11469/Heck, no! What, listening to techno(path)
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| Heck, no! What, listening to techno(path) | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 12 May 2020 |
| Location: | Somewhere in cyberspace.... |
| Synopsis: | A mystery, wrapped in a digital enigma... who is Spyder Byte? |
| Cast of Characters: | Nightingale, SpyderByte
|
- Nightingale has posed:
While on the 'meat side' of things, Shannon is perched on her bed in her dorm, with her laptop open and working on some music, somewhere in cyberspace, there was a mysterious technopath. One who, for some reason, had chosen to contact her in the coffee shop and save her from making a real ass out of herself. There had been no messages since, and to be honest, she wondered if she ought to talk to miss Grey about it. A light sigh escaped her; if she even had to ask that question, then chances were good the answer was 'yes'.
Okay. Fine. Next chance she got, she'd flag down the headmistress, and get her take on the whole matter.
But for now, she took refuge in the creation of music, where things actually made sense to her....
- SpyderByte has posed:
Her phone goes off with a 'ping': << Hello. >>>
Where is Jeremy at in meatspace? Most likely home as he sits in the middle of his bed with a laptop across his knees. He is staring upwards at the ceiling, his eyes tracking something invisible.
<< Did you make it home okay? >>
- Nightingale has posed:
Who the heck could be trying to get a hold of her this far after curfew? Shannon purses her lips as she picks up her phone. What she sees has her raising her eyebrows. There was a message that, once again, had no phone number attached to it. "Curiouser and curiouser," she murmurs. Well, it couldn't hurt to attempt a reply, could it?
<<Yes. Made it home safely. Thank you for saving my bacon.>>
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< All good. Sorry they were jerks. You get numb to it after awhile. Highschool is about moving slowly so the lions don't see you. >> The message comes through again after a few seconds.
<< Except they always see you. >> It's hard to determine if it was a joke, or a serious statement.
<< Have a good night. I helped stopped a bank robbery so I'm exhausted. >>
- Nightingale has posed:
That message caused Shannon some measure of concern. Now she was doubly certain she was going to approach the headmistress about this. Her fingers fairly fly over her phone as she taps out a reply, her brows furrowed.
<<There will always be jerks of all ages. But there are good souls out there, too.>> After a few seconds, and the winged teen tapped out another message.
<<Are you safe?>>
- SpyderByte has posed:
<<Yes, I'm safe. I'm at home. Been home all day. >> The message pings on the phone again instantly as soon as she hits enter with her thumb. << I live my life here, in binary. It's nice. Comfortable. >>
- Nightingale has posed:
<<I'm glad you helped my friend and I. Thank you.>>
Shannon frowns a little. On one hand, it sounded like someone who had maybe found their niche. On the other, it almost sounded like someone who had given up. But which could it be?
<<I live between the two. Reality and binary, I mean. My music is both.>>
There. Keep this one talking, see what she could find out.
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< I mean I actually live in the binary. Right now I'm sitting in my room and I'm watching data float around me like particles of dust. 1's and 0's. It's beautiful. This is my world. All of these threads, just waiting to be tugged on. >>
As if to illustrate that point, Jeremy, from his bedroom, reaches out and pokes a floating piece of data, grinning at it, then gives it a tug downwards into his laptop before he starts tapping away.
<< You go to school there? >>
- Nightingale has posed:
Shannon tries to imagine for a moment what it must be like to see threads of data like that, like threads to be plucked on, woven into a new tapestry of information. Or, perhaps, like harp strings to be plucked. That gets her to smile. It's an analogy she understands.
<<You sound like me with music. You see ones and zeroes. I see and hear notes in my mind. I feel them in my heart. Each tone, each sound has its own color, and I'm the painter.>>
Uh-oh. There's the awkward question--school. If this was a technopath, she was not about to reveal anything about her current educational situation.
<<Mostly homeschooled over the years. Guess it beats the public school system, yah?>>
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< I live in the public school system. I can't really do home school. My mother is never home. She works. >>
The funky thing about Technopaths is that he probably has every single bit of information he needs, just by pinging her phone. Location settings. Camera access. IP address. Geo-Location. Probably. That's the key word.
<< I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I should go and do homework. >>
- Nightingale has posed:
A little smile tugs the corners of the winged teen's mouth upwards, and she taps out a reply. <<I'm safe. But if you are the one I think I saw, then please, /you/ need to be safe. Don't let anyone break your arms.>>
That made her see red. A snooty preppy clique, sure. No problem. Water off a duck's back. Off-hand remarks from a 'roided-up jock, sure. No problem.
But when the bullying got out of hand, verbal or physical, now that pissed her off.
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< I'm fine. What's your name by the way? >>
The text pings again on the screen.
<< I could just yank it out of your phone, but I am trying to learn patience. I am not very good with people. >>
- Nightingale has posed:
<<Neither am I. I always seem to say or do the wrong thing. Guess that's part of growing up, I suppose.>>
Shannon pauses as she considers for a moment. Just how much could this guy pull on her? Her normal practice of rarely--if ever--mentioning her surname to anyone all of a sudden seemed even more prudent than before. Hell, she'd never even mentioned it to the Captain, though chances were pretty good he long since already knew by now.
<<My name's Shannon. What's yours?>>
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< Spyder Byte. >>
An image of a digital green spider pops up on her screen, followed by flashing text beneath it that says: Touch me. As in, touch the spider.
- Nightingale has posed:
Maybe she ought to test the spider. See just how good he really was. Shannon thought for a second, and then tapped out a message. <<Bet you can't figure out my nickname, Spyder Byte.>>
This could either go very well, or end very badly. Either way, she was going to the headmistress with this at the next available opportunity.
- SpyderByte has posed:
<< I could, but I respect privacy. Mostly. But most people would lose a bet with me. >>
The phone pings again after a few seconds.
<< I should go and do homework. Be careful out there. There is a storm coming. >>
- Nightingale has posed:
This draws a frown from Shannon. A storm, in what sense of the word? That did not seem to bode well. But still, it couldn't hurt to make sure.
<<I should study, too. But what kind of a storm is coming?>>
- SpyderByte has posed:
There is no return message from that point on. It's as if the signal is just dropped all together. Blink and you may miss it, but the text message is missing, as if it never happened at all. Then again, there was no phone number assigned to it.
Maybe he's just talking about the seven day forecast.
- Nightingale has posed:
Merde! Now how was she going to explain this to miss Grey? Running her fingers through her hair, Shannon let out a sigh. This was going to get messy. If the storm was a metaphorical one, could she in good conscience sit back and do nothing?
No. No, she couldn't just sit on her hands. But this one was a head-scratcher. Her next message is to the headmistress, requesting a meeting--and she'd bring the scones!