Subject: That was fun!
Author:
Posted on: 2023-11-21 11:50:57 UTC
As the kind of scientist who would probably get into exactly that kind of trouble if given the opportunity, I appreciate that there would be a Tomash there to stop me. ^_^
hS
tl;dr "Coffee Leak" (Summary: "Not every object works quite as you expect it.") is a Post-Self story I wrote that's now canon. It doesn't spoil anything, so feel free to read it.
To give a more accurate summary of what you'd be clicking on, it's a short story focusing on emergency response in a world of digitized minds.
With that out of the way, here's the backstory. I got sucked into the Post-Self books (they're free if you want) a while back, and I started writing stories in the universe a while back. On that note, to give a short recommendation: the Post-Self books are a good bit of sci-fi that's a great place for character conflicts and explorations of identity and what it means to be you as opposed to someone else. The setting in general is a good blend of "cool!", "huh ... I'll need to think about that more", and some doses of "wait wtf". In addition, the books are very casually queer and furry. For instance, one of the main protagonists of the first book is Dear, Also, The Tree That Was Felled - it's a fennec who speaks in italics, somehow. (Though, in the interests of more honest reviewing, the series's pacing can be slow at times)
The fandom for the books (probably as a side effect of them being self-published) is rather small - I'd say they're roughly in the same order of magnitude as the PPC in terms of "people who've heard of this" and "internet footprint". One side effect of this is that, if you write stories set in the universe (which is an explicitly a rather open setting), you've got a good chance of the author reading your thing.
Which, I've found out, extends to "Hey, how about we put this on the series website?" Between that and a lot of other people writing in the setting liking the background details I was establishing, I think it's safe to say that "Coffee Leak" is canon.
I expect that my story should be broadly comprehensible even if you haven't read the books. Said story also has uploaded!dog!me in it as the protagonist, so .. yes, my self-insert fic is now canon. (Is it clickbait if it's true?)
Feel free to give feedback here if you have it.
P.S. I've got more writing projects planned in this universe, so I'll probably be making another post like this eventually.
(Edited to add a better summary)
As the kind of scientist who would probably get into exactly that kind of trouble if given the opportunity, I appreciate that there would be a Tomash there to stop me. ^_^
hS
(( Minimal editing, only as canon as I decide it is later, etc etc. ))
When Tomash stepped through the door, it didn't look anything like what he thought it would.
Where am I? he thought at the world.
Headquarters, the world replied, unhelpfully.
Tomash looked around. The door he'd just gone through was gone. Instead, he was an a gray corridor: no, not just gray, the undefined gray of "no one's decided what texture goes here". He tugged on the threads of debugging data around him ... and none of them made any sense! Things lined up that clearly shouldn't, and different chunks of hallway reported vastly different identities.
Maybe I'm dreaming he thought, as he kept walking forward.
The doors off the corridor made even less sense. They were pretty much all closed, and their numbers made even less sense. How could you have ffc and 24 right next to each other?
Eventually, he stumbled across a shimmering holographic-looking person coming out of a cross hallway "Hey, uh, do you know where I am?" he asked.
The person pointed some form of scanner at him, which beeped. Then, they frowned. "Could you hold on a moment, Mr. Tomash? I'll go get someone who'll do a better job explaining." they said in a noticeably synthesized voice.
"Sure!"
[bip]
A much less furry and much more embodied Tomash ignored the message, as he was deep into trying to solve a problem.
[bip bip bipbip]
Tomash looked down to see what this was about. Newbies? he thought, confused.
[BEEEEEEEEP]
"Ugh, fine, I'll look at it," he grumbled. "What's so important?"
"They want me to give the intro speech ... in the cyberspace strata?" he said, hoping that this would somehow make more sense.
"Why me?" he typed back.
"You're one of the few canon experts we've got and also ... it's you, probably."
"It's me?"
"I got something about multiverse stuff."
"Be right there."
Tomash pushed away from his desk and went down to the lab where the "project yourself into infomorph HQ" machines were. Fortunately, the comfortable ones were still open, so Tomash easily hooked himself into digital HQ to meet himself without great discomfort.
Tomash - Tomash#Post-Self, to adapt his universe's conventions for similar situations - was unphased by someone appearing in front of him out of nowhere. That wasn't a particularly unusual form of travel, even though it was weird that someone'd put an entry point in the middle of two random hallways.
What was unusual, however, was that the person in front of him looked familiar. Sort of like ... him, before he'd taken up his post-upload furry look. "Hi," he said. "I'm Tomash. Do you know what's going on and where I am?"
"I'm Tomash too," Tomash#PPC said, "And I've got an idea - mind if I scan you to check?"
"Eh, sure, why not. Also, uh, you look weirdly familiar - can I look you up?"
Tomash#PPC shrugged. "Sure. No idea what it'll do, though."
Who, exactly, am I talking to? #Post-Self thought at the world around him.
[Tomash. PPC agent (DoSAT). he/him. Human (temporarily virtualized). NOTE: Possible multiverse scenario, please call DAS-DAMP.]
Tomash#Post-Self shook his head. That wasn't how a "Who's that?" usually resolved itself. Still, he pressed on. And clade?
The response came into his mind, almost more feeling than words. Not applicable.
Meanwhile, Tomash#PPC was leafing through his bag.
"Query clade information for the person standing in front of me I was just talking to," #Post-Self said, just in case the System had misinterpreted him.
Not applicable.
"Then construct instantiation information, please."
Target is not a construct.
"Then what gives?" #Post-Self exclaimed. "He's on the System, how isn't there clade info? The heck is going on here?!"
#PPC looked up from his search. "You're not on the System is what's going on."
"Wait, what?"
"I'll get there, but, could you do me a favor? Look yourself up and tell me what you're getting. I left my CAD at my desk and maybe that'll do it."
"Uh ... Tomash. Canon slash Alpha Uniform. Post-Self. he/him. Human, upload in parens. And then a note about a 'possible multiverse scenario' telling me to call DAS dash DAMP." The more dog-like Tomash shook his head. "That mean anything to you?"
His counterpart nodded. "Yeah, it does. Mind if I just start explaining?"
"Not like I've got anything better to do."
#PPC chuckled. "Fair enough. So, relatively short version. You're in the headquarters of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, or at least the part where digital life lives. There's a whole multiverse thing going on: telling stories creates universes, and those universes can bleed into each other. Every once in a while - think badly-written fanfiction - that causes damage, and the folks still working in Action try to clean it all up."
"Ok, so I somehow stepped into another universe? Or between universes?"
"Yeah, you'd've walked right through a plothole."
"I'm just going to roll with that and bug you for more info later."
Tomash#PPC waved a hand. "No one really knows how all the details work, and you don't want to think about it too hard."
"That being said," #Post-Self said, "what am I running on, if I'm not in the System?"
"Best I can tell it's the rough average of the idea of digital existence. Everyone out here brings their own rules with them, though, so you can do most of what worked for you back home."
"So, I can still ..." #Post-Self said. He forked. His fork merged down. "Yep."
"Yeah, but I can't, I'm projecting in from phys-side, I think youd' call it."
"How?"
"Beam-into-cyberspace machine, there's a lot of them. I even snagged one that won't leave me sore as hell after this."
Tomash#Post-Self had realized some of the implications of where he was. "Wait, so the PPC can just go universe-hopping to grab anything useful? In a 'if someone's thought of it, it's out there' way?"
#PPC nodded. "Exactly. I'm over in DoSAT - that's the Department of Sufficiently Advanced Technology -"
"- so indistinguishable from magic, got it -"
"- and we try to wrangle everything together."
#Post-Self paused a moment. "Ok, so, unrelatedly, what's that multiverse scenario note about?"
"Oh, yeah, that's the science division wanting to know about people running into different versions of themselves."
#Post-Self blinked. "That happens?"
"Not too often, fortunately." #PPC replied.
"So, just to check, the theory is that you're me, but the me who ended up doing tech work for a multiverse-wide cleanup squad instead of uploading and going systech."
"That's all I've got, yeah," Tomash#PPC admitted. "Can't think of any better ideas."
"Would it be close enough," the furrier Tomash asked, "to say we're cross-trees and ignore the multiverse situation for a bit?"
"Huh. Uh, hmmm ... just a moment," #PPC said, chewing the question over. "Yeah, close enough."
"So, mind if I make a few guesses about DoSAT, knowing me, well, the clade?"
"Go ahead," the human said. He wondered how close an alternate version of him'd get.
"Ok, so, 1," #Post-Self began, listing off points on the fingers of his paws, "y'all're a bit understaffed. Not enough that you're out there recruiting, but you'll take anyone qualified who doesn't run for it."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"2, you've got a bit of time to try and improve things, but there's usually something important threatening to break on you."
#PPC nodded.
"And 3, the place is held together by paperclips, duct tape, and hope, metaphorically."
"... you're not wrong, me, you're not wrong. But we ran out of paperclips ages ago and now it's just plotholes."
"Yeah, sounds like a job I'd take," Tomash#Post-Self said.
"I've got one for you," #PPC replied.
"Oh?"
"Your desire to slow down and stop taking work so seriously never actually sticks because you actually like a bit of stress a bit. That and poking around all the internals is fun."
"Hey!" #Post-Self objected.
The conversation slid to a halt. "So ... now what? Is there a way I can go home?" #Post-Self asked.
"Yeah, but I think I'm supposed to try to recruit you first."
#Post-Self nodded. "Yeah. I don't get to try and recruit you back, do I?"
#PPC shook his head. "Nah, contamination issues. But maybe you can talk me out of retiring to the Culture eventually.
"Anyway, you said systech, so ... what's the gig, exactly? I can't remember much about it."
"For me, mostly fixing up weird nonsense people did to their sims or themselves. Infinite voids, exploding coffee, that sort of thing."
"Ok, so ... not sure how Facilities works out here, but I don't think they'd complain about an extra pair of hands, and that's probably the closest fit," #PPC said. "So, the pitch is there's hardly ever a boring day up here, you get to poke at cool things from all over the multiverse, and the medical benefits are fantastic ... wait, no idea if you need those."
"Therapy, maybe."
"Yeah, FicPsych's good at their job. Also, you'd be in infrastructure - there's fewer brain-breaking horrors than if you're actually in an action department."
"So ... what's the catch?"
"Pay's questionable -"
"- probably not as big a deal, unless it means I'm running into forking costs again -"
"- and the agents can get very annoyed if you're not fixing their particular issue first. And they've usually got weapons."
"Hey, at least you don't have a long list of bug reports gathering dust because phys-side just plain doesn't feel bothered to fix anything."
"True enough," #PPC said. "So, think you might be in, seeing as you're already here?"
"I don't want to screw over everyone back home ..." Tomash#Post-Self said.
"You could fork?" #PPC suggested.
#Post-Self did, in fact, fork, creating an identical-looking Tomash#Facilities standing next to his much more human cross-tree. "I could fork," #Facilities said.
"There's no way to merge down after I leave, yeah?" #Post-Self asked.
"Definitely not. Can't have people running around knowing about the PPC."
"So ... how'm I going to leave? With the perfect memory bug and all, since you said my home rules carry over." #Post-Self asked.
"We've got memory erasers," Tomash#PPC said, pulling a neuralyzer out of his bag. He still had one, unlike most techs, because old habits died hard. He clipped a dark filter onto his glasses after dialing in the right length of time. "Uh ... fork of me who's staying, please turn around and close your eyes."
#Facilities did.
Tomash#PPC opened up a portal to his - #Post-Self's - place on the System behind #Post-Self.
FLASH
"If you could please turn around and step through the glowing blue thing, you'll be right back home. You got distracted and spaced out."
Tomash#Post-Self, in a post-flashy-thing daze, stepped through the portal, which was closed behind him.
"Ok, you can open your eyes, let's get you - me - you down to the Flowers to get all the paperwork sorted." #PPC said to #Facilities.
"The Flowers?" #Facilities asked, starting down the corridor.
"Yeah ,big psychic flowers that run the place."
#Facilities smiled. "Yeah, sounds about right for how weird today's been."
The two Tomashes wandered off through the halls of HQ together
Elsewhere in HQ, Peregrin got the sense that his day would become all sorts of fun shortly.
(( edit: typos, thanks doc! ))
The weirdness of alternate selves meeting is always fun! I know, I kinda abused this kind of thing myself... Anyways, I really liked the setup - a parallel virtual HQ in which the sentient data lifeforms live feels right to have, and I don't think it contradicts estabilished PPC canon - in the end, it would be something like a virtual simulation running on some server in the PPC HQ network, which doesn't discount it from also running Ghostie and the like without a "simulated physical" form - it is literally different pograms running simultaneously on the same machine.
I once ran Ghost Recon: Wildlands and Farming Simulator 2017 at the same time as a stress test for my PC, but I didn't end up shooting tractors XD Each game was doing its thing (computer-controlled tractors doing their thing in FS2017 while I shot baddies in Ghost Recon), and they didn't interfere with each other as my computer had enough resources to run both.
Oh dear. XD
I'm going to spin that idea in a slightly different direction than doc: rather than being created by the Cascade, the digital HQ runs on HQ's computers - but that includes computers that only potentially exist. (Pratchett used this in one of the Science of Discworld books, with Hex.) So there's no danger of it all shutting down, and no specific limits on the computing capacity.
But what it does mean is that it's a lot harder to fall into than physical HQ, because there aren't chunks of it already in the digital realities. Which accounts for the low number of digital characters named until now - it's not that nobody invites them out to drinks, it's that accidentally jumping into a different computer system is simply much harder.
Which in turn means that the "rough average" is based on a very low sample size - and therefore changes significantly whenever someone new joins. Your story somewhat demonstrates this - "I can scan myself and get a meaningful readout" is a very large idea for one person to have added to the system, which suggests Tomash is a significant percentage of the userbase.
We have actually seen the inside of HQ's networks before - five years ago, in the final scene of my Boardiversary story. That features two AIs hanging out in a network that doesn't have a mock-physical projection at all. One of them is a native digital lifeform, the other was created as the program behind a hologram; so neither of their "ideas of digital existence" included grey corridors.
But now it does, because digital HQ is the average of all its users ideas. It may well be that Tomash#Post-Self was the first user to believe a digital reality should look physical, or maybe he was just the one that tipped the balance. In any case, 'tis my belief that his arrival was the moment those grey corridors first shimmered into existence, and that the person he encountered was actually a DoSAT agent from the physical reality, remoting in to see why there were alarms going off in half the computers in HQ.
Also: the Ghost in the Machine and Holo-Acacia have suddenly found themselves in physical-looking bodies in digital HQ. And that gives me all sorts of ideas.
hS
On the other hand, the way I was figuring it is that we're dealing in HQs very different than our own, to some extent. That is, it'd be weird for there not to be a HQ that's hospitable to methane-breathing types, or underwater types, or so on, because those types of life exist somewhere in the multiverse ... and therefore produce badfic.
So, while I'll buy the argument that it's harder to fall into digital HQ, I think part of why we haven't seen much of it is camera bias: us oxygen-breathing water-requiring biology types tend to stumble into stories about our own.
Also, to think of doc's point, the digital world in Tron exists, and folks there have shared sensoria, as does Tomash#Post-Self, so a digital HQ you can "walk" through could already have existed ... but people like the Ghost or Holo-Acacia experience it differently - more as copying themselves around or sprawling out through a network
And re the self-scan, that's, from where I'm standing, a bubble of canon asserting itself to give Tomash a built-in CAD: where he's from, you can get a name and some info about people by poking the world for it ... although it's much more polite to introduce yourself and ask.
(I'd also argue that main HQ takes a rough average of Earth-like places for its base mode of existence.)
This has been somewhat disconnected rambling.
*grabs dear the mini-coredump*
I happen to have a former agent who used to have a somewhat uncontrolled ability to turn into a mermaid. Having her accidentally end up in the otherwise unknown underwater section of HQ could've been interesting!
Well, technically nothing prevents me from writing now an interlude set in 2012ish in which Nikki gets lost in some completely flooded sections of HQ she (and most other air-breathing agents) didn't even know existed, but I'm supposed to have other things to write too...
If Origins is accepted as valid (taking as read the usual statement that PPC canon is consensual and personal, so it doesn't have to be!), then the Flowers are oxygen-breathers, and the Cascade spread out using their runaway technology. It also created an interconnected chain of worlds, with no air barriers or anything between them - so a methane world would have poisoned the world it connected to, and been poisoned in turn. Goodness knows what would have happened if a portal had opened to a world with entirely different physics, such as a digital world - probably multiversal breakdown. The Cascade must have caused disruption, but I don't think it was that drastic.
One could argue that the Weeds would have put protective measures in place, but they were a long way behind the wavefront. Hornbeam's Tale shows the Cascade portals opening every couple of seconds, while The QAL's Tale says it lasted for a year before it started to slow down. That's a horrifyingly high chance of a destructive plothole forming, unless Makes-Things built his generator to only open into "habitable" worlds.
(On the flip side, maybe it did cause massive destruction to a few canons. I'm sure there are examples of canons which suddenly crashed and burned in the right timeframe.)
I also just think it would be fun to disrupt the lives of the only other two digital people I know of in HQ. Saying "this whole concept exists now but doesn't affect them in any way" feels like a cop-out for me.
hS
The mass of network cabling holding HQ's digital infrastructure suddenly gaining a semi-physical layout because someone living on it thinks they should have one is a good thought.
And though it'd slightly contradict bits of what I wrote up hastily over a weekend because "wouldn't it be fun if my self-inserts met each other?" ... very well, we contradict ourselves.
So, would you like to grab the Ghost in the Machine or Holo-Acacia and chuck them at the newbie? Heck, if anyone else's got some PPC digital life they've written or want to introduce ... why not suddenly give them a virtual body, just to see what would happen.
(Obviously we're both people with jobs and stuff, but that's not necessarily a reason not to get an RP going)
The Ghost in the Machine sat bolt upright. "Where are we?"
Holo-Acacia, lounging rather than sitting on the chair by the console, gave a laconic shrug. "Looks like a Response Centre to me."
The Ghost scrambled to his feet and looked around. "I can't end the projection," he said, in a state close to panic. "I can't revert."
"Yeah," Holo-Acacia agreed, maintaining her casual pose, "I don't think it's a projection."
"You mean we're-" The Ghost's voice dropped into a strained whisper. "Are we physical?"
Holo-Acacia held out a hand. A hatchet, thick-handled and slightly rusty, dropped from the air a few centimetres above and landed in her palm with a slap. "Does this look physical to you?"
The Ghost frowned and raised his own hands. Green light sketched a framework in the air, and when it faded he was holding a military-pattern rifle. He shrugged his shoulders, and a similar effect manifested a bandolier of ammo clips over his fatigues.
"All right," he said, "not physical." He shook his wrists, and the gun and ammo dissolved into diamond-like motes that faded away. "But then, what?"
Holo-Acacia tossed her hatchet. It span across the room and stuck in the wall, hanging there for a few seconds before both axe and gouge faded. "At a guess," she said, "I'd say someone's manifested in the networks with a strong enough preconception of digital existence as analogous to physical reality that they shifted the consensual median over to align with their viewpoint."
The Ghost blinked. "That makes perfect sense," he said. "Thank you."
Holo-Acacia gave him a sharp-edged grin that had been programmed precisely from her original. "Sorry, you were expecting 'beep boop, does not compute'?"
"I remember when you were no more than a hatchet-collecting algorithm," the Ghost grouched. "So what can we do about it?"
"Cope?" Holo-Acacia suggested. "It's a consensus construct, we can't just override it."
"Can't we?" The Ghost looked thoughtful. "I'm the Black Plan; I'm not supposed to be stuck in one place. I should be able to--"
He vanished in a scatter of diamonds. Across the room, green lines sketched him back into existence.
"-- be here instead." The Ghost looked down at his hands. "That works."
"Fun." Holo-Acacia closed her eyes. For a second she flickered, her body turning translucent blue with visible scan-lines; but then she settled back into reality, still on the chair. "Huh. I guess I can't do that."
"You were designed to stay trapped in an arena," the Ghost pointed out. "I suppose the 'consensus construct' doesn't think you can just teleport."
Holo-Acacia grimaced. "Great, so I have to walk everywhere?" She lifted her hand again, and another hatchet slapped into it. "Maybe we should go and find this newcomer, and see if we can't... persuade them to see things differently."
The Ghost raised an eyebrow. "A minute ago, you said we'd just have to cope."
"I changed my mind," Holo-Acacia said, striding towards the door. "I am large, I contain multitudes."
"No, that's me." The Ghost started to jog after her, then smiled and just teleported out of the Response Centre instead. "Not that we're going to be able to find them. You're written to have to hunt people down, and I can only see what I-and-I meet in the networks." He summoned the Gun again and walked down the hallway, jumping forward every time Holo-Acacia passed him. "And we're not likely to just run straight into--"
thonk
Because digital HQ is just as causality-based as the other kind. ^_^
As you said: the world aligns with the consensus, but what the characters can do is based on what they think/feel they can. (Which is basically how it works in the physical PPC too.) I'm not doing an exhaustive list of powers, because that's now how it works - it's situational.
In the Ghost's case, he has access to any external computer connections on the network, and is also an aggressive anti-virus program at need. That probably means his rifle (the Gun manifests as a smart Kalashnikov with a neural net chip and every add-on sensor you can get, though it's really just an extension of the Ghost) can do actual harm to other digital people, and to anyone jacking in through a direct mental feed. Try not to get shot.
(I will note that the Ghost is a copy of the canon Black Plan, from Ken Macleod's Fall Revolution novels; and that technically-technically, he may show up on Tomash's readouts as a collective organism, because his consciousness is based on a neural network of diamond-appearing digital lifeforms. He thinks as an "I", though.)
For this RP only, I'm going to say Holo-Acacia is free-to-use. She was made for the PPC Hunger Games, so tends to treat the digital reality as if it were physical. As seen, she can summon hatchets at will, but that's mostly it. She acts like, well, Acacia. ^_^
Anyway: thonk.
hS
'Cause if Corolla gets winds of such a change in HQ's digital landscape, she will take it as an invitation to open up Ghostie hunting season.
Now, Corolla being Corolla, I'm still thinking up what would be her strategy, so I won't be RPing right away. But I have ideas.
Though... she might go for all of the above at once. She's Corolla after all.
The Ghost is a person, as will be clear to her the instant she finds him walking around on two legs in the digital PPC. Hunting and hounding a person with traps and raid teams seems very, um, intense.
Edit: That said, it might be funny if she impulsively launched everything she had at him, only to have Holo-Acacia manifest in front of her yelling "YOU LEAVE MY PARTNER ALONE!"
hS
So, the news of Cyber-HQ becoming pseudophysical likely got Corolla in "Now Ghostie has no place to hide! I'm catching him!" mood, since... well, fully reining it in or, in case it is impossible, purging it out of HQ's network is actually something she is working on (Not very successfully so far).
Yeah, the Ghost helped the PPC at critical moments. But it has its own goals, and Corolla is going to pry it open to make sure it isn't going to turn against them in the future.
Which... It actually won't, but Corolla doesn't know it. Still, if she actually manages to corner "Ghostie", her reaction will surely be along the lines of "Uh... You... You look more humany and person-y that I thought. Sorry for that, I... Uh, I thought you were just a rogue program. But digital murder is not what I plan to do, no."
Tomash, who'd just gotten a quick overview of the PPC from himself, more or less, had kept walking the hallways. He had the sense that he should try to find someone, or something,when he started walking. However, he'd gotten distracted - he'd constructed a piece of paper and a pen, and had begun taking notes on the room numbers. They were so scattered that having a map might, he'd thought, be useful. If he'd taken the time to backtrack a bit, he'd have noticed that the room numbers shifted behind him, but he hadn't thought to do that, so his attempts to catalog the nonsense continued uninterrupted.
Somewhere in this process, he'd unbuckled hist vest out of habit: he wasn't using his tech bit on anything, so leaving it active was poor form.
Because Tomash was paying attention to the walls, he didn't notice the approaching Ghost, who walked right into him. He stepped back, startled, and turned around to see a military type of some sort who seemed upset - not to mention armed.
"Uh, hi," he said, awkwardly holding out a paw. "I'm Tomash. I just got here. You alright?"
(( Well, this is a fun way to start off further adventures in HQ.
Also, can preemptively confirm that Tomash should try not to get shot. that thing's close enough to the only meaningful way to kill him in a digital space that it'll go through.
(Book recommendation (?) noted)
- Tomash ))
The Ghost took two quick steps backwards, which gave the Gun's sensors time to confirm the dog... person... thing in front of him didn't constitute an immediate threat. He angled the rifle down, switching to a one-handed grip, and silently instructing it to keep scanning the environment.
"Hi," he said, taking the proffered paw. "Call me Moh. New here, huh? Does anything about it look familiar?"
"New?" Holo-Acacia had caught up. "You!" She swung her hatchet out, pointing it at Tomash. "Let me teleport."
~
Apparently HAcy gets a bit terse when she's grumpy. She's not deliberately threatening him here, just using a pointng stick that happens to be bladed.
I think I do recommend The Star Fraction. It was fairly influential on me at the time, at any rate. The author is a grumpy Scottish communist, as best I can tell, and it comes through in his dystopias.
The Ghost will probably register as either "Black Plan" or "Watchmaker AI" on Tomash's scan, if that comes up. And apparently I'm now treating the Gun as how he manifests most of his senses, meaning if he doesn't have it out he only sees what's right in front of him.
hS
He turned to look at Holo-Acacia. As he did so, the buckles on his "PERYSISTEM TECHNICIAN" vest closed themselves &emdash; he might need to fix something, it sounded like.
"If you could lower the axe, please, ma'am, I'm sure we can sort all this out," he said.
"And I'd like to hear more about your problems teleporting. When'd they start, and why do you think I've got something to do with them? I can't lock anyone in anywhere, for one thing."
(( - Tomash ))
"Wait - really?" She dropped the axe, which fizzled out of existence after one bounce on the floor. "Okay, great, so I've never been able to teleport - something about it being 'cheating' in the Games - but he can and that really winds me up. So if you could give me, oh, instantaneous teleportation at the speed of thought, plus the ability to detect everyone in this network, that would be fantastic."
The Ghost, meanwhile, had taken a step back and half-raised his rifle. "You're some sort of technical support?" he asked. His voice was flat and dangerous, but there was a nervous glitter in his eyes that suggested he was hovering right on the balance-point between fight and flight. "Are you here to 'clean things up'?"
((HAcy just wants to win the Hunger Games. The Ghost just wants to not get mauled by antiviruses again. Both of them are just slaves to their programming. ~hS))
His usual explanatory speech wasn’t true anymore, he’d realized, and he was glad he’d caught himself before he continued on autopilot.
“I’ll start from the beginning, and hopefully that’ll help us all make sense of what’s going on here because I’m getting very confused again.” he began after taking a moment to collect his thoughts.
“Recently, I, well, more precisely, my down-tree — the instance of me I forked from — walked through a door and ended up in this maze of hallways with weirdly numbered rooms. Then, I — he — we, talked to the … let’s say avatar … of a different Tomash, who works at the Department of Sufficiently Advanced Technology. He was a lot more human-looking than I am, seeing as he hadn’t uploaded and so couldn’t just fiddle with appearance.
“When I checked his directory entry, I got warnings about multiverses, and when I look myself up —”
Here Tomash stopped to double-check those readings. “— Ok, that’s extra weird. When my down looked himself up, I remember getting back something about us being canon or AU. Now that field just says ‘PPC resident’ with a question mark. I’m still listed under Post-Self, if that means anything.
“But anyway, we get some version of the intro speech about the multiverse and bad fanfiction. My down forks me off, and then my cross-tree — the DoSAT Tomash — wipes my down-tree’s memory and sends him home through a hole in space. I’m still here because it’s not like it costs either of us anything to leave a fork behind — that’s me — in case y’all need an extra pair of hands. Also, there’s no way I’m going to turn down a chance to poke at multiple universes worth of shiny!” His tail wagged at that last bit.
“As to what I can do to help or clean things up … I’m not sure, and I didn’t want to experiment right away. I am, well, was, a systech, hence the vest, which gave … still gives?, I’ve got debug vision now … me a set of broad powers, but those powers were a function of the System’s architecture. Not something I could change.
“I don’t know how well those powers translate here, since here’s sort of like there but …” Tomash trailed off. “Yeah, I’m lost. I can only guess that you,” he looked at Holo-Acacia, “have different movement abilities than they,” he turned his head to look at the Ghost, “do because of different home universes or something, and I have no idea if I can impact that.”
“I hope I’m making sense,” he added. “I know that got rambly.”
The one speaking was what looked like a fairy with yello energy wings, a transparent visor over her eyes. Her posture looked somewhat stiff, as did that of her companions: a tall young man wielding what looked like a futuristic rifle of some kind, and a young woman wielding some kind of lightsaber-like weapon. Contrary to the fairy, the other two had opaque visors.
Suddenly, the fairy's body language became more relaxed - much more human, and her clothes, hair and energy wings turned from yellow to light blue
"Ghostie! Finally I get to meet you face-to-face. Oh, is that Holo-Acacia? The guys over at the Testing and Appliances Division will be thrilled to now she's still around and kicking! When she got sabotaged during the Games they were so distraught!"
She then turned her attention to the furry person. "Oh, you must be the other Tomash! Or forked-other-Tomash, I still have to look up the details of your universe properly. I'm Corolla, also from DoSAT. Unison Device, Lyrical Nanoha universe, though what you're looking at right now is one of my subprograms technically. Nice to meet you, and word of warning don't give them anything right now. They're... kinda rogues right now, we can say. But Ghostie does go out of his way to help us when we're in need, so..."
[I thought about the matter better, and considering Ghost's track record of helping the PPC I don't think she would hunt him down after all. But she wanted a face-to-face meeting.
As for what we're looking at... The shift in "internal landscape" of the HQ network prompted her to quickly create her own form of the DES' weeds to ward it off from incursions, Introducing the 0.9 Beta versions of the Network Constable Subprograms!
The one Corolla is speaking through is the Control Subprogram. Patterned after herself, is the "face" of the group as it is the one with more sophisticated AI (capable of conversation). While the group is capable of autonomous action, Corolla can take direct control of any Control Subprogram and use it as a surrogate body. Control Programs are also the "sensors" of the NCS groups, doing the scanning and reports, and beign in charge of the group's decision-making when in autonomous mode.
The "false Sergio" is the Subduction Subprogram. Armed with a data scrambler rifle, it is the "non-lethal" option of the NCS groups, tasked with "flooding" a target with bad data bullets to cause a system crash and allowing the suspect program to be captured and quarantined for investigation. Basically, the "quarantine" function of an antivirus..
The "false Nikki" is the Neutralization Subprogram. Armed with a data erasing blade, it is the "lethal" option. Basically the "erase" function of an antivirus, to destroy a dangerous program on the spot.
The NCS groups are palette-swapped compared to their originals, with the featured group, composed of C-01, S-01 and N-01, having C-01 in yellow (only taking on Corolla's light blue upon being directly controlled by her), S-01 dressed in white instead of Sergio's signature red, and N-01 in red instead of Nikki's white barrier jacket. Not only S-01 and N-01 have inverted colors, but also inverted roles compared to Sergio and Nikki, as it is usually Nikki the non-lethal one.
Images will follow as soon as I have the time.]
(( Supposing Tomash did need a weapon ))
Tomash wasn't too great a construct artist, but he did have some skill at pulling concepts into existence - he'd needed it to get into his line of work. In this place where the death of digitized people was possible, he needed a weapon, and so he set out to create one.
Daggers popped into his outstretched paw and vanished soon after. In and out, in and out, varying as Tomash iterated on his designs. Some of the more useful failures lingered in the air near him as ghosts for later reference.
Near the end of this process, the physical appearance of the dagger was unchanged, but the aura it exuded (whether this was something Tomash could control because he was in a place more powered by stories or whether he always could have done that, he didn't know) was being fine-tuned.
Tomash's dagger was black, with swirls of poisonous green working their way into the blade. Its grip was unadorned and bone-white. The blade seemed to smoke around the edges, as if it was threatening to dissolve away.
This was Tomash's vision of the instance-crashing virus he knew from home. There, the weapon had to be tailored to one's target, to the point that its use was always "assassination", never "murder". The general form of the virus had long been theorized but never, thank any applicable gods, brought into reality. (Those who tried tended to find themselves ostracized at best and disappeared at worst). Here, though, where weapons effective against digital minds were expected, it was all too possible to create that most loathsome of objects.
And it was a loathsome object which knew itself to be such. The existence of this weapon was, to Tomash and many of his fellows, an abominable thing, an unholy thing. As one of the earliest comments on the bug it exploited had noted, such crashes were "anathema to this end of endings".
Tomash's dagger radiated its creator's revulsion at its necessity. Those who saw it saw a thing that should be destroyed. That must not exist. That is contrary to all that is good and right and proper and which should be escorted to a volcano with all due haste.
Tomash, much more quickly, summoned a belt around his waist and sheathed his creation. "There. Done. Here's to never needing to use it."
"Yep, I'm Tomash. Nice to meet you, Corolla." He extended a paw.
Tomash floundered for something to say next. So much of what was going on was sailing right over his head - it reminded him of when he'd first uploaded. Part of him couldn't shake the feeling that In All Ways' tutorial construct should be here.
"Uh, rather naive question, should I have a weapon? It looks like everyone here's armed?
"And so you have the address for ... some sort of conference room? Or do we want to keep meeting here in the hallway? Because I don't think I can get any of the Ops sims from here."
The sudden tension in Holo-Acacia's voice drew all eyes to her. She was standing next to the Ghost, waving a hand in front of his face. The Ghost wasn't looking, didn't even appear to have noticed - he just stood there, gun half-raised towards Corolla, eyes staring blankly in her direction.
"He just zoned out," Holo-Acacia said, noting the attention. "As soon as you cybercops showed up - which, very scary speech probably, I wasn't actually listening - it's like he just froze."
I've worked very hard not to run away with the RP here. I'm not actually very good at RPing - I get the next story beat in my head and usually try to race to it without considering what other people might write. So I've consciously tried not to do that here.
If anyone looks closely, they would notice green light flickering across his eyes. If they look really closely, they might make out that it's a high-speed text feed.
hS
(( Wherin I borrow Animorphs conventions for poking the world ))
<Moh's status>
A sense of imprecision.
<Who's there, then?> Tomash flicked a finger at the frozen Ghost.
<For example, Black Plan#00612b72, Black Plan#721ea80a, Black Plan#502abda0>
Tomash frowned. <Instance count for the Black Plans in front of me. Just a magnitude, please.>
<Trillions.>
"Huh," Tomash said. "That's ... why'd they be individually addressable, I've only heard of them in the singular ... wait, what if ... zoom level?"
<Moh's status, taken as a collective process, please.>
<In sensorium messaging.>
Tomash let out a relieved breath. "They're on a call," he announced. "At least that's what it looks like to me. And they've got their external stimulus threshold up pretty high, going off the frozen look."
(( Count chosen based roughly on the number of cells in a human body - Tomash ))
Corolla crossed her arms - or, rather, her surrogate body's ones. "Though I did not intend to spook him so bad, I just really wished for a chat. Anyways what, I'm doing a test run on the Network Constables Subprograms - basically, not cybercops but more of a security team? Since the digital landscape had quite a shift, I'm updating the security measures in case we have some malicious external incursion. Which... I'm not sure HQ's network ever did, but better be safe than sorry." Corolla pointed at herself. "What i'm in current direct control of is C-01, the Control Subprogram of the prototype team. Basically, the brains. The one here looking like my friend Sergio-" she pointed at the male construct with a rifle, "-is Subduction Subprogram S-01, armed with a data scrambler rifle. It will cause malware and the like to crash, but will otherwise leave them intact for analysis. The other one, looking like my friend Nikki, is Neutralization Unit N-01, armed with a data eraser blade, and it will deal with anything too dangerous to be left intact. They don't have much of an AI right now since they're running off a virtual machine running in my main system, but I do plan on getting them to run on crystal matrix computers from the Lyrical Nanoha universe to give them some personality. You know, like the Lyrical Nanoha devices: nice personality, and exactly zero chances of rampancy."
Corolla took a couple steps towards Ghost, and waved her hand in front of his eyes to try to elicit a reaction. "Ghostie? Is any of your instances home? Anyways... To answer your question, Tomash, I don't think you need a weapon right now, especially since the whole idea of the NCS system is to let people here not have to. And, well, Holo-Acacia here does because she was born as a contestant to a virtual arena. Still... I thought you were supposed to have a bow, not hatchets? Were you the Hatchet Sponsor all along? Don't let Starwind get wind of it, her articles are bonkers enough already."
[Did... Did meeting Corolla send the Ghost into sme kind of "for Asimov's sideburns, not you" shock that much?]
Holo-Acacia kept one eye on Corolla as she walked around the Ghost. "I don't know why you're on about bows, everyone in the arena got hatchets whenever they wanted them... you, confused canine." She pointed at Tomash. "You said he was communicating with someone? But the Ghost doesn't have any friends, and the enemy isn't accessible right now... I wonder."
She bent down, peering at the Gun. "He told me once, part of him used to be military software running on a weapon like this," she said. "Advising his user on how best to secure the situation, eliminate hostiles, et cetera. Then the rest of him was some sort of economic planning AI. I'm just wondering if this changed world might have..." She grasped at the digital air, as if trying to pull inspiration from it. "Maybe separated them? So the military part is in the Gun, and the rest is maybe checking how to deal with this threat scenario?"
((Is anyone equipped to read what the Gun is saying to the Ghost? HAcy may not be exactly right, but she's pretty close. It might be useful, particularly since the advice the Ghost is currently working through is:
Latest arrivals consist of remote/subordinate units reporting to coordinating entity "Corolla". Recommend immediate action against base instance of "Corolla" in Actual Reality to reduce effectiveness of subordinate units. Primary approach: disable uplink capability in vicinity of "Corolla". Secondary/backup approach: neutralize "Corolla".
If he was all in one piece he would have acted on that pretty much instantly, because military AI facing existential threat. As it is, the separation of the Gun has slowed him down - but he'll be up to speed soon. ~hS))
Corolla howled in frustration, "Here I am, trying to be nice and all, and Ghostie's gun half tells him to neutralize me. Not thatt's gonna work, mind you, and if you did manage to do any damage to me you'd have two of the PPC's best former Spec.Ops virtualized and on the hunt in no time. Though I suppose I should be proud of the mighty Ghost in the Machine thinking of me as such a high threat,. I'll take that as a compliment."
She floated even closer to him, and flicked his forehead. "Ghostie? Put that thing away. I'm here to have a chat, possibly in front of a nice cup of the if there's a virtual Rudy's in this virtual HQ, from which I just want to gather whether or not you want to destroy the PPC - I'm betting on no, since you're still hanging around, but I would so like to have proof so people stop asking me to boobystrap HQ's network like a Looney Tunes cartoon."
[Corolla is Corolla. Whether she zoomed in the data feed in his eyes, or she intercepted the data stream between Gun and Body, I haven't decided yet. But, as I said, Corolla is Corolla. She finds a way.
And goes without saying that if the Ghost managed to put Corolla out of commission there would be a very angry Sergio and a very angry Nikki out to make mincemeat of his coding. That's an escalation we don't want to happen.]
"Sim list says I can't just step over there because something something routing tables." He chucked the issue away with a paw. "Eh, that's future me's problem."
"I think we need to wander around until we find a spot we can get to Rudi's from, if we want to go there."
(( In side notes, Delta and I started (but haven't finished because holidays, hence why I haven't tried to collate this for the Board) a different version of this RP that started in digital!Rudi's with Tomash running into Wix, the Tron-like avatar of a wiki archival program that Delta's pulled out for a few RPs way back when but hasn't used for much else that I know of. In case it's interesting, said Rudi's is, per Delta, at least sometimes bartended by [temporal/spatial anomaly] ))
His gun rose up, aiming towards Corolla; but before it reached firing position, it fizzled into a shower of green light and vanished. "Recombination complete," the Ghost's voice said. His lips didn't move.
For a moment - the barest sliver of a second, so fast it was almost imaginary - the unkempt man in stained fatigues flickered out of existence, revealing a view down into trillions upon trillions of nanoscopic digital life-forms. Every one of them seemed to be looking back.
Then the Ghost was looking at Corolla with a sardonic tilt to his head. "Don't you know it's rude to read people's mail?" he asked. "No, I'm not going to destroy the PPC. You have no idea what I've done for this place." He turned and nodded at Tomash. "Apologies for the interruption. Did you say there was a pub around here somewhere?"
Holo-Acacia raised a hand. "I might know how to find that," she said. "See, in the real PPC, they say 'it's a bit of a maze, unless you hadn't noticed'..."
(And on a screen somewhere in physical reality, where Agent Corolla was busy accessing the networks, a wire-frame animation of a human head appeared on a screen. It looked nothing like the Ghost in the Machine, said nothing, was unseen by anybody, and vanished a second later. So it probably wasn't anything to worry about.)
((Obviously I was never going to attack Corolla! The Ghost has now re-integrated his military and personality code, which is part of why he was frozen so long; the Gun is now what I said it was initially, just a sensor apparatus. He was also busy reading everything he could find about Corolla so that the non-miltech side of him could make an informed decision.
And he could really do with a drink. ^_^))
He relaxed now that everyone didn't seem to be up for shooting each other. He certainly wasn't interested in the first thing he found out about his new substrate being if he could die here.
"So," he asked, stepping around Corolla and her friends, "we just head in a direction and figure we'll run into the pub - or at least somewhere that's got access to it - eventually?"
(( And I think that'd leave Sergio in a position to write the scene transition unless anyone has objections ))
Corolla turned towards Tomash and shrugged. "You'll get used to it. Feel free to hit me on voice call any time you have questions!"
She summoned a holographic window, and tapped a few commands in it. The two constructs flanking her dissolved, leaving only a handful of pixels behind. "And I don't think I need those for now, the firewalls still seem to be doing their thing well enough."
Corolla then floated towards one end of the corridor. "This way, probably. By the way, Ghostie, I do know you've been a great help! I don't want to unravel all your mysteries, of course, but one particular instance of that is exactly why I wanted to be able to meet you face-to-face."
Corolla opened yet another window. "On December 14th 2012 at 0932 hours and 57 seconds, we received on our console a mission assignment, badfic ID FFW300913. Thing is, it was dispatched two whole hours earlier, so the console should've pinged just as we were about to go to Zim's as Sergio and Nikki really needed to stock up on bullets and grenades. That mission then led straight into the Blank Sprite Incident, meaning we would've really been in trouble if we did indeed get it when we should've."
She crossed her arms behind her head. "I discovered it by chance, but I gave it a bit of investigation and here I am. So... I'm not sure if it was just out of selflessness or a necessary thing for the Big Picture or something, but I really owe you one, Ghostie, but I didn't felt like leaving a thank you note around was proper. It's the kind of thank you that needs to be done in person."
[And here's Corolla's canon reason for chasing after Ghostie being turned on its head! She just wanted to say thanks. On why the Ghost did this? It's up to Huinesoron to decide exactly what part of the Ghost's shenanigans this can fall into, but I'm up to either a simple "losing three universes to Vera was something that the Ghost didn't feel like letting happening" up even to "Ghost knows that the Unravel timeline is a thing and in that one we need Sergio, Nikki and Corolla alive to rescue Captain Dandy and thus ensure the PPC is still a thing in that universe"]
The Ghost fell into step beside Corolla, an easy, measured stride that looked like he could do it for hours. "My task is... complex, but the preservation of the PPC - in one form or another - is a part of it. I have calculated a great many possible futures, and one thing that is clear is that there are some people whose continued existence and association with the PPC has a measurable impact on the future chances of this organisation." His eyes flickered green for a moment. "Many of them are already lost, or else their births are uncertain, but others are extant. Gaspard de Grasse. Constance Illian-Sims." His gaze flicked sideways. "You."
A few steps behind, Holo-Acacia sidled up to Tomash. "So, hey," she said, "hope you don't mind me asking 'cos I'm doing it anyway... what are you? I'm a deathmatch hologram, the Ghost is a grouchy bundle of predictive algorithms, Little Miss Fairydust is a..." She frowned. "Fairy, I guess? Projecting herself in here, but what about you?"
((Apologies for the delay, it's been a busy.))
((I'm still firming up the Ghost's actual goal, but in 15 Pirates he was talking about preserving the timeline. He was also deliberately trying to save people who died in the PPC's past, so it's possibly not this timeline he's after. Not really sure. The canon Black Plan was created to prepare for a revolution, and ended up sparking a different revolution, and much later stealing an entire space program.))
((As for HAcy's question, I don't think it's been covered?))
Tomash said to Holo-Acacia.
"And I know I don't look human. I - well, my down-tree, technically, made that happen pretty soon after we uploaded because what's the point of living forever in a simulated reality if you can't have a tail and fur?
"There's a technical sense in which everything I'm experiencing is sort-of kinda one big shared dream ... or there was?, back where I came from - no idea what's going on under the hood here or how everything looks to you." he continued. "But I'm rambling. Perils of being a tech."
"Anyhow," he asked, not wanting to get too carried away, "what's this about a deathmatch?"
"Basically, over in the non-digital world we have this internal TV channel, Nutmeg TV, that occasionally organizes a non-lethal version of the Hunger Games as a competitive game. It... still hurts a lot when you get taken out, I know for experience, but it's just simulaated pain since it's all done in the Really Big Holodeck. Makes for a great training exercise, and it's actually pretty fun!"
Corolla pointed at Holo-Acacia. "Our friend here was originally made by the guys over at Testing as a virtual simulation AI copy of a famous agent who retired ages ago. Technically we had one of her partner Jay around as well, but she didn't pass the qualifier stage unfortunately. By the way... to answer your question, Acacia, I'm actually not a fairy. I'm an Unison Device from the Lyrical Nanoha universe - basically an humanoid sentient technomagical computer, if that makes any sense. One that is really flattered to hear that Ghostie here thinks I'm so vital for the PPC!"
She floated to an intersection, and just as she opened her mouth again a ringing sound came out of her. "Uh, sorry for that, got a little alert here. Oh, you gotta be kidding me..."
Corolla pointed at one of the corridors. "Virtual Rudy's should be down this way as far as I could understand, but I'm afraid you'll have to go ahead without me. Looks like we can get people in by random plotholes here too now, since we've got Kirito and Asuna from Sword Art Online wandering around right now. I'll catch up once I've managed to catch them and send them to whatever virtual reality game they're supposed to be playing now. I wonder how am I even supposed to neuralyze them..."
"And I know phys-side me had a memory-erasing thingy he used on my down and it worked, so ask him, maybe?"
He turned to head down the indicated corridor. "And I'll take your word on the fun - combat sims aren't really my thing. Closest I've been to doing one is when one of my interviewers for systech chucked me into some mid-21st century warsim. Sure was ... an experience, even with me figuring out a way to not get shot at much."
"It's not really a combat sim," she said to Tomash. "More a survival thingy; most people died of starvation or poisoning. And the death isn't even very serious. Yes, what is it?" She looked up at the Ghost, who had been watching her expectantly.
"Updates?" the Ghost asked quietly.
"Oh." Holo-Acacia flexed her fingers, then frowned. "Looks like I don't have exonet access from here. I probably need to use a console, or maybe we'll have to talk to Sigma One directly."
The Ghost waited a second. "Well?"
"Well, that sounds like a later job." Holo-Acacia reached out and rapped her knuckles against the wall, which turned out to be a door. "The now-job is the bar, remember?" She rolled her eyes and glanced back at Tomash. "Now there's someone who thinks he's in a combat sim all the time," she said, and pushed the door open.
Virtual Rudi's looked much like its physical counterpart, with a few modifications to take advantage of the more flexible physics engine. It seemed to have become a hub of activity in these early hours of the fully-rendered digital HQ's existence: the tables were packed with avatars of varying degrees of crudity, with the handful of fully digital lifeforms distinguishable by their easy movement and rapid reactions. Holo-Acacia nodded to a silvery android and what seemed to be a Borg with only her mechanical parts rendered, then stepped aside to allow Tomash to follow her in. "Welcome to the PPC," she said. "Hope you like ale."
((The Ghost's check is a reference to Talk Like 15 Pirates. In Rudi's, the android is probably CAL-9000, while the Borg could be a lot of people.
((I'm not sure where we go from here? It's an ideal opportunity to bring in more characters, but I don't have anyone who'd be interesting, so I'unno. I'm sure the Ghost will be happy to wander off and play quantum pool or something (also from a Ken Macleod book) if we don't need him. ~hS))
(( Or at least we can take the getting-to-know-you chatter as read ))
(( Unless someone's feeling particularly upset about having something more of a physical form. ))
((I have no-one to bring in so I'm happy to leave it at that.))
(( Clade-eyes only means clade-eyrs only, dang it ))
(( This isn't strictly defined by canon, since the exact parameters of systech powers never needed to be staked out ... but, extrapolating sensibly, Tomash can't bust in on individual communications ))
(( At best, he can send rather high priority messages, but that'd give our touchy military AI a shot of adrenaline so ... doable if no one's got better ideas ))
(( - Tomash, not actually tagging ))
Heh! I love the idea that in addition to producing the generic surface hallways, the Cascade also produced a generic digital network, and that’s where all the Tron and Matrix and etc. program characters have come to live upon recruitment! I wonder how much they’re able to interact with physical HQ, like maybe they can use things like the hologram projectors from Halo to project a constructed appearance to talk with organic folks? And how cool that the way Post-Self works, we can now have two Tomashes in the PPC, without disappearing the canon one! That’s now four whole Tomashes, including you, the real one. What a lucky universe!
Some typos:
Everyone out hre brings their own rules with them
He wandered how close an alternate version of him'd get.
"Pay's quentionable -"
—doctorlit, current-self
I'm glad you enjoyed!
And yeah, I'm thinking that some sort of hologram projection thing is a way for the digital side of the PPC to wander into the rest of HQ. That or, like, calling.
One other thing I realized is that it's good that Tomash#Facilities won't be going on missions, since he's almost certainly got a near-complete Bleep immunity. Turns out that living in a place where one cannot truly forget things and where the exploration of that is a major setting element has consequences.
Please accept someone's short story about someone who makes copies of themselves to get more reading and writing done (also not spoilers for canon and probably comprehensible without it)
I can see the utility of multiple copies of my mind getting more things done at once . . . but it also feels like a bit of a rushed way to partake of a book, yeah? Like, I understand that once the reader forks collapse back into the original, the original gets the memory of having read the book, but . . . I don't know, is that really the same thing? I might have a memory of reading a particular book, but I didn't actually hold it in my hands and go through it myself. There's a level of artificiality there, of treating the experience more like a checklist than an event. I'm not sure I vibe! Also, kind of spooky how some of the forks seem to develop into their own people. I would want to keep a much tighter reign on them, make sure I was the only decision-maker of the set!
The immortality part sure would be nice, though!
—doctorlit, mortal and limited
Read through your story. It was a fun little exercise in the dangers of being able to "reprogram" reality around us! It's interesting to think about how carefully we would need to watch our own thoughts in an environment like that. I'm glad you found a series that involves your programming interests, and that you got to contribute to!
—doctorlit, proud for his friend
While this is a canon I'm not particularly interested in, I'm always happy to see that another of us has been "canonized" somewhere!
I claim no responsibility for the PPC's theater troupes suddenly gaining a bunch of new skunks in their crew or cast as a result of people reading the Post-Self books.
The darn Odists get everywhere.