You Think It's Coincidence
Inspired by Fanfiction dot net's weird settings, various computer issues over the last day, and a conversation with Lynn Jones. Yes, I know I have other things to update…I promise I'll get to them soon. Really.
"ARGH!" The unlucky human shouted various obscenities at her computer as the screen flickered blue for the third time in twelve hours. "Really? Why does this always happen to me?" She'd been told that her computer was in perfectly good shape. No viruses, enough memory, and all the necessary programming. There was no logical reason for the computer to crash.
…Or so she believes.
Time zones away, another unlucky human, who knew nothing of the first, stared at his phone in disbelief. "This thing was charged fully this morning! Why does it always run out of battery when I need it?" The battery was brand new – he'd replaced it not a week before over the same issue. The company had guaranteed this one would work just fine. It was as if someone was deliberately draining the battery when he wasn't looking. But that was ridiculous, right?
You wish, insect.
In a small college dorm, a young student cursed in frustration as random words disappeared from her saved paper. "How many times do I have to recheck this?! I've been over that stupid thing eight times!" Not to mention the story she'd typed up the night before…in which the names of her beloved characters had been 'autocorrected' to unrelated and often inappropriate words. Especially the names of the good characters. "And why is there chatspeak in my summary? I don't even use it when I text! Who got on my computer?"
Yes, yes, blame your roommate…
And in an unmarked government office, an agent who'd had a small role in recent classified events stared in horror at his iPad – the contents of which had been completely erased. "WHAT THE – WHO DID THIS? WHO?" The classified information….the addresses, the phone numbers, the files…they had all been intact the night before! And no one could have gotten into the office without being caught!
Continue thinking that if it makes you happy.
The only movement in the warehouse came from the blinking red lights in the pile of apparent scrap metal. Trapped by the heavy magnets on the floor, the creature could only glare at the ceiling; but behind those blinking eyelights, the processor was constantly working. Searching, scanning, and hunting for that one computer that controlled his prison. Five seconds of failure was all it would take. And if a few humans were annoyed in the meantime? Well, they had helped to put him there. They had it coming.
So close now. I will be free. And then I, Soundwave, will return to my former role. The Decepticons shall rise again!