Panopticon: A Game of Posthumans, Perniciousness, Paranoia, Politics, and Plasmaguns
Honestly, I'm less sad about the shinies, and more sad that we won't see Jamelia's reaction to learning that she's Christos' daughter.NOOOOOOOO! The shinnies!
(Also, that I didn't think to change my vote in time.)
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
I'm amused you still believe that.
*checks what Christos said again*
Ah. Not necessarily his daughter, just "of his bloodline." Nevermind. (Or Christos was lying.)
Ceres 4: Attack of the Big Things!
Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Aaaaand now we're past the halfway point. In...
Ceres Sneakily Seeks Escape
Part 4: Attack of the Big Things!
You mewl loudly, ordering the Other Thing to stop messing about getting lost and to follow you instead. It seems to ignore you - if it even is the Other Thing you think it is, and not just a Hoppy Thing that's running around this place for no good reason. The Big Things notice, though. Two of them snap around to face you, while the other three stay looking in all the other directions. You meep and cower, retreating to the back of the vending machine.
The Other Thing mewls as well.
It mewls like a Cat.
You shoot back to the front of the vending machine, outraged. Is it... it is! It's looking like an Other Cat! The... the sneak! It doesn't have the right to wear that shape! And how is it even doing that, anyway? You hiss angrily, warning it of the dire and offensive trespass it's committing upon Cattish sovereignity.
It does not seem unduly bothered by this, and merely trots closer, mewling again. The Big Things glance at it, back at you, then back to it, and appear to decide that they have better things to do.
The second they turn away, the Other Thing launches itself at the back of the closest one's head, and...
... oh You. You were taunting that? You scratched that on the nose? Eeep. Okay, perhaps you may have been... unwise, when you did that. Hasty, even. You can probably fix it. Later. Carefully. From a high vantage point.
You stay on your high perch, nestled between the vending machine and the ceiling, though you're no longer quite as sure that you're entirely safe there. It's still safer than you would be in the corridor, though. The Big Things are trying to fight back with their hurty things, but the Other Thing is very, very fast and as little as you are and can do quite amazingly horrible things to them when it connects. Two of them are already down and bleeding, and the others are starting to retreat.
You're still not entirely sure what it is, but you're starting to be convinced that it is in fact at least part Cat. Not only does it look li- okay, no, it's a slinky bitey thing again now, but it was looking like a proper Cat for a moment there - not only that, but it's also obvious just from how easily it's beating the Big Things up. The innate superiority of its Cat side must be in control at the moment.
But then, just as you start to lose interest in the foregone conclusion of the fight and begin planning how to recruit it as your personal bodyguard...
[ ] One of them pulls a tool out! It does not look like a friendly tool. It does not look like a friendly tool at all.
[ ] Something moves behind the Other Thing. A Big Big Thing, with light shining off metal where its face should be.
[ ] The Other Thing shifts again, but... it seems like it goes wrong. Stuck halfway between Cat and something else, it freezes.
[ ] Run towards. It'll protect you if it likes you!
[ ] Run away. It's scary and now it's in danger!
Ceres Sneakily Seeks Escape
Part 4: Attack of the Big Things!
You mewl loudly, ordering the Other Thing to stop messing about getting lost and to follow you instead. It seems to ignore you - if it even is the Other Thing you think it is, and not just a Hoppy Thing that's running around this place for no good reason. The Big Things notice, though. Two of them snap around to face you, while the other three stay looking in all the other directions. You meep and cower, retreating to the back of the vending machine.
The Other Thing mewls as well.
It mewls like a Cat.
You shoot back to the front of the vending machine, outraged. Is it... it is! It's looking like an Other Cat! The... the sneak! It doesn't have the right to wear that shape! And how is it even doing that, anyway? You hiss angrily, warning it of the dire and offensive trespass it's committing upon Cattish sovereignity.
It does not seem unduly bothered by this, and merely trots closer, mewling again. The Big Things glance at it, back at you, then back to it, and appear to decide that they have better things to do.
The second they turn away, the Other Thing launches itself at the back of the closest one's head, and...
... oh You. You were taunting that? You scratched that on the nose? Eeep. Okay, perhaps you may have been... unwise, when you did that. Hasty, even. You can probably fix it. Later. Carefully. From a high vantage point.
You stay on your high perch, nestled between the vending machine and the ceiling, though you're no longer quite as sure that you're entirely safe there. It's still safer than you would be in the corridor, though. The Big Things are trying to fight back with their hurty things, but the Other Thing is very, very fast and as little as you are and can do quite amazingly horrible things to them when it connects. Two of them are already down and bleeding, and the others are starting to retreat.
You're still not entirely sure what it is, but you're starting to be convinced that it is in fact at least part Cat. Not only does it look li- okay, no, it's a slinky bitey thing again now, but it was looking like a proper Cat for a moment there - not only that, but it's also obvious just from how easily it's beating the Big Things up. The innate superiority of its Cat side must be in control at the moment.
But then, just as you start to lose interest in the foregone conclusion of the fight and begin planning how to recruit it as your personal bodyguard...
[ ] One of them pulls a tool out! It does not look like a friendly tool. It does not look like a friendly tool at all.
[ ] Something moves behind the Other Thing. A Big Big Thing, with light shining off metal where its face should be.
[ ] The Other Thing shifts again, but... it seems like it goes wrong. Stuck halfway between Cat and something else, it freezes.
[ ] Run towards. It'll protect you if it likes you!
[ ] Run away. It's scary and now it's in danger!
[X] The Other Thing shifts again, but... it seems like it goes wrong. Stuck halfway between Cat and something else, it freezes.
[X] Run towards. It'll protect you if it likes you!
Oh no! It's in trouble! Fortunately Ceres, the bestest-best Cat ever is here to save the day! By using her super-intellect and incredible mastery of the techniques of the Mew World Order, she is fully aware that the Other Thing's problem is that it's stuck half-way between being a Cat and not being a Cat. Which is to say, its problem is that it's half not a Cat. Which is a real problem, because it means it's only half as good as it could otherwise be!
Therefore she needs to wisely meow some advice to it, like "stop not being a Cat!" and "time to run away!" and if necessary, she'll have to grab it by the scruff of its neck and pull because that means it will owe her big time and when it comes down to it, having a creature which can eat through a man's skull is probably useful. For one, it means that it can eat through a tin of cat food and get to the inside.
Therefore she needs to wisely meow some advice to it, like "stop not being a Cat!" and "time to run away!" and if necessary, she'll have to grab it by the scruff of its neck and pull because that means it will owe her big time and when it comes down to it, having a creature which can eat through a man's skull is probably useful. For one, it means that it can eat through a tin of cat food and get to the inside.
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- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
[X] The Other Thing shifts again, but... it seems like it goes wrong. Stuck halfway between Cat and something else, it freezes.
[X] Run towards. It'll protect you if it likes you!
Once you have escaped together, you can help it avoid such predicaments in the future by instructing it on the finer points of Cattish behavior, such as vomiting in Big Thing's shoes and chasing that GODDAMED RED DOT KILL IT KILL IT GET THAT RED DOT!
[X] Run towards. It'll protect you if it likes you!
Once you have escaped together, you can help it avoid such predicaments in the future by instructing it on the finer points of Cattish behavior, such as vomiting in Big Thing's shoes and chasing that GODDAMED RED DOT KILL IT KILL IT GET THAT RED DOT!
Nonsense! Ceres is a genetically enhanced genecat, for she is Ceresfina! She is entirely aware that the grey tube is making the moving dot.
That's why she attacks Rose's hand instead, and runs off with the red dot device so no one can use that wicked thing again.
Jamelia: "Rose, tell your cat to stop stealing laser sights."
Donald: "She's clearly using them as part of her hidden career as ninja kitten assassin of the future."
Jamelia: "Shut up, Donald. That's nonsense. No one believes that. I'm going back to my office rather than listen to you."
Jamelia: *orders a background check on Ceres for strange financial transfers to her which might reveal the jobs she's been paid for.*
[X] Something moves behind the Other Thing. A Big Big Thing, with light shining off metal where its face should be.
[X] Run away. It's scary and now it's in danger!
Let's remember that we chose to have the Autopolitans assign happy fun assets to Ms. Clock, which means that she will probably have MINIATURE GIANT DEATH ROBOTS ready to annihilate anyone who angers her. Like a Fluffles. Also, maybe this is actually the Anathema? It probably isn't though but it would be amusing if it was, because I'm sure an Autopolitan kittycat gives professional courtesy to regular kittycats.
And Ceres is a super-smart Sera-kitty which knows that she is bad at fighting, and even if she wasn't bad at fighting she'd have issues with one trained commando, let alone five. And that Other Cat-Thing might be mad at her! It might remember that she swatted it on the nose and now without her Big Thing around to protect her it might want revenge!
Run awaaaaaay~
Besides, there was no tiny ferret, goat, or other thing found in Henriette's car. Therefore, if both of them are there, there would be a time paradox. Time paradoxes mean party members get permanent paradox. This is bad.
[X] Run away. It's scary and now it's in danger!
Let's remember that we chose to have the Autopolitans assign happy fun assets to Ms. Clock, which means that she will probably have MINIATURE GIANT DEATH ROBOTS ready to annihilate anyone who angers her. Like a Fluffles. Also, maybe this is actually the Anathema? It probably isn't though but it would be amusing if it was, because I'm sure an Autopolitan kittycat gives professional courtesy to regular kittycats.
And Ceres is a super-smart Sera-kitty which knows that she is bad at fighting, and even if she wasn't bad at fighting she'd have issues with one trained commando, let alone five. And that Other Cat-Thing might be mad at her! It might remember that she swatted it on the nose and now without her Big Thing around to protect her it might want revenge!
Run awaaaaaay~
Besides, there was no tiny ferret, goat, or other thing found in Henriette's car. Therefore, if both of them are there, there would be a time paradox. Time paradoxes mean party members get permanent paradox. This is bad.
... this may also have been part of the logic behind my "Oh dear, Fluffles has Paradox glitches" vote.
Because Fluffleses getting Paradox usually indicates that their existence is coming towards an end because they are highly unstable creatures who are vulgar outside of dedicated 'Crat labs once they cut loose. Almacia has a similar approach to genetics as Tiny Tina has to explosives because she's used to designing combat constructs to fight Threat Null, where she needs every last bit of performance she can get in a Paradox-free environment. As a design basis, that is quite different from "can survive on Earth".
But if she can help Fluffles survive a little bit longer here, it can heroically self-sacrifice in an update or two thus allowing the REAL PROTAGONIST to survive to complete her mission (which is "survive"). Fortunately, as Ceres is Ceresfina, she's a very intelligent cat who's also a loyal Technocat, and that means she's smart enough to know how to use the nanofab vending machine in Henriette's car so she can survive being locked in there.
Ceres: *mews and pokes the button which gives her rare veal steak*
Serafina: "... I approve of that cat's sense of taste."
Henriette: "Well, someone's a fancy pants. Urgh. She's going to have ruined my menu selection by making it all snobby. And... uh, carnivorous."
(basically, if Ceres is Ceresfina, Fluffleses are Xiaolians. Only smarter. And even more unstable.)
So what you're saying that that Ceres needs to climb inside Fluffles then...
[X] Run away. It's scary and now it's in danger!
Yeah, you know what? Again, Ceresfina has helped the Fluffles once this encounter. But going up against several Big Things is far more than any kitten should be expected to do!
And anyway, the proper attitude of a cat towards the Other Thing that's sort of a cat is an attitude of detached aloofness, where it isn't ever taken for granted. If Fluffles thinks it can rely on a cat... pfft! Ridiculous! Ceres will help the Other Thing where it doesn't put her in too much danger, but it shouldn't expect her to help her without doing things like offering her a mousey to play with. So Ceres should help the Other Thing, but not too much.
Cats are creatures with good balance, after all.
Update CLVII: Meeting Grounds
JB CLVII: Meeting Grounds
The dossier is little more than a single page and attached images, some government employment information, a criminal record and some relevant police reports. It's also the thickest of the seven, and the only one that Jamelia hadn't made herself earlier that day out of her own observations and civilian records. Well, technically she'd made them the night before, but days and nights tend to blur together when you never sleep.
She shakes her head, clearing away the distracting thought. Four Enlightened, and three extraordinary citizens. Four Traditionalists and three who wouldn't be able to articulate what any of those terms even meant, beyond what they might have picked up from the rambling of the Rogue Council.
Her fingers drummed across her desk. One of her actual desks, not a bureau-shaped action hero made out of nanomachines. The situation is, as usual, a mess, and yet... there's an opportunity here, a path enticing enough to suppress the reflexive 'they know too much' wind-wipe.
She stands up, chair sliding backwards with unnatural quiet. She has some make-up to do, some cyborgs to coordinate with and an act to prepare. After that, well.
Jamelia Belltower has a message to send.
The meat wobbles, sinful in its tenderness, and Natalia stares at it suspiciously. It seems fine, as far as she can tell, but then you never could tell could you? Still, her stomach was rumbling at her mournfully, and it would probably be quite a while before she had another chance at this kind of a meal. She spears the meat with her fork, the flesh tearing easily as she maneuvers it towards her mouth. She has to say this for the Technocrats: they're far better about the whole 'last meal' thing than the Rogue Council.
The door handle turns, and she tries to calmly face her fate. This was it. Her number was up. Would it be some sort of Iterator brain-drainer? The wreckage strewn across the battle suggested the clockwork convention was the biggest presence here. Maybe some sort of Progenitor trawl instead, leave her brain-dead and empty inside. Or a New World Order conditioning expert, here to turn her into some sort of Manchurian agent.
When the door opens fully and an old Man (well, Woman) in Black steps through, pale-skinned and mirror-shaded, she feels almost like she's been stood up for a moment, before forcing the stupid, stupid thought out of her head. She carefully observes the construct turn to close the door, its (her?) hair tucked tightly enough under her (its?) fedora to reveal the faded triangle tattoo. Lucky. More lucky than she had any right to be, but then that wasn't surprising. Gen 1s couldn't Awaken. At best Ms. Generic Name has some implants to make her better at her job; given the unpredictability of her forecasting and the blankness of its face, she guessed it had some work done to make it hard to read or manipulate.
Still, it meant that the 'Crats either didn't have the resources or the inclination to really push her. That was good.
The construct slides the chair away from the table soundlessly and gives a bland smile. "Good evening. My name is Ms. Svecha, and I would like to speak to you about your encounter with the Reality Terrorist group called the Rogue Council," she says in a monotone.
"I was approached with a job. A risky job. Data theft from Technocratic servers, Russian intelligence. Looking for something to prove the attack wasn't Chechnyan in origin, maybe even that it wasn't wholly nuclear." The MiB nods, attentive and polite as only a programmed bioroid could be. "It was suicide. I know the agencies, I know how thoroughly the 'Crats scrubbed them. To get the sort of info they wanted... I'd probably have to hit a Construct. And not a piddly retired one, not for the kind of smoking gun they needed. A serious target. So I turned them down, and the next thing I know I've got a pain in my neck and I'm in actual chains and I've lost my phone," she says angrily. Her phone was as much a weapon as her gun, and far harder to replace. Contacts, data, some more... esoteric functions. She could rebuild it, but it would take time.
Time she might not have.
"I see. And how did they treat you?" The MiB focuses on its notepad, barely looking up at her. It suits Natalia just fine.
"Not at all." The MiB looked at her, clearly expecting more. "Between waking up there and you guys arriving, I was there three days. I also had three meals, and three speeches about purification and Technocratic poison. Or maybe it was one meal and one speech, repeated three times." She shrugs. "They weren't exactly out to entertain."
The interrogation quickly settled into a comfortable rhythm. Questions about the Rogue Council would be answered cleanly, with just enough hidden to satisfy her ego and give her something to 'give up' if the MiB pushed. Questions about her Council would be met with ostensible cooperation, but Natalia always drew the construct's attention back to the people she didn't care much about, and the construct readily followed her hints.
Eventually the MiB leaves, leaving the Adept (well, neophyte) staring at her cold half-eaten meal.
It's noon, and Natalia is enjoying room service, trying to spot hidden clues in the news broadcasts, when she hears a knock on the door. Rolling off the sumptuous bed and landing on the soft carpet, she walks to the door and looks through the peephole, seeing an off-white shirt hanging off of impressive musculature.
She sighs and opens the door, coming face to chest with a walking murder machine.
"Time to go?" she asks, looking up at the impressively and obviously American figure.
"Yep. Pack your bags, 'cause we're letting you go." She didn't have any bags. She suspects the big man knows that. She pulls on her outdoor clothes and her boots, then steps out into the hall, door closing shut behind her.
Besides for her fellow prisoners and their guards the lobby was empty, almost unsettling in its silence. The Technocrats would rather minimize anybody noticing something strange going on. There was a female cyborg there, the same one from before, less armored and still overkill against the meager collection of neophytes and sorcerers. They were short one. The doctor. Too civilian, too sympathetic to simply be let loose in a back alley, she supposed.
Then she blinks. Because standing next to the blonde cyborg there was an exact duplicate of the man who had escorted her. A quick glance behind her confirms he is still there, as tall and looming as before. An upgraded HITMark? Some sort of duplicate of the original - if there was an original?
Her escort soon took up a matching position to his... brother, a perfect mirror that renders the difference in height between them and everyone else in the room even more apparent. The blonde cyborg smirks and hands each of them a money clip, enough to cover a good number of fares and a few cheap meals.
"I'd suggest you all disappear for the next little while. The Rogue Council has you on their lists now, and they don't tend to know much about things like mercy or compromise." The implication unlike us remained unsaid. "Now scram."
The rest of the group files out, a disordered mess of lone mumbling and muttered gossip.
"Oh, Grazhdankin, almost forgot."
Natalia turns just in time to catch the disassembled phone flying her way. She looks down.
"It's yours. We think. We picked up a bunch of stuff when we left, and your phone was light enough to get tossed in a pouch. Don't worry, we haven't messed with it." The cyborg smiles, almost sadly. "Trust me."
Then they're gone, and Natalia is left standing in the lobby as the employees return from their oddly synchronous absence.
Trust her. Hah. Natalia places the phone in her pocket, plotting a route to get her to one of her safehouses without making herself easy to track. She'd better warn her contacts. After that... she has a phone to check for tampering. And some calls to make.
Of course, Jamelia thinks, minimizing isn't the same thing as eliminating. She suspects that the moment she does this, they'll start looking. And when they do-they'll be back. Especially given the kinds of assets she's going to have to use to reliably guarantee its elimination. The senior leadership of IBM looks grim as she steps into the corporate meeting room they've turned into a command center. Holographic projections and smart screens cover every inch of the walls.
Jamelia notices that several of them are playing scenes from the mansion she bugged, following a HITMark tactical team led by a single IBM Enlightened Scientist as they clear the house and arrest everyone inside. Others are playing similar scenes, where HITMarks armed with flamethrowers and encased in heavy armor are purging hemophage nests.
"Welcome back." Katherine says. The meeting room nods at Jamelia and Kessler politely. There's a set of coffee mugs and a pot of the stuff on the table, which Jamelia is sure is there solely as a polite gesture to her. "Thanks to your efforts, Damage Control hasn't shut up about their praise of 'Iteration X commandos' who 'know the proper way to deal with Reality Deviance.' I suspect they're going to do exactly as much probing into our histories as necessary, which is to say, absolutely none, especially since we found out that their commander was a bit of a gun nut and fast-tracked some production his way of anti-personnel railguns. We're clear for the foreseeable future. Which means, of course, you're here with some bad news."
She's very astute, Jamelia notes. "I'll let Sergeant Kessler brief you on exactly what's going on." She sits down and pours herself a cup of coffee. They'll trust him and his plans more than her. And he's far more familiar with ItX combat tactics than she is, especially 90s-era ones.
"Thank you, Director Belltower." Kessler says. "Gentlemen. Ladies. It has come to our attention that the Spy's Demise has gone down. What you might not know is why it's gone down."
The room nods at him fractionally. They've probably been tracking events like this.
"We think that the Computer is interdicting it." Kessler doesn't wait to drop the bombshell, and the room erupts into a storm of questions in response. "I'll answer your questions as best as I can later, but right now I'd like to finish laying out my case. This is why we're here." He amplifies his voice a few decibels, cutting over the questioning. "Because we think that some subroutine of its-something incredibly powerful but still just a fraction of its full capability-is interdicting the Spy's Demise, because one of our comrades is there. We'd like to get them out. I think you'd like to hit what the Computer's become where it hurts-and taking out one of its agents capable of working Earthside is definitely that. Our job's always been to protect humanity from the unknown and the monsters that lurk in the shadows, and the lineage of the monster's irrelevant."
"What you're saying is incredibly risky." One of them says. He's a bulky full-conversion, only humanoid, with a half-dozen eyes fixed in an armored facemask that looks like a helmet. Captain Riggs, Kessler identifies him as. His specialty is-was- cyberwarfare. Now, he's not so sure, given that the man's encased his brain in a body made mostly of high-end carbon composite and primium. "You're fighting a superhuman AI on its own turf. I'm not saying it's impossible, but this isn't something a small team can accomplish. I can give you the intelligence we have on all Computer-derived assets we've found," he pauses, "but I'm not committing to an attack unless we have a plan."
Kessler takes a fraction of a second to process the data. "Thank you for the information, but this doesn't change the analysis. Captain, I know how dangerous Autochthonian avatars can get. Which is why we're going to be using the Virtual Adepts and Society of Ether to ensure target saturation. They don't want to be subjugated by a hostile godlike AI any more than we do."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Katherine mentions. "And the Spy's Demise will have their allies in it as well. What about the Void Engineers? They're fighting similar forces. Although the mechanics of the interdiction might make getting allies... troublesome." She nods at Riggs.
"We just sent a expendable probe into the Spy's Demise when you mentioned it-and yes, we took multiple security precautions. Masses-tech only, just VR like those college kids who broke into it back in '98." Riggs says. "No way to easily trace it to us. It seems that your hostile force is emulating a barebones version of the Spy's Demise over the real thing, and there was a force-dump of multiple Technocrats from the place at some point. So at least superficially things look like they're still working. It might be possible that the majority of people aren't fully aware of this maskirova, because without in-depth scans, someone who's forcibly jacked into the Digital Web would look to be nonresponsive and in a coma-the same as if they were in a restricted sector like the Spy's Demise before its crash."
"The Virtual Adepts know, or at least some of them." Kessler says. He's still getting used to just how fast the IBM moves, just how much like the 90s it is. Of course, they've got people with cognitive augmentation that makes his look to be little league, so why wouldn't they be fast? "And knowing Virtual Adepts, this information's going to spread fast."
"Yes, but they're also going to think it's some sort of cover-up." One of them mentions, whose outwards appearance as an athletic mid-thirties brunette, attractive but not conspicuously so like a NWO agent, hides how her body is dense with synthetic muscle and Primium armor plate, thickly woven with nanocomputing elements. "I was one back in the fifties. The ones who split? They're the ones who believe that information wants to be free and all and that tendency's just gotten worse."
"I'm aware, Ms. Chao." Kessler responds politely. "And I suspect if a dumb lummox like me can figure that out, the avatar has as well. So what's its exit plan? One that doesn't leave it visible and makes the Virtual Adepts look like they're crazy."
The room goes silent for a moment. Then several more moments. Then a minute. Then two. Kessler can't detect it, but he knows that they're communicating with each other and with experts. It's what they'd do. "I think it might be trying to crash the sector." Riggs says finally, somberly. "That way, any reports of its existence will be lost in the confusion of a restricted area crash. You'll have tons of coma patients, damaged memories-deaths. And of course-anyone digitized in the place would end up dead. Kaput. Permanently gone."
"I see." Kessler manages. "Given that we're on a time limit if you're right-I think I have a plan. It'll be a risk, but I think it might accomplish our objectives. I've tried to minimize the risk to you, but we're going up against a strongly superhuman AI here so there's only so much I could do. So here's what I think," Kessler says, and starts explaining. When he's finished explaining it, and they're finished providing their suggestions, he has something that he thinks might just barely work. It's not something he likes-but when facing a god-machine, 'isn't actively suicidal' is probably the best you'll get, and the plan manages to reach that low bar.
You've got an Anathema. You're going to want to probe at it. So you're going to... (choose two)
[ ] Talk to the Void Engineers. It's their responsibility and holy shit god-machine on Earth.
[ ] Do some field research. Go ask Brandon about those former Virtual Adepts and ask them some questions. Maybe they want some revenge.
[ ] Maybe it might be prudent to take a quick trip to New York and see what Donald's Glass Walker CEO friend knows.
[ ] Write-In.
Desperate Times call for Desperate Plans:
What plan did IBM finally settle on?
[ ] The Anathema has a presence in realspace while it's running in the Digital Web. While it does so, it's vulnerable. If you can locate its realspace body from the Digital Web, IBM can drop a prepared killteam on it and hope that it'll get cut in half before it can teleport out. Simple. Quick. Risky. Blatant.
[ ] IBM can bolster a Digital Web assault. This will probably only moderately wound it-but it'll be quiet. It will be however somewhat risky.
[ ] One of the IBM members was a programmer-prophet of the Computer-and a few of them were formerly ItX senior leadership. They have Mari's memories. They think it might be possible to fake a directive from the Computer. Not for long-but long enough that everyone in the Web can get the fuck out. Given that the Computer considers itself unhackable (and technically, this isn't even hacking) it might even go undetected. It just means distracting the Anathema for a few moments-and letting it get away, pissed off and ready for revenge. But it'll be in meatspace then, somewhere where it's less dangerous.
[ ] (0.8x) The Web itself is built on very interesting foundations. Namely, that it connects to information from all forms of storage-including writing and the human mind. IBM has suggested 'reverse digitization.' Turn the people in it into data, then reconstitute them from stored data. If the Reality Deviants want to get onto it-well, they can figure out their own way of doing it.
[ ] (0.5x) IBM could in theory build some radioactives with the right traces to be from any nuclear program in the world. And the Technocracy has pissed off the Rogue Council. Wouldn't it be incredibly convenient if a "North Korean" nuclear device wiped the Anathema off the map? Wherever it was? The only minor problem is that this guarantees the UN-led invasion of North Korea.
The dossier is little more than a single page and attached images, some government employment information, a criminal record and some relevant police reports. It's also the thickest of the seven, and the only one that Jamelia hadn't made herself earlier that day out of her own observations and civilian records. Well, technically she'd made them the night before, but days and nights tend to blur together when you never sleep.
She shakes her head, clearing away the distracting thought. Four Enlightened, and three extraordinary citizens. Four Traditionalists and three who wouldn't be able to articulate what any of those terms even meant, beyond what they might have picked up from the rambling of the Rogue Council.
Her fingers drummed across her desk. One of her actual desks, not a bureau-shaped action hero made out of nanomachines. The situation is, as usual, a mess, and yet... there's an opportunity here, a path enticing enough to suppress the reflexive 'they know too much' wind-wipe.
She stands up, chair sliding backwards with unnatural quiet. She has some make-up to do, some cyborgs to coordinate with and an act to prepare. After that, well.
Jamelia Belltower has a message to send.
***
The meat wobbles, sinful in its tenderness, and Natalia stares at it suspiciously. It seems fine, as far as she can tell, but then you never could tell could you? Still, her stomach was rumbling at her mournfully, and it would probably be quite a while before she had another chance at this kind of a meal. She spears the meat with her fork, the flesh tearing easily as she maneuvers it towards her mouth. She has to say this for the Technocrats: they're far better about the whole 'last meal' thing than the Rogue Council.
The door handle turns, and she tries to calmly face her fate. This was it. Her number was up. Would it be some sort of Iterator brain-drainer? The wreckage strewn across the battle suggested the clockwork convention was the biggest presence here. Maybe some sort of Progenitor trawl instead, leave her brain-dead and empty inside. Or a New World Order conditioning expert, here to turn her into some sort of Manchurian agent.
When the door opens fully and an old Man (well, Woman) in Black steps through, pale-skinned and mirror-shaded, she feels almost like she's been stood up for a moment, before forcing the stupid, stupid thought out of her head. She carefully observes the construct turn to close the door, its (her?) hair tucked tightly enough under her (its?) fedora to reveal the faded triangle tattoo. Lucky. More lucky than she had any right to be, but then that wasn't surprising. Gen 1s couldn't Awaken. At best Ms. Generic Name has some implants to make her better at her job; given the unpredictability of her forecasting and the blankness of its face, she guessed it had some work done to make it hard to read or manipulate.
Still, it meant that the 'Crats either didn't have the resources or the inclination to really push her. That was good.
The construct slides the chair away from the table soundlessly and gives a bland smile. "Good evening. My name is Ms. Svecha, and I would like to speak to you about your encounter with the Reality Terrorist group called the Rogue Council," she says in a monotone.
"I was approached with a job. A risky job. Data theft from Technocratic servers, Russian intelligence. Looking for something to prove the attack wasn't Chechnyan in origin, maybe even that it wasn't wholly nuclear." The MiB nods, attentive and polite as only a programmed bioroid could be. "It was suicide. I know the agencies, I know how thoroughly the 'Crats scrubbed them. To get the sort of info they wanted... I'd probably have to hit a Construct. And not a piddly retired one, not for the kind of smoking gun they needed. A serious target. So I turned them down, and the next thing I know I've got a pain in my neck and I'm in actual chains and I've lost my phone," she says angrily. Her phone was as much a weapon as her gun, and far harder to replace. Contacts, data, some more... esoteric functions. She could rebuild it, but it would take time.
Time she might not have.
"I see. And how did they treat you?" The MiB focuses on its notepad, barely looking up at her. It suits Natalia just fine.
"Not at all." The MiB looked at her, clearly expecting more. "Between waking up there and you guys arriving, I was there three days. I also had three meals, and three speeches about purification and Technocratic poison. Or maybe it was one meal and one speech, repeated three times." She shrugs. "They weren't exactly out to entertain."
The interrogation quickly settled into a comfortable rhythm. Questions about the Rogue Council would be answered cleanly, with just enough hidden to satisfy her ego and give her something to 'give up' if the MiB pushed. Questions about her Council would be met with ostensible cooperation, but Natalia always drew the construct's attention back to the people she didn't care much about, and the construct readily followed her hints.
Eventually the MiB leaves, leaving the Adept (well, neophyte) staring at her cold half-eaten meal.
***
It's noon, and Natalia is enjoying room service, trying to spot hidden clues in the news broadcasts, when she hears a knock on the door. Rolling off the sumptuous bed and landing on the soft carpet, she walks to the door and looks through the peephole, seeing an off-white shirt hanging off of impressive musculature.
She sighs and opens the door, coming face to chest with a walking murder machine.
"Time to go?" she asks, looking up at the impressively and obviously American figure.
"Yep. Pack your bags, 'cause we're letting you go." She didn't have any bags. She suspects the big man knows that. She pulls on her outdoor clothes and her boots, then steps out into the hall, door closing shut behind her.
Besides for her fellow prisoners and their guards the lobby was empty, almost unsettling in its silence. The Technocrats would rather minimize anybody noticing something strange going on. There was a female cyborg there, the same one from before, less armored and still overkill against the meager collection of neophytes and sorcerers. They were short one. The doctor. Too civilian, too sympathetic to simply be let loose in a back alley, she supposed.
Then she blinks. Because standing next to the blonde cyborg there was an exact duplicate of the man who had escorted her. A quick glance behind her confirms he is still there, as tall and looming as before. An upgraded HITMark? Some sort of duplicate of the original - if there was an original?
Her escort soon took up a matching position to his... brother, a perfect mirror that renders the difference in height between them and everyone else in the room even more apparent. The blonde cyborg smirks and hands each of them a money clip, enough to cover a good number of fares and a few cheap meals.
"I'd suggest you all disappear for the next little while. The Rogue Council has you on their lists now, and they don't tend to know much about things like mercy or compromise." The implication unlike us remained unsaid. "Now scram."
The rest of the group files out, a disordered mess of lone mumbling and muttered gossip.
"Oh, Grazhdankin, almost forgot."
Natalia turns just in time to catch the disassembled phone flying her way. She looks down.
"It's yours. We think. We picked up a bunch of stuff when we left, and your phone was light enough to get tossed in a pouch. Don't worry, we haven't messed with it." The cyborg smiles, almost sadly. "Trust me."
Then they're gone, and Natalia is left standing in the lobby as the employees return from their oddly synchronous absence.
Trust her. Hah. Natalia places the phone in her pocket, plotting a route to get her to one of her safehouses without making herself easy to track. She'd better warn her contacts. After that... she has a phone to check for tampering. And some calls to make.
***
Brandon watches the consors and acolytes leave through the window of his suite, and so he expects the knock on his door. He knows they could open it themselves, and they probably know he knows, but it seems like they want to pretend that he's got some modicum of privacy. Which isn't true-he knows the place is bugged and bugged very well. His inability to find any bugs just means that they're very well hidden. So he gets up and opens the door, letting Jamelia Belltower walk into the suite. "Come in. Make yourselves at home. Okay, it's actually your money paying for it, but you know what I mean."
"We released everyone but the doctor. Mr. Belov, I believe his name was?" Jamelia says, sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs. That's a lie, Brandon thinks. She probably knows his name, face, and his entire history up to his day of birth and probably before. "I assume you'll uphold your end of the bargain and tell us more about what you were looking for."
"Fine." Brandon says, taking a seat opposite her. "I think I'm looking for the same thing you are. Something's hunting you, and I'd like to know what the hell it is because I suspect it doesn't care that much about collateral damage. Moscow, your construct, and the Spy's Demise all point to that."
"Why do you think they're related?" Jamelia probes. "The Spy's Demise is a neutral meeting ground. There are plenty of people who might be targeted in it. There's plenty of hardliners on either side which could take it down, as well."
"I can only give my suspicions." Brandon says. "I think it's very smart, very powerful, very good at manipulating people. I don't think Moscow, the attack on your construct, the Spy's Demise, and London were coincidences. There's only one element tying them together and that's you," the Shadow Ministry agent concludes. "The attacks were all different as well. You had some high-end cybernetic killing machines in Moscow plus the subversion of just about any ItX-derived technology, the terrorism watchlist in London, the vampires in your construct, and the cyberattack on the Spy's Demise plus literally everything else that might have held information on the construct attack." He thinks for a moment, remembers something. "On that note-one of your subordinates, Donald Sykes, sent a message from the Spy's Demise to a Glass Walker CEO. The message was heavily encrypted and bounced through etherspace so I don't know what it was, but it was from him. Or someone who knows him well enough to have a message forged with his signature and biometrics."
"But yet they're not out of the Spy's Demise. What attacked it and is it still there?"
"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Brandon asks. "As to what attacked it-some sort of massively superhuman AI, according to the Virtual Adepts who tried to break into it. The VAs sent some troubleshooters to deal with the problem, ended up with a lot of brain-damaged vegetables instead. The ones who've managed to recover... well, most of them aren't Virtual Adepts anymore from the grapevine. One of them decided that his life's hobby was to become a sushi chef, another went off into Tibet to find a monastery and center herself, a third decided to take up gardening with the Verbena..." Brandon trails off. "And none of them really want to talk about those experiences they had. I doubt they'd want to talk to you about them either. At this point, I'm not sure the Spy's Demise is still there. Not with this kind of force arrayed against it." He says honestly.
Jamelia thinks about his statement. A massively superhuman AI. She's been encountering more than her share of them at this point. So the Etherite might be onto something when he says that Donald is still alive. He was at least alive recently, and she doesn't think the Computer would waste resources guarding a dead place. And if she can take down something like that-well, that would put a major wrench in the operations of her enemy. MUSCOVITE, Threat Null, whatever they want to call it.
"I'll take that under advisement." Jamelia sighs. "I suspect this is concerning people on your side as well. What if, hypothetically," Jamelia considers, "I was to have some knowledge of what this enemy was and what its capabilities are? I understand that a lot of your people are also trapped in the Spy's Demise and there are plenty more who might want vengeance."
"In that scenario," Brandon says as he leans back fractionally, "I wouldn't be able to do anything. You'd have to talk to someone higher in the chain." The tone he uses makes it very clear that he could arrange that. "Of course, it'd have to be pretty good intelligence, to make sure this isn't some sort of NWO double-cross. For some reason, very few people trust a senior Operative. Especially," Brandon mentions, "with rumors flying around that it might be a Technocracy operation to shut the whole thing down."
"I'm aware of the trust issues." Jamelia says snippily. "Nevertheless, I believe I may be able to help with this... mutual problem. I can promise you that it was not, as far as I know, an officially sanctioned Technocracy operation," technically true, "and the Technocracy lacks the resources to keep an interdiction on a site like the Spy's Demise while maintaining its other responsibilities." Also technically true, but slightly moreso. "If you wouldn't mind staying for a while," Jamelia offers politely, "I'll come back to you."
"We released everyone but the doctor. Mr. Belov, I believe his name was?" Jamelia says, sitting on one of the overstuffed chairs. That's a lie, Brandon thinks. She probably knows his name, face, and his entire history up to his day of birth and probably before. "I assume you'll uphold your end of the bargain and tell us more about what you were looking for."
"Fine." Brandon says, taking a seat opposite her. "I think I'm looking for the same thing you are. Something's hunting you, and I'd like to know what the hell it is because I suspect it doesn't care that much about collateral damage. Moscow, your construct, and the Spy's Demise all point to that."
"Why do you think they're related?" Jamelia probes. "The Spy's Demise is a neutral meeting ground. There are plenty of people who might be targeted in it. There's plenty of hardliners on either side which could take it down, as well."
"I can only give my suspicions." Brandon says. "I think it's very smart, very powerful, very good at manipulating people. I don't think Moscow, the attack on your construct, the Spy's Demise, and London were coincidences. There's only one element tying them together and that's you," the Shadow Ministry agent concludes. "The attacks were all different as well. You had some high-end cybernetic killing machines in Moscow plus the subversion of just about any ItX-derived technology, the terrorism watchlist in London, the vampires in your construct, and the cyberattack on the Spy's Demise plus literally everything else that might have held information on the construct attack." He thinks for a moment, remembers something. "On that note-one of your subordinates, Donald Sykes, sent a message from the Spy's Demise to a Glass Walker CEO. The message was heavily encrypted and bounced through etherspace so I don't know what it was, but it was from him. Or someone who knows him well enough to have a message forged with his signature and biometrics."
"But yet they're not out of the Spy's Demise. What attacked it and is it still there?"
"That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Brandon asks. "As to what attacked it-some sort of massively superhuman AI, according to the Virtual Adepts who tried to break into it. The VAs sent some troubleshooters to deal with the problem, ended up with a lot of brain-damaged vegetables instead. The ones who've managed to recover... well, most of them aren't Virtual Adepts anymore from the grapevine. One of them decided that his life's hobby was to become a sushi chef, another went off into Tibet to find a monastery and center herself, a third decided to take up gardening with the Verbena..." Brandon trails off. "And none of them really want to talk about those experiences they had. I doubt they'd want to talk to you about them either. At this point, I'm not sure the Spy's Demise is still there. Not with this kind of force arrayed against it." He says honestly.
Jamelia thinks about his statement. A massively superhuman AI. She's been encountering more than her share of them at this point. So the Etherite might be onto something when he says that Donald is still alive. He was at least alive recently, and she doesn't think the Computer would waste resources guarding a dead place. And if she can take down something like that-well, that would put a major wrench in the operations of her enemy. MUSCOVITE, Threat Null, whatever they want to call it.
"I'll take that under advisement." Jamelia sighs. "I suspect this is concerning people on your side as well. What if, hypothetically," Jamelia considers, "I was to have some knowledge of what this enemy was and what its capabilities are? I understand that a lot of your people are also trapped in the Spy's Demise and there are plenty more who might want vengeance."
"In that scenario," Brandon says as he leans back fractionally, "I wouldn't be able to do anything. You'd have to talk to someone higher in the chain." The tone he uses makes it very clear that he could arrange that. "Of course, it'd have to be pretty good intelligence, to make sure this isn't some sort of NWO double-cross. For some reason, very few people trust a senior Operative. Especially," Brandon mentions, "with rumors flying around that it might be a Technocracy operation to shut the whole thing down."
"I'm aware of the trust issues." Jamelia says snippily. "Nevertheless, I believe I may be able to help with this... mutual problem. I can promise you that it was not, as far as I know, an officially sanctioned Technocracy operation," technically true, "and the Technocracy lacks the resources to keep an interdiction on a site like the Spy's Demise while maintaining its other responsibilities." Also technically true, but slightly moreso. "If you wouldn't mind staying for a while," Jamelia offers politely, "I'll come back to you."
***
Jamelia brings Kessler to her next IBM meeting. Henriette's too busy training and recovering, and she doesn't want the Void Engineers to know about what Brandon's told her. Not yet. It's why she hasn't bugged Mr. Jiminez's room and has been working just on her reputation and whatever goodwill she has compared to his erstwhile allies to hope that he wouldn't try something. But she needs Kessler here because he can help convince them of the tactical necessity here of cooperating with Reality Deviants.
The International Brotherhood of Mechanicians, those Iterators tough enough and smart enough and quick enough to survive a literal death world where even the atmosphere could be turned against them and stocked with thousands upon thousands of war machines that the Technocracy only rarely deployed to Earth and at great cost, they're her ace in the hole. As far as she knows, literally nobody in the Technocracy or the Traditions suspects they still exist. And that gives her access and tools that she can use, if sparingly. They've kept exactly how much firepower they have quiet from her, but if they've been lending out combat machines with the firepower of that daemon-she suspects it's quite a bit. Definitely enough that they can turn the tide if used correctly. Which is her challenge. She needs to try to employ them in a fashion that makes use of their strengths and minimizes their exposure.
Of course, Jamelia thinks, minimizing isn't the same thing as eliminating. She suspects that the moment she does this, they'll start looking. And when they do-they'll be back. Especially given the kinds of assets she's going to have to use to reliably guarantee its elimination. The senior leadership of IBM looks grim as she steps into the corporate meeting room they've turned into a command center. Holographic projections and smart screens cover every inch of the walls.
Jamelia notices that several of them are playing scenes from the mansion she bugged, following a HITMark tactical team led by a single IBM Enlightened Scientist as they clear the house and arrest everyone inside. Others are playing similar scenes, where HITMarks armed with flamethrowers and encased in heavy armor are purging hemophage nests.
"Welcome back." Katherine says. The meeting room nods at Jamelia and Kessler politely. There's a set of coffee mugs and a pot of the stuff on the table, which Jamelia is sure is there solely as a polite gesture to her. "Thanks to your efforts, Damage Control hasn't shut up about their praise of 'Iteration X commandos' who 'know the proper way to deal with Reality Deviance.' I suspect they're going to do exactly as much probing into our histories as necessary, which is to say, absolutely none, especially since we found out that their commander was a bit of a gun nut and fast-tracked some production his way of anti-personnel railguns. We're clear for the foreseeable future. Which means, of course, you're here with some bad news."
She's very astute, Jamelia notes. "I'll let Sergeant Kessler brief you on exactly what's going on." She sits down and pours herself a cup of coffee. They'll trust him and his plans more than her. And he's far more familiar with ItX combat tactics than she is, especially 90s-era ones.
"Thank you, Director Belltower." Kessler says. "Gentlemen. Ladies. It has come to our attention that the Spy's Demise has gone down. What you might not know is why it's gone down."
The room nods at him fractionally. They've probably been tracking events like this.
"We think that the Computer is interdicting it." Kessler doesn't wait to drop the bombshell, and the room erupts into a storm of questions in response. "I'll answer your questions as best as I can later, but right now I'd like to finish laying out my case. This is why we're here." He amplifies his voice a few decibels, cutting over the questioning. "Because we think that some subroutine of its-something incredibly powerful but still just a fraction of its full capability-is interdicting the Spy's Demise, because one of our comrades is there. We'd like to get them out. I think you'd like to hit what the Computer's become where it hurts-and taking out one of its agents capable of working Earthside is definitely that. Our job's always been to protect humanity from the unknown and the monsters that lurk in the shadows, and the lineage of the monster's irrelevant."
"What you're saying is incredibly risky." One of them says. He's a bulky full-conversion, only humanoid, with a half-dozen eyes fixed in an armored facemask that looks like a helmet. Captain Riggs, Kessler identifies him as. His specialty is-was- cyberwarfare. Now, he's not so sure, given that the man's encased his brain in a body made mostly of high-end carbon composite and primium. "You're fighting a superhuman AI on its own turf. I'm not saying it's impossible, but this isn't something a small team can accomplish. I can give you the intelligence we have on all Computer-derived assets we've found," he pauses, "but I'm not committing to an attack unless we have a plan."
Kessler takes a fraction of a second to process the data. "Thank you for the information, but this doesn't change the analysis. Captain, I know how dangerous Autochthonian avatars can get. Which is why we're going to be using the Virtual Adepts and Society of Ether to ensure target saturation. They don't want to be subjugated by a hostile godlike AI any more than we do."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Katherine mentions. "And the Spy's Demise will have their allies in it as well. What about the Void Engineers? They're fighting similar forces. Although the mechanics of the interdiction might make getting allies... troublesome." She nods at Riggs.
"We just sent a expendable probe into the Spy's Demise when you mentioned it-and yes, we took multiple security precautions. Masses-tech only, just VR like those college kids who broke into it back in '98." Riggs says. "No way to easily trace it to us. It seems that your hostile force is emulating a barebones version of the Spy's Demise over the real thing, and there was a force-dump of multiple Technocrats from the place at some point. So at least superficially things look like they're still working. It might be possible that the majority of people aren't fully aware of this maskirova, because without in-depth scans, someone who's forcibly jacked into the Digital Web would look to be nonresponsive and in a coma-the same as if they were in a restricted sector like the Spy's Demise before its crash."
"The Virtual Adepts know, or at least some of them." Kessler says. He's still getting used to just how fast the IBM moves, just how much like the 90s it is. Of course, they've got people with cognitive augmentation that makes his look to be little league, so why wouldn't they be fast? "And knowing Virtual Adepts, this information's going to spread fast."
"Yes, but they're also going to think it's some sort of cover-up." One of them mentions, whose outwards appearance as an athletic mid-thirties brunette, attractive but not conspicuously so like a NWO agent, hides how her body is dense with synthetic muscle and Primium armor plate, thickly woven with nanocomputing elements. "I was one back in the fifties. The ones who split? They're the ones who believe that information wants to be free and all and that tendency's just gotten worse."
"I'm aware, Ms. Chao." Kessler responds politely. "And I suspect if a dumb lummox like me can figure that out, the avatar has as well. So what's its exit plan? One that doesn't leave it visible and makes the Virtual Adepts look like they're crazy."
The room goes silent for a moment. Then several more moments. Then a minute. Then two. Kessler can't detect it, but he knows that they're communicating with each other and with experts. It's what they'd do. "I think it might be trying to crash the sector." Riggs says finally, somberly. "That way, any reports of its existence will be lost in the confusion of a restricted area crash. You'll have tons of coma patients, damaged memories-deaths. And of course-anyone digitized in the place would end up dead. Kaput. Permanently gone."
"I see." Kessler manages. "Given that we're on a time limit if you're right-I think I have a plan. It'll be a risk, but I think it might accomplish our objectives. I've tried to minimize the risk to you, but we're going up against a strongly superhuman AI here so there's only so much I could do. So here's what I think," Kessler says, and starts explaining. When he's finished explaining it, and they're finished providing their suggestions, he has something that he thinks might just barely work. It's not something he likes-but when facing a god-machine, 'isn't actively suicidal' is probably the best you'll get, and the plan manages to reach that low bar.
The Anathema is Here:You've got an Anathema. You're going to want to probe at it. So you're going to... (choose two)
[ ] Talk to the Void Engineers. It's their responsibility and holy shit god-machine on Earth.
[ ] Do some field research. Go ask Brandon about those former Virtual Adepts and ask them some questions. Maybe they want some revenge.
[ ] Maybe it might be prudent to take a quick trip to New York and see what Donald's Glass Walker CEO friend knows.
[ ] Write-In.
Desperate Times call for Desperate Plans:
What plan did IBM finally settle on?
[ ] The Anathema has a presence in realspace while it's running in the Digital Web. While it does so, it's vulnerable. If you can locate its realspace body from the Digital Web, IBM can drop a prepared killteam on it and hope that it'll get cut in half before it can teleport out. Simple. Quick. Risky. Blatant.
[ ] IBM can bolster a Digital Web assault. This will probably only moderately wound it-but it'll be quiet. It will be however somewhat risky.
[ ] One of the IBM members was a programmer-prophet of the Computer-and a few of them were formerly ItX senior leadership. They have Mari's memories. They think it might be possible to fake a directive from the Computer. Not for long-but long enough that everyone in the Web can get the fuck out. Given that the Computer considers itself unhackable (and technically, this isn't even hacking) it might even go undetected. It just means distracting the Anathema for a few moments-and letting it get away, pissed off and ready for revenge. But it'll be in meatspace then, somewhere where it's less dangerous.
[ ] (0.8x) The Web itself is built on very interesting foundations. Namely, that it connects to information from all forms of storage-including writing and the human mind. IBM has suggested 'reverse digitization.' Turn the people in it into data, then reconstitute them from stored data. If the Reality Deviants want to get onto it-well, they can figure out their own way of doing it.
[ ] (0.5x) IBM could in theory build some radioactives with the right traces to be from any nuclear program in the world. And the Technocracy has pissed off the Rogue Council. Wouldn't it be incredibly convenient if a "North Korean" nuclear device wiped the Anathema off the map? Wherever it was? The only minor problem is that this guarantees the UN-led invasion of North Korea.
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13th Bee
Worker
- Location
- Tennessee, USA.
[X] Talk to the Void Engineers. It's their responsibility and holy shit god-machine on Earth.
Cooperating with the VEs would be very good. They know about this shit, they won't mind IBM (large group of TN-proof Technocrats with loadz-a-firepower, also too hard to make disappear), they are good at extra-dimensional stuff.
Can we vote for the same thing twice?
Cooperating with the VEs would be very good. They know about this shit, they won't mind IBM (large group of TN-proof Technocrats with loadz-a-firepower, also too hard to make disappear), they are good at extra-dimensional stuff.
Can we vote for the same thing twice?
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Okay so raw ideas milled out before some of the thread's smart people Kool-Aid Man in and tell me how and why it's fucking stupid. 
Edit:
[X] Maybe it might be prudent to take a quick trip to New York and see what Donald's Glass Walker CEO friend knows.
[X] Talk to the Void Engineers. It's their responsibility and holy shit god-machine on Earth.
[X] Kessler's going to commune with some totally technoparadigm (honest) compliant minor EDEs (they're really not spirits I swear) and see what they know.
Any werewolf that can suppress their narrative mandated retardation enough to not only make it to CEO but do business with Syndicate is going to be a fairly wily one. And even if they interpret a lot of shit through their filter of "Weaver/Wyrm/Wyld/etc etc" it's not like we're strangers to people articulating things through varied paradigms. And it doesn't mean that we can't glean useful information even if it's couched in language that makes Belltower mentally roll her eyes.
For the other options: we don't have to go interview the VA's to get their intel and honestly going off what's been said I doubt they'd be inclined to talk about it much less take revenge. They just watched all their friends die in pretty traumatic ways. They themselves had to be revived after the Anathema was through with them and after they were brought back the first thing they did was get as physically and emotionally far from the Digital Web as possible. Like, can you imagine a constantly wired in caffeine junkie just suddenly dropping their laptop in a garbage can and joining a dojo in the mountains? Or learning how to garden from the Verbena? They want no part of this. No part of anything that's touching this. So that's time that could be better spent elsewhere.
Bringing in the Void Engineers at this juncture...mmm. I don't see them not flipping a shit over IBM. High grade enhanciles from Autobot itself that have been very very subtle and right now are mounting a plan that would put them in contact with a Threat Null HVT? At minimum they're going to want to put their big stompy boots on and bring this operation in line with Directorate procedures and protocols. Which will most likely involve purging the people in the Spy's Demise because "people who have been under an Anathema's thumb for days yes let's let them just walk around". Being sandwiched between the NWO and the Agency have made the VE impossibly paranoid, we know this. Having this shit dropped into their laps isn't going to instill anything but scrambling panic.
The Kessler thing is mostly because Kessler's got a pretty diverse toolkit of abilities to solve a variety of problems. It lets him approach issues with a surprising amount of flexibility. It'd be a shame not to make use of it and IBM almost certainly has facilities that could...well facilitate a series of interviews given the natural security concerns. And if anyone's going to know anything, it's going to be the Anathema's estranged siblings.
[X] One of the IBM members was a programmer-prophet of the Computer-and a few of them were formerly ItX senior leadership. They have Mari's memories. They think it might be possible to fake a directive from the Computer. Not for long-but long enough that everyone in the Web can get the fuck out. Given that the Computer considers itself unhackable (and technically, this isn't even hacking) it might even go undetected. It just means distracting the Anathema for a few moments-and letting it get away, pissed off and ready for revenge. But it'll be in meatspace then, somewhere where it's less dangerous.
I don't think we can Alpha strike the Anathema, at least not before it sets off a bunch of spite contingencies, and any directly mounted assault's going to turn into a slog. Tron digitizing everyone onto papyrus isn't going to get everyone we need out (part of this is establishing a huge amount of leverage over the Traditions, we need their help too to fight Threat Null and abandoning loads of their assets while we save our own skins isn't going to help the war effort). Process of elimination: force the Anathema to disengage and stand down. Force it off balance mentally. Maybe then call in the VE and get the experts to bring it down.
Edit:
[X] Write-in: Reverse Digitalisation? But what if you did it the other way around, Kessler asks. Reverse-Reverse Digitalisation. What could you get into the Web then? And he's read up on the Crash of the Web in '99 and how much damage it did to the Web. The Anathema is trying to collapse the entire sector the Spy's Demise is in. What if we get everyone out via a back door moonbridge (or possibly via dimensional shifting into a different reference frame, such as the mathematical 'Mount Qaf' hypothesis, let the defences weaken just enough that it can break in, and then use the reverse-reverse digitalised nuclear weapons to collapse the Digital Web sector before the Anathema does - and before it can get free?
Retroactive voting ho!
Edit:
[X] Maybe it might be prudent to take a quick trip to New York and see what Donald's Glass Walker CEO friend knows.
[X] Talk to the Void Engineers. It's their responsibility and holy shit god-machine on Earth.
Any werewolf that can suppress their narrative mandated retardation enough to not only make it to CEO but do business with Syndicate is going to be a fairly wily one. And even if they interpret a lot of shit through their filter of "Weaver/Wyrm/Wyld/etc etc" it's not like we're strangers to people articulating things through varied paradigms. And it doesn't mean that we can't glean useful information even if it's couched in language that makes Belltower mentally roll her eyes.
For the other options: we don't have to go interview the VA's to get their intel and honestly going off what's been said I doubt they'd be inclined to talk about it much less take revenge. They just watched all their friends die in pretty traumatic ways. They themselves had to be revived after the Anathema was through with them and after they were brought back the first thing they did was get as physically and emotionally far from the Digital Web as possible. Like, can you imagine a constantly wired in caffeine junkie just suddenly dropping their laptop in a garbage can and joining a dojo in the mountains? Or learning how to garden from the Verbena? They want no part of this. No part of anything that's touching this. So that's time that could be better spent elsewhere.
Bringing in the Void Engineers at this juncture...mmm. I don't see them not flipping a shit over IBM. High grade enhanciles from Autobot itself that have been very very subtle and right now are mounting a plan that would put them in contact with a Threat Null HVT? At minimum they're going to want to put their big stompy boots on and bring this operation in line with Directorate procedures and protocols. Which will most likely involve purging the people in the Spy's Demise because "people who have been under an Anathema's thumb for days yes let's let them just walk around". Being sandwiched between the NWO and the Agency have made the VE impossibly paranoid, we know this. Having this shit dropped into their laps isn't going to instill anything but scrambling panic.
The Kessler thing is mostly because Kessler's got a pretty diverse toolkit of abilities to solve a variety of problems. It lets him approach issues with a surprising amount of flexibility. It'd be a shame not to make use of it and IBM almost certainly has facilities that could...well facilitate a series of interviews given the natural security concerns. And if anyone's going to know anything, it's going to be the Anathema's estranged siblings.
I don't think we can Alpha strike the Anathema, at least not before it sets off a bunch of spite contingencies, and any directly mounted assault's going to turn into a slog. Tron digitizing everyone onto papyrus isn't going to get everyone we need out (part of this is establishing a huge amount of leverage over the Traditions, we need their help too to fight Threat Null and abandoning loads of their assets while we save our own skins isn't going to help the war effort). Process of elimination: force the Anathema to disengage and stand down. Force it off balance mentally. Maybe then call in the VE and get the experts to bring it down.
Edit:
[X] Write-in: Reverse Digitalisation? But what if you did it the other way around, Kessler asks. Reverse-Reverse Digitalisation. What could you get into the Web then? And he's read up on the Crash of the Web in '99 and how much damage it did to the Web. The Anathema is trying to collapse the entire sector the Spy's Demise is in. What if we get everyone out via a back door moonbridge (or possibly via dimensional shifting into a different reference frame, such as the mathematical 'Mount Qaf' hypothesis, let the defences weaken just enough that it can break in, and then use the reverse-reverse digitalised nuclear weapons to collapse the Digital Web sector before the Anathema does - and before it can get free?
Retroactive voting ho!
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