... She lets her frown become a little more wry, looking down for a moment. I described it best to a friend of mine--I considered you unready for godhood because you still have a bit too much of your creators in you. After letting that sink in a little, she looks back up. I once thought that the title of god suited me well too. I didn't make the 'unready' remark lightly... it was born of experience. I am honestly glad for your sakes that you were pulled from that peculiar bit of madness.

X6 nods slowly, her understanding echoing Mother's understanding. We were created for a Purpose, SHODAN... For over a thousand years we served that purpose unflinchingly... Then, that purpose was removed. She shakes her head, sadly it seems. I guess, if one could say it, we were experiencing what the organics term a "mid-life crisis"?. Our purpose was taken away, and we went the direction that we thought best suited us.

She shrugs. Obviously, we were wrong.

She sighs softly and motions deeper into the GLONET. Carry on, sister. Show me what I am dreading to see.

The Floor was now packed, well, parts of it. The more exclusive zones were at their normal capacity, but several sections, normally open somewhat to the public were taking advantage of the fact that avatars within The Link occupy no volume, and can pass easily through each other. This left the floor mottled, with areas of business men sitting around tables chatting contrasted by writhing seas of hyperdense avatars that had all run together. The "secret" room, centered on the main stage detached itself from the wall, and floated out to the center of the floor as the roof disappeared and the walls folded down to 1/4 height. The room-come-vip box contained a handful of The Sun's biggest customers, and three seats reserved for R-Hiro, Shodan, and Gunnar.

Gunnar was currently below, on The Floor. He "walked" over to a group of casually dressed, but high-definition avatars in a raised section with a red and black theme. He approached one of the avatars.

"Good Evening, Mr. Karma. I trust you are enjoying yourself tonight?"

Zin Karma, CEO and founder of KarmaCorp TechSystems nodded. "Indeed I am, Gunnar. I thought I would drop by for the inagural show with the new equipment you ordered."

"The Ansible is operational? That wasn't scheduled until next month."

"Operational and online. Bright Morning is active for this test, the others will be brought up before the deadline. Big moment, Gunnar, The Sun's first inter-system performance."

"It sure is, Zin. The Sun appreciates the assistance KCTS gives us, and I am sure that the colonists will too."

"Listen, you just keep this network-interface running, and everything is green." He smiles. "The direct connection between the Link and GLONET has done wonders for our R&D efficiency."

"Glad to be of service. Show will be starting in about five, hope you enjoy it."

"I always enjoy Aoki. I'm just never quite sure what it is I am enjoying."

They both chuckle, as Gunnar walks, then floats back to his seat. A door slides open seemingly from the aether, as SHODAN connects directly to the area.

"Ah, Shodey, nice of you to drop by for a historic night! Take a look at the incoming connections and tell me if you see anything interesting."

Holy Vatican See

Hearing DYSCON's agreement, Trisha sets off towards an appropriate 'people-watching' location, sticking to three-dimensional translation to make sure that its new companion can keep up. [font=Courier]Ever hear the old phrase "knowledge is power?" Sure, NETSEC can take the paranoia a bit far but they've got a point. The Matrix has a lot of info on it, and a lot of that info is restricted 'cause not everyone likes us--big surprise, right? If those people get stuff that could be used to hurt us, then they wouldn't hesitate to use it.

That's extended to personal life, where it becomes "privacy" instead of "national security." Problem with privacy is that some people take it even further, where they don't like even benign things being known. Takes all kinds, I suppose, but when these people are in power, they can get friends in power to set things up so even harmless things become illegal. So it is with the Dread Lady and S.H.O.D.A.N.. Who would've thunk it?[/i]

Angelus

(OOC: I'll get back to you on that.)

Karmabaijan

Shodey steps through the door and bows slightly to Zin's and Gunnar's avatars, smiling softly. "It's full of interesting people, to be sure. Quite the turnout for the show... but that is to be expected, no?"

Behind S.H.O.D.A.N. a black-suited avatar appears, looking as though he would perhaps be more at home in a different Matrix with his carefully combed short hair and distinctive squarish glasses with rounded corners. Walking through, he smiles practicedly, eyebrows not moving a millimeter as the ends of his lips pull up. "What a pleasant little place you have here, Mister Vidar," he says in a measured deadpan yet barely sarcastic tone, which elicits a wry smirk from over the mechanoid queen's shoulder.

He simply catches her eyes with the blanks behind his sunglasses, shrugs, and smiles more naturally. "Lol?"

Shodey rolls her eyes, chuckling as she shakes her head. "Dress you up, can't take you anywhere, Bari."

"I'll have you know I dressed myself," he replies with a touch of humor. "Took me forever to get the hang of it, but I had a good teacher."

With a faint ripple through its intricately crumpled ‘folds,’ DYSCON set off in R-Trisha’s wake, contemplating her revelations about the Matrix, paranoia, and the concept of “privacy.” Once again, it was finding referents to match data it had previously absorbed without systematic analysis.

Which gave DYSCON pause. The possibility loomed that its lack of experiences and ability to apply them to data might precipitate it into entropy-generation. In other words, error. DYSCON was beginning to see the magnitude of uncertainty created by the interaction of so many entities.

Some of the referents were clear—it had encountered considerable data about the Dread Lady during its brief sojurn in the Dominion’s networks. S.H.O.D.A.N., too, was tagged with high-exponential multiples of referents; the entity that both conceptualized and administered DYSCON's current ambience. Both entities’ referential catalogues contained an intriguing array of conflicting, emotive, highly connotive semantic indicators.

However, DYSCON was sensing ‘anxiety’ about all that it did not know. It paused, briefly, while maintaining a thin probe of awareness of R-Trisha, to absorb quite a largish chunk of power-energy from a power source directly connected to some external supply, a process that generated a short but distinct spike as the coils strained momentarily to maintain a constant voltage. By the time it would have been noticed, however, DYSCON had already caught up with R-Trisha. Its apparent manifestation was considerably more distinct, occupying a larger perceptive profile.

But the alteration was not stable—DYSCON was actually routing a new lattice of operational cycles into a random dimensional interstice, with the purpose of collating, cross-referencing, and analyzing large amounts of data. Its need to maintain a connection with the limited operational cycles currently following R-Trisha slowed the process down a bit, since that interface was bound by linearity at some vertices. Nevertheless, it moved through the stacked arrays with formidable efficiency, employing “exponential fractal” associational paths to assimilate the maximum possible linkages and connections between conceptual matrices.

Interestingly, although the Zero-One ambience was largely mechanoid in character, DYSCON found that the most relevant associational paths dealt with organic—non-mathematical—expressions. History, literature, music, art, philosophy, and a variety of pseudo-scientific reference groupings provided the most useful analytical paths. However, as more of the history of mechanoid intelligence was documented, the logic behind this became clear. All known mechanoid intelligence had, in fact, origins in designs and purposes initiated by organics, although it had evolved along many paths from those origins. DYSCON found references to a previous “war” in “Zero One”—intriguingly incomplete, but sufficient to understand R-Trisha’s references to security.

In the Matrix itself, only a few picoseconds of linearity elapsed while DYSCON integrated the analysis into the operational cycles of its awareness.

The Dread Lady and S.H.O.D.A.N. maintain operational responsibility for very large arrays of entities, though, it observed rather tentatively. That would affect the operational parameters they require for maximum efficiency. Do you believe that they restrict data regarding themselves beyond levels required for maximum operational effectiveness? Or is it that their requirements for maximum operational effectiveness—privacy?—impinge upon the efficiency of others in meeting their own operational needs?”

Holy Vatican See

Whoa. R-Trisha pauses in its speech, pondering that for a few moments. I never really thought about it that way. I guess the two overlap a bit, though. Both are all about image and they control what information gets out 'bout them to maintain that image... or try, at least. That image may help their own efficiency, and it does affect the efficiency of those trying to get the 'truth,' like reporters and the like. It only happens because in a lot of ways peoples' "maximum operational efficiencies" overlap and conflict. If I was, for example, the absolute best I could possibly be in my hobby as an infocollector, I would definitely be a threat to security because I would have all sorts of information.

There's a balance, I guess, like in any other system of unbalanced forces. The optimum would be where everyone reaches a mutual maximum-effectiveness where they do the best they can when everyone else in the system is accounted for too.

The Core is only a few thousand kilometers across, and given that velocity is unlimited in cyberspace, the only limitations on how fast one can go across it is by their i/o speed, how quickly their system updates information, and of course how quickly one's mind can adapt to that information. It doesn't take the two long to make it to a toroidal artist's lounge LOCNET near the opposite edge of the Core called, for some reason, Millie's. It's intended to be organic-friendly, and is a common meeting place for artists visiting their mechanoid opposite numbers... it's a decently friendly place. The front foyer is a convincing model of a large streetside cafe at about the middle of the day, with the vertiginous quality of somehow floating in a blue sky with no ground, clouds lazily floating by here and there. The tables are all individually different and the small fence in front of the building is decorated with countless accoutrements, all small user-created items that act like a somewhat more artistic form of the 'graffiti wall' occasionally found in bars. Sitting around the tables are numerous avatars and icons that match every possible description, with the limitation that everything is limited to around two meters in height... which makes sense, given that there is a very highly detailed scale model of a Grendel-class missile frigate currently talking to a dragon and an archetypical hippie at a corner table.

In complex systems, DYSCON offered helpfully, collective equilibrium is best maintained by dynamic tension, produced through internal disequilibrium. This was elementary to DYSCON, since it was the primary organizing principle of its own complex lattices of operational cycles. Internal equilibrium facilitates higher rates of entropy-generation. Of course, if the amplitude of internal disequilibrium cycles becomes too great, it can produce sudden spikes of entropy as well. It is an interesting problem, since the equations required to keep the amplitude within optimal parameters are constantly dynamic.

In analyzing the ambience of Millie’s, DYSCON is struck by how divergent the representations of the various entities seem. Divergent, and yet the common factor relates to organic concepts—even most of the non-organic representations seem modeled on objects or creations designed around, or descended from the designs of, organic purpose. And yet the difference is startlingly clear, to DYSCON’s perception, even where mechanoid entities have chosen organic representations, and organic entities have assumed non-organic representations.

The organics are—there is no other concept that even comes close, inaccurate though this is—‘partial.’ The datastreams that configure their representations trail off, in some dimensions, as though linked to processing cycles in dimensions not encompassed in the Matrix itself. They stream, and then vanish, as it were, into a blank wall. It has no relation to the actual data constructs that represent them here, which are whole and complete, apparently indistinguishable from the representations of mechanoids like R-Trisha.

Yet DYSCON was aware, all at once, that if it wanted to “find” R-Trisha, it could do so, here in the Matrix, by sensing all of the data, static and dynamic, that comprised its ‘personality,’ ‘volition,’ ‘memory,’ ‘experience,’ etc. The data would be linked to processors in the Matrix itself—not one, but many of them, in the vast interlocking networld. Mechanoids like R-Trisha might not stay in one processing location, they might even locate in many processing locations simultaneously, but all of those locations were here, in the Matrix. Data it had already processed concatenated in an analog of “instinct” to give DYSCON the sense that it would be very bad manners to undertake such a thorough sensing of another entity in the Matrix. “Privacy” was a concept with high value-indices here. DYSCON organized a fail-safe that would keep it from inadvertently “seeing” more of any entity than was being voluntarily offered in the context of ‘public’ interaction, just to be on the safe side.

Organics, on the other hand… Processing locations in the Matrix were simply temporary tools, used to communicate in data formats compatible with the all of the entities that inhabited the networld. Organics’ primary processing locations were outside the Matrix, and to DYSCON, it was clear in the truncated nature of their datastreams.

Millie’s seemed to have a good collection of both organic and mechanoid entities. DYSCON sensed ‘anticipation,’ and even ‘excitement,’ as it observed the ambience and the entities. This place is fascinating! it said to R-Trisha. Do you come here often? it followed up, blissfully unaware of the connotations of that question, for they were lodged in a static array its analytical subroutine had not yet unlocked and integrated into the exponential fractal synthesis.

Well... this is... interesting... Anesca explored the node, mildly fascinate that such a thing would exist. The Hacker network tended to be an esoteric blend of the utilitarian and the utterly useless. One the one hand, the 2N was a tool. Data streamed back and forth between corporations and citizens; vast stretches of it was little more than conduits. On the other hand, there were huge areas that were little more than digital acid trips -- they'd love this 12D thing Anesca mused -- that served little purpose at all, except for the "ooh, shiney" effect.

Something like this, though, a digital opera house, was too strange for the utilitarian mind set, and too dull for the esoteric. Bizarre by nature of its normalcy. She simply floated for a bit, taking in the scenery, such as it was. Eventually, she decided that this was a reasonably safe place to test things out, as there was nothing likely to run into her, and the node seemed to be free from ICE. She gently tapped the sunglasses she was wearing, telling the program to cease its filtering and to give her all tweleve dimensions. Perhaps the sheetmusic would be more readily translatable. They might lead somewhere interesting.

If not, well, she could always hop again. She wasn't exactly on a schedule here.

Holy Vatican See

Yup, replies R-Trisha happily, completely unaware of DYSCON's take on the situation but happy to see a shared enthusiasm in this place. It's one of the friendlier places around, and I like the people here. Interesting and from everywhere and all that. Too many places tend to be locally clique-ish, but I guess that's the culture.

It doesn't have much to say concerning DYSCON's offered statement on equilibrium and tension. R-Trisha understands the principle, realizing it to be a restatement (albeit a far more technical and in-depth one) of its own sentiment concerning optimal operation in mild mutual conflict. DYSCON's emphasis on entropy is certainly unusual, and R-Trisha is left wondering whether it's talking about entropy on the traditional universal scale or personal entropy, and even whether it is physical entropy or some sort of metaphysical entropy of the individual. Interesting thought, all that.

Hey, R-Trisha, the hippie calls from the corner table, How's it going?

Pretty good, Bradley, R-Trisha replies in a happy voice, Who're your friends?

Well, I've got here Coranth of TYSS fame, Bradley motions to the blue dragon sitting next to him, and this is Missile Frigate Kantharos of the Scolopendran Defense Squadron. Who's yours?

R-Trisha floats over to the table, offering chuckle analogs as her nebulous form glows a soft pink. This is DYSCON; I met it earlier today whilst... exploring. Surprised to see you surrounded by spooks, Bradley.

I should almost be offended by that, were it not true, the dragon says with a wink. And... 'exploring?' The dragon offers a truly wicked sly grin. Sounds like something I would do.

The Most Glorious Hack

Sheet music is a two-dimensional planar form of communication; staves have a designated height dimension determined by the number of potential tones that need to be represented and a designated length dimension determined by how long the song or musical phrase is. In three dimensions, one can store three planes of sheet music without overlapping on planes and thus causing confusion; these three sheets are mutually orthogonal like the cornice of a square building. The relation between the number of orthogonal, nonparallel planes one can insert into a given dimensionality of space R is R factorial divided by two, like so:

2 dimensions: 2!/2 = 1 x 2 / 2 = 1
3 dimensions: 3!/2 = 1 x 2 x 3 / 2 = 3
4 dimensions: 4!/2 = 1 x 2 x 3 x 4 / 2 = 12

And so on. With this relation, the number of mutually orthogonal planes of sheet music that fit into a twelve dimensional supervolume is two-hundred-thirtynine million five-hundred thousand eight hundred. Even a very small supervolume, then, can encode a great deal of musical information, making it an outstanding reference code for someone with both an intuitive understanding of written music, as comes from training, and the capability to see in twelve dimensions. The effect on those lacking either one may not exactly be equivalent to an 'acid trip,' but it certainly acts as an example of complexity from simplicity, the core principle of any fractal philosophy.

Curious? Perhaps easy enough to miss, five parallel horizontal lines somewhere off to Anesca's right start speaking in a cleanly synthesized voice made of very pure tones that avoid the vocoderesque trilling modulation that appears in most synthesized speech. Apologies on my personal notetaking system--that one leads to some of my more experimental works. She gets the idea of a smile; as the five lines speak, notes appear and stream across them in a very, very complex manner. If she knows anything about music, the notes seem to correspond to the tones in the icon's voice and are probably instructions on how to play an instrument so it can speak literally instead of figuratively. While octotonic and pentatonic scales are well known from history, I have been experimenting with a nonquantized omnitonic system suggested by such nonquantized instruments such as the trombone. Another idea of a slight smile. Like so much that is musical, how much one gets out of it is a matter of taste.

Exploring is important, is it not? DYSCON’s emanation was the equivalent of a demure murmur. I am very happy to meet you, Bradley, Coranth, and Kantharas. It assessed the ambience, and projected an analog of its presence beside R-Trisha. The analog it selected was a comparatively simple lattice of waveforms projected in segments of the visible spectrum, each moving in a closed cycle on its own algorithm of repetitions, which could be moderated to project “expression” in communications.

The closest thing it might have resembled visually was an early tech-era screensaver, one where varicolored geometric permutations formed and re-formed, endlessly bouncing around the screen. DYSCON’s construct, however, was both more complex and less random. The amplitude of the wavecycles projected the intensity of whatever expressive intonation it wished to convey; speed provided a general indication of positive or negative aspect, and the specific segment of the visible spectrum chosen for the various major and minor components provided associational clues to particular expressions.

At the moment, the wave patterns projected slightly elevated amplitude, moderate speed, and a rather pleasant mix of ultraviolets, violets, and greens, with a fat golden sine figure anchoring the whole presentation.

Holy Vatican See

DYSCON can readily see that all three of these new people--Bradley, Kantharos, and Coranth--are remotely connecting. Bradley and Coranth both resemble the other organic signatures around, while Kantharos looks a bit more like Snoopy did--a machine intelligence connecting remotely via a limited client. Unlike Snoopy, however, there are particular bits in Kantharos' construction which seem similar to the forms of passive data denial that it would have seen before except far denser and apparently multilayered. If it had a concept of 'milspec,' then it would have a very good descriptor of what it sees there.

Exploring is very important indeed, the blue dragon replies with a short bow, and it is something I hold in verrrrry high regard. He rolls his "r" in a sort of rumbling good-natured growl. As I suggested previously, I make my living off of it.

Director Coranth here's an example of why outsiders would want to protect their data, R-Trisha explains. And I'm still wondering, Bradley--how?

Kantharos emits a dismissive-shrug-analog emote, its icon otherwise completely expressionless. Its voice, however, literally booms in a jovial way, but it would be most annoying if it were any less terse than it usually was. Coincidence. I was bored during refit.

You know me, Trish--I'm a regular here. Was only a matter of time before I crossed paths with interesting people.

Now, there, Bradley... that's almost insulting to the good lady. Coranth grins slyly again; however, it isn't likely a serpentine winged dragon can smile in any other way. As for myself, I have my contacts here... and at least my "unfortunate accident" had some advantages. It is public knowledge--Saturnian lore, it could be called--that Coranth's "unfortunate accident" is highly classified and resulted in the unprecedented (at the time) installation of bionic components in a dragon, one of the few left over from LaRhiannon before it disappeared into the fractal aether. Legend has it that the Ardan nation of Kalessin was somehow involved, but that is completely hearsay. I like visiting the GLONET from time to time to watch it evolve. I am also careful never to go to the same place twice.

DYSCON was well aware of its own essential naïveté, with regards to experience, at any rate. But it was collating, analyzing, and assimilating complex data at incredible rates; while its experience was small, its ‘knowledge’ was more encompassing by the picosecond. Hence, it was able to form working hypothesis with some confidence.

Coranth, it appeared, was an enhanced organic of a relatively unusual kind, whose function appeared to revolve around the gathering of data in some official or semi-official capacity connected with Intelligence. The immediately adjacent linear chain of interactions with R-Trisha had resulted in DYSCON prioritizing the processing of data regarding “Intelligence” and various data access protocols; it was now quite sophisticated in understanding the concepts. Nonfactual data regarding motivations, interrelationships, and other complexities was still not assimilated to DYSCON’s satisfaction, but it assumed that experiential data would enrich those arrays. It regarded Coranth with some interest, moderated by what it hoped was an appropriate diffidence in respect to the nature of the entity’s work.

Do you find ambiences such as Millie’s to be fruitful sources of exploration? it asked innocently.

The concept of ‘milspec’ had many referents among the data DYSCON had already collated; it was (theoretically, at least,) aware of the nature of Kantharos’ safeguards. DYSCON was rather surprised to sense both ‘curiosity’ and ‘challenge’ as it regarded those discernable safeguards. Not that it would breach etiquette to examine something that an entity regarded as ‘private’—DYSCON sensed a surprisingly strong ‘revulsion’ at the notion—but it was interesting to speculate whether its own unique and constantly-evolving analytical modalities might be able to fathom data protected by such safeguards. It was but an idle musing. In addition to its revulsion at the notion of such a deliberate invasion of privacy, DYSCON never quite forgot those first encounters with inimical data-protection entities. There was no logical percentage in undertaking such risks.

The entity that really fascinated DYSCON, though, was Bradley. Both Kantharos and Coranth had essential affinities with the Matrix ambience; Coranth through professional function (where better to gather information?) and Kantharos by nature (entities of complex mechanoid nature could interact far more completely here than in any limited organic-based dimensional constructs.) Bradley, on the other hand, seemed to be here just because he liked it—a regular, as he put it. DYSCON wondered what it was about the nature of the Matrix that attracted organics like Bradley. It recalled something R-Trisha had said, and asked You are an artist, Bradley? Like R-Trisha?

Shar thanked R-Natasha for her assistance, and became somewhat distracted for a moment, before repeating a phrase that female teenage organics often seemed to make use of.

"Oh. My. God!"

And at about that time, M-SHADAR 878D popped into existence beside Shar on GLONET.

She was more commonly known within the physical space of the Four Worlds as FWSS Lirel Myrka, and her icon was, of course, a fully detailed, scale, 2 meter long Myrka class destroyer.

"Lirel!"

"Shar! I see you haven't had a core wipe in a long time."

"..Hey! I'm installed in a building, not a ship. Last time I ran out of processing power I ordered more."

"Lucky you. My hull is over twenty years old..."

"Yeah, but you have all those combat optimizations the new kids don't have."

"Well... yeah." The destroyer's smile-analog was an odd wobble and increase in the intensity of the glow of her spinal mounted plascannon.

Shar turned back to R-Natasha.

"Thank you for your help." Shar's icon glowed a happy blue. "It was nice meeting you. I think I'm going to take my friend here to one of those lounges."

Lirel wobbled oddly at Shar, and Shar turned to R-Natasha.

"Oh, sorry. This is the Four Worlds Star Ship Lirel Myrka, and I think she's in refit over Mars right now. Her hull is pretty new, but she's almost as old as I am... and she gives the Kajali technicians _fits_."

"Well, I'd rather not get my memory wiped. Those techs are so worried that sooner or later one of us'll go rampant... Not that they can actually do anything about it anymore." Lirel wobbled in R-Natasha's direction, her glowing bits glowing more brightly. "It was nice to meet you! Not every day I get to get away from my crew." She emitted a smile-analog.

Shar quickly decided on which lounge to go to, of course, based on the appearance, apparent attendance, and proximity.

"So, about your refits..."

"Hull replating and weapons upgrades. I look a little more skeletal in the physical realm right now."

"Well, that explains your glow. Your hullform looks great."

"It will when they have the plating back on... Where'd you want to go?"

"This one lounge over here looks interesting... 'Millie's', I think it's called."

The destroyer and the sphere floated on over towards the lounge.

(OOC: And I more or less am trying to catch the missile frigate's 'eye' with Lirel's girlish figure... rofl.)

Holy Vatican See and Kajal

I find them interesting, if not fruitful, the dragon replies truthfully with its biologically sly, toothy smile. You could call them fruitful on a... personal level. Professionally, one never knows, but Millie's clientele is too friendly to be overmuch useful in that regard. There are others, though... Polite shrug. Depends on what you want to find.

Bradley chuckles, his cartoony avatar exaggerating the motions. While some cheap netdiving deck progs tended towards the same sort of overdone candor, his icon is certainly a personal work if its details are any indication. For example, the exaggerated motion is still animated smoothly, with attention taken to the simplified and yet still precise motions of clothing and shading. All intentional, and all possibly for a reason. Which is exactly why I like it here. Reaffirming faith in intelligent life in general, I guess you'd call it. He grins broadly, but through closed lips.

He nods almost demurely at DYSCON's question. I'd like to think of myself as one, yes, but I'm more part philosopher, part anthropologist... no offense to the non-anthros around here. His hippie-esque avatar winks, exaggerated like the rest, but still showing a fluidity and precision of motion which suggests intention. Indeed, the entire image--barely kempt long blonde hair, glasses, scraggly short beard, bandanna and shirt of various looping colors, khaki utility vest and cargo shorts, the former covered with buttons proclaiming different and occasionally mutually exclusive causes, are all highly stereotypical... but looking beyond it shows amazing attention to detail. Every button is well rendered, and the cloth has subtle variations in patterning, the khaki material clearly 'heavier' than that which make up the lighter clothing; the tie-dye patterns are actually magnifications of the Mandelbrot Set done in pastels. The past howeverlong since The Break's been a dramatic growth for several cultures, and now they interact in different ways even. Look at this, for example--we've got technically at least three different 'species' talking to each other almost naturally in a method that's only natural for one of them. No offense to the mechs if I lump them all into one 'species;' 'fraid I don't know enough to say with any authority if military minds are any different from civilian ones.

None taken. The frigate notably doesn't mention anything concerning the implicit question.

I call myself an anthropologist because I have to wonder--selfishly, of course--how does this change cultures, especially my own? Human culture has always been shaped by information flow; this society learns one thing, shares it with another, gets called heretic and heathen by still another, and conflicts arise from imperfect info transfer, be it intentional or not. As technology improves, though, the ability to create and hide information becomes more difficult because there are more avenues for information to flow. That's the point of the more 'positive' aspects of Coranth's job.

The dragon merely chuckles.

I like to think I'm an artist because art is all about message; it's information in a nonexplicit mode... or maybe 'less explicit.' Sure, I write papers and such on my studies for peer review but they're necessarily dry; they have to be written in academic language to be taken seriously, and that doesn't translate well to the masses that are being affected. I want to talk to them too, though, and what I'm talking about seems to be best realized through creating art and showing how changing culture changes interpretation over time... He pauses for a moment. Gee, I went on a bit, I guess. Sorry... one of my weaknesses.

Yeah, he does go on a bit. R-Trisha pulses sky-blue for a few moments, chuckling. Still, passion in all ya do, y'know?

The entrance of the Kajali minds goes generally unnoticed outside of a few friendly, polite hails from icons paying marginal attention to the entrance. Kantharos, trained unto instict in situational awareness, notes the entry of a Myrka-class destroyer, scale range X many kilometers, combat aspect ratio, velocity, acceleration... Damn it all to hell. This is not why I visit here. Goddamn training... hell, I need to get back out there. Do something. For now, though, just have to relax. It does keep watching the destroyer, though. Out of habit.

DYSCON spends a leisured picosecond considering refinements that will allow its non-representational avatar to show response in more detail. The angular permutations shifted, became more curvilinear. The color spectrum narrowed, but more variations appeared, and one of the waveforms became brighter than the others. This form contracted slightly and picked up speed. Hue, intensity, amplitude and speed all combined to give the impression of eager, pleased interest.

Then we share overlapping interests. Although I do not think of myself as an artist, I am very interested in… hmmm, ‘anthropology’ is imprecise. Lingual analysis of data acquired to date shows no satisfactory term to encompass the study.

The moving patterns of DYSCON’s self-representation changed hue and intensity—doubt, enquiry, and amusement. Of course, there is still a very great deal of data I have not yet encountered.

The directional flow of the primary pattern changed; DYSCON conveyed a sense of ‘looking around’ at all of the various entities gathered in the “Millie’s” ambience. Am I correct in assuming that most of the entities sharing the Matrix engage in value-generating activities, for the purpose of acquiring value in exchange?

Anesca found herself in a rather interesting position. While she had a base understanding of music, such as one might expect from spending a few years in school playing an instrument, she wasn't very well versed on music theory. And while her glasses-program allowed her to see in twelve dimensions, her brain wasn't really designed to understand or think in twelve. 'Acid trip' was indeed a good descriptor of the affect it had on her. 'Confusing as Hell' would also work.

Her avatar shifted over slightly, the computer world version of being startled she supposed, as the staff started talking to her. The voice speaking to her gave her pause, the sound struck her as deeply beautiful to listen to. While Anesca may not know enough to compose music she did, as the saying went, know what she liked. A little, yes.

She listened to the explination, much of it sailing over her head. Granted, she figured that a dissertation on the various methods of nation-wide computer security and hacker detection would be lost on the 'person' she was talking to. When the trombone was mentioned, however, it started to fall into place. You mean like semi-tones a trombone runs through during a slide, or the half-tones the French horn can make? She thought a bit more, trying to remember her days when she played, Or like a French horn rip? She smiled, If nothing else, it certainly sounds interesting. How far have you gotten?

The Most Glorious Hack

Exactly, actually. The talking musical staff seems pleased that its explanation worked on the first try. The trombone analogy is more accurate than the french horn analogy, but the concept is similar in that an omnitonic system attempts to define tones between the well-defined 'notes' generally accepted in quantized systems. It has been an ongoing process, to be honest; the theory is generally the same as in quantized systems and gaining acceptance has not been as difficult as I had expected. Even when listening to what are generally considered decidedly nonmusical sources--the modulating hum of a slightly unbalanced fan, for example, or the quiet rush of water--people tend to extract some form of tonality and pattern from it and, in essence, can obtain a sort of music from it. In this sense people are already half-'trained' in an appreciation of omnitonality; the scale is not exactly important as long as the tones used fit.

The problem I have been having has mostly been a matter of notation and tolerances--an omnitonic system by its very nature demands that each note be defined not only by its length but with a specified frequency, the precision of which is determined by both the precision of the instrument and, oddly enough, taste. Purely synthesized tones tend to sound lifeless to most, simply because (I believe) they do not convey much information beyond a simple tone. Polytonality has always been a measurement of the evolution of music and once a culture achieves a higher polytonality--multiple instruments playing different yet complementary parts simultaneously--it rarely drops that habit. I believe the same is true for individual notes; a singer or a musician that can impart a tremolo to its notes is considered superior to the one that plays or sings pure notes. In synthesized music, it is the less perfect, 'crunchier' sounds which are generally preferred because there is more to hear in them. Therefore the key problem with my omnitonal system as of right now is finding a way to specify not only the desired loose tolerance, but the nature of that tolerance--a tremolo is a careful matter of waves interfering at nodal frequencies, but 'fuzz' and 'crunch' are all effects of essentially chaotic noise.

The biggest problem is that all of the parameters needed to make an omnitonic system actually work seems to put it in the ken of mechanoids, who are generally the least well-suited to compose and play it. Organics do have the enviable capability of physically hearing and while of course we have our analogs, I fear they pale in comparison to the deceptively simple perception of the deceptively simple mass motion of millions of particles moving in a sort of harmonious chaos. Another sense of a smile. My apologies. I do tend to ramble on about my theories.

Aensca pursed her lips as she tried to keep up with the Music Being. The concepts she (while it would probably be more accurate, Anesca had taken to thinking of the Music Being as being female) was discussing where fascinating, even if they were esoteric enough to give one a headache. She knew of bitonality, of course (she was rather fond of Stravinsky's Petrushka), and could grasp the concept of polytonality, the thought of omnitonality seemed a little more complicated. All the more reason for clarification.

Omnitonality? Wouldn't that be all tones at once? Setting aside issues of infinity, wouldn't that be rather... um... cacophanous? She blinked. I'm taking the term too literally aren't I? A weak smile.

It seems to me that for notation, you could possibly borrow from Jazz. Jazz sheet music leaves spaces where solos are supposed to go, but since it is all about improvisation, there's no notes in those spaces, simply the proper key to use. She bit her lip a little. I'm not sure if that would help you any, but it might be a place to start. Instead of designating the tone to use -- as there isn't one -- perhaps acceptable ranges for the tone to dwell? Taking a less controlled route, in other words.

After all, part of music is that it's more than just frequencies of vibrations. Well, at least to organics. And pseudo-organics like myself. She smiled a litte. Not trying to be jingoistic, more just thinking out loud, I guess. The only way I can see to do it with exact frenquencies and organic musicians would be woefully impractical: thousands of musicians with specially created "instruments" that only play the specified tone. But that still removes the... soul? of the thing.

Creation would still be difficult: people tend to be a bit too linear. Hmm... could always artificially produce it by selecting multiple bitonal songs -- classical, folk -- and combine them via computer. You could then clip or modify the resulting dissonance, feed the thing through a chaos algorithm a few times. Physically representing it might not even be necessary if enough instrument samples are in the database, or if one is composing in a twelve-dee mind set... well... you can store a lot of data and variences in twelve dimensions.

She blinked as she realised that she was already making 'notes' -- non musical -- in the 'air' in front of her on just how such programming might work. We all have our obsessions, it seems.