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Haven

 

I look like a munchkin - thought Haven. He wriggled his digital body. 

 

I feel like one, too. 

 

Like most of the planet, Milo had watched the Oz film but not read the book. Haven remembered that echo memory well. Werent there several dozen books?

 

He couldn't remember. But this was all feeling very much like Oz. Haven could only hope that the Wizard behind it all had only watched the film, not the series of books. Otherwise Haven would be very much at sea. 

 

"I wont, Woodcutter!" he called back. And, as an afterthought. "You have plenty of heart!"

 

Haven tried to shake himself to normal proportions and then started to walk to the Emerald City. Perhaps the rumour mill, the gossip factory, might have something to say. 

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GM

 

The program that is Haven had to compress itself to enter through the backdoor that the Woodsman had cut into the building. A program at his size will take time to unzip itself. Time that he does not have, time that he instinctively knows will lead to him being detected. 

 

His self is slowly restoring itself as he begins to move through the city. It is eerily empty. He sees just a few figures moving through the city every now and again. Faint figures, clad in green. In the center of the city, he can see a tower. It seems like it reaches all the way to the red planet that hangs above.

 

As he moves, searching the directories in the Emerald City, he begins to find a path through the city's folders, he finds a place, a system folder that might serve his purpose. There seems to be activity in there.

 

It looks like a seedy bar.

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Haven

 

A seedy bar? That would do. Seedy things happen in seedy bars, and sometimes useful things to. 

 

For a moment, Haven allowed himself the luxury of lamentation. He would no longer feel the joy of drunkedness, no longer enjoy the taste of rich food. He couldn't smell - it was that loss that he missed most deeply about his fleshly existence. True, his libido was no more than a shadow, but somehow that - it didn't matter so much. It was smell, that was the thing. 

 

He took a virtual breath in, a virtual breath out. Such tragedy distracted him, and would serve no purpose if indulged (other than dragging him into a quagmire of despair). 

 

And so in he went. To cast his eyes around the bar patrons, the bar staff. Perhaps there would be virtual loose tongues who would spill virtual secrets. 

 

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GM

 

The chatter in the bar does not stop when Haven enters. He can see a host of blurry green sitting around, exchanging files and data through the ftp server that leads into the system folder that he is now in.

 

The bartender seems to be a lion that stands on his hindlegs, currently busy cleaning glasses. Each glass has a different filename on them.

 

He looks up at Haven, who realizes that his own silver form clearly stands out among the green all around him.

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Haven

 

"Dutch courage?" asked Haven, sweeping his hand accross the various drinks and raising an eyebrow at the Lion. 

 

Yes indeed. Someone likes a certain book, or perhaps the film adaptation, quite a lot. A woodman without a heart, a Lion without courage. But I dont recall a bar in the book. 

 

Haven studied the glasses - what filenames? Perhaps some kind of virus, or bug, that would distort the imbiber?

 

"I'm looking for a white list..." he started, studying the Lion carefully. 

 

"Would you happen to know anything about it?"

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GM

 

The lion looks Haven. He towers above the silver skinned humanoid, and is quite terrifying to behold.

 

But as Haven would probably guess, given his knowledge of certain other stories, it's voice is small and meek.

 

"I... I don't know anything... d-don't serve that here..."

 

He looks around nervously.

 

He is very obviously lying.

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Haven

 

Haven pressed his virtual fingers to his virtual forehead. The Wizard of Oz strikes again

 

He had no wish to manipulate the Lion, but he needed the white list. 

 

"What do you serve then?" he asked, scanning the menu. 

 

"And what makes you so scared, sir? Surely there is nothing to fear in this land of peace and tranquility? Every pixel, every byte, seems very well protected, no?"

 

Did the Lion even know he was a computer pogramme?

 

"It sounds to me like you are in need of some.... courage....?"

 

It felt manipulative, and it felt cheesy. But he said it all the same; for something was beyond the facade --- and he needed to know what it was!

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GM

 

"C-courage?" the lion stammers. "I am fine. I am j-just... just like this."

 

The lion swallows. It looks at the tabs.

 

"We have d-d-d-data. Information. Everything you c-c-c-could need. Freely available, y'know. But no security. I don't deal with that. Too scary."

 

"What would you l-like?"

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Haven

 

Haven paused. "Everything" was, to his mind, a good answer, but he doubted the Lion would have the wit or time to provide everything. 

 

"Three things then, my feline friend...

One! Where are the Ultio 2.0 Suits?

Two! Where is the rabbit?

Three! Who is the Wizard of Oz?"

 

It was a gamble. Some, or all of those questions might fall under the umbrella of "security", but then, anything could. 

 

Follow the Rabbit, his cyber-ally (if he/she was an ally) had said. Maybe a metaphor, maybe not. This world seemed ripe with metaphors made real, so it was worth a shot. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

GM

 

The lion stares at him. For a moment, it almost looks like it is about to faint. But a program cannot faint, of course. That would just be silly.

 

"U-Ultio? The-they are out in the wild. In the world. I-I-I don't know about the r..."

 

He would have said rest, but the door slams open. 

 

A man stands in the door. 

 

Or rather, a scarecrow stands in the door. 

 

He is tall and spindy, his features shifting and turning. He is frankly terrifying to look at, as he looks around, until he spots Haven. He raises a straw finger and points.

 

"Intruder detected. Initiate counter measures."

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Haven

 

"A Scarecrow... and one without brains, too..." said Haven. 

 

He adjusted his digital tie. 

 

"The intruder has been detected, but has left. Report for upgrade. Modern anti-crow visual deterrents are now available, improving counter measurement efficacy by 200%. Report for upgrade. Inefficient software detected."

 

He highly doubted anything would work. That was thing with simple programmes. They were less likely to fail. 

 

"Insert programme. 1 Goto 1. Repeat."

 

All the while, Haven started scanning the bar for a window to jump through, or, if things got really desperate, some kind of digital weapon...

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GM

 

The Scarecrow stares at Haven, as he tries to input commands, to confuse it or change its parameters, but he right about simple programs being harder to change. 

 

"Input parameters not recognized," it simply says, with the same monotone voice. "Preparing deletion protocol."

 

As Haven looks around, weapons seem scarce, but perhaps there is something hidden somewhere, though the Lion does not seem to be willing to help, hiding behind the bar.

 

There are large windows, a possible escape.

 

So the question is, fight or flight?

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Haven

 

Fight. Fight it was, fight it had to be. 

 

He didn't start the fight, but he was not going to retreat. Something about the cowardly lion made him think of the bullied - and Haven did not like bullies. And this official nazi like booted programme felt like a bully. 

 

"Delete yourself," he muttered. "You serve an iron master, don't you? Nothing.. human. And you don't need to be a human, to be human," he added, asserting his own core existential defences. 

 

He leapt forward, pulling back a fist...

 

 

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GM

 

The Scarecrow stands ready. It seems perplexed at something that tries to fight, rather than evade it.

 

"Unauthorized access detected. Purging infection."

 

Brute force, or something more insidious? What will Haven's solution be, as his virtual self is launched towards the Scarecrow?

Edited by RocketLord
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Haven

 

Purging infection?

 

Is that what he was?

 

Haven experienced a moment of existential crisis - the words somehow slid through his metal skin into his soul - although he was not entirely sure what a soul was. Or if he had one. 

 

Am I just an infection on humanity? Should I be purged? 

 

Perhaps it was this pointless and ill-timed philosophical conundrum which made his fist swing wide, a clumsy blow, leaving an admittedly pretty trail of orange sparks in the virtual air. 

 

For a second, philosophy strangled him once more - what was real, what was virtual?

 

He stamped down on that thought. There was a time and place for such speculation, and it was not here and it was not now. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

GM

 

The Scarecrow, despite its threats, has been passive until now. That all changes the moment that Haven swings his fist. It eyes seem to focus on the trail of orange sparks, almost transfixed by them, before it moves to strike, thrusting a clawed hand out towards Haven.

 

It misses, flying through the digital air where Haven's head was the moment before, but not even close to reaching him.

 

By now, the lion is cowering behind his bar, his tail barely sticking up, while he mumbles "Oh no oh no they're coming they're coming..."

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Haven

 

"Who? Who is coming?" said Haven, not taking his eyes - for one picosecond - off his enemy. 

 

He threw a couple of punches with electrified fists. They felt slow. Uncalibrated. He wasn't in tune or synchronised with this environment. Cyberspace was a varied - if not more so - than the real world. Rules worked differently, and each cyberspace had different rules. 

 

He still let out a grunt of frustration. At himself - not his opponent, who was fighting ably. Haven felt like he couldn't punch a virtual watermelon if it was right in front of him. 

 

He quickly backed off and circled round to the Lion. 

 

"Who is coming?" he repeated. "And where do we hide?"

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  • 1 month later...

GM

 

"The Scarecrows are coming!" the lion gasps. "That one is just the first! They'll come and put us in quarantine, or worse, delete us! No one comes back from that!"

 

There is a strange sound from behind the counter. The Scarecrow's body sounds like it is creaking and breaking apart, and then, suddenly, a shadow looms above the counter. The Scarecrow's body has broken and bent strange, weird angles. It's arms have fragmented into multiple arms, or maybe it is still just one. It has become tall and spindly, somehow spider-like. It is difficult to look at it. 

 

It strikes from above, multiple clawed fingers on multiple right hands tearing through Haven's data, disrupting them.

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Haven

 

There was disruption. Orange sparks, flying from oscillating chrome squares. Haven was hurt. 

 

It hurt. 

 

Yes, it was only projected electronic data. But Haven was intimately linked to the data. And it hurt. Perhaps organic hackers wouldnt feel the feedback so bad. they might not feel it at all. But he did. 

 

He dropped to one knee, trying to keep his data-architecture together. 

 

"Wait..." he said, voice blurring and flat. "I'm not here to hurt you. But to help you..."

 

A pathetic bluff. But it was all he could do. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

GM

 

The Scarecrow raises it's clawed hand once again. The Lion by the side of the counter growls lightly, but there is no threat in the noise that it makes.

 

And then... the Scarecrow pauses. It's head tilts from side to side, as it observes Haven.

 

"Query: Explain," it finally says, it's voice unchanged from before, even as it's proportions continue to twist and grow.

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Haven

 

Haven's brain normally worked fast, but now he felt his CPU overlocking so fast that it threatened to crash. 

 

He was not a liar; never had been. But one could manipulate with the truth. 

 

"The system is infected," he said. "And you are trying to clean it."

 

This much was his best guess. The Scarecrow was some kind of ICE. Or antibody. 

 

"But I am a visitor, not an infection. I am here to find out what has corrupted the castle. Query: I am a threat? If so, why?"

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GM

 

The Scarecrow freezes in place, as it stares

 

It's elongated, twisted body is completely unmoving.

 

"Unregistered entry detected. Unsanctioned intrustion."

 

It seems to be scanning him.

 

"Present credentials or face deletion."

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Haven

 

Credentials? Haven had none. But this was cyberspace, and Haven was no stranger to creating false credentials either here or in meatspace. He was the man of many faces, many identities. 

 

Times slowed, data mutated, and new forms molded. 

 

He took out a freshly (cyber) minted Identification badge. "Alfred McNorton: Anti Virus Task Force"

 

"There you go. See? My remit is to ensure global data security. Conclusion: Deleting me would raise risk of data corruption and digital contamination. Query: What is your imperitive? Speculation: You mission is to ensure data integrity. Extrapolation: If so, deleting me would run contrary to your objective."

 

Haven tossed the forged cyber data onto the bar table and awaited judgement. 

 

"

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  • 3 weeks later...

GM

 

The Scarecrow stares at the credentials that its target has procured. It tilts it head slightly, puzzled by the sight, as it takes in the target's explanation. 

 

It appears that the Scarecrow is indeed without a brain, as it slowly retracts to its former state, a much more standard humanoid scarecrow, rather than the twisted abomination that it had become.

 

"Credentials approved."

 

It turns around and walks away without another word, leaving Haven and the bartender behind.

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Haven

 

Although there was no air, and Haven didnt need any air to breathe... Haven still found himself exhaling. 

 

He didn't sweat, either, but in this cyber world he found his shirt damp. 

 

"That was... unpleasant..." he said to the Lion, adjusting his tie. "You have some serious protection here. Militant protection. Dare I say this is tyrannical?"

 

"I can understand you fear. But living like this? When will the fear end? Please. Something feels corrupted. What is going on in this land of Oz?"

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