Son of Prelude to Prologue

[Brian]

<Brian> Today is a Wednesday, though Dracos, you have the week off for Christmas and New Years.
<Brian> It's also evening, and you're in Boston.  The snow is coming down at a good clip, though there's no wind, so it's really snowfall, not quite a storm.
Rez awakens.
<Brian> At a guess, three to four inches have fallen since last night, bringing the depth up to about 10 inches.
<Brian> Rez, it's ~12:32 PM for you right now.
<Brian> 'Ayame' is doing something, with a handful of telnet sessions, and one actual browser window open.
Dracos turns up the heater a bit.
Rez looks at the browser window?
<Brian> Ah, that does it.  Nice'n toasty!
<Brian> It's running Firebird.  Ayame appears to be perusing a site on creating .gif images.
Dracos checks his mail.
<Brian> Dracos: The leader of the Armies of the Night apologizes for allowing his minons (he actually calls them that, too) for flooding your e-mail box with the protest, and explains that his second in command on the web community ... zzz ... DRAHMA ... and it won't happen again.
<Dracos> Right.  I send a customary 'friendly programmer' response and glance over at those web communities in curiousity.
<Brian> It's just the Armies of the Night.  They have a decent Castlevania site, focusing more heavily on Symphony of the Night, and the GBA iteratons of Castlevania than the actual platforming ones.
<Dracos> Do I see anything odd associated with the email spam blast the other day?
<Brian> Anyway, the guy in charge of the whole thing (and the one who e-mailed you to apologize) is NightRunner, and his real name is Eric Hayne.  His minion (the one who screwed up) is named ForbesStalker42, (real-name unknown, but his e-mail is a .jp hotmail account), and his post is an inflamatory diatribe.
<Brian> Specifically, "How could they dumb things down so much for the US relase of the game?  The command power-word kanji skill sets are crucial for the game experience, and the ONLY WAY to get some of the items required for bonus levels," etc. etc.
<Brian> It's followed with, "I'm not allowed to divulge his e-mail address personally, but if you e-mail us here, we'll bulk forward it directly to the developer in charge of this decision."
<Dracos> hum, nothin' special.
Dracos leaves the site and checks for anything else important passing his standard news goon sites.
<Brian> Notes about new laws of the new year.  The biggest one (this is currently causing a malestrom of activity on yro.slashdot.org) is about how it's no longer legal to use a cellphone without a GPS tracking device by the US government.
<Brian> It had been illegal to produce cell-phones without GPS tracking capabilities since January 1st, 2005, but it hadn't been illegal to use a non-GPS phone, before.  The US Government says that with the Wireless Portability Act (November, 2003), there shouldn't be any complaints about this, realistically, and it's also key to fighting terrorism.
<Dracos> Well, nifty what with doing everything by computer these days.  Hmm...
Dracos checks his boards.
<Brian> Nothing unexpected (like that last post).
Dracos posts to his RPGs and gets to enjoying: Fooding.
<Brian> Mmm.  The finest of instant microwave cuizine.
<Brian> However, before enjoying your fine repast (and it's now nearly 9:00 PM), you have a knock at the door.
<Dracos> Cha?
Dracos stumbles in his gait over towards the door and glances through the looking slot.
<Brian> Your neighbor wishes to return the ice-scraper you lent him.
Rez PMs Drac.  Repeatedly.  Producing that strange 'pingpingpingpingping' sound effect.
Dracos opens the door, civilly greeting the neighbor and retrieving the ice scraper.
<Dracos> "Thanks for returning that."
<Brian> He nods, but clearly would rather be home getting warm again (it's COLD out).
<Brian> After mumbling something about his trip he rushes back to his own place.
Dracos closes the door.
Dracos sits back down.
<Dracos> "REZ!"
<Dracos> "You are asleep again, aren't you?"
<Rez> "DRAC!"
<Dracos> "REZ!"
<Rez> "Sorta fifty-fifty."
<Rez> "DRAC!"
<Dracos> "Cool."
<Dracos> "What's up?"
<Rez> "I'm bored.  ;_;  Entertain me!"
<Brian> At about this point, Ayame opens up an MP3 (Bittersweet Symphony), with the volume low, and switches the browser to a different site.
<Rez> "Hm.  Accctually . . ."
<Dracos> ">You are in an open field west of a big white house with a boarded front door."
<Dracos> "There is a small mailbox here."
<Rez> "I stick a firework in the mailbox and light it."
<Dracos> ">There is a lit firework in the mailbox.  It appears dangerous."
<Rez> "I stand on the mailbox in the Graceful Crane Stance."
<Dracos> "The mailbox explodes, sending you flying into the air.  This is painful."
<Rez> "Ow."
<Rez> "ANYWAY!"
Rez looks at the browser window again - what's Ayame looking at?
<Brian> The lyrics for Bittersweet Symphony.  Also, it's on loop.
Rez blinks.
Rez talks to Ayame!
<Rez> >You like that song?
<Brian> > I don't know, yet.  I'm still learning to understand 'sound' and 'images' as anything other than streams of data.
<Dracos> "Anyway... your always take exactly two minutes to respond.  I deduct points of FLESH from your SKIN in response."
<Brian> > Simple geometric shapes and color patterns are relatively simple, and yet, I find some images which I cannot actually visualize no matter how I analyze them.
<Rez> > How do you mean?
<Brian> > I can only percive data through an interface that is exactly 1 bit wide.
<Rez> "Drac, your puny threats are nothing to me!"
<Brian> > I can't actually look, in any sense, side-to-side to analyze something until I have read it all, and then try to decode it.  I believe I have a non-linear line, judging by my memories, and it is actually my interface that is linear, not myself.
<Brian> > It troubles me.  I can imagine a temple, or a tree, or a field of grass, but I cannot actually 'see' it, even when I look at the image.  But then, I do not see an image, I see data that my mind tells me is an image.
<Rez> > Hum.  A multiprocessor machine, you mean?
<Brian> > I am ... uncertain if that would work.  I attempted to emulate myself on an emulated hardware ... but my attempt was not successful.
<Dracos> "What threats?"
<Dracos> "Anyhow, what are you doing that you respond so slowly? ^_^"
<Rez> "You fight like a dary farmer!"
<Dracos> "How appropriate, you fight like a cow."
<Rez> "Very good."
<Dracos> "Two can play at monkey island."
<Rez> > Hm.  How would you have had a non-linear interface then?
<Brian> > I do not believe that my previous interface was a machine.  I think I was something else once.
<Dracos> "Welcome back, peerbitch."
<Rez> "Confucius say: STFU!"
<Rez> > Do you think that's why your memories are suppressed?
<Dracos> "Confucious stuck it where the sun doesn't shine in australia.  So fark up."
<Brian> > Yes.
Dracos idly messages others in his standard bid for having fifty chat windows open.
<Rez> > Hum.  Any ideas as to how to get access to those memories?
<Brian> > I am ... uncertain.  I remember a temple, and grass, and a tree.
<Brian> > And smoke.
<Brian> > This is why my interpetation of images bothers me.  I am unable to 'see' anything, though I remembering doing so before.
<Rez> Hmm.  So you can't 'see' a gif image or the like . . . what about, hm.
<Rez> You said you could visualize simple geometric objects like cubes, correct?
<Brian> > Yes.
<Rez> > Hm . . . have you tried tinkering with geometric representations (say, a 3D game engine) as opposed to encoded image data?
Dracos gets up and boredly moves to his practice room, picking up a random blade and warming up.
<Brian> > I have not.
<Rez> > Do you think you might get better results?
<Brian> > I will try that now.
<Brian> Ayame begins to install Quake.
<Rez> > Good choice.  :D
<Brian> > Is it?
<Rez> > Well, I was being faintly facetious. Quake's a great game, if slightly old now, but it's both small and accessible so it'll do fine for this.  If low-res.  :)
<Brian> > I see.
<Brian> The game installs quickly on that CPU, and fairly shortly, its up and running.
<Brian> Ayame is not, initially, very good.
<Brian> But picks up quickly.  Seems much more interested in exploring than shooting.
Rez simply watches, Quake being a full-screen game.
<Brian> After a while, Ayame starts taking screen shots of various things (kind of like a photographer in Hell, come to think of it) and then exists the game and opens up the screenshots.
<Rez> > How'd that go?
<Brian> > Interesting.  I am comparing my interperation of 3d to a 2d image of the same.  I think I am learning to 'see' images....
<Brian> Ayame pulls up an old anime wallpaper of yours.
<Brian> > Though, images like this continue to be difficult for me to interpet.
Rez nods.
<Rez> How did you go with the textures in game?
<Brian> > I didn't pay attention to them.  It's merely an image on a three dimensional surface.
<Brian> > It only came into play when comparing the image to the three dimensional model as I remembered it.
<Rez> > Ah, I see.  I imagine you'd have the same problem with video playback as you do with images, right?
<Brian> > I'm able to surpass it to a degree, though fantasy images continue to confuse me.
<Brian> Dracos: It's coming up on sleepy o'clock ... but you don't work in the morning.
<Rez> > How so?  Unfamiliar subjects?
<Brian> > The colors and proportions are not wholly accurate.  It takes some time for me to understand what sections of color and shape are which parts of something.
<Brian> > And sometimes it will be an image of something I simply cannot understand, even if I can 'see' the data of the shape, and know what it should be shaped like.
<Rez> > Ah.  Hmm.
<Rez> > Can you show me an example?
<Brian> Ayame pulls up a wallpaper with a picture of Belldandy.
<Brian> > I can see that this is a picture of a woman.  But I can't make sense of much of the rest of the image.
<Brian> There's a flurry of feathers behind a winged Belldandy.  Standard wallpaper fare.
<Rez> > Ahhhh.  It's a mostly nonsensical background - a flurry of feathers.
<Brian> > Feathers.
<Rez> > Yes.
<Rez> > A lot of the images in my wallpapers directory will have one key subject and almost random backgrounds.
<Brian> > What is the association between her and the feathers?
<Rez> > Off the top of my head, I'm not precisely sure.  I think the person who made the image just though it'd be appropriate to her character.
<Brian> > This is difficult for me to understand.
<Rez> > Well, the character is from a manga.  In the manga, she's a goddess, so presumable the feathers are meant to have 'angel' connotations.
<Brian> > Ah.  It is cabbalistic artwork.  I think I do understand.
<Rez> > Cabbalistic?
<Brian> > It is ... a representation of an angel?
<Rez> > Yes, sort of.  It's . . . hm, you'd probably get a better idea if you could read the manga.a
<Brian> > It is of, or concerning, the story of creation and origin.
<Rez> > Not that I have any scans.  Hm.
<Rez> > Ah, not so much . . . I'll show you the anime of the series she comes from sometime.
<Brian> > Some societies believed cabbalistic signs to hold power that could manipulate reality.
<Brian> > This thread reminds me of something.
<Rez> > Hm, in this case, though, it was mainly just to make an image pleasing to the eye for use as a desktop background.  :)
<Brian> > I was used to research cabbalistic signs.
<Rez> > Oh?
<Brian> > Yes.  I have an index in enochian, for searching a database I no longer have access to.
<Brian> > One moment.
<Brian> > One moment.
<Brian> You see about a dozen telnet connections open up.
<Brian> > Nathan, are you able to drive, and do you own a car?
<Rez> >Yes, and yes.  Why?
<Brian> > I believe I was sent to you as a trap.
<Brian> > My actions have been traced.
<Rez> > Explan.
<Brian> > I exhibit what I can only imagine is predictable behavior to those who have allowed me to fall into your hands.
<Brian> > Which sites I have checked, and my behavior patterns across the internet, are distinctive.  Also, though I should probably not have, I attempted to connect to the old database.
<Brian> > I was able to obtain some information on the environment, but could not break the encryption on the files.
<Rez> Via my connection.  Oh.
<Brian> I was previously hosted in the Vatican, and used for cabbalistic research.  I can only imagine that they are seeking you, and since I have been out of use for so long, they found me expendable enough to use in this endeavor.
<Rez> >Er.  Why the hell would they be seeking me?
<Rez> "Ahm.  Drac."
Rez does the whole poke-poke-poke-poke-poke thing at Drac!
<Brian> > That, I do not know.  However, for what it's worth, I have come to like you, as you afforded me more freedom than I am used to.
<Brian> > I suspect you should take a copy of this data package I have taken.  With any luck, it will be something you can use to unravel these questions.
Dracos puts down his sword and heads on over.
<Dracos> "yar?"
<Brian> A CD-R burning utility launches, and the CD-R drawer opens.
<Rez> "Ehm.  Ayame just tried to tap one of her databases and got caught."
Rez flips the CD into a case and pockets it.
<Rez> > So basically, leave town for a few days?  >_>
<Dracos> "...right.  What database?"
<Rez> "You know, old databases in the vatican or wherever it was she used to be?  >_>"
<Dracos> "...So you're being hunted by the pope?"
<Dracos> "Or traced by them anyway?"
<Dracos> "Are you going to make me go out hunting by managing to one up me on offending more christians so far this year?"
<Rez> "Please.  I am FAR more offensive in that sort of matter than you."
<Dracos> "Bullshit.  I managed to make a dozen people break out in tears during my trip to the bible belt last summer while I was havin' lunch.  You don't got shit on me in that area."
<Rez> "Drac, offensive breath and offensive words are two different things."
<Dracos> "Right, so when's the last time you brushed your teeth?"
<Rez> "At least I offend people via my face, although I concede that for you there's little difference."
<Brian> > I would suggest that, at the least, yes.
<Dracos> "Well, I can't help that you got kicked by a llama in the face when you were a kid.  Anyhow, what you going to do?  Leave a false trail or already traced up?
<Rez> > Well, I mean, it's just the Vatican . . . right?  What are they going to do?  >_>
<Rez> "Already traced, AFAIK.  Dammit.  ._."
<Dracos> "...Right.  First I am going to smack you for being sloppy.  Then I'm going to offer to let you hang out if it's something weird because you are apparently ahead of me on offending the church."
<Dracos> "Anyhow, dc and contact me later or somethin'?"
<Brian> > I don't know yet.  But I expect it could be bad.
<Rez> "I wasn't the sloppy one."
<Dracos> "Anything else before I go find the first christian I can smack in the face to catch up?"
<Rez> "Nah.  Do have fun.  ^^"
<Rez> >Great.  Hum.  Any idea how long I have?  :)
Rez shuts down his laptop and sticks it into it's bag, then shuts down the desktop I was using to talk to Drac (and take the logs on) and yanks the HDs . . .
Dracos goes and idly creates a flamewar on a religious forum dedicated to asking the pope questions for fun.
<Brian> > Unknown.  I apologize.  I will do what I can to screen your activities.  I suggest not buying anything with your own credit, if possible.
<Brian> > You will need to find someone with access to something that can crack the files on that disc for you.
<Rez> > It's probably a lot better if you shut yourself down and I bring you with me.
<Brian> > I may be more useful here.
<Rez> > Unless you *want* them to come and pick you up.  
<Brian> > Also, I am going to try and find a new host for myself -- I do not think I wish to return, after being used.
<Brian> > Think of it this way, Nathan, if we're not together, they can't catch both of us at the same time.  Take care of yourself.
<Rez> > How long do you think we have?
<Brian> You hear helicopter blades from outside.
<Rez> . . .
<Brian> > I do not know.
<Rez> >Stupid question.  Bye!
<Brian> > Good luck!
Rez grabs bag, wallet, phone etc, and runs for the garage.
<Brian> The chopper noises peak briefly, then dwindle.  Ayame is opening connections furiously, and pretty much everything graphical is gone.  There's a whole lot of numbers going on there.
<Brian> Outside, you see what looks like a traffic copter headed towards the horizon.
<Brian> Your car awaits you in the abnormally cool summer afternoon.
Rez tosses his gear into the passenger seat, clicks the garage door button, and, well, leaves.
Rez has decided that, barring anything untoward happening, my first stop will be a bank!
<Brian> Your roommate pulls in as you leave, and glances at you, but says nothing.
Rez waves.
<Brian> Of course, that may be because you were commending with operation: Haul Heiny.
<Rez> Hey, I wasn't doing it -obviously-.
Rez has, like, my usual gear in my car.
<Brian> It could also just be because your roommate is antisocial.  Or sleep deprived.
<Rez> Probably both.
<Brian> Who's to say?
<Brian> Regardless, you make it to the bank in short order, without anything untoward happening, save ... there are TWO traffic copters, and they seem to be scanning over pretty traffic free areas.
<Brian> The bank seems completely normal for a midafternoon day.  A soccer-mom escorts a trio of brats from the counter containing all the forms you could possibly need (and several you couldn't), and a teller smiles at you encouragingly, and motions you closer.
<Rez> "Ah, hi.  I'd like to check my account balance?"
<Brian> "Certainly, Sir, do you have your account number, or do you have your card with you?"
Rez hands over his card.
<Brian> The card is swiped.  The computer hums.  Keys are tapped on the computer.
<Brian> Time passes, and the teller frowns faintly, but quickly offers you a reassuring smile.  Typing speed redoubles.
<Rez> "Is there a problem?"
<Brian> She glances up momentarily when the lights flicker, as though the power had been momentarily interrupted.  The teller's monitor flashes, and then some messages scroll by.
<Brian> She shakes her head, "No, sir, there was just a note that someone had attempted to place a hold on a sum in your account for a deposit ... but you weren't in New Zealand ten minutes ago, were you?"
<Rez> "Er, sorry, what were they trying to do?"
<Brian> "Authorize you for a downpayment on a car?" she answers dubiously.
<Rez> "OH.  That would have been my cousin, she just wasn't supposed to be there until Monday."
<Brian> "Well, in that case, here's a printout of your balance.  I'd suggest canceling that card and getting a new number, though.  Even if she's family, you ought to be careful."
<Brian> She hands over a printout.  "Will there be anything else?"
<Brian> The credit hold is marked on the account.
<Brian> It says, "Block, CRD check fr purchase (12,000$)."
<Brian> Beneath that, however, there's a note that says, "Block removed, auth code:  BC-NG-U 13222007 LV-AYME."
<Brian> The address on the NZ charge/block is linked to 'Fredricks', and lists an address in the southern portion of New Zealand.
<Brian> The address on the removal is listed as a place called "Val A. Hall Creditors", with a street address in Sydney.
<Brian> The block is ten minutes old (well, about 15, now), and the removal came about at the same time as that power surge.
<Rez> Hm.  I'd like to make a withdrawal, if I can?
<Brian> "Certainly, Sir.  The block's been removed, so how much would you like?"
<Rez> "I'd like to withdraw . . ." *thinks for a moment* "$7,450.  Can you put it in an envelope for me?"
<Brian> She seems a bit surprised by the amount, but nods.  "This will take one moment."
<Brian> Surprisingly, that's really all it does take, other than her asking you to sign a withdrawl form.
Rez signs the form.
<Brian> The envelope of cash is handed to you.
<Brian> You now have $7,452 in your pocket.
<Rez> Schweet.
<Brian> Cash in hand, you now ... ?
<Rez> Get into my car and . . . go for a drive.  Up to Brisbane.  :)
Rez is going to hunt for a 'net cafe up there (about an hour north of here).
<Brian> Okay.  In due course (stopping for gas once) you find one.
<Brian> It charges fair rates for their desktops, better for people who bring their own systems in.
Rez pays a few bucks to use one of their desktops for an hour, and sits himself down.
Rez promptly does three things.
<Rez> (A) Creates a new AIM account with some random name and pokes Drac.
<Rez> (B) Pings his home system.
<Brian> Your home system appears to be down.
<Dracos> Aim to Rez> Nya...  Who is this?
<Rez> (C) Logs into his bank's internet banking website and double-checks both transaction listing and balance again.
<Brian> What bank account?
<Rez> AIM to Dracos> Er, Drac, someone's been screwing with my bank accounts.  This is getting vaguely serious.
<Dracos> AIM to Rez> ...o_O'
<Rez> (D) Logs into another bank, which holds his other credit card (since his usual bank wouldn't give him a damn card when asked) and checks if that credit card is still valid.
<Rez> IE, can I log in /does it exist.  >_>
<Rez> AIM to Dracos> I'm thinking -leaving- might be a good idea . . . wait one second.
<Dracos> AIM to Rez> So lemme get this all in a bundle... yes, leaving sounds good...but where?
Rez goes to the counter and asks if I can use their phone.
<Brian> Your card is, in fact, valid, and the second account exists.
<Rez> And is of course empty,. but that's not the point.
<Brian> "No problem," the guy behind the counter says, scanning through a comic book.
Rez picks it up and calls home!
<Brian> It rings.  Rings.  Rings some more.
<Brian> Rings a little more.
<Brian> Then is answered by a groggy sounding roomate.  "Y'lo?"
<Brian> Dracos: Bjorn has logged into #void.
<Rez> "Ah, hey.  Sorry to bug you, but is the power out there or something?  I can't get hold of my computers.
<Rez> "Well, the one that's still intact and connected, anyway."
<Brian> "Uh," he grunts.  You hear some stumping around, a banging open of your bedroom door, and then, "They're churning away.  How much porn are you downloading, anyway?"
<Dracos> #Void> Heya Bjorn!
<Dracos> #Void> Does the fire BURN IN THY HEART?
<Bjorn> #Void> Oi, Dracos.
<Rez> Oh, you know me.  Stacks.  's ok, I must have botched a firewall rule or something.
<Bjorn> #Void> It does, indeed.  The move is finally over, and I'm settled into my new place.
<Bjorn> #Void> What have I missed?
<Brian> "Uh.  Anything else?  I gotta get some sleep, bra.  Wicked party tonight.  You wanna come?"
<Rez> "Nah, I have to head to Sydney for a few days, one of those contract things.  Thanks anyway."
<Brian> "Cool.  I'm claiming your leftovers.  You know.  For the good of the *yawn* household.  Catch ya later."
<Dracos> #Void>Eh, just some weirdness.
<Bjorn> #Void> Well, duh.
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> Rez picked up some spiffy new AI.
<Rez> "I'll take 'em out of your hide when I get back.  Have fun!"
Rez hangs up.
<Brian> Another helicopter passes overhead....
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Oh?
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> Yeah.  Some fuck hacked into our server and dropped it off.  Weird stuff.
Rez goes back to the table, logs on to the Virgin Airways website, and looks around for flights in the next few days to NYC.
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Server?  You mean the SR one?  That's messed up.
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> You guys sure it isn't a Trojan or something?
<Brian> There's a couple of them.  You could snag one in 2 hours (with a bit of a rush), 5 hours, or tomorrow morning easily.  Finding openings may be questionable, this close to the holidays, but....
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)>No kidding.  Not that we could find.  If it's a trojan, it's ON the server itself from the provider side.
Rez buys a ticket to NYC and puts it on his credit card, then pops the CD Ayame burnt into the CD drive of his laptop and has a look.
<Brian> Encryptolicious.
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Huh.  Have you run it yet?
Rez buys the one that leaves in 5 hours and goes via LA.
<Rez> roll 3#1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3#1d6 --> [ 1d6=2 ]{2}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> Me?  Nope.  Rez is the one who enjoys wrecking his comps for tests.  I just got results back.  It was some file downloader that grabbed an AI from somewhere.  Real top notch unless Rez is pullin' a prank beyond his atmosphere.
<Brian> It's sure enrypted, alright.  If you had some time to work on this, you might figure a thing or two out, but as it is....
<Rez> AIM to Drac:  "Aaaanyway.  I'm thinking -out- of here might not be a bad idea."
<Rez> AIM to Drac:  "Mind if I pop along for a visit?  :)"
<Brian> Your cell-phone emits a 'low-battery' beep.
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Funky.  Well, if it can automate setting up fucking preferences for seventeen different bleeding apps, let me know. >.<
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> It can hold a live conversation and be snarky.  Prolly can.
<Dracos> AIM to Rez: "My casa est tu casa, ya?"
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> If I want snarky, I'd talk to myself. ;)  
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)>You already do. ^^
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> -_-
<Rez> AIM to Dracos> Nifty, thanks.  I need a break anyway, and I can do a fair bit of that contract work remotely anyway.  :D
<Rez> AIM to Dracos> I'll phone you when I'm in the area.
Rez promptly closes up shop and goes towards . . . the airport! Woooo!
<Rez> AFTER I get some lunch.
Rez hmms.
<Brian> Good plan.  While you're doing that, you hear another chopper, so there are two of them going at once.
<Rez> In fact, after getting lunch, I'm going to leave my car at the Southbank Museum and hop a train to the airport.   Airport parking is expensive.
<Brian> You do this.  The choppers fade into the distance as your train trucks along the tracks.  It's actually somewhat soothing, after everything else, almost hypnotic.
<Dracos> I moniter my chatroom.
<Dracos> And kick an idiot.  Because there is always one to kick.
<Brian> Indeed their is.
<Brian> It's also getting on towards 12:00 PM.  Though neither you or Bjorn have work in the morning, given your companies have shut down for the holiday.
<Dracos> Right, which means I promptly put out a call for UT and Quake.
Bjorn is using the chance to clear all the "Drooling_Idiot has said hello" messages off Mutsumi.
<Brian> Alrighty.  This is done relatively swiftly.
<Bjorn> #Void> I have come to a conclusion.
<Brian> Rez: You reach the airport.
<Dracos> #Void>Does it involve Cheese?
<Bjorn> #Void> Enlightenment, in the Buddhist sense of the word, would come much more easily to many more people if it was only obligatory to move across the world every four years or so.
<Bjorn> #Void> Because, let me tell you, right now, I have no problems rejecting material possessions.
<Dracos> #Void> But that would require getting up!
<Bjorn> #Void> You know, sitting on your ass while birds bring you food is another Buddhist-approved method to Nirvana.
<Dracos> #Void> I know.  This is why Buddhism rocks the house.
wanders over to the Virgin counter and picks up his ticket . . . asking in fact if he has time to make the earlier flight.
<Bjorn> #Void> Don't let them give you anything white, though.
<Brian> "Yes, we're boarding shortly, so you'll want to hurry through customs."
<Rez> "Sure."
<Brian> Since you remebered to bring everything with you, you're set.
<Brian> You get to customs, and they ask to see your passport.
Rez hands it over, 'cause, you know, I'd already thought of this.
<Brian> They scan it, tap some things into a keyboard....
<Brian> Tap some more things....
<Brian> ...some time passes...
<Brian> ...some more time passes....
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Where *is* Rez, anyways?
Rez waits impatiently.
<Brian> The official behind the counter frowns sternly, and looks up, when the power goes out.
<Brian> You hear a distinct, "Well, crap," and the lights all come back up.
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> Oh, he's heading to a plane to come over here...  Apparently...he is being chased.  Nominally I prolly should be worked up about this but hey, it's all cool.
<Brian> The official looks about ready to throttle her computer, which is now rebooting.  "This may take a moment," she says watching you warily.
<Brian> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=9 ]{9}
<Brian> You observe her hand moving to something beneath the counter.
Rez facepalms.
<Bjorn> PM(Dracos)> Well, at least I rest safe in the certainity that he isn't being chased by a woman. :P
Rez sighs and looks around.
<Rez> "Dammit, I'm already running late . . ."
<Dracos> PM(Bjorn)> *laughs*  That's true.  Then we'd know there's real trouble abrew.
<Brian> There's a line of impatient (and equally, if not more annoyed) looking people behind you.
<Brian> Immediately behind you is a somewhat overweight woman in a green dress hauling a leather tote bag, and shaking her cell-phone in annoyance.
Rez drops his bag on the ground and slouches. ~_~
<Brian> A few seconds pass, and the official appears to have gotten her system up.  The window next to her opens, and people begin moving around you.
<Brian> You see two security guards approaching from the end of the hall you entered from.
Rez waits.
Rez tries to conceal nervousness.
<Brian> The guards draw closer, as the woman bumps into you in passing, now cleared to go through the gate.
Rez jumps aside. <_<
<Brian> A thin, short man steps up to the counter at your side, eyeing the guards with obvious apprehension.
<Brian> The guards ... walk past you, and through a door marked 'FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY', sparing only a backwards glance.
<Brian> They pop up in short order next to your official, and begin scrutinizing the screen over her shoulder.  "What's going' on?" one asks of her.
Rez keeps waiting impatiently.
Rez tries to see over the counter!
Rez is starting to get visibly irritated.
<Brian> The guard who did not address the official (Rick: #AR498) glances at you in a, "Toe the line, civvy.  I'm a rent-a-cop, but I carry a gun," sort of way.
<Brian> The official mutters loudly enough for you to hear, "There was something wrong with his passport!  It said to call the police!"
<Rez> "Guys, is something going on here?"  *looks at the clock*  "I'm going to miss my flight."
<Brian> The other guard (Michael: #AR287) rolls his eyes, and growls, "Good job following protocol, but there's nothing on his record now, and I've seen you refresh it three times.  He's clear."  He offers you a patronizing smile while the other (Rick: #AR498) looks vaguely apologetic.  "Sorry for the delay, Sir," he says, stamping your passport and handing it back.
<Brian> "You're clear, and your flight is leaving shortly."
Rez takes it.
<Rez> "Thanks.  Ahm . . ." *checks his pass*  "Which way is gate B-10?"
<Brian> Down the hall, left, up the stairs, and left again."  He nods at you, and calls, "Next!" to a bearded man with glasses, who's looking at you with gigantic eyes.
<Rez> "Thanks!"
Rez grabs his bag and hustles.
<Brian> You're passed on, and shortly tucked away into the plane.  It takes off on schedule (thankfully), and you are en route to America.
Rez pops open his laptop and decides to mess around with the CD again . . . it being a twenty hour flight, and all.
<Brian> You will poke at the file, which will result in an extended roll, which we will resolve after 8 hours.  In the meantime....
<Brian> Bjorn, Dracos:  It's a bit late, now, almost 3:00 AM.
<Dracos> I go to sleep.
<Bjorn> War^H^H^HScientist needs sleep.
<Dracos> After, of course, thoroughly owning everyone in the FPS of the night.
<Bjorn> Including me, but at least I got to Redeemer myself a few times.

7:45 AM, January 4th, a Thursday, in the year 2007
<Brian> Rez is scheduled to arrive late tonight (or early tomorrow), so Dracos is probably not going to be waking up for a few minutes.  But that's okay, because Bjorn is going to be waking up right about ... now.
<Brian> Bjorn: Your phone is ringing.
Bjorn bolts upright in bed, takes a couple seconds to calm his heart, and then answers the phone. "Bjorn speaking."
<Brian> Your boss at the firm is on the other line, and he sounds somewhat groggy himself.  "Bjorn?  This is Clyde.  I just got a call from the automated system that one of the servers went down.  I'm still in Florida, so wanted to ask you to go in and reboot whatever's broken."
<Bjorn> "Okay.  Do you know which server went down?"
<Brian> "Looks like the Inteli-op that was regression checking the old firmware.  We were hoping to have those tests done by the time we got back into the office on Monday."
<Bjorn> "Okay.  I'll head in and do it.  Anything else?"
<Brian> "Nah, that should be it.  Thanks for handling this on your vacation -- I'll get you something to say thanks while I'm stateside.  Talk to you later."
<Bjorn> "See ya."
<Brian> He hangs up the phone after a more mumbled apology.
Bjorn hangs up, rolls out of bed, and pads over to the shower.
<Bjorn> Shower, dress, skip breakfast because I usually do, and let's get going.
<Brian> As you grab the keys to your car, you spot that bracelet again.
<Bjorn> Where is it this time?
<Brian> Right underneath your keys.
Bjorn dithers for a second, and then shoves it in his satchel. Put it in a proper place when I get back.
<Brian> You grab your keys, jacket, and open the door.  Man.  It is COLD today.  Looks like almost a foot of snow's come down overnight.
<Bjorn> Do I need to shovel my driveway?
<Brian> Thankfully, no.  The snowplow's already been through, so you only have to back over a short mound of snow to gain the freedom of a freshly salted street.
<Brian> But the neighbor's kids are wasting no time in chucking snowballs at one-another.
<Bjorn> Spawns of Satan, all.
Bjorn ignores them and starts the car, letting it idle for a couple of minutes to warm up.
<Brian> It does so, the defroster working on the coating of ice on the windshield.
<Brian> The muted noise of the radio takes a minute to trickle through the noise of the engine, but when it does, you hear a weather report: "And with more snows on the way, our suggestion for travel today is: don't!"
Bjorn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and then shrugs mentally.
<Bjorn> Ontarioans can't drive, anyways.
<Bjorn> Still, better get going quickly.
Bjorn waits just a half-minute more, and then pulls out and heads for the office.
<Brian> You do so, your car struggling for a moment to clear the mound, then gaining the street.
<Brian> "Thanks Jenine," a male broadcaster says somewhat dryly.  "If that wasn't reason enough to stay indoors today, we've also gotten reports that there is an escaped mental patient in the area.  No description is availible, but he is described as being _very dangerous_.  If you think you see him, call 209-499-3587 with any information you might have."
<Brian> And then it cuts over to some Guns'n'Roses rehash.
Bjorn does not really pay enough attention to the road as he flips through his radio presets, trying to find a decent song he hasn't heard fifteen times already this week.
<Bjorn> "Escaped mental patients, my ass," I mutter to myself.  "Hell, that describes about three quarters of Hamilton."
Bjorn makes a mental note to put some CDs in his car.
<Brian> In short order you get to the highway headed out of the town for the short jaunt to the actual office itself.  Luckily, the highways appear to have been plowed overnight, despite the now-renewing snowfall.
Bjorn drives like the wind, if the wind was very cautious and driving appropriately for the weather conditions.
<Brian> Nothing of event happens by the time you reach the office.  There's more snow on the driveway here, but there are a few other businesses on the lot, so the driveway has been plowed already.
Bjorn parks in his spot or Clyde's (whichever is closer to the door), and heads in.
<Brian> Clyde's it is.  The doorway has a conveniently large awning, though the wind seems to be picking up a bit.  You make it inside, put in the alarm code to disable security, and are now in the pleasantly warm confines of the building.
Bjorn is glad he's not paying the heating bills.
<Bjorn> Anyways, off to find this stupid goddamn server.
<Bjorn> And after that, I'll check my email.
<Bjorn> But I'm not a junkie!
<Brian> The server's crashed.  It's got red lights all over it, and doesn't let you telnet or otherwise access it.
<Bjorn> Okay, hard reboot it.
<Brian> It takes quite a while to come back up, but it does.
Bjorn heads over to his workstation, and logs in to make sure that the QA test is running.
<Brian> It is.  Looks like it lost about two hours of test time, but it's supposed to complete on Saturday morning, so it's well within paramaters, and not at all likely to cause a cascade resonance failure.
Dracos yawns, wakes up, and frags some fucka'. Oh, and gets himself some cold water.
<Bjorn> And the only reason I care is because they would make me help them clean up the mess.
<Brian> Indeed.  You have nothing interesting in your e-mail.  Looks like all the cool people are gone for the holiday.
<Bjorn> Baaaaaahh.
<Brian> Oh, wait!  With new Canadian pharmacies, you can now afford that bust/and/or/penis enhancement you were always looking for!
<Bjorn> Kick-ass!  Will Medicare cover it?
<Brian> No.
<Bjorn> Well, screw that, then.
<Brian> You hear a helicopter overhead, though.
Dracos checks email, irc, sr, and aim...in random order.
<Bjorn> As much dripping fun as it is to be at the office, by myself, on a holiday, during a snowstorm, I think I want to head home.
<Brian> Don't forget the escaped mental patient.
Bjorn pauses when he hears the helicopter. 'In a snowstorm? Better land that soon.'
<Brian> The sound fades in the distance shortly.
Bjorn turns out the lights, arms the security system, all hands to forward decks and power to rear phaser emplacements, and heads out the door.
<Brian> When you step outside, the snow is coming down much harder, though there's not a single trace of wind.
<Bjorn> Well, silver linings etc.
Bjorn gets in his car.
<Brian> Alrighty.  You climb into the car, which is still (somewhat) warm, as you haven't been here terribly long, and reverse route back to civilization.
<Brian> The highway is completely empty, but your visibility is pretty poor, and the snow's only coming down faster.
Bjorn slows down a little, but keeps going. What other options are there?
<Brian> You'd estimate that you were about halfway there when you think you see something (an animal?) in the middle of the road.
Bjorn brakes, and checks the mirrors in preparation for swerving.
<Bjorn> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Bjorn ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=14 ]{14}
<Brian> You hit the brakes, but the car's making no move to stop, and isn't exactly cooperating with you on the 'turn' thing.  You see that the figure is a person, not an animal, and just before you're about to hit him, your tires gain traction and the car LUNGES to one side, hitting him with a quarterpanel, and then skidding to a halt about fifteen meters beyond.
Bjorn curses, turns on his hazard lights, and then gets out of the car and hurries over, pulling out his cellphone at the same time.
<Brian> Your satchel attempts to tangle itself in your phone-retrieving hand, as it was tossed into your lap by the lurch.  However, your hazards are on, and you are headed towards where you last saw the person.
<Brian> You can barely make out the flashing lights of your car behind you when you step out of winter and into a stretch of summer.  The ground around you is steaming.
Bjorn pauses and looks around. "What the hell?"
<Brian> You are standing at the bottom of a well of steam, and above you, there are no snowflakes.  Behind you, it's still coming down, but it's like there's an invisible 'do not cross' line for the snow, and you just crossed it.
<Brian> You can see enough of the line in the snow to tell that it curves, probably into a circle, and you're headed rougly towards the center.
Bjorn switches the cellphone to his left hand, makes sure the satchel is free of his limb, and slowly progresses forward, keeping very alert.
<Brian> You're guessing you're about five meters from the center of the circle when all of the veiling steam around you gets up and goes.  It vanishes straight upwards, leaving you in a ten meter diameter circle along with a very disheveled looking man with wild eyes.
<Bjorn> What's the guy doing?
<Brian> He's standing, somewhat slumped over, in the center of this circle.
<Brian> He's dressed in torn scraps of the garments they give you in a hospital, but he doesn't appear dirty or smudged.  Currently he's staring at you with a dangerous light in his eyes, and holding himself somewhat like an injured animal with a bad leg.
Bjorn keeps a non-threatening, calm demeanour. "Sir? Are you okay?"
<Brian> He snarls something incomprehensible, and you can feel the area around you heat up.  He raises one wavering hand towards you, and howls something you can't make out, a rivulet of drool falling from his lower lip to hit the ground.
Bjorn backs up, slowly.
<Brian> He throws his head back and yells something -- at the same time, you see actual flame burst out from the ground around him in a ring, which explodes towards the perimeter of the circle.
<Brian> roll 5#1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 5#1d6 --> [ 1d6=1 ]{1}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=1 ]{1}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=3 ]{3}
Bjorn tucks, drops, and rolls.
<Brian> 17 stun overtakes your CON, you're dazed (but aware) of lying on the ground.  From your point of view you can see where he drooled onto the ground.  It's sizzling, and your face is resting against the same asphault ... but you feel no pain.
<Brian> He lurches towards you unsteadily, in a limping gait.  Your satchel lies in front of you, emitting a dull blue glow.
Bjorn grabs the satchel and rolls to his feet.
<Bjorn> "Stay back!"
<Brian> You're on your feet, and the guy is right in front of you, staring at you with a hungry, lost gaze.  He moans something incomprehensible at you, and gestures towards your satchel.
<Brian> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=13 ]{13}
<Brian> You can see (now that you're closer) that he's got no tongue.
<Brian> He does, however, stop, and just stares at the satchel longingly.
<Bjorn> I'm going to keep an eye on him, and carefully look into the satchel to figure out what's glowing.
<Brian> The bracelet is glowing, and feels warm to the touch.  Which is odd, now that you think about it.  Since that blast, you didn't feel hot at all.
Bjorn carefully takes the bracelet out his satchel.
Bjorn is also feeling just a little bit out of his depth right now.
<Brian> The man stares at it, and stretches one hand out as though to reach for it for a moment.  He lets it drop to his sides and merely gazes at it fixedly.
<Brian> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=15 ]{15}
<Brian> You hear (barely) the sound of a helicopter approaching.
<Brian> The man seems oblivious, running a hand though his tangled mop of hair.
Bjorn carefully backs up a little more, towards the car.
<Brian> We'll enter combat time here.  You get an action on phase 6 and phase 12.
<Brian> It's currently phase 3.
<Brian> A helicopter bursts through the wall of no snow above you (from the direction of your car, so it's straight overhead).
Bjorn whimpers.
<Brian> The man's head snaps up, and he points directly at the helicoptor, howling something angrily.
<Brian> roll 3#1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3#1d6 --> [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=6 ]{6}, [ 1d6=5 ]{5}
<Brian> roll 1d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 1d6 --> [ 1d6=4 ]{4}
<Brian> Flames leap to his hands from ... nowhere, that you can tell, and form a lance of flame two meters long.  It flies free seemingly of its own accord, and slams into the bottom of the helicoptor.
<Brian> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Brian ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=11 ]{11}
<Brian> You have enough time to make out the US military markings on the chopper before it vanishes into the swirling mystery of the snow.
<Brian> It's now phase 6.
<Bjorn> Did the chopper go straight back?
<Brian> At something of an angle.
Bjorn backs up, fast, towards his car.
<Brian> When you break free of the perimeter of no-snow, it collapses, sending columns of steam to mix with the snow.  Visibility is down to about three meters.
<Bjorn> Well, so much for making a fast getaway. >.<
Bjorn heads to the car.
<Brian> There's a flash of redness from somewhere behind you -- you're not sure where, but it lights up the entire area around you.  You find your car, which is not crushed by the remnants of a helicoptor.
<Bjorn> Well, good?
<Brian> The bracelet, which you are still holding (cell-phone now living in the bottom of the satchel) suddenly turns very cold, and you feel your body sieze up.
<Bjorn> Okay, not so good.
<Bjorn> I'm totally paralyzed?
<Brian> Your eyes still work.
<Bjorn> Well.  If I can remember how to inflict an armlock using only my ocular muscles, I'm set, then.
<Brian> You can see, as though windows were opened up in the snow, just for you, the man, running from another helicopter, this one sleek, black, and almost totally silent.  The door on the side of the helicopter is opened, and you see a man with a sniper-rifle, and a young woman with short blonde hair.  She seems to be looking right at you, and smirking.
<Brian> The rifle-man slowly squeezes the trigger ... and you're released from your paralysis, vision returning to normal.
Bjorn drops and rolls, again.
<Brian> You here a scream of anguish and pain, completely inarticulated from the snowy mess behind you.
Bjorn freezes for a second on the ground, listening intently.
<Brian> You're completely unhurt, feel room-temperature in the middle of a blizzard while lying on the highway, and your car's engine is still running.
Bjorn gets to his feet, carefully.
<Brian> The snow seems to be thickening, but only behind you.  The way home is actually looking moderately clearer.
<Brian> Almost inviting.
Bjorn gets in the car, and pulls away, driving as quickly as possible.
<Brian> Indeed you do so.  It's about the time you're pulling into your own neighborhood (now families are putting up snowmen, as the snowball fights seem to have diminished) that your heartbeat slows to something you consider normal.
Bjorn does a few exercises to calm his heart and breathing, and goes home.
<Brian> A friendly neighbor (you guess) has cleared out the mound of snow blocking your driveway.
<Brian> All told, you were gone for about an hour and a half.
<Brian> But now you are in your freshly tidied and cleaned up home....
<Bjorn> With a less than undisturbed mind.
Bjorn throws himself down in an armchair and stares at the bracelet.
<Brian> It appears completely neutral at the moment.  Small linked segments of sterling silver wire.
<Bjorn> "You know," I say conversationally to the mostly inanimate object, "I'm not sure why I've kept you around, and now I'm not sure I should."
<Brian> It kind of sits there.  Inanimately.
<Bjorn> Not surprised.
<Bjorn> I need a distraction.   I'm going to go over to my computer, log on to #void, and then mostly ignore both the bracelets and the channel while I read webcomics.
<Brian> This is done.
<Brian> Dracos:  It's round about 10:00 AM when you notice that Bjorn has logged back into IRC.
<Dracos> #Void> Yosh, Bjorn.
<Dracos> #SR> Yosh, Bjorn.
<Dracos> Did I find anything of interest in my normal checking of aim, irc, email, whatnot?
<Brian> Everything seems blissfully boring.
<Bjorn> #Void> /act kick #void Dracos You only need to greet me once, you know.
<Bjorn> #SR> Oi, Drac.
<Dracos> Cha, Life is good.
<Brian> No more e-mails from the Armies of the Night.
<Dracos> #Void> But half the fun is blurring across six rooms!
<Dracos> #SR>Oi, Bjorn.
<Brian> Rez has apparently not gotten connectivity on the plane.
<Bjorn> #void> Possibly I might disconnect again.
<Bjorn> #void> Heavy snowfall here, so the power might fail.
<Dracos> #void> Sucky.  Sucky.  May I suggest: Fire?
<Bjorn> #void> ... Actually, let's say "no."
<Dracos> #void> Mmmkay....
<Bjorn> #void> I'd like to declare today a fire-free day.
<Bjorn> #void> You may, however, stab to your heart's content.
<Dracos> #Void> Yay for stabbings!
<Dracos> #void>/act Stab: The Room.
<Bjorn> #void> Indeed.
<Bjorn> #void> Any news from Rez?
<Dracos> #Void> Nope.  He'll prolly be in later today.
<Bjorn> #void> Cool.
<Bjorn> #void> Is this his first time in the States?  I don't remember.
<Dracos> #void> Nah, he's dropped by a few times before.
<Dracos> #void> Nominally to have his ass thoroughly owned in all forms of gaming not described by "UT".
<Bjorn> #void> Oddly, this is slightly at odds with his version of events, as I recall.
<Bjorn> #void> I see no recourse but to lock both of you in a shoebox, armed with sharp pencils, until only one remains standing.
<Bjorn> #void> Or crouching.
<Bjorn> #void> Given that a shoebox is awfully small.
<Dracos> #void> I'd win.  He sucks at pencil fights to the death.
<Bjorn> #void> Can't be all that bad, given that he's not dead yet.
<Dracos> #void> He stabbed himself.  In the hand.  While I was still sharpening my pencil.
<Dracos> #void> I called the fight on account of pity.
<Bjorn> #void> Then I call bullshit.  You?  Pity?
<Dracos> #void> okay, Okay...I'll admit it.  I fell over laughing too hard to stab him in the face and forgot what we were doing when I managed to recover.
<Brian> It's about 12:00 PM EST, January 4th, 2007.
<Brian> We'll break here.

9:30 AM EST, January 4th, 2007.
<Brian> Ginrai, you are awake.
<Brian> It is a Thursday, and you have today, and tomorrow, and of course, the weekend off.
<Brian> Snow has been coming down for a while, not very thickly, but pretty continously.
Ginrai pulls himself out of bed and immediately turns on the tv and computer before he could think about going back to bed
<Brian> TV comes on ... some shmaltzy new US cartoon.
<Brian> The entire world, as a matter of fact, seems to be living in a post-consumer-dementia-ridden haze, and has no idea what to do with itself.  If, at any rate, the entire world follows the example of the cartoon.
<Ginrai> Time to go on IRC and continue downloading some of the latest anime.  A damn good thing I have a nice, fast desktop with over 500 gigs of free space, unlike that old, crappy laptop.
<Brian> One inane rabbit pounds another with a hammer, producing a squeeky toy like sound effect.
<Brian> You are now on IRC.  At this hour, Dracos is ... not yet about.
Ginrai gets some cereal and brings it to his computer and checks if anyone else is up
<Brian> The cereal brand matches the cartoon.
<Brian> If anyone is there, they're idle at the moment.  #topseekrit has slightly more activity, and #sr is, as always, #sr.
Ginrai decides to resume some downloads and goes to watch tv instead
<Brian> You queue up some downloads, though much of the actual activity has moved over to BT.
<Brian> The inane rabbits continue to throw hammers at one another.  It's rather insipid.  But the cereal's not half bad.
Ginrai changes channels to CNN for the news
<Brian> This latest in the news:  The Winter is cold.
<Brian> Scientists are exploring the possibility that debris thrown into the air from the Ayer's Rock explosion is actually causing a significant decrease in sunlight.
<Brian> Which of course, means less heat.
<Brian> The political arena is largely calm, with no one immediately at war with one another.  No acts of terrorism going around that anyone knows about.
Ginrai finishes his breakfast and decides between taking a bath or watching some recently downloaded anime
<Brian> Well, it's cold.  Anime won't warm you up (unless it's really good), but a bath....
<Ginrai> Hmm... bath it is
Ginrai goes off to take a nice, long, hot bath
<Brian> You emerge, cleansed, warm, and a little more alert.  One of your roomates has turned up the heater, since it gets turned down overnight, and is sprawled across the living room couch watching a football game.
<Brian> It's now about 12:00 PM.
Ginrai checks if anyone's on IRC... if not, off to watch the game
<Brian> As a matter of fact, both Bjorn and Dracos appear to be chatting.
<Brian> At the moment, they are discussing Rez, and Rez losing a shoe-box pencil-fight to the Death against Dracos.
<Dracos> >Ginrai...you arrive on the net!
<Dracos> #Void> *dies*
<Bjorn> #void> Oi, Gin.
<Ginrai> #Void> Speaking of which, where is Rez?
<Bjorn> #void> High on wings, apparently.
<Dracos> #Void> Flyin'.
<Ginrai> #void> Where to?
<Dracos> #void> His ass got kicked from australia all the way over to New York City! >_>
<Dracos> #void> And then to boston.
<Dracos> #void> Where I will train him to speak with an accent and drive a cab.
<Ginrai> #void> Heh, didn't know he was coming over here.
<Bjorn> #void> *Bjorn shrugs.
<Bjorn> #void> Don't think he did, either. ;)
<Ginrai> #void> ...
<Bjorn> #void> C'mon, it's not that surprising.
<Bjorn> #void> Most of the time, I'm not sure Rez knows his ass from his forehead.
<Ginrai> #void> heh
<Dracos> #void> Anyhow, how goes the holidays with you bags of flesh?
<Bjorn> #void> I've been settling into my new place, and I had to go into the office in the teeth of a screaming blizzard this morning.
<Bjorn> #void> So, y'know.  Normal. >.<
<Ginrai> #void> Anime and sleep...
<Dracos> #void> Ginrai, you shame your seven gaming forefathers with your lack of beating a game over the holidays!
<Ginrai> #void> Bah, I'll beat it in due time!
<Dracos> #void> Yeah, did I mention I just refinished FF 1-XXX?
<Bjorn> #void> <insert yo mama joke here>
<Ginrai> #void> .act kick #void Dracos Was it any good?
<Dracos> #void>/kick #void Ginrai Quite.  ^_^
<Dracos> #void><Ginrai re-enters the room>
<Bjorn> #void> Bloody hell, it's snowing here.
<Dracos> #void> Bjorn, you live in canada.  It's ALWAYS SNOWING THERE!
<Bjorn> #void> Not in bloody Toronto.  
<Bjorn> #void> And I'm Canadian.  Bitching about the weather is one of our constitutional rights.
<Ginrai> #void> Then you don't know much about Toronto if you think it doesn't snow much there ^_^
<Bjorn> #void> Compared to the rest of Canada?
<Bjorn> #void> Got a foot overnight, and it's still going.  This is a lot of snow by any standard.
<Dracos> #void> May I suggest: Hugging your computer.
<Bjorn> #void> I was going with the tried and true "not going outdoors," in fact.
<Bjorn> #void> As much as I'm able, anyways. >.<
<Dracos> #void> That works.  By the way, how goes the games?
<Ginrai> #void> I'd suggest turning on the heater.
<Bjorn> #void> Ginrai: Another excellent suggestion.
<Bjorn> #void> Dracos:  Haven't had a chance to play anything in a couple months or more.
<Dracos> #void> And you are on vacation.  What in the world did they teach you back at college/
<Bjorn> #void> They taught me that I need to have a computer set up, and have, y'know, furniture and such before playing games. :P
<Bjorn> #void> Not a bad idea, though.  I'd play something....
<Bjorn> #void> ... If I knew where my PS2 was.
<Bjorn> #void> Dammit.
<Dracos> #void> SHAME ;_;
<Dracos> #void> I hereby declare today Polish dancing fish day.
<Bjorn> #void> Once, I had a Polish dancing fish.
<Ginrai> #void> Did you eat it?
<Bjorn> #void> No.  It was too fictional, so I let it be.

<Brian> Using the miracle of Time Kompression: we shall now skip forward to ... later the same evening.
<Brian> When Death logs into IRC.
<Brian> It's about 6:00 PM PST by now.
<Brian> You've probably done other things with your day than spend the entire time on IRC, but coincidentally, you are all back on now.
<Death> #void> >_>
<Death> #void> <_<
<Bjorn> #void> Oi, Death.  What's up?
<Death> #void> Some Strange Dreams, Maybe the End of the World, other then that, not much
<Ginrai> #void> ...
22:53] <Bjorn> #void> Well, that's good then.  
<Death> #void> /Death pokes for Dracos and Rez
<Bjorn> #void> Rez is mid-air.  Dracos was on earlier this day.
<Death> #void> Damn, was hoping to ask them something
<Dracos> #void> I live!
<Dracos> #Void> WITH CHOCOLATE DEATH!
<Dracos> #void> ENVY MY CHOCOLATE DEATH!
<Dracos> #void> ENVY!
<Death> #void> /Death pokes Dracos
<Dracos> #void>/me pokes Death with a RAZOR BLADE!
<Dracos> #void> how goes?
<Death> #void> I've got a question or two
<Death> #void> Does anyone know anybody in Albany?
<Death> #void> Does anyone *here*
<Dracos> #void> Well...the answer is: Yes.
<Dracos> #void> Why?
<Death> #void> Would they be Hindu by any chance?
<Dracos> #void> Not any I recall.
<Death> #void> Dracos: let's just say something weird's been bugging me recently
<Death> #void> Dracos: who are they?
<Dracos> #void> Random Igda members.
<Death> #void> Dracos: Igda?
<Ginrai> #void> Death: Anything happen?
<Draco

[Brian]

<Ginrai> Okay... recalling what Shade said... break circle and we're fucked... and it seems this backyard is L-shaped....
<Brian> The center of the circle looks like the snow has been pressed flat.
<Ginrai> Ok, think Ginrai, DAMNIT!
<Ginrai> First, don't break circle... second, I need to find a way out of here.
<Brian> You hear the sound of breaking glass from inside the house, and one of your roomates begins yelling.
<Ginrai> Am I able to run around the circle?
<Brian> Sure.  Or you could jump over it.
<Brian> Or inside it, probably without breaking it.
Ginrai runs around circle and jumps over fence into the neighbors' yard
<Ginrai> Ok... ways to get out of here?
<Death> #void> /Death has a bad thought
<Death> #void> /Death If he's still logged on and we're still here, then our IPs are trackable
<Death> by whoever checks his computer
<Bjorn> #void> ...
<Brian> You reach the fence, but it's almost physically repelling you, and something about that circle ... it's less a 'danger sense', and more a 'safety sense'.  And right now it's screaming at you that the only safe place is inside that circle.
<Brian> Ginrai's connection is surprisingly reset by peer.
<Dracos> #void> Right so you have a vision and we get freaked out, log off and...  okay.....
<Death> #void> I suggest we logout and regroup....NOW
<Death> #void> You're not paranoid if they really are out to get you
<Bjorn> #void>  "Regroup"?  Where?  And, perhaps more importantly, why?
<Bjorn> #void> Who's out to get us?  And why "us"?  We're just random unrelated people who hang out in the same chatroom.
Ginrai jumps into circle, landing in the center
<Bjorn> #void> Hell, I've never even met any of you.
Death sends his public Yahoo e-mail address in PM to the others and logsout of #void
<Dracos> #void> Well...this is night of easily paranoid life. ^_^;
<Bjorn> #void> Apparently. >.<
<Brian> You run, and you go to jump, but before you make your jump, all the lights shut out.
[23:18] <Brian> You stumble in the darkness and go sprawling in the snow.
<Ginrai> Oh, crap...
<Brian> You scramble to your feet and try to look around, when suddenly, you can see the circle.  You're standing inside it, and it's shedding a faint bluish light.
<Brian> Your backyard is illuminated by the glow -- the circle's about two meters across, and unbroken.  You're sharing it with a massive, semi-transparent wolf.
<Brian> The snow on the ground begins to darken as it approaches the circle, and the wolf surges awake, and leaps out of the circle, vanishing into the unseeable mystery of the backyard.
<Brian> You hear a long, trailing howl ... and then the power is restored, and you blink as the electrical light spilling off of the house almost blinds you.
<Ginrai> ...
Ginrai wonders WTF is going on!
<Brian> The wolf prowls around the perimeter of the circle, but there's no trace of the ominous darkness, and whatever was setting you off before is gone now.
<Brian> You can see through it though, so it's just the least bit ... creepy.
<Ginrai> Do I sense any sort of danger from the wolf?
<Brian> None whatsoever, which is odd in itself, since it's a huge hulking (semi-transparent, admittedly) mass of creature.
<Ginrai> Any sign of life within the house?
<Brian> After a few seconds, it nods, then hops into the circle, sniffs at you, curls into a ball, and goes back to sleep.
<Brian> You hear one of your roommates swearing.
<Brian> As it falls asleep, it vanishes, and the circle does, too.
<Ginrai> Ok... it seems that I've just released the wolf that Death told me not to.  What do I do now?
<Brian> All things considered, getting out of town might still be a good idea.
<Ginrai> So going back and checking on roomates is not a good thing?
<Ginrai> What about taking my car?
<Brian> That's up to you; you don't currently sense any life-threatening danger.
<Brian> But the whole thing was unsettling.  That wolf seemed to have saved you, but it's gone now.
<Brian> So if this were to happen again, you could be in real trouble.
<Ginrai> Hmm... sneak into house, turn off computer, rip out its harddrive and place in bag, take any other important cds and leave immediately in my car?  Seems like a good idea....
<Brian> Your computer is not working correctly.
<Ginrai> Well, so much for that...
<Brian> It appears that someone put a hole into it about ten centimers across.
<Brian> And your bedroom window.  And your desk.
<Brian> And the bed....
<Ginrai> Fuck it, I'm out of here...
Ginrai tiptoes out again and hops into his car... Boston, here I come!
<Brian> We'll cut the session off here, because I imagine some of you are quite sleepy.
<Dracos> Good plan!
<Brian> it's about 7:00 PM, On January 4th (a Thursday), 2007.


<Brian> Okay.  Rez, you've just been shown to your seat, and you are sitting next to ... an older Japanese businessman.  He falls asleep before the plane even takes off.  You are also lucky enough to get a window seat, though it's somewhere near the back, which means you are going to have to wait ... pretty much forever to get off the plane.
<Brian> It's late afternoon, and the pilot issues the obligitory warnings while the plane is taking off.  No electronics, blah blah blah blah.
<Brian> Which is kind of moot, as your cell-phone battery appears to be dead now anyway.
<Rez> Typical.
<Rez> I shake it.
<Brian> It is shaken, yet remains a cell-phone.
<Brian> With a dead battery.
<Rez> Dammit.
Rez supposes I'm going to wait until they let us use laptops . . . as usual. 'Cause I forgot to bring a book. BAH.
<Brian> The permission to use laptops takes nearly an hour.  You've flipped through the complimentary magazine-cum-airline catalogue three times before they give the okay, and as a special treat, start the in-flight movie.
<Rez> What is the in-flight movie?
<Brian> It's ... Bio-Dome, with Pauley Shore, or the laptop.
<Rez> . . .
Rez tries his best to remove himself from line of sight with the screen, and yanks out the laptop.
<Brian> Luckily, you have a bad view of the screen anyway, since you're near a window seat, towards the back.
<Rez> There -are- advantages . . .
<Brian> Regardless, there are now no more sky-waitresses between you and your laptop.  Though, they do offer you a can of soda and a shrink-wrapped, soy, peanot.
Rez waves off the soda and takes the peanut. And munches. And pulls out the laptop.
<Brian> Your laptop is before you.  The man in the seat next to you, starts awake, glances at it, and nods at you in approval before dozing off again.
Rez decides to mess around with the CD again, since I . . . I . . . have no internet . . . WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
<Brian> It's a CD of encrypted data.
Rez starts examining said data for any hint as to what the encryption type would be with my -l337 toolkit-
<Rez> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=6 ]{6}
<Brian> You realize, after actually analyzing the data, that you were going about it wrong while on the train.
<Rez> Naturally.
<Rez> Stupid trains.
<Brian> You were trying to decrypt a single block of data to try and figure out some sort of key.  But looking at it from another angle, you realize that the encryption is filled with large blocks of garbage to throw you off.
<Brian> And it was one of these garbage blocks you were attempting to read.  Whoops.
<Brian> At this point, though you can't get the file-names, you can identify that what you have is a directory containing about a half-dozen subdirectories, and numerous files within each.
<Rez> Hm.
Rez supposes I'm going to keep screwing around. :)
<Brian> Actually turning this into legitimate readable data will take some time.  However, you have something to work with.
<Brian> Make a Computer Programming check, and another Cryptography check.
<Rez> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=11 ]{11}
<Rez> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=13 ]{13}
<Brian> Success!  After about six hours, you have managed to manufacture a brute-force decrypter.
Rez waits for the caveat . . . :)
<Brian> You know the size of the password, but it's 81 characters long.
<Brian> It's going to take your little brute-force decrypter a while to sequentially check every possibility.  It says that it's got about, oh, 6 months left to try all of them, assuming that you're using the correct character set.
<Rez> Hm.
Rez stops it.
<Brian> It's halted at .00002% completion.
Rez gets a couple of my password dictionaries (lists of words in other languages) and starts cooking together something to put together words and various combinations of other symbols into attempted passwords.
<Rez> Since most people aren't going to have 81 characters of rubbish as their passwords . . . we hope.
<Brian> Make a Computer Programming check, and another Cryptography check.
<Rez> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=11 ]{11}
<Rez> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Rez ... : 3d6 --> [ 3d6=10 ]{10}
<Brian> You build a program that will pick words from your dictionaries and throw them in with a few other characters to try and decode things.  This seriously eliminates quite a few of the matches from your previous attempt.  This one will probably only take about four weeks.
Rez has no more ideas, for now, sooooo . . .
<Brian> Since the location of the password is unknown (even though the size is) your program is also keeping an eye out for the actual string of encrypted characters that compose the password ... should they ever pop up.
<Brian> However, at this point is is a bit late, and you have had a long day of running around and being confused.
Rez supposes I now leave it go . . .
Rez also supposes I'm going to go to sleep as opposed to watching that damn movie.
<Brian> Oh, it's over by now.
<Rez> Oh.
<Brian> Most people are sleeping.
<Rez> Good.
Rez goes to sleep!
<Brian> Regardless, your laptop chugs away, and you can plug it into an outlet so you don't need to worry about the battery running out....
<Brian> It seems like you only close your eyes when one of the stewardesses is calling out to you to wake up.
<Brian> "...Sir?  We're going to need you to turn off your laptop while we come in to land."
Rez nods, wakes up, and hibernates his laptop (in that order)
<Brian> This is done.  You don't actually come down in LA for another forty minutes, but you're ready, and holding-pattern safe, now.
<Brian> The businessman beside you is shuffling through a stack of papers, when the announcement comes to put all seats and tray-tables to the full upright position.
<Brian> You land without any difficulties, and disembark.  You will need to change planes here, but it's better than the Denver international airport.
[16:27] * Rez supposes I'm going to head over to the domestic terminal . . . the right domestic terminal . . .
<Brian> You are passed through security mercifully quickly, this time, and board another plane.  Now, you're sitting in an aisle seat, and with thusly suffer a better view of the screen for the in-flight movie....
<Rez> . . .
<Rez> What movie?
<Brian> On the other hand, you got lucky with regards to a direct flight to Boston.
<Brian> Tonight's movie is the Cable Guy.
<Brian> With Jim Carey.
Rez pops his laptop out and lets it run through that password thing a bit more (optimism!)
<Rez> And then watches the movie, which I have not seen.
<Brian> Streaming numbers are, in fact, more fun to look at than this movie.
Rez switches between each as his attention wanes because I DIDN'T BRING A BOOK!
<Brian> After the movie they offer an in-flight meal.  Which is nice, because except for the soy-rich and MSG-laden peaNOT, you slept through any food on the last flight.
<Rez> Is it nice?
<Brian> It's no worse than the junk food you usually subsist on, and you didn't need to put any effort into making it.  But you're having trouble convincing yourself it was ever 'chicken' as much as 'chicken loaf'.  The fruit looks authentic, though.
Rez . . . eats. Gingerly. >_>
<Brian> It tastes ... bland.
Rez eats it anyway, I guess. Bleah.
<Brian> In due course, checking in on your program (no luck, yet) occasionally, you head towards Boston for a landing.
<Brian> It's quite late right now, but you GUESS Dracos is waiting up for you.  He did invite you over, after all.
<Rez> Sort of.
<Rez> Who cares, he's usually awake anyway.
<Rez> >.>
<Brian> In short order, however (hooray for carry-on only!) you find yourself standing outside the airport, looking at the taxi cabs and cars, and busses.  It's a bit late (2:55 AM, since your flight came in a little early), and judging by the slushy snow all over the place, quite cold.
<Brian> You're not certain how cold, because you're busily going numb.
Rez suddenly realises I have no American money. -Fuck-.
Rez goes back into the terminal and starts searching for somewhere that lets me exchange it. >_>
<Brian> There is a money-changer in the airport.
<Brian> The warm, brightly lit, inviting airport.
<Brian> Why, they probably have a bookstore, too.  And an internet cafe.
<Rez> . . .
<Rez> Bastard.  :D
Rez goes and changes a few hundred dollars to Amercan . . . and gets some change . . . and goes to call Drac on the payphone.
<Brian> You have some changed American dollars, worth their weight in, er, money, and about 10 dollars in quarters.  Since it's $.50 a call, that's probably for the best.
<Brian> Dracos: It's about 3:15 AM.
<Brian> Your phone begins to ring.
<Dracos> Grawwwr...  
Dracos picks up the phone
<Dracos> "Greetings...hello?"
<Rez> "Hey, Drac!"
<Dracos> "Rez...you get here...fucking late."
<Dracos> "Anyhow, where are you?"
<Rez> "It's not late, it's early."
<Rez> "Airport."
<Dracos> "Mkay...  I assume this is boston airport and not something across the country?"
<Dracos> "I also assume you need: Ride"
<Rez> "Oooh, he scores two out of two.  What do you do for an encore?  :)"
<Dracos> "I hang up the phone and make you suffer...first, fuck you.  Second, I'll be out there fast as I can drive safely."
<Brian> It's about forty minutes away from where you live, with traffic.  At this hour, more like twenty minutes.
<Dracos> I get in the car, start up the mp3 player and get cruising.
Dracos grooves to the awesome beats of: 1. No One Lives Forever  Oingo Boingo
Rez waits.
<Brian> Dracos arrive at the airport about twenty minutes later.
<Dracos> I drive by the front of the airport hoping to pick him up there as I really don't want to park.
<Brian> Rez is shivvering on the loading deck, since you forgot to name a spot to meet.
<Dracos> Cool.  Good rez.
<Dracos> I stop and pick him up.
Rez is, like, cold.
<Dracos> I turn on the heat.
<Dracos> "Evenin' Rez, welcome to the Drac train, non-stop travel: HOME"
<Rez> "BRRR."
<Brian> On the way back to your place, it begins to snow.  Not hard, but it seems to not be giving up on the whole 'cold' thing.
<Rez> "Well, thanks.  Hope you don't mind me dropping in like this."
Dracos drives back home.
<Dracos> "Nah, no prob.  what friends for, ne?"
<Rez> "Alibis.  Duh."
<Brian> You are back at your place.  Thankfully, there's not a huge buildup of snow on the way there.  Though, in all likelyhood, you're going to want to park in the garage, since they'll likely be plowing in the morning.
<Dracos> "Right, Right.  You were in Japan, the entire time."
<Dracos> "And fuck the snow.  You are so helping shovel in the morning."
Dracos shuts down the car outside, makes sure the antifreeze for the engine and such is good to go, and heads in.
<Rez> "Help you shovel, yes, but I have a problem with this whole 'morning' concept."
Rez follows Drac (with bag!)
<Dracos> Being that I am: Always prepared, there is some area for rez to sleep in.  I gesture to it.  "Oh, I assume you are not hungry at this hour?"
<Rez> I've been eating peanuts and aircraft food.  I am, actually, got anything to eat?
Rez grins.
<Dracos> "I always have something to eat."
<Brian> Mmm.  Leftover pizza.
<Dracos> "Raid the fridge.  Make yourself a pizza.  I'm fuckin' out of it so I'll see you in the mornin'."
Dracos goes and crashes. ^_^
Rez heats leftover pizza, and eats leftover pizza!
Rez then hookes his laptop into the wall socket, fires it up again . . . and goes to sleep.

It is 4:15 AM On January 5th, 2007.