![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
New opening to Hard Reboot
The Obsidian Tower loomed up, three Net nodes away as Sean took a moment to steel himself. His running program showed it as a five story square tower, taller than any of the other buildings, made of shiny irregular black glass bricks. It was always the tallest structure in the area in any program, taking whatever shape and style the runner imagined. The entire Net operated that way, a series of set pieces in whatever design the runner chose, the images altering only where they bumped against stronger running programs.
A gray data cloud filled the sky, the binary numbers, complex alpha-numeric formula strings, and strange mystic symbols all roiling and swirling over the top of the tower, which sat at the eye of the miniature hurricane. Massive electrical charges flickered, illuminating parts of the cloud, indicating various levels of activity. Lightning did no damage as it arced down to strike the top of the tower, indicating a data transfer, followed by ominous thunderclaps.
A gale-force wind howled across this isolated corner of the Net, but disturbed nothing on the ground where Sean stood. Behind the wind, nearly drowned out by the thunder, Sean heard the sound of ghostly wails disturbingly close, with no apparent source. He quit looking when he heard his wife's voice moan his name. He was glad his avatar couldn't break out in goosebumps.
He gathered his red cloak about him, knowing he could not afford any mistakes. He would not let his imagination deceive him or the witch who owned this realm play games with him. He settled his red-crested Roman helmet more firmly on his head and made the transition to the base of the tower with a single thought.
He stopped outside the blackthorn hedge that encircled it. The prickly representation of a Multiple Contingency Reactive Barrier would first slow him with snags before enarlding him completely. He'd run into them before, and this one looked like a class ten. Naturally the Technomancer would have nothing but the very latest and most dangerous for her private node.
He tried ignoring the skeletons that hung tangled in it, but stared anyway at the thorny vines twining around and through their bleached bones. Most were human, but a whole centaur and saber-tooth tiger skeleton nestled in the thorns as well, the vines twining through both of the centaur's rib cages and out his eye-sockets. All the skeletons hung twisted and contorted, frozen in time and their death-agonies.
Sean knew, as did most in the Net, that the bones were not merely morbid decorations, but the representations of fallen and abandoned avatars who had failed their attempts on the Obsidian Tower. As Sean looked over the skeletons, barely visible lines of type appeared, giving the handle of the former owner, and a real-world date. It was like reading tombstones. Load Runner. 2tuff4U. Tacoface. Misty1. THC8ow1$M0K3R. Samantha Hewitt.VampSlave323. tiffanytwisted. MaxTrax. gang$ta98. 5A83R5la5h. cycloserine.
The dates began six years ago when The Obsidian Tower had first appeared on the Net-scape. Most of the skeletons were from that period, as new sites always attracted runners eager to test its defenses. The most recent was five months ago, yesterday. The dates grew farther apart as they became more recent. Word was out and people lacking an invitation had learned to keep clear of this site. Since its appearance, The Obsidian Tower and its owner had both earned a reputation as being neither a place nor person Net-runners wanted to mess with.
Sean recognized a couple of names, tiffanytwisted and gang$ta98. Both had been on the verge of making it big. They had just needed the one awesome run to push them over the top. The rest, he figured fell into two categories, arrogant neophytes with more ambition than skill, or more advanced runners who had changed names and avatars rather than endure the shame of defeat.
There were more names and dates, but Sean had not come here for the local scenery. He forced his mind from his growing fascination with the skeletons, sensing another form of insidious Trap program geared to further snare the unwary, Instead, he focused on his sole reason for being at this grim and forbidding site,
“Mistress of the tower,” he craned his neck upwards to the heights of the imposing structure and called, “I come at your bidding.” The random thought of calling for her to let down her hair like Rapunzel occurred to him, since he could see not other egress. He stamped down hard on the incipient hysterics the thought provoked.
A gray data cloud filled the sky, the binary numbers, complex alpha-numeric formula strings, and strange mystic symbols all roiling and swirling over the top of the tower, which sat at the eye of the miniature hurricane. Massive electrical charges flickered, illuminating parts of the cloud, indicating various levels of activity. Lightning did no damage as it arced down to strike the top of the tower, indicating a data transfer, followed by ominous thunderclaps.
A gale-force wind howled across this isolated corner of the Net, but disturbed nothing on the ground where Sean stood. Behind the wind, nearly drowned out by the thunder, Sean heard the sound of ghostly wails disturbingly close, with no apparent source. He quit looking when he heard his wife's voice moan his name. He was glad his avatar couldn't break out in goosebumps.
He gathered his red cloak about him, knowing he could not afford any mistakes. He would not let his imagination deceive him or the witch who owned this realm play games with him. He settled his red-crested Roman helmet more firmly on his head and made the transition to the base of the tower with a single thought.
He stopped outside the blackthorn hedge that encircled it. The prickly representation of a Multiple Contingency Reactive Barrier would first slow him with snags before enarlding him completely. He'd run into them before, and this one looked like a class ten. Naturally the Technomancer would have nothing but the very latest and most dangerous for her private node.
He tried ignoring the skeletons that hung tangled in it, but stared anyway at the thorny vines twining around and through their bleached bones. Most were human, but a whole centaur and saber-tooth tiger skeleton nestled in the thorns as well, the vines twining through both of the centaur's rib cages and out his eye-sockets. All the skeletons hung twisted and contorted, frozen in time and their death-agonies.
Sean knew, as did most in the Net, that the bones were not merely morbid decorations, but the representations of fallen and abandoned avatars who had failed their attempts on the Obsidian Tower. As Sean looked over the skeletons, barely visible lines of type appeared, giving the handle of the former owner, and a real-world date. It was like reading tombstones. Load Runner. 2tuff4U. Tacoface. Misty1. THC8ow1$M0K3R. Samantha Hewitt.VampSlave323. tiffanytwisted. MaxTrax. gang$ta98. 5A83R5la5h. cycloserine.
The dates began six years ago when The Obsidian Tower had first appeared on the Net-scape. Most of the skeletons were from that period, as new sites always attracted runners eager to test its defenses. The most recent was five months ago, yesterday. The dates grew farther apart as they became more recent. Word was out and people lacking an invitation had learned to keep clear of this site. Since its appearance, The Obsidian Tower and its owner had both earned a reputation as being neither a place nor person Net-runners wanted to mess with.
Sean recognized a couple of names, tiffanytwisted and gang$ta98. Both had been on the verge of making it big. They had just needed the one awesome run to push them over the top. The rest, he figured fell into two categories, arrogant neophytes with more ambition than skill, or more advanced runners who had changed names and avatars rather than endure the shame of defeat.
There were more names and dates, but Sean had not come here for the local scenery. He forced his mind from his growing fascination with the skeletons, sensing another form of insidious Trap program geared to further snare the unwary, Instead, he focused on his sole reason for being at this grim and forbidding site,
“Mistress of the tower,” he craned his neck upwards to the heights of the imposing structure and called, “I come at your bidding.” The random thought of calling for her to let down her hair like Rapunzel occurred to him, since he could see not other egress. He stamped down hard on the incipient hysterics the thought provoked.