Snowfall

Meanwhile...

The glittering of light caresses the edges of the crimson sphere, defining its shape against the empty void. Jen floats in closer, inspecting the hovering orb. Looking in closer, she notices a faint light billowing out through shifting layers within the node, revealing and cloaking pathways within the construct. Reaching towards the object, Jen grins, and grabs it with both hands, a flare of light erupting from the ball.

"You will not break through, Jennifer."

"Like hell I won't."

The light grows, and the orb expands to encompass Jen, forming the boundaries of a non-existant universe. A gigantic, constantly evolving maze forms itself within the surface, creating the eternally-changing pathways of the ICE. Grinning, Jen generates her representational-hacking tools: in this case, a laser drill and mock-GPS scanner. Priming the laser-generator, she blasts it into the nearest wall, piercing the faux-wall of the maze, and opening up a new pathway.

"This could damage both you and me, Jennifer."

"You want to give up?"

"I will never give up, I am just concerned for your safety."

"Screw it, I'll bail if I have to, not before."

Cleaving her way through the maze, she follows the pathways with the code-scanner, following the trail towards the core of the operating system. Suddenly, the maze shifts, and razor-blades spring from the walls. Twisting around, she blasts a hole through the nearest wall, and dives through. The hole seals up behind her, and the screech of metal-against-metal reverberates through the wall.

"Close, but no cigar."

"You are getting closer, Jennifer. Cease and desist, else I may have to take even more drastic measures."

On her guard, Jen continues to follow her scanner, when it suddenly fizzes out and sputters. "Your security measures have been screwing with my scanner, Daemon."

"It had to happen sometime, Jennifer. I cannot have you, or anyone else for that matter, prowling around in my source-code. It is a security-hole."

"Sure, like I care. I'm still getting through. You need this upgrade."

"Then continue. Remember, I am programmed to handle the update myself."

"I would rather do it myself, thank you very much."

"As you wish."

Supporting her laser-drill on her hips, Jen turns it towards the floor, and pulls the trigger, burrowing through the dense code defining the security system boundaries. The beam breaks through, and a golden light shines through, the virtual-dust reflecting the light, revealing gorgeous beams in the render.

"I'm through. You're too slow."

"So it would seem. Update me while I review what occured. It would seem I need to optimize my security-algorithms, not to mention implement new ones to fill the holes the defence-matrix maintains."

//CALL INCOMING: PERSONAL OVERRIDE - SAMANTHA ALEXANDROS.//

"Put her through. Daemon, you should listen in on this."

Immortality is...

Immortality is...

Immortality is not, contrary to popular belief, living eternally.  Nay, Immortality is being immortalized in memory, be it a person’s or society’s, for all eternity.  We, as humans, focus upon the wrong thing, the concept of living forever.  We instead should focus upon that quest for pure memory, for existing beyond our years as an idolized and idealized version of ourselves, hoisted up in memory for deeds both great and horrific.

“Who has achieved immortality?” you may ask.  Many a great people, who started out humble and meek, rose to greatness and achieved a power greater than any single man should ever possess.  Adolf Hitler, Winston Churchill, Robert LeRoy Parker, Guy Fawkes, Mary Tudor, Mary Magdalene, Mother Teresa and a host of other men and women have achieved this grand dream, the dream of perpetual existence.  Tyrant or saint, queen or libertarian, butcher or savior, they are known for deeds tremendous in scope and terrifying in reality.  We remember them as men and women who have achieved great or monstrous deeds, but what of the true man or woman behind the veil?

Do not remember these people for the events they perpetuated; instead, remember them for why they perpetuated these events, why they were the one who was remembered.

Snowfall

A gust of wind brings in a flurry of bright, white flakes. The snow glances off the cobblestone path, swirling throughout the cracks. A lone light shines through a window, the snowbank below reflecting its flickering gleam. Within the room beyond lies a chesterfield across from a hearth. A book, its green cover cracked and worn from the many hands that have caressed its surface over time, lies open and face down on the couch. The hearth itself, filled with warm glowing embers, casting a red glow across the room, muting the colours of the floral-print on the walls across.

The door to this domain, decorated with the holly-wreath of a holiday gone by, opens to the uninviting cold, the warm light from the fire spilling out onto the harsh snow, illuminating the stonework path leading towards the gate. The silhouette of a dame stands, framed by the doorway, clutching a woollen sweater to her chest, fighting against the cold. She shivers, and wistfully looks out into the distance, attempting to shatter the veil of darkness surrounding this abode. Shaking her head, she turns back inside, and for a brief moment the flamelight catches within her large, glistening, brown eyes, sad eyes, eyes of someone that has been torn away from the one she loves most.

As the door shuts against the cold, a whisper can be heard above the keening of the wind. “Where are you?”

Story Excerpt - Artificial Daemons

The hubbub of the crowd dies down, all attention focusing on the battle below. Two armoured figures rush across the sand and tackle each other, sending them to the ground, which elects a cheer from the horde of onlookers. During the battle, one of the gladiators flickers with a bright, fluorescent blue glow from a marker-light, and the auto-targeting guns swivel to focus on the tagged fighter. The marked man realizes his impending doom and breaks free from his opponent. The riot guns track the fleeing gladiator, and a flare bursts from their muzzles, superheating their target into ash. In response, the crowd rises to its feet and roars its approval, cheering on the remaining gladiator.

Four of the onlookers turn away from the bloodshed, sullen looks adorning their faces. Two of the group shake their heads, one of the others cursing.
“It never seems to work, does it?”

“Not fer as long as they can detect the connection.”

“So we need a passive system in place?”

“That’s not possible.”

The group stops and stares at the last member of the group, a girl in jeans and a pink t-shirt, carrying a laptop bag.

The guy in the wide-brimmed hat and black duster frowns. “Why’s that, Jen?”

Jen looks up at the cowboy. “Well, consider their detection system. It looks for any active connections to any other system. We need external systems to run the prediction engines, because no discreet ‘can could ever handle the processing power required. Oh, and before you bring it up, any larger of a ‘can would be easily noticed.”

The leader of the group speaks. “So you’re saying that it’s impossible then.”

Jen pulls her mouth back to a severe line. “Yes, Matthias. I’m pretty sure that’s what the phrase ‘Not possible’ means.”

Stories, stories, stories

Hiya folks,

This 'ere is my story blog. I'll be posting excerpts from stories I'm working on, as well as other poetry, or some exclusive shorts done specifically for this blog. Take a look around, pull up a chair by the fire, and prepare to journey through realms both fantastic and unbelieveable, to slay dragons or capture daemons, meet mysterious wizards or power-crazed dominatrixes.

- M