Lyrrik: Bwahhh! The Red Sox lost! *lower lip trembles* And they were
doing so well... *breaks down sobbing* Waaaaah!
Calm down, Lyrrik, there's always next year. I still think that the Sox winning the Series is a systemic anomaly that only can happen once per century, but hey- that's just my odd Matrix-obsessed viewpoint...
Anyhoo- Blah, blah, don't own nada, blah, except for characters and 'spoon- bug', blah, blah...
I happen to have strong supportive and liberal views when it comes to the issue of abortion, and so Silver does too. This isn't meant to offend anyone- if you're antiabortion, that's fine and stuff too. I appreciate your feedback if you want to suggest changes in Silver's opinions or the way I'm writing her opinions into the fic. If you have something to say, I'm totally ready to hear it, but please don't flame- I'd rather buy footwarmers (see chapter 5 for explanation). Constructive criticism is very, very welcome and will be read happily and with an open mind. On a similar note, in the war of the computers, I take the side of the PC users- I am one. So's Silvertree, and she's very opinionated. Don't flame me for that either, please.
'...when Silvertree's crazy little mind says stuff to her...it looks like this...'
Project Athena- Chapter IX: Construct
She was surrounded by whiteness. Infinite whiteness.
'...damn, that's weird...'
Glancing down, she noted that there seemed to be no difference between the floor and everything else- it was all the same featureless shade of bright white.
'...what the hell am I standing on?...where the hell am I, for that matter?...ah, well, best have a look 'round...'
She knocked on the floor, which was cool and smooth and flat- like glass- stared up into the endless blankness, and turned slowly around.
'...you do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself about...damn!...random crap isn't appreciated, brain!...'
She heard a noise behind her and spun around to find Pheniks standing behind her.
'...right...she wasn't anywhere in sight about four and a half seconds ago...this is getting weirder by the pikasecond...'
Pheniks was once again clad in her floor-length coat and combat boots, and her hair was accented with red and orange again, instead of the ratty old knitted pullover she'd had on the ship. This prompted Silvertree to look at herself, which caused severe shock.
'...hell, that's strange...no, that's beyond strange, that's downright bizarre!...'
Her old sneakers had replaced the darned and holey socks, and she was wearing her favorite jeans- the ones with the split knee patched up with an old paisley bandanna. Her ratty old sweatshirt was tied around her waist again, and her tee shirt (red letters on black) proclaimed: "THIS IS MY ANGRY-AT-THE-WORLD, ANTISOCIAL, SCARE-THE-SOCCER MOMS BLACK TEE SHIRT." It left her arms bare, showing a distinct lack of plugs. She could feel her braids tugging at the back of her head- she ran her hands over her head and found no plug there, either. Put simply, she once again looked like Lina Birkison, underage college freshman.
'...cool...I look normal again...but damn, is this ever weird!...'
Apparently sensing that Silver was about to start asking questions, Pheniks launched into what sounded like a rehearsed speech: "This is our loading program- we call it the Construct. Here we can load anything we could possibly need- everything from clothing to training programs."
'...what?...I must have missed something there- I would have sworn that she just said this is a computer program...I'll ask...'
"Come again? I would swear that you just said we're in a computer program."
"I did. That odd sensation you had was Wynn inserting a data transmission spike through your head plug. The information it is sending your brain overpowers the actual nervous input your five senses are supplying. The data being sent tells you're your eyes, your ears, your nose, your nerves and muscles that you're standing here hearing me talk, seeing what you see, looking like what you look like. In reality, you're sitting in a plug chair on the Cassiopeia, with no hair to speak of and plugs all over."
'...what?...a computer is telling my brain that all this is happening, but it isn't...impossible...or is it?...'
"But..." Silver's voice trailed off. There was really nothing she could say to argue. Pheniks obviously knew what she was talking about, period. Silver decided to test her understanding of what was happening. She pinched herself hard. "Owch!...so your program just told my brain that I saw my hand move, felt it move, felt it touch my other arm, and is still telling me that my arm now stings like crazy?"
"Yes."
"That's one hell of a program."
"You haven't seen anything yet. This is chicken feed compared to even the simplest training sim. But yes, it still is 'one hell of a program'."
'...righty then...so I didn't hear her wrong...this is really weirding me out...'
"And my real body is sitting in that chair thingy, and it didn't move at all?"
"Exactly."
'...this is really freaky, dammit!...and I thought the whole car trip was scary...oh, for a nice picket rally and a heap of hypocritical bullshit antiabortion pamphlets to bombard innocent passerby with under the watchful eyes of Mom and Dad, who are so proud of their daughter following in their activist parents' footsteps!..."
"And this has what to do with the Matrix, exactly?"
"The Matrix is like the Construct in that it pipes sensory illusions into the brain of anyone plugged into it. It is different in that we control this program- nothing can come in or out with out the say-so of the operator- in this case, Yak. We can come and go as we please- all we have to do is tell Yak we want out, and she'll get our minds safely back to our bodies."
'...hold it- the Matrix puts delusions into peoples heads, which incapacitates their physical bodies...why?...'
"Implying what?" Silver demanded. "That anyone plugged into the Matrix is essentially the prisoner of whoever is on the other end- in Yak's position?" She crossed her fingers.
'...good God, please let her say no...that would be just way too horrible...'
"Right in one," Pheniks informed her matter-of-factly.
'...damn...now that's scary...but why would anyone...?...'
"Who? What? Why? When? How is that even possible?" she sputtered incredulously.
"Yak, we need chairs, and a laptop" Pheniks announced into a tiny cellular phone. The same chairs from the warehouse appeared, along with a low brick wall about three foot high. Silver grinned. Evidently either Yak or Wynn (or both of them) knew how bloody uncomfy the littler chair was. Pheniks took a seat in the bigger chair and opened her laptop up. Silver noted it was an iMac- the very newest model.
'...damn, not a bloody Mac user...'
"Now," Pheniks announced, opening a slide show on the screen (Silvertree noticed with glee that it was done in Microsoft PowerPoint), "I can answer your questions properly. Hmm, where to start...' ***
BillyBob: *ambles across key(axfbj,;43+)board* Meep! *ambles over mousepad* Meep! Meep! *hops onto other desk and ambles towards my Dad's keyboard*
Algebra Textbook: *falls* Whumpf!
BillyBob: Mee-*crunch*
Lyrrik: *doing the macarena on the textbook, which she dropped* And that's for all the abominable headaches and irritation and...
*picks up Science text and looks menacing* You...killed...BillyBob... *picks up Algebra text*
Random Winged Hedgehog Lying Among the Wreckage of Billybob: *picks self up* Oww...I'm alive...well, mostly alive, anyway...
Lyrrik: Who are you? *picks up letter opener and waves it like a sword*
Now, now, Lyrrik, don't be so territorial.
Random Winged Hedgehog: *picks bits of smashed robot out of prickles* I'm Milligan, muse at large. My specialty is romance-type-stuff.
Stay with me! I need help with romance-type-stuff. *sees Lyrrik looking murderous* Maybe. But stay anyway. Consider yourself hired. Lyrrik, be nice. Milligan, this is Lyrrik, my Creativity. She's very good, she just can't write romance-type-stuff. She can't even write decent slash humor. Otherwise, she's got everything under control.
Lyrrik: *flushes with pleasure, quickly hides letter opener in pencil jar* Seeya next week, peoples! C'mon, Milligan- I'll show you around.
Byee!
Calm down, Lyrrik, there's always next year. I still think that the Sox winning the Series is a systemic anomaly that only can happen once per century, but hey- that's just my odd Matrix-obsessed viewpoint...
Anyhoo- Blah, blah, don't own nada, blah, except for characters and 'spoon- bug', blah, blah...
I happen to have strong supportive and liberal views when it comes to the issue of abortion, and so Silver does too. This isn't meant to offend anyone- if you're antiabortion, that's fine and stuff too. I appreciate your feedback if you want to suggest changes in Silver's opinions or the way I'm writing her opinions into the fic. If you have something to say, I'm totally ready to hear it, but please don't flame- I'd rather buy footwarmers (see chapter 5 for explanation). Constructive criticism is very, very welcome and will be read happily and with an open mind. On a similar note, in the war of the computers, I take the side of the PC users- I am one. So's Silvertree, and she's very opinionated. Don't flame me for that either, please.
'...when Silvertree's crazy little mind says stuff to her...it looks like this...'
Project Athena- Chapter IX: Construct
She was surrounded by whiteness. Infinite whiteness.
'...damn, that's weird...'
Glancing down, she noted that there seemed to be no difference between the floor and everything else- it was all the same featureless shade of bright white.
'...what the hell am I standing on?...where the hell am I, for that matter?...ah, well, best have a look 'round...'
She knocked on the floor, which was cool and smooth and flat- like glass- stared up into the endless blankness, and turned slowly around.
'...you do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself about...damn!...random crap isn't appreciated, brain!...'
She heard a noise behind her and spun around to find Pheniks standing behind her.
'...right...she wasn't anywhere in sight about four and a half seconds ago...this is getting weirder by the pikasecond...'
Pheniks was once again clad in her floor-length coat and combat boots, and her hair was accented with red and orange again, instead of the ratty old knitted pullover she'd had on the ship. This prompted Silvertree to look at herself, which caused severe shock.
'...hell, that's strange...no, that's beyond strange, that's downright bizarre!...'
Her old sneakers had replaced the darned and holey socks, and she was wearing her favorite jeans- the ones with the split knee patched up with an old paisley bandanna. Her ratty old sweatshirt was tied around her waist again, and her tee shirt (red letters on black) proclaimed: "THIS IS MY ANGRY-AT-THE-WORLD, ANTISOCIAL, SCARE-THE-SOCCER MOMS BLACK TEE SHIRT." It left her arms bare, showing a distinct lack of plugs. She could feel her braids tugging at the back of her head- she ran her hands over her head and found no plug there, either. Put simply, she once again looked like Lina Birkison, underage college freshman.
'...cool...I look normal again...but damn, is this ever weird!...'
Apparently sensing that Silver was about to start asking questions, Pheniks launched into what sounded like a rehearsed speech: "This is our loading program- we call it the Construct. Here we can load anything we could possibly need- everything from clothing to training programs."
'...what?...I must have missed something there- I would have sworn that she just said this is a computer program...I'll ask...'
"Come again? I would swear that you just said we're in a computer program."
"I did. That odd sensation you had was Wynn inserting a data transmission spike through your head plug. The information it is sending your brain overpowers the actual nervous input your five senses are supplying. The data being sent tells you're your eyes, your ears, your nose, your nerves and muscles that you're standing here hearing me talk, seeing what you see, looking like what you look like. In reality, you're sitting in a plug chair on the Cassiopeia, with no hair to speak of and plugs all over."
'...what?...a computer is telling my brain that all this is happening, but it isn't...impossible...or is it?...'
"But..." Silver's voice trailed off. There was really nothing she could say to argue. Pheniks obviously knew what she was talking about, period. Silver decided to test her understanding of what was happening. She pinched herself hard. "Owch!...so your program just told my brain that I saw my hand move, felt it move, felt it touch my other arm, and is still telling me that my arm now stings like crazy?"
"Yes."
"That's one hell of a program."
"You haven't seen anything yet. This is chicken feed compared to even the simplest training sim. But yes, it still is 'one hell of a program'."
'...righty then...so I didn't hear her wrong...this is really weirding me out...'
"And my real body is sitting in that chair thingy, and it didn't move at all?"
"Exactly."
'...this is really freaky, dammit!...and I thought the whole car trip was scary...oh, for a nice picket rally and a heap of hypocritical bullshit antiabortion pamphlets to bombard innocent passerby with under the watchful eyes of Mom and Dad, who are so proud of their daughter following in their activist parents' footsteps!..."
"And this has what to do with the Matrix, exactly?"
"The Matrix is like the Construct in that it pipes sensory illusions into the brain of anyone plugged into it. It is different in that we control this program- nothing can come in or out with out the say-so of the operator- in this case, Yak. We can come and go as we please- all we have to do is tell Yak we want out, and she'll get our minds safely back to our bodies."
'...hold it- the Matrix puts delusions into peoples heads, which incapacitates their physical bodies...why?...'
"Implying what?" Silver demanded. "That anyone plugged into the Matrix is essentially the prisoner of whoever is on the other end- in Yak's position?" She crossed her fingers.
'...good God, please let her say no...that would be just way too horrible...'
"Right in one," Pheniks informed her matter-of-factly.
'...damn...now that's scary...but why would anyone...?...'
"Who? What? Why? When? How is that even possible?" she sputtered incredulously.
"Yak, we need chairs, and a laptop" Pheniks announced into a tiny cellular phone. The same chairs from the warehouse appeared, along with a low brick wall about three foot high. Silver grinned. Evidently either Yak or Wynn (or both of them) knew how bloody uncomfy the littler chair was. Pheniks took a seat in the bigger chair and opened her laptop up. Silver noted it was an iMac- the very newest model.
'...damn, not a bloody Mac user...'
"Now," Pheniks announced, opening a slide show on the screen (Silvertree noticed with glee that it was done in Microsoft PowerPoint), "I can answer your questions properly. Hmm, where to start...' ***
BillyBob: *ambles across key(axfbj,;43+)board* Meep! *ambles over mousepad* Meep! Meep! *hops onto other desk and ambles towards my Dad's keyboard*
Algebra Textbook: *falls* Whumpf!
BillyBob: Mee-*crunch*
Lyrrik: *doing the macarena on the textbook, which she dropped* And that's for all the abominable headaches and irritation and...
*picks up Science text and looks menacing* You...killed...BillyBob... *picks up Algebra text*
Random Winged Hedgehog Lying Among the Wreckage of Billybob: *picks self up* Oww...I'm alive...well, mostly alive, anyway...
Lyrrik: Who are you? *picks up letter opener and waves it like a sword*
Now, now, Lyrrik, don't be so territorial.
Random Winged Hedgehog: *picks bits of smashed robot out of prickles* I'm Milligan, muse at large. My specialty is romance-type-stuff.
Stay with me! I need help with romance-type-stuff. *sees Lyrrik looking murderous* Maybe. But stay anyway. Consider yourself hired. Lyrrik, be nice. Milligan, this is Lyrrik, my Creativity. She's very good, she just can't write romance-type-stuff. She can't even write decent slash humor. Otherwise, she's got everything under control.
Lyrrik: *flushes with pleasure, quickly hides letter opener in pencil jar* Seeya next week, peoples! C'mon, Milligan- I'll show you around.
Byee!