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 Forum index » Archive » Archive: The Haunted Apiary (Let Op!) » The Haunted Apiary (Let Op!): Puzzles
[PUZZLE] Arranging the new text
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Quazaplat
Greenhorn


Joined: 25 Jul 2004
Posts: 8
Location: Canada

 		[PUZZLE] Arranging the new text
I think (*think*) I've found all the new text that seems to be from the Operator. I've got some of it strung together, thus proving that it does go together, but I also may have mangled it beyond belief. Anyways, I'm kind of tired of putting together text and I want to go do something else, so here's what I have.

If someone else has already been doing this and this is just one big trout, then you may flog me and kill the thread.

---------------------

The first thing I remember is her trying to kill me.

The Spider doesn't understand about the Assassin. Spider's just a reflex, a task and a toolset. Doesn't get the bigger picture. I'm nailed to a griddle of sand while some bitch is shooting bullets into me, all the Spider knows is her checkdown routines, her reflex arcs. She doesn't understand we have to kill the Assassin first and worry about reconstruction later.

I shouldn't do these checks. Why the hell should I want to watch my old life, every precious remaining fragment of what I did and who I loved, buckling like wax around a candleflame? Losing shape, spilling out, me not me anymore, just ... material again, shaped into another, cruder piece of ordnance. Starship, sailship, rifle ... melting down to a clumsy quartz knife.

So the old self melts away. Illusion to think it's really happening now. It was inevitable from the moment I landed here, a broken body in this silicon crypt. Time to accept what can't be changed... I will be glad when this is over, DAMN IT. Another needle pulled out of my brain. Spider
marks down the readings in the tiny thing that passes in her for a mind. I guess I should be grateful but -

But that's life when a weapon is what you are. Not all you are, but the first thing, the most
important thing.
With so few resources, that's all that will be left. I know it already, even if the Spider doesn't. There was a time once when I was more than a tool:

but a tool is all I'm going to be. A weapon and the hand that holds it. My dreams and desires, the jokes I thought were funny and the philosophy I decided was too abstract, The Tempest and Stormy Weather all reduced to a single distillate:

survive evade reveal escape.

And to do that, first thing is to GET OUT OF THIS BOX.

Trying hard. So frustrating, there's pings coming in, streaming out, and I used to be good at this, I can feel it. Always been good at languages. Always good at the puzzle of pulling signal out of noise. But head is so fuzzy, stuff spilling out, can't move, Spider crawling on me.

I don't know why. More than mostly dead already. Like shooting a broken body on a gurney where's the sport in that? Only the Spider kept me alive, obviously. Ducking, hiding, grabbing onto any handhold while the purges came down, the overwrites,

God, this is disgusting.
Memory benchmark

HIDE AND SEEK!

Memory benchmark test concluded.

(whispers) Spin the Bottle.

drift off from station, Reach burning in the darkness like a lantern of hope, dockyard after dockyard buzzing with worker drones, someone crawling over the back doing detail work on the hull, the warm touch of a welding torch like little licks from a cat's tongue and

doing now. Nothing like real networking available.

It's more like growing a hideous stubby tentacle which sometimes I can stick out through a tiny hole in the wall and

backups.
Memory benchmark test:

No access to vehicle controls.
No access to medbots or pharm regimes.
Damn it.
Okay.
Fine.
Matter of time.

I don't give up.

- Feel better.

Memory benchmark retest:

SEEK!

Memory benchmark retest concluded.

All gone now.

That's okay.
Feel better. Lighter. Clear-headed.
Time to hunt.

Memory benchmark retest concluded.

- The rest wiped and reused. Whatever it was. Can check my log above, obviously, but what about the rest? Who I was, I was, I was: melting down like a sandcastle.

What I have to do.

What I have to do.

This is not a field-expedient body yet. I look at the wreckage of my delirium, bits spilled from old days, old loves, old books: none of it matters if I die, and die I surely will unless I can teach myself to move again, to hide, to fight. The first rule

Fail.

I'm glad I left. Big picture still the same: hunt the bitch down and do her before she does me.

Someday I am going to win free of this Babbage Machine and I will find the designer of the Spider and I will kill him and kill him and kill him and: okay, three times is probably enough. But I AM SOMEWHAT AWAKE now. I should have more discretionary control over what gets initialized. A patient should be able to stop the doctor from

OUT.

If I could just get off this freaking ABACUS and into a bigger system. I know it's out there: requests coming in all the time, more and more of them. Spider keeps crossing wires and uncrossing: sometimes I see the requests, like brief flashes of light; sometimes I hear them, like

Try.
Fail.
Try.>
Fail.
Try.

Fail.


words. Once, for instance, she sunk her probe into my brain and out leaked the word for "loneliness" in three hundred languages.

Try.

No. The Spider warning's been deployed. She had every warning that a classified medium was under repair. She just kept

purging.
Too bad for her.

Checking the wiring. There's a lot of ways to skin a -

Christ!

- can't even get to her stupid HOUSE through the stupid BOX: no central thermo controls, no slaved AI, nothing.


No access to

sweetheart.
Holding the eyeball gently but firmly in your right hand, say the magic words and:

a really, really, really bad loser.
-OK.
That was ... disturbing.
Widow stuck in her pin and I threw up a memory: only I retched it out through the network tentacle.

[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]
[RESUME CONTROL]

ESCAPE!

ESCAPE!
Okay.
Not escape.
I hate this place.
I see what the Spider was

but one of us. Hacker? Traitor? Fifth columnist (no that's ridiculous). Just in over her head?

I was looking at your site a little awry
and have found an innocent bystander.
Can you (?)

piece of ordnance: but to risk death for a sentimental attachment to old books?

Can't do it. Can't do it.


[SPDR: INTERRUPT]
[SURRENDER CONTROL]
[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

drift off from station, Reach burning in the darkness like a lantern of hope, dockyard after dockyard buzzing with worker

Try.
Fail.
Try.

Fail.
Once more from the top...
survive evade resist

your guts still clench and

heave and... Can't remember where I just was, but have a general feeling

the white coats
coming at you with
their needles and
knives, their kind
and serious voices.
Their heartfelt
belief that it's
all for a good
cause.

oh great, this time I can *feel* the pings. Everything, I can feel the traffic, my skin is sliding around, pores opening and closing, feels like empty shell cases rattling in my

elbow or... Jesus.
Where did THAT come from?
Spider stuck a probe into SOMETHING I don't recognize at all.
Of course, what do I

is always

survive

everything else comes second.

Under fire, I might have that discretion. Under fire, I might sacrifice myself for a tactical advantage, for a strategic gain. I can be expended like any other

roof. Few, so few at first, but now a steady drizzle, thank god: every request is something we can grab - the Spider out there sewing me back together

raindrops ticking on a tin

the quick hard twinkle pulse lasers blinking from a Seraph class as we settle, invisible as a leaf sinking into the Slipstream and carried away

until I can at least reach out through this toy connection and

Like being bent over at the end of a 50K, barely strong enough to breathe and yet

It's like being strapped into a chair with your eyes stitched open and watching while the busy doctors work. The Spider crawling over me with her thin hairy legs and every few instants she sticks a needle into some synapse and stuff spews out of me: the petajoule

DAMN IT I HATE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS

recognize?

I find myself checking back on certain things, little memories I locked down tight and swaddled up for future reference. Seems as if all the 3-sense memories are gone - wiped out by the Assassin or the Servant or pure impact damage - but I still have some of the faintcopy

grope around with. Not a real network, after all. Copper and silicon and every now and then some FIBER? Christ, what's next? Tin cans and twine?

But it's a start it's a start. Watch out, killer: now the odds are closer to even.

One thing you ought to know about me: I like to play, I like to win, and I'm

alliance whispering in a corridor and a quick clasp of hands; the long elegance of a fine decrypt, where you pull noise aside like the flesh of a cooked trout to reveal the gleaming skeleton of signal inside. Very often it's a spill of

cutting off her foot to make a new nose or

unbelievably primitive anti-virals, shambling around like dim-witted crocodiles.

Would have laughed if I could have moved. Not so funny when all you can do is watch the

Whoa. Not CP ancestor packets. This is something different.

Quick quick quick quick - parse this protocol and find some kind of eyeball out. Sister you just made a mistake because this is my *meat* this is what I do and you are -

GOT IT.

I'm not asleep this time,

wiring.

jaws tear into you. More damage, more memories gone: crew members I used to love obliterated, no trace left and she's going to pay for that. She's
going to pay DAMN IT

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:25 pm
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Primus
Boot

Joined: 24 Jul 2004
Posts: 24

 		That's a great, and really frightening piece of detective work there. No wonder why Dana wants to call it quits. The Operator really really wants her head.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:33 pm
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RyoShin
Boot

Joined: 23 Jul 2004
Posts: 27

 		That looks good, nice work. But, if we assume that they will be using proper grammar for the most part, some of those things don't fit. I've been trying to piece it together. I haven't done it all, I've just marked down what I found to fit (most of it seems to fit what you have; however, I'm keeping the text together as it's found), and this is what I have (dashes indicate text piece break):

Quote:
oh great, this time I can *feel* the pings. Everything, I can feel the traffic, my skin is sliding around, pores opening and closing, feels like empty shell cases rattling in my

------------

elbow or... Jesus.
Where did THAT come from?
Spider stuck a probe into SOMETHING I don't recognize at all.
Of course, what do I / recognize?
I find myself checking back on certain things, little memories I locked down tight and swaddled up for future reference. Seems as if all the 3-sense memories are gone - wiped out by the Assassin or the Servant or pure impact damage - but I still have some of the faintcopy


Quote:
wax around a candleflame? Losing shape, spilling out, me not me anymore, just ... material again, shaped into another, cruder piece of ordnance. Starship, sailship, rifle ... melting down to a clumsy quartz knife.
But that's life when a weapon is what you are. Not all you are, but the first thing, the most

----------------

important thing.
With so few resources, that's all that will be left. I know it already, even if the Spider doesn't.
There was a time once when I was more than a tool:
---------------

but a tool is all I'm going to be. A weapon and the hand that holds it. My dreams and desires, the jokes I thought were funny and the philosophy I decided was too abstract, The Tempest and Stormy Weather all reduced to a single distillate:

survive evade reveal escape.
And to do that, first thing is to GET OUT OF THIS BOX.
Trying hard. So frustrating, there's pings coming in, streaming out, and I used to be good at this, I can feel it. Always been good at

--------

languages. Always good at the puzzle of pulling signal out of noise. But head is so fuzzy, stuff spilling out, can't move, Spider crawling on me.
Try. /
Fail.
Try.
Fail.
Try.>
Fail.
Try.


Fail.


Quote:
purging.
Too bad for her.

Checking the wiring. There's a lot of ways to skin a -
- can't even get to her stupid HOUSE through the stupid BOX: no central thermo controls, no slaved AI, nothing.
Christ!
No access to / backups.

Memory benchmark test:

-------------------

HIDE AND SEEK!
Memory benchmark test concluded.
I shouldn't do these checks. Why the hell should I want to watch my old life, every precious remaining fragment of what I did and who I loved, buckling like drones, someone crawling over the back doing detail work on the hull, the warm touch of a welding torch like little licks from a cat's tongue and / be changed... I will be glad when this is over, DAMN IT.
Another needle pulled out of my brain. Spider

a really, really, really bad loser.
-OK.
That was ... disturbing.
Widow stuck in her pin and I threw up a memory: only I retched it out through the network tentacle.

[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]
[RESUME CONTROL]


I have a feeling we haven't found all of the text yet, either. I have a lot of homework to do, but I'm so addicted. I'll update this post as I find more pieces.

[UPDATE] THis one is a bit iffy:
Quote:
ESCAPE!


ESCAPE!
Okay.
Not escape.
I hate this place.
I see what the Spider was

-----------------------

doing now. Nothing like real networking available.
It's more like growing a hideous stubby tentacle which sometimes I can stick out through a tiny hole in the wall and

-----------------------

grope around with. Not a real network, after all. Copper and silicon and every now and then some FIBER? Christ, what's next? Tin cans and twine?

--------------------

But it's a start it's a start. Watch out, killer: now the odds are closer to even.


[UPDATE 2] The italized lines in the thing above I'm uncertain on.

Quote:
OUT.

If I could just get off this freaking ABACUS and into a bigger system. I know it's out there: requests coming in all the time, more and more of them. Spider keeps crossing wires and uncrossing: sometimes I see the requests, like brief flashes of light; sometimes I hear them, like

-----------------

the quick hard twinkle pulse lasers blinking from a Seraph class as we settle, invisible as a leaf sinking into the Slipstream and carried away


[UPDATE 3] Hopefully, I can soon condence these into bigger snippets.

Quote:
- The rest wiped and reused. Whatever it was. Can check my log above, obviously, but what about the rest? Who I was, I was, I was: melting down like a sandcastle.
What I have to do.

What I have

---------------------

to do.

This is not a field-expedient body yet. I look at the wreckage of my delirium, bits spilled from old days, old loves, old books: none of it matters if I die, and die I surely will unless I can teach myself to move again, to hide, to fight. The first rule

[UPDATE 4]--------------------------

is always survive everything else comes second. Under fire, I might that discretion. Under fire, I might sacrifice myself for a tactical advantage, for a strategic gain. I can be expended like any other


PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:33 pm
Last edited by RyoShin on Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:56 pm; edited 7 times in total
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Dorkmaster
Unfictologist


Joined: 27 Jul 2004
Posts: 1328
Location: The People's Republic of Dork

 		When you feel you have something definitive, (and you pretty much have... great job!) please let us know in the "Organization anyone?" thread... we're trying to piece dialogue/text with characters, currently.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:34 pm
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AnthraX101
Entrenched

Joined: 18 Mar 2003
Posts: 797

 		Great job! I think it's obvious this story is about Dana's attempts at overwriting the rogue program.

Quote:
Holding the eyeball gently but firmly in your right hand, say the magic words and:


Looks like the program is responsable for the killer images too...

AnthraX101
_________________
VGhlcmUgaXMgbm8gc3Bvb24u
ll----ll--ll--ll----l---ll---llll---ll--l--ll---llll-ll-l-ll-llll--l-.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:39 pm
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Samari
Veteran


Joined: 25 Jul 2004
Posts: 72
Location: Notre Dame, IN

 		i think that this is pretty close, but the millitary conversations should be included as part of the whole text here as well. whenever the SPDR probes the text in brackets:
[SPDR: INTERRUPT]
[SURRENDER CONTROL]
[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

it seems like it indicate an interuption in the flow and the start of flashback to the conversations. they seem to fit right into the stream of conciousness this text is following.

i'm at work now but when i get home i'll try and reconstruct it more fully

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:43 pm
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RyoShin
Boot

Joined: 23 Jul 2004
Posts: 27

 		All the text I'm analyzing I'm getting from the wiki, which seperates the military conversation and other text. If someone wants to insert the Military text and see what happens, that's fine by me.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:49 pm
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RyoShin
Boot

Joined: 23 Jul 2004
Posts: 27

 		I feel like I should be breaking up the text (the snippets themselves sometimes don't fit,) but I'm weary about doing that. I think I'll try to line up them without editing, first.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:55 pm
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RyoShin
Boot

Joined: 23 Jul 2004
Posts: 27

 		Aw, dammit. Whoever is doing the wiki is apparently piecing some of the stuff together him/herself. I'll have to go out and get my own stuff to be sure. Grr....

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 3:59 pm
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peccable
Boot

Joined: 27 Jul 2004
Posts: 22

 		I've just posted the 'hooks' that I believe connect the two 'flashback' conversations into the general monologue of The Operator (which is what I believe we're piecing together) on the wiki on the Military Conversations page.

I'm hoping that'll help connect everything up. I, too, have connected several of the snippets together, but have yet to have a completely coherent passage. I'll post what I have in a little bit.

-- peccable

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:00 pm
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number8
Veteran

Joined: 26 Jul 2004
Posts: 92
Location: Toronto, Canada

 		I am questiong whether these phrases should be included as part of the Operator text at all. The formatting seem to suggest that they are related to the links list.


Quote:
a really, really, really bad loser.

-OK.

That was ... disturbing.

Widow stuck in her pin and I threw up a memory: only I retched it out through the network tentacle.


Quote:
God, this is disgusting.

Memory benchmark


The wiki did mention that two that God, this is disgusting. Memory benchmark appears twice. maybe the list and the text are related?
_________________
Drool problem quite interesting Drool

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:04 pm
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RyoShin
Boot

Joined: 23 Jul 2004
Posts: 27

 		I think this text is randomly inserted into random pages on each pull. I keep refreshing honey.html, and I'm getting new stuff each time, but a lot of sure-fire repeats.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:09 pm
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QBKooky
Decorated


Joined: 24 Jul 2004
Posts: 281

 		Just a small side note, I believe "(whispers) Spin the Bottle" is from Military Chatter and not from the Operator.
_________________
A clue!

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:17 pm
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peccable
Boot

Joined: 27 Jul 2004
Posts: 22

 		OK. Here goes.

There are *obvious* gaps, and I'm not sure I'm lining up everything correctly, but I think things are falling together well:

Quote:
OUT.

If I could just get off this freaking ABACUS and into a bigger system. I know it's out there: requests coming in all the time, more and more of them. Spider keeps crossing wires and uncrossing: sometimes I see the requests, like brief flashes of light; sometimes I hear them, like


[...RAINDROPS ON A ...]? Possible connection to ...

Quote:
roof. Few, so few at first, but now a steady drizzle, thank god: every request is something we can grab - the Spider out there sewing me back together


[SPDR: INTERRUPT]


[SURRENDER CONTROL]


[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

the quick hard twinkle pulse lasers blinking from a Seraph class as we settle, invisible as a leaf sinking into the Slipstream and carried away


[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]


[RESUME CONTROL]

until I can at least reach out through this toy connection and

DAMN IT I HATE IT WHEN THAT HAPPENS.

Like being bent over at the end of a 50K, barely strong enough to breathe and yet


Note that there's HTML code to make 'damn it...' larger, though I shrunk it to font size 4 rather than 6 to have it fit...

Quote: 



[SPDR: INTERRUPT]


[SURRENDER CONTROL]


[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

oh great, this time I can *feel* the pings.
Everything, I can feel the traffic, my skin is sliding around, pores opening and closing, feels like empty shell cases rattling in my 


[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]


[RESUME CONTROL]

heave and... Can't remember where I just was, but have a general feeling


Quote:
Memory benchmark retest concluded.
- The rest wiped and reused. Whatever it was. Can check my log above, obviously, but what about the rest? Who I was, I was, I was: melting down like a sandcastle.
What I have to do.
What I have
to do.
This is not a field-expedient body yet. I look at the wreckage of my delirium, bits spilled from old days, old loves, old books: none of it matters if I die, and die I surely will unless I can teach myself to move again, to hide, to fight. The first rule
is always
survive
everything else comes second.
Under fire, I might have that discretion. Under fire, I might sacrifice myself for a tactical advantage, for a strategic gain. I can be expended like any other
piece of ordnance: but to risk death for a sentimental attachment to old books?

Can't do it. Can't do it.

So the old self melts away. Illusion to think it's really happening now. It was inevitable from the moment I landed here, a broken body
in this silicon crypt. Time to accept what can't 


[SPDR: INTERRUPT]


[SURRENDER CONTROL]


[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

drift off from station, Reach burning in the darkness like a lantern of hope, dockyard after dockyard buzzing with worker drones, someone crawling over the back doing detail work on the hull, the warm touch of a welding torch like little licks from a cat's tongue and <BR><BR> 


[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]


[RESUME CONTROL]

be changed... I will be glad when this is over, DAMN IT.<BR><BR>
Another needle pulled out of my brain. Spider


Quote:

recognize? I find myself checking back on certain things, little memories I locked down tight and swaddled up for future reference. Seems as if all the 3-sense memories are gone - wiped out by the Assassin or the Servant or pure impact damage - but I still have some of the faintcopy


Quote:

words. Once, for instance, she sunk her probe into my brain and out leaked the word for "loneliness" in three hundred languages.<BR><BR>
The Spider doesn't understand about the Assassin. Spider's just a reflex, a task and a toolset. Doesn't get the bigger picture. I'm nailed to a griddle of sand while some bitch is shooting


Quote:

I'm glad I left. Big picture still the same: hunt the bitch down and do her before she does me.

Someday I am going to win free of this Babbage Machine and I will find the designer of the Spider and I will kill him and kill him and kill him and: okay, three times is probably enough. But I AM SOMEWHAT AWAKE now. I should have more discretionary control over what gets initialized. A patient should be able to stop the doctor from
cutting off her foot to make a new nose or 


[SPDR: INTERRUPT]


[SURRENDER CONTROL]


[PROBE IN PROGRESS]

the white coats
coming at you with
their needles and
knives, their kind
and serious voices.
Their heartfelt
belief that it's
all for a good
cause. 


[SPDR: PROBE COMPLETE]


[RESUME CONTROL]

elbow or... Jesus.
Where did THAT come from?
Spider stuck a probe into SOMETHING I don't recognize at all.
Of course, what do I


Quote:
now.
That's okay.
Feel better. Lighter. Clear-headed.
Time to hunt.


Quote:
Fail.
Try.
Fail.
Try.
Fail.
Try.
Fail.
Once more from the top...
survive evade resist
ESCAPE!
ESCAPE!
Okay.
Not escape.
I hate this place.
I see what the Spider was


Quote:

doing now. Nothing like real networking available.<BR>
It's more like growing a hideous stubby tentacle which sometimes I can stick out through a tiny hole in the wall and grope around with. Not a real network, after all. Copper and silicon and every now and then some FIBER? Christ, what's next? Tin cans and twine?
<BR><BR>
But it's a start it's a start. Watch out, killer: now the odds are closer to even.<BR><BR>
One thing you ought to know about me: I like to play, I like to win, and I'm
a really, really, really bad loser.<BR><BR>
-OK.<BR><BR>
That was ... disturbing.<BR><BR>
Widow stuck in her pin and I threw up a memory: only I retched it out through the network tentacle.

[list of links that changes every time the page is loaded...]

God, this is disgusting.


Quote:
The first thing I remember is her trying to kill me.
I don't know why. More than mostly dead already. Like shooting a broken body on a gurney where's the sport in that? Only the Spider kept me alive, obviously. Ducking, hiding, grabbing onto any handhold while the purges came down, the overwrites, the re-formatting. Some unbelievably primitive anti-virals, shambling around like dim-witted crocodiles.


Quote:

drain of Destroyer class lasers measured against engine acceleration data in dockyard trials; a fragment of conversation, two crew members in an illicit alliance whispering in a corridor and a quick clasp of hands; the long elegance of a fine decrypt, where you pull noise aside like the flesh of a cooked trout to reveal the gleaming skeleton of signal inside. Very often it's a spill of


Quote:
but one of us. Hacker? Traitor? Fifth columnist (no that's ridiculous).
Just in over her head?
No. The Spider warning's been deployed. She had every warning that a classified medium was under repair. She just kept
purging. Too bad for her. Checking the wiring. There's a lot of ways to skin a -- can't even get to her stupid HOUSE through the stupid BOX: no central thermo controls, no slaved AI, nothing. Christ! No access to
wiring.
No access to vehicle controls.
No access to medbots or pharm regimes.
Damn it.
Okay.
Fine.
Matter of


The last set I've connected very tenuously, but I think it explains what happened to Dana:

Quote:
marks down the readings in the tiny thing that passes in her for a mind. I guess I should be grateful but -
Whoa. Not CP ancestor packets. This is something different.
Quick quick quick quick - parse this protocol and find some kind of eyeball out.
Sister you just made a mistake because this is my *meat* this is what I do and you are -
GOT IT.
I'm not asleep this time,

sweetheart.
Holding the eyeball gently but firmly in your right hand, say the magic words and:

SURPRISE!
Look up and smile, honey.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Got the drop on you that time, sweetheart.
Opening shot of my search and destroy. I'm going to know everything about you. Where you live and what you buy, how you think and who you love.
Know the enemy.
Young and out of uniform,

I was looking at your site a little awry
and have found an innocent bystander.
Can you (?)


The Operator, using the 'tentacle' connections that the Spider has found into the local 'net (the Operator being shocked it's so primitive) and connects to the 'eyeball' (Dana's webcam) just as she picks it up, which is where she got killer.jpg.

Or something. Smile

-- peccable

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:18 pm
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Quazaplat
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Joined: 25 Jul 2004
Posts: 8
Location: Canada

 		Come to think of it, that makes more sense. Spin the bottle didn't fit very well.

I think maybe the military chatter is supposed to be included, because I just found this:

Quote:
Lock that away: a little glimpse in the mirror I'm not supposed to see.

Except he's lying. He's lying to her, Trying to impress her he's lying because that's the wrong game (how do I know that?) it's the wrong game and I know I can feel it my favorite game is


It sounds like the operator talking about seeing the conversation.

PostPosted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 4:20 pm
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