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A_E: Ah. Black Tuesday. Okay, first we'll be
seeing the disclaimer, then the chapters, 1-6.
DOS: Okay. I'm ready. *puts on helmet*
Matt: I'm ready. *puts on sound-proof earmuffs*
A_E: Yes, me too. *does the same* Oh yeah, DOS? There's no Bob in
this story.
DOS: Bob.... BOB..... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!
A_E: THESE DON'T WORK!
Matt: What?
A_E: What?
DOS: You two sound like Al, ya know?
A_E & Matt: WHAT?
I'm far from the
Matt: ...toilet.
Net
All: How far are you?
Its systems, peoples, and cities
DOS: Don't forget... wait systems are the same as cities.
On a graphics calculator
A_E: He's unlucky. They're
totally grayscale, 4-bit, dull, but the functions are so
intresting!
DOS: Only you, A_E.
Black Tuesday
DOS: Not Red Saturday.
A_E: Wait. We did that on the front page.
My format: Graphic
Matt: Not a lot going on in there.
A primitive being in a primitive world
DOS: So you're just really normal, huh? What kind of story is this?
Someday the link may return and I'll be able to go home.
Matt: Don't leave us! And what's your name?
Until then. . .
Matt: ...we're gonna party
like it's nineteen-ninety-nine!
A_E: Um, that already passed.
Matt: It did? Oh spammit.
REBOOT
A_E: WHY IS HE SPEAKING IN
CAPITALS?
Matt: IT BEATS ME.
Disclaimer -- All characters and locations were created by CPFace.
DOS: What does that stand for?
Matt: Cuckooing Peacock Face.
A_E: Right.
They may be used in non-profit stories (i.e.
Matt: Ben Afleck films.
DOS: Hey, he's cute, and he does make
money.
"fanfics") by anyone who wants to use them.
A_E: Yeah right.
DOS: You can tell he'll sue.
Matt: SUEY!
I would appreciate reading your stories, however, just because I'd like to
Matt: ..criticize you a lot.
know that people like them that much.
DOS: But they don't!
Any stories and/or requests for help in
using characters can be addressed to CPFace at
griffite@msoe.edu
A_E: Should we click?
Matt & DOS: Nah.
This fanfic may be freely distributed and posted in appropriate archives provided it contains this disclaimer.
Matt: Ohkay dokay.
This fanfic uses concepts created by Mainframe Entertainment without permission.
DOS: Evil man! He
will be sued!
Matt: SUEY!
DOS: I sware, if you say that again...
This fanfic was written for entertainment purposes only; I did not make any money doing this.
A_E: As if he could.
All Games in this fanfic
DOS: There are games in a calculator?
were based on actual computer games written by Blue Monday Limited.
Matt: Blue Monday, Black Tuesday, huh...
These games were used with permission.
DOS: I want to see these "Games".
To inquire how to get permission to use Blue
Monday games in your fanfics, contact Blue Monday at
griffite@msoe.edu
A_E: That's his e-mail address!
Giga Pets are a registered trademark of Tiger Electronics.
A_E: Not Giga Pets!
They are used in this story as part of a deep-set irony.
A_E: Phew.
Tiger stole the virtual pet idea from Bandai (makers of Tamagotchi)
A_E: No! Not Tamagotchi!
DOS: Do you have a problem?
and now I stole it from them.
DOS: They're going to sue you!
Matt: SU- oh yeah.
They can't sue me for it without making themselves look like huge hypocrites in the process.
A_E: Thppt.
DOS: So they can't sue him.
Matt: SU-
DOS: Matt!
Matt: I can't resist it! Like Honey Nut
Cheerios!
All spelling errors, plot holes,
cliches, internal continuity problems,
bad puns, inconsistancies with the ReBoot universe
and faulty computer
inner-working interpretations should be sent in a
very rude and insulting
fashion to this address:
A_E: Hmm... lemme guess: griffite@msoe.edu.
A_E: Thought so.
Thanks for your time. Enjoy the show.
Matt: We'll try.
I
DOS: "I"? Why just
I?
Matt: I can't believe it's not butter!
A_E: I is a Roman numeral. It mean 1.
DOS: Oh.
Matt: I can't believe it's not Buddha!
Upload
DOS: (computerized voice)
UPLOADING FILE... PLEASE WAIT...
Matt: I'm waiting...
Stephan shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space of the zip file.
Matt: (Stephan) I really gotta go...
He could never get used to traveling decompressed.
DOS: I wonder how much decompressed it is.
How much longer was this going to take?
A_E: Hopefully shorter than the entire fic.
He'd been downloading for _seconds_ now!
DOS: Must be a big file.
Matt: That or there's a lot of traffic on the
information superhighway.
"Falcon, status report,"
A_E: Cool, he has a talking falcon!
he said, twisting around in the confined space so that he could read the display on his key tool.
A_E: Oh poo. It's just a keytool.
Hmm. Odd. The download was taking much longer than expected.
DOS: So?
Well, that was really no surprise.
DOS: Why?
After all, he was a stowaway on this transfer,
Matt: (pirate) Arrr, we be finding ourselves a stowaway on our transport. well, web e making him walk the plank. Arr.
and his extra added data was really slowing things down.
Matt: (Stephan) IIII'mmmm mmmoooovvviinnnggg innnnn sllllooooow mooootiiiioonnnnn....
All well;
DOS: After seeing you're going
really slow and are really cramped, all is well?
A_E: I think he mean, "Ah well;"
Falcon was indicating that they were near the destination system.
Matt: (Perky train person) Next stop: Graphics Calculator. Please watch your step.
He tried in vain to get himself comfortable
Matt: Kinda hard when you have to go, huh?
and continued to wait it out. Suddenly there was the familiar pinging that signaled end of transfer.
All: PING!
Stephan frowned. That wasn't right at all.
DOS: Why? Is it supposed to go "PONG"?
There had been no scan. What kind of system was this that didn't scan incoming zip files for viral code?
A_E: A calculator.
What if, instead of being a Guardian, he had been a virus?
DOS: Then we'd- hold your
bitmaps, didn't he say he was a graphic in the opening sequence
thing?
Matt: By golly you're right, Holmes!
The system would be taken completely by surprise.
All: Surprise!
Chances were good that this system had already been overrun by a virus, or soon would be.
A_E: Well, odds aren't high considering calculators are very low level.
What if he stepped out of the zip file and into a strict viral regime?
Matt: What's a regime?
A_E: Where's that dictionary...
Matt: Layman's terms, please.
A_E: A regime is a way a government orders
people around.
Matt: Ah.
He minimized these
thoughts as the raw data he was sitting in started to
slowly drain out of the file, which was quite a relief.
Matt: He's going now?
A_E: No! I don't think...
He began to feel more patient about the whole ordeal.
DOS: Let's meditate! Ummmmmmm...
Hey, it was almost over!
DOS: Yay!
A_E: No, not the fic.
DOS: Boo!
He'd put up with this zip file for seconds; he could handle a couple more nanos.
Matt: Or can he? DUN DUN!
Suddenly the System Voice announced, "Warning: Incompatible format. Please detatch icon for reformatting."
DOS: I didn't know calculators didn't accept Guardians.
Now he was scared. What kind of system didn't accept Guardian format protocols?
DOS: Graphic calculators.
He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
A_E: But he has too.
Matt: You know, we've gone through some 80
lines, and all we've seen is a Guardian named Stephan go to a
graphic calculator through a zip file.
On the other hand, that was the entire point of his mission -- to
Matt: ...go to the bathroom.
determine what kind of system this was and whether or not it would pose a threat to his home system, Beum.
A_E: How do you say that?
He steeled himself and removed his icon.
Matt: Steeled? I thought steel
was a hard metal.
DOS: Well, here it means being as hard and tough
as steel.
Matt: Oh like toughing yourself up.
DOS: Right.
A_E: How did you know that?
DOS: I don't know. Just one of those things.
*puts A_E's dictionary back under A_E's seat*
It shimmered, changing color. The
symbol, a diamond in a circle with a line down the diameter that
divided the
contrasting orange and black,
A_E: We know what color it is.
slowly changed to more of a grey and black.
DOS: Bor-ing.
When the conversion was complete, he replaced the icon and rebooted.
Matt: Um, I forgot what I was going to say.
A nano after he rebooted, he began to decompress.
A_E: He gets bigger and bigger and bigger.
The quick combination of changing formats and suddenly decompressing made him a bit dizzy,
Matt: (Stephan) Could someone stop the room? I'd like to get off... *whump*
and he stumbled.
DOS: ...off a cliff into the sea.
A firm hand caught his. Remembering his earlier misgivings about viral infection, he looked up in alarm.
A_E: He saw a little dog who licked his face and ran away.
Then he relaxed when he saw a concerned female face and the Keeper icon she bore.
DOS: What does a Keeper icon
look like?
A_E: I don't know, really.
"Are you all right?" she asked, confusion creeping into her worried tone.
Matt: Probably not.
"Fine," Stephan said, forcing a grin.
DOS: (Stephan) C'mon grin, get in the truck!
"Never better." With this, he released her hand and stood, still somewhat uncertainly, under his own influence. It wouldn't do for a Guardian to show weakness to the Core Keeper.
A_E: No it wouldn't. Goes against his programming.
Then he noticed something very wrong and his smile disappeared.
Matt: Like the Cheshire Cat?
DOS: No, his body disappeared and his smile
stayed.
Matt: Oh!
"You know, we
don't get very many sprites in these sectors," the Keeper
was saying.
Matt: I reckon you'd better be a moving on.
She was grayscale! Not a pixel of color anywhere.
DOS: Not under her, above her,
below her, behind her, in her, up her-
A_E: Thank you, DOS.
"Falcon, file type,"
A_E: (Falcon) I can't do that,
Steve.
Matt: (Stephan) Yes you can! And it's Stephan!
he said, pointing his key tool at the woman.
DOS: (Keeper) Don't shoot!
A soft glow surrounded her
Matt: Very angelic.
as Falcon downloaded the data.
The Keeper was stunned for a moment, not
by the effects of the scanner,
DOS: ...but by his paralyzing
beam.
Matt: What beam?
DOS: I dunno.
but as a result of the sprite's general indifference towards her. When it became apparent that he wasn't corrupted,
A_E: Does he looked corrupted?
she felt a twinge of annoyance that he was ignoring her.
DOS: (Keeper) Don't ignore me! *slap*
When several nanos had passed by and it didn't seem like he was going to say anything to her,
Matt: (Keeper) Fine, I'm not going to see you anymore! I'm dumping you!
she decided on a more direct approach.
A_E: (Keeper) You talk to me, or I shoot you.
"Why, hello!" she said amiably, extending a hand.
DOS: Um, I forgot what I was
going to say.
A_E: Now you're both forgeting? Oy.
"I'm Coretney, Keeper of the Core.
Matt: That sounds like a song.
Welcome to Black Tuesday, Mr. . . . ah, . . . "
DOS: (Stephan) No, not Mr. Ah,
It's Mr. Er.
Matt: (Coretney) Oh!
DOS: (Stephan) No! Er, not Oh!
A_E: Oy.
DOS: ER!
She feigned forgetfulness for a nano.
A_E: Feigned means...
Matt: I know what it means! Now shh.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name."
DOS: (Stephan) That's because you dropped it! Now they're going to score! Idiot!
Stephan frowned.
Falcon didn't know what to make of her format.
"Um, hello?"
DOS: Hey, she's sounding like me!
But it seemed to match the patterns on the raw data that had come into Beum. . .
All: Huh?
"Are you on-line?"
Matt: Duh.
. . . and the new
format on his icon.
"Don't you understand Binary?
Should I speak BASIC?"
A_E: I hope not.
Whatever she was, she wasn't a sprite. And neither, it seemed, was he.
Matt: You're a graphic! Are
you BASIC?
A_E: I hope not.
Coretney regarded the Guardian with disbelief for a moment. "Fine," she said resignedly. "Listen, you play with your little thing there, I've got a file to decompress."
DOS: Pushy! I like! I like!
She turned back to the decompression unit and continued to tap the raw data from the zip file. Apparantly it had been on an incompatible system, become unstable, and collapsed back to its liquid state. It would take a while for the compiler to get it running.
A_E: C'mon! Get up and running! No time for being in a liquid state now!
No color anywhere. What kind of primitive system _was_ this?
All: A graphics calculator.
Falcon wasn't detecting a Command.Com anywhere, and the system's format was unlike anything it'd ever processed, except for. . . .
Mike: ...the toilets.
DOS: Enough with the toilets!
The raw data. The stuff that the User had sent to Beum from who-knew-where.
Matt: Ewww...
Whatever format this system had, it was the format that that
DOS: ...that that that that that that that...
raw data was in.
He decided to do a full system scan.
A_E: Now this will be
confusing...
Matt & DOS: Okay.
Format: V1115417
DOS: It's already confusing!
It's in a different font!
Matt: V115417. That must be the format for a
graphics calculator.
System name: Black Tuesday
???
0
???
0
???
78
???
0
???
547
???
0
???
218
???
0
???
42453
???
431
???
637
???
78
???
0
System
62372
Memory
Free
24258
Matt: Is that a lot of free
memory?
A_E: I think that's an average amount.
What in the Net? Of course; Falcon wasn't able to do a good read since the system's format didn't match up with any it knew. "Format V1115417." _That_ opened a file. . . .
DOS: (Stephan) Thank you for
opening this file.
Matt: (Format) No prob.
He gasped. Way back in BASIC Training, back on the Supercomputer,
A_E: Back, back, back.
Matt: Babyback ribs.
DOS: Back to the Future!
he did a README on system formats. He remembered this one.
Matt: For the car, a trip to Asia, 14,000 units, and a giant chocolate bunny, where are you?
"I'm on a GRAPHICS CALCULATOR?"
Matt: That's right! Congrats!
he queried, incredulous. He almost laughed. "And to think we thought _this_ place was going to be a threat."
DOS: We?
A_E: I think he means Falcon and he.
Then he did laugh. "No wonder there wasn't a virus scan; no self-respecting virus would be caught nullified in a 4-bit dump like this."
A_E: Shut up! They're intresting!
A voice cleared very
loudly, catching his attention. It was the Core Keeper,
monitoring the extraction, which was nearly complete.
"Oh, hi," Stephan said
casually.
DOS: After all that, he just says hi.
"Hi,"
Coretney said, bytingly, not looking up.
Stephan snorted. What was
infecting _her_?
Matt: A virus.
"I'm Guardian Stephan of Beum," he said, more to casually inform her of his status and hint that hedidn't think she was showing the proper respect than to log on. "Where are we?"
DOS: A graphics calculator! You just said so.
"Where do you think?" Coretney asked, finishing the extraction and tossing the empty zip into a nearby bit bucket. She regarded him with a look that DARED him to answer.
Matt: (Stephan) But I said truth!
Stephan cocked an eyebrow. He wasn't going to let some small-town Keeper talk like that to _him_.
DOS: You go guy! Um, that didn't sound right.
"I asked you where we are. Is that so hard to process?"
DOS: He's got a problem.
"We're in the Principle Office of Black Tuesday," Coretney answered.
Matt: Okay.
"What, _this_?" Stephan asked, waving his arm around the room.
A_E: Huh? What's his problem? He's in the Principle Office! So?
"A desktop and a few utilities in this _closet_?" The room was scarcely big enough for all the equipment and four or five sprites to comfortably sit in. And, judging by the fact that there was only one door, and it had a window with daylight coming through, this was the only room of the PO.
A_E: Oh.
"Well, I'm sorry if it's not to your liking," Coretney said bitterly,"But we can't afford to use up a lot of space with all sorts of fancy drivers and machines that go 'ping'.
All: Ping!
Matt: Pong!
Speaking of which, we don't need any
Guardians. What are you doing here, anyway?"
"The User downloaded some random
data,"
DOS: Does he mean crazy, or
just picked with no apparant order?
Matt: 20 bucks says it's the former.
Stephan explained. "It was just
stopping off at Beum on its way through some strange linkway that
had
recently opened up. Henry -- he's our Core Keeper --
thought it would be wise if I stowed away on the zip file and
found out where this stuff was going and what was being done with
it."
DOS: Yes. And you're a Guardian why?
"Well, it's come here, and when it recrystalizes, it's going to be used for number-crunching," Coretney explained courteously. "I can have you zipped up and ready to transfer home in -- " She consulted a vid window.
A_E: 3 seconds.
" -- 3 nanos." She smiled with hostile politeness.
A_E: I had the 3!
DOS: Great.
"Hey, now, wait a nano," Stephan said, holding up a hand.
Matt: They're not-
DOS: No.
"I just got here. I want to have a look around. Not that I'm suspicious, you understand,
A_E: Oh sure...
but you may not be telling me everything you know."
Matt: Trust no one.
Actually, he was just sick of being in that
stupid zip file, and he didn't want to get back in
any time soon.
DOS: Too bad! Link's closing in 5 minutes!
That was the last
Matt: ...straw.
bit. He loads in here on his high horse,
insults her
system, and accuses her of holding back system information.
DOS: You stink.
She would have liked nothing more than to
A_E: ...marry him.
pack his worthless bitmap off for the next transfer to the trash can.
All: Ha ha ha!
But then she considered. If she didn't tell him, that would mean. . . .
DOS: Oooo...
But then she could. . . .
DOS: Heh-heh.
A_E & Matt: What?
DOS: It's a girl thing.
A smug smile crossed
her face. "Fine," she said. "Go have a
look
around. Take as loooong as you like. Best of luck to
you."
Matt: Bye!
Stephan began to have an odd feeling about this woman.
Matt: Yes, that happens often.
(DOS slaps Matt)
Matt: Ow!
"Well, um, okay then." With that, he left the principal office.
A_E: Hey! It's not capitalized!
As the door closed, a
rotund figure quickly scooted in. It was Gooi, her
giga.
Matt: Here's the Giga Pet.
A_E: This doesn't seem so bad.
She smiled and offered him a handful of candy
bits. He purred softly
as he ate out of her hand.
A_E: They purr? Oh this really isn't bad.
Good old Gooi.
DOS: It's a good gooey Gooi.
She returned to the
extracted data and started the long, dull,
crystalization process.
Matt: How boring is it?
A_E: More boring than hearing Al's Waiter recite
the Declaration of Independence.
Matt: Man.
Black Tuesday was, at first glance, a lot like Beum.
DOS: Really?
As Stephan walked away from the Principle Office,
A_E: Now it's capitalized!
he was somewhat impressed by the number of tall
buildings there were. He'd always imagined graphics
calculators to be
real low-level systems.
A_E: Well they're not.
You know -- all number-crunching. Certainly he saw a lot of that as he walked down the streets -- "Scat's Trig", "Logs R Us", "The Complex Center"
A_E: Cool.
-- but he was impressed by some particularly specialized functions, like "The Text Editor", and "GM Otry".
Matt: Cool.
DOS: Weirdos.
The binomes weren't
much different from the Ones and Zeroes on Beum.
A few of them gave him funny looks (like Coretney had said, they
didn't see
many sprites in these sectors),
DOS: Guess not.
but they were always friendly and helpful and
eager to show off their functions. In fact, Stephan was
approached by a
particularly overzealous Zero as he passed by the 3-D graphing
function.
Matt: (Zero) Buy me. Buy me. Buy me.
"Eh, you want a plane graphed?" the binome asked.
DOS: (Stephan) No.
"Um, no
thanks," Stephan said pleasantly. "Not this
second."
"C'mon," the Zero
pressed. "Three variables. No waiting."
DOS: (Stephan) NO!
"No, really,
that's all right," Stephan said a bit more forcefully.
"Pick your own viewing cube,"
the Zero said enticingly. "Wire frame or
hidden surface. Makes a great gift for any occassion."
DOS: (Stephan) Falcon, Particle Beam.
"But I'm --
" Stephan insisted.
"Come in, I'll give you a free
sample," the Zero said, grabbing Stephan's
hand and dragging him in. "I'll make you a graph out
of any three ordered
triples. Now, you know what an ordered triple is,
right?"
DOS: He's trying too hard.
"No, really,
that's -- " Stephan said, struggling.
Just then, the sky opened up. A
sort of vortexy hole split the sky wide
open, and a thick, black cube emerged from it. All of the
local binomes
stared at it, awestruck. As it descended, the pattern on
the outside of it
swirled chaotically. . . mesmerizingly. . . . In fact, it
almost looked to
Stephen like. . . no, they don't have those in graphic
calculators.
A_E: They do have Games, if that's what you're thinking.
Do they?
DOS: Duh!
Suddenly, the System Voice spoke, confirming what he'd suspected.
Matt: Which is what we knew all along.
"Warning. In-coming Game. Warning."
Matt: Is incoming hypenated?
A_E: I think it mean there's a little pause, or
emphasis. Like when Shat-ner... talks l-ike this.
Matt: Oh....
A wave of panic spread through the binomes as the Game descended.
Matt: Surf's up!
Stephen would have laughed if it wasn't so serious.
DOS: What's so funny about sprites panicking?
"Do you _normally_ get Games in these sectors?" he asked the Zero binome who insisted on showing him a graph.
Matt: (Zero) No. But who cares? I eman it's not like we'll be deleted or something. Now, see, this graph has special features...
"Oh, sure," the Zero assured him. "Listen, you want labels on your axes?"
DOS: (Zero) It's 5 units more.
"What?" Stephan said, distracted by the falling cube. "No! Can't you see there's a Game coming?"
A_E: (Zero) No! I'm blind! Oy!
My cane! My cane!
Matt: De plane! De plane!
A_E: I'm guessing you never watched that
show either.
Matt: How'd ya know?
"Yeah, and no
place is better for weathering a Game than Dave, Darren,
and Don's Grapharamma," the Zero said, pulling him in.
DOS: don't forget DOS! And
Dick! And...
Matt: The riptide! It's pulling me in! ARG! Blub
blub blub
"No, you don't understand, I'm a Guardian," Stephan said, growing nervous as the cube came closer to the ground, a couple dozen bits away. "This is what I do. I play the games."
DOS: That sounds strange. I play the games.
He unconciously tapped his hip to activate his zip board. To his surprise, it wasn't there.
Matt: The amazing disappearing zipboard!
He scowled.
A_E: What? It was a good magic trick.
It must not have compiled in the format change. He took a nano to appreciate the fact that Falcon survived the transfer; he couldn't have imagined going without his key tool.
Matt: I couldn't go anywhere
without leaving you.
A_E: Huh?
The Zero cocked an eyebrow. "You don't want to go near those, fella," he said emphatically. "Believe me."
DOS: (Stephan) Shut up.
"Falcon: zipboard," Stephan ordered his keytool, ignoring the binome. The tool detatched itself from Stephan's arm and morphed into a pair of disks joined by a short metal arm.
Matt: That seems to describe a
bodyless waiter.
DOS: Matt's gone random.
A_E: Ooh... how high?
DOS: 497.
A_E: Uh-oh....
DOS: Uh-oh! It raises one for every line of the
story!
A_E: Prepare for insane rambling!
Stephan lightly stepped onto the device and sped off, leaving the binome far behind.
Matt: SEEE YAAAA!
DOS: 498...
Everyone was clear of the Game's landing site by the time Stephan was near to it.
Matt: Awwww... day are alllll
scared...
DOS: 499...
A_E: Okay... hit it... come on... get this over
with...
He figured that he would just barely get under it in time. . . .
DOS: Underwhere?
Matt: HAAAA!!!! YOU SAID UNDERWEAR!!!! Wow this
is cool! Underwear. You wear it and since we're ibnomes we don't
have any!!! SPOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRKKKKKSSSSSSSS*
(DOS duck-tapes Matt's mouth and hits him on the head with A_E's
dictionary)
DOS: There.
A_E: Go DOS!
Matt: Mmppphhh *whump*
He was swallowed by the thick, swirling cube.
DOS: (Cube) Mmm... could have used salt.
There was the brief feeling of non-existance,
A_E: The Twilight Zone?
then he slowly came back on-line as the Game stabilized. As suddenly as toggling a light switch, the world came back into existance.
A_E: The Non-twilight Zone.
Stephan looked around cautiously as Falcon remorphed itself and returned to his arm. He'd never heard of calculator Games; there was no guarantee that this was going to be anything like what he was used to. He had to be ready for anything.
A_E: Be ready for a long,
boring time.
DOS: Why?
A_E: You'll see.
The world of the game seemed to consist entirely of a giant featureless room. It was about a couple hundred bits wide and tall; Stephan guessed it was about the size of the actual Game Cube. He frowned; what kind of Game could _this_ be?
A_E: You'll see.
"Falcon: game stats," Stephan commanded his keytool. Falcon gave a few half-hearted whirrs and returned the message "Internal documentation not available."
DOS: That's stupid.
Stephan frowned and
double-clicked his icon absently. "Reboot."
His icon gave an annoyed beep.
Apparantly this Game didn't have a persona available for him to
boot into.
DOS: More stupid.
What kind of Game _was_ this?
A_E: You'll see.
DOS: Stop saying that!
Suddenly, a large vid window dissolved into existance a short distance away. Stephan blinked. It was filled with little tiny squares. Stephan considered its meaning for a moment, then walked around to look at the other side. It was exactly like the front, except some of the squares had little x's in them and others were being filled in with numbers.
A_E: Minesweeper! I've played
that a lot! my user is very logical and likes to play logic
games. luckilu, that's my Ph'd.
DOS: Mm hm.
As he was watching this, the User entered.
DOS: Hi!
This Game depicted the User as a plain, soft, grayish sprite with no facial features. The User didn't seem to notice Stephan as it proceeded to the front of the vid window. It started clicking random squares.
A_E: My User goes for the
corners.
Author: Actually, I'm playing it right now.
A_E: Hey! Stop that! You wouldn't want to
nullify us, would you?
Author: Hey, I'm losing.
A_E: Oh. Okay then.
As it did, the squares became filled with numbers.
DOS: Like 4, 3, 9, 20...
A_E: Acutally it goes from 1 to 8.
DOS: Shut up.
Stephan had a thought and checked. Yes, the numbers that appeared on the front corresponded to the numbers on the back.
DOS: This is boring.
A_E: Not for me!
Stephan looked around.
This seemed to be the only thing happening in the entire Game
cube.
_So what am I supposed to be doing?_ he
wondered.
A_E: Sitting there.
_What's the objective?
A_E: User: Find all the mines. You: Sit there.
What's the User trying to do, and how am I supposed to stop it?_
A_E: Can't, unless you want ot crash the cube.
The User had already filled in about half of the squares in the vid window.
A_E: Hey, he's doing good.
(Matt wakes up)
Matt: Wth hth hthin?
A_E: Hey, it's Kenny!
Matt: Shuf uth!
DOS: Oh boy.
Maybe its objective was to fill in the squares?
Matt: Nth.
DOS: Okay, that's it. *rips the tape off*
Matt: Ouch!
So how was he supposed to stop it?
A_E: You can't!
"Falcon: High-intensity energy burst," Stephan commanded, pointing his tool at the User. Falcon emitted a large pulse of energy which collided with the User, accompanied by a loud explosion and a bright flash of light.
Matt: Goodbye User!
The User was unaffected.
Matt: What the heck?
Stephan watched, dumbfounded, as the User looked up as though it was trying to figure out where a breeze was coming from, shrugged its shoulders, and went back to the vid window.
A_E: It's Minesweeper, I
think.
Matt: Oh. Ohhhhhh.
The Guardian frowned. With a sudden inspiration, he ran up and dove at the User, attempting to knock it over. He hit it full in the stomach.
Matt: Useless. You think they'd be trained in Games at the Academy.
It might as well have
been a brick wall.
He fell to the ground, somewhat hurt and
rather nervous. It didn't look like there would be a way to
defeat the User this time. He'd never heard of a Game that
didn't offer a lose condition for the User, but apparantly he'd
found one.
A_E: No. The User just plays it until he gets bored.
_What a BASIC way to get nullified,_ he thought. _By a bunch of filled-in squares._
DOS: Hey, that's funny! Ha!
Coretney watched the Game's progress in a vid window. Fairly amusing stuff.
A_E: Fairly.
She closed it and took a sip of her energy shake as she turned back to the compiler. It was nearly done. She examined the contents of the containment field. A Game cube and three new functions.
A_E: Ooh! Functions!
She allowed herself a satisfied smile. Keeping the core of a calculator meant doing a lot of number-crunching; every new function meant a little less work she had to do herself.
Matt: Lazy.
There was just a little of the raw data left to compile, probably just enough for one file. Enough of it was done that she could tell it wasn't going to be a function.
A_E: Poo.
Might as well get the crew to work. She popped open a vid window connecting her to the construction crew.
DOS: (Coretney) Work! Do stuff! NOW!
"Miss
Coretney," the One in charge said with a respectful salute.
"Begin construction for three new
functions," she ordered, double clicking an icon on the
containment field. "Transmitting now."
DOS: (Coretney) I mean NOW!
"Yes ma'am," the one said.
Matt: (One) User, what's her problem?
Coretney closed the window as he began barking commands to his operatives.
All: WOOF!
The functions moved down the cable to the CPU. It digested them for a moment, then the System Voice announced, "Attention. Incoming File."
Matt: Hey, it's regurgi-
DOS: Ewwwwww...
"All right, let's move in!" the head binome announced to his units.
Matt: 22, 64, 89, HIKE!
The sky lit up and a vortex opened up. A huge bright orb emerged from it and descended rapidly toward the surface below.
A_E: Take cover!
The construction crew moved in quickly with a stabilizer. The orb landed gently on the stabilizer, pulsed a few times, then grew dim as it stabilized. The head One ordered the crew to bring the function to its new location on one of the main streets of Black Tuesday.
Matt: That way they can mug
someone with it...
DOS: Hey!
The User had gotten through almost all of the squares. And then it stopped. Stephan considered the scene, puzzled. The Game hadn't ended. What was it waiting for? Was it giving up?
A_E: No, just thinking.
Stephan realized that if he was going to do anything about the User, this would be the time to do it. He thought fast. What would keep the User from filling the rest of the squares?
A_E: Nothing.
Then he had it.
He leapt up and clicked the X icon on
the vid window, closing it.
A_E: Ooh, bad move.
Matt: Yep. Yep.
Coretney turned back to the compiler. Yes, the file was crystalizing nicely.
Matt: Crystals! Here's a quartz, an' an emerald...
She wondered what kind of file it was. She'd never seen a structure quite like it before.
DOS: A virus? (shudders)
She wondered this only briefly, for suddenly sirens started going off all over the Principle Office.
Matt: We've got movie siiiiiiign!
She looked up, startled, as the System Voice announced, "Warning. Run-Time Error in Game module. Warning."
A_E: That's a sure-fire warning if I'd ever heard one.
A nano later, the compiler went off-line and the file collapsed. Across town, the function that the construction crew was busy installing suddenly exploded.
Matt: WAAAAA HA HA HA!! That is SOOOOO funny!!!!!
A vid window snapped open, displaying hundreds of error reports from all over the system. She ignored them for the time being.
DOS: That's stupid.
Her main concern right now was to keep that Game from crashing. She opened a window.
Matt: ..to let the air in.
"Re-route all power to the Game," she said to a startled-looking binome on the other end. "PO shields to maximum.
A_E: Um, if you put the
shields to max, you need to use power, but all the power is going
to the Game.
DOS: Who cares?
A_E: Me!
Code 101010. This is not a drill. Iterate: This is not a drill."
Matt: Nope. It's a Craftsman
4-in-1 tool kit. You get a...
DOS: Thank you.
A_E: Well, there's the end of that!
Matt: I want a drill.
DOS: Good for you.
Matt: But I have coffee!
A_E: Anyway, I'm off to play a Game which is
going to land in 5 micros.
DOS: How do you know?
A_E: My User told me!
Matt: Cool!
A_E: Well, see you next time, when we do Part 2
of Black Tuesday!
Matt: MWA HA HA HA!