Participants:
| Scene Title | The Shannon-Hartley Theorem |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Following a request made by Richard Ray, Taylor Reed prepares to deliver an important package of information. |
| Date | January 17, 2020 |
Richard Ray is alive.
That news should bring more comfort to Alia Chavez than it is at present. Situated in her private office, the glow of flatscreen displays keeps her company in ways that flesh and blood people can’t. The soft whirr of a SPOT unit prowling around the office at her back is a comfortable white noise and the unit will continue to do so for hours yet as the newly minted robot builds heuristic maps of the Raytech building for navigation purposes. Warren’s logic behind that, rather than a mapping upload, being that the SPOTS are learning to learn rather than being instructed.
The actual science behind that is questionable, at best.
Within range of her workstation, Alia is networked into the greater Raytech security system. She is aware of all communications coming and going from the building, and the technical infrastructure she put in place acts like prosthetic limbs for her within the system, designed for her ephemeral hands of information, designed to extend her reach within Raytech’s boundaries and ensure that a one-woman security system is sufficient to block and contain any digital intrusion. The failings of physical security systems to account for any and all situations still weighs on her.
But like a child home alone waiting for a parent’s return, Alia hears the proverbial jingle of keys in the front door, a twist of the doorknob. But it isn’t mother and father, it’s someone who wasn’t invited, pressing their face up against the glass, tapping.
Trying to get someone’s attention.
Raytech NYCSZ Branch Office
Jackson Heights, NYC Safe Zone
January 17th
6:14 am
Alia is aware, it is true. Mostly as she's programmed the system to notify her, one way or another, of a lot of various situations. But, comparing her to a child in this aspect might be a rather bad comparison.
Unless, of course, that child is Kevin McCallister. It's not difficult at _all_ to make a lovely little digital tripwire ahead of the tap tap tapping at her doors. With a simple message attached. "What U Want?" in font size 20.
It seems that despite Alia being rather irritable, perhaps a side effect of excess caffeine on top of the worry, she's still got enough good nature to have a little humor.
Oh, Alia perceived typed text as the intonation of a teenage boy’s voice, hey. Um, sorry. Mr. Ray told me to do that, ma’am. Um, he said I needed to deliver some information to you? We had a phone call with a robot ghost, it was really cool. None of that making any sense. Should I come in or do you want to come out here? Which, in the most broken down of terms demarcates where the data transfer should take place, somewhere within Raytech’s system or in the broader internet.
Alia sighs a moment. She is, to this day, not fond of what she's about to do. But she does it anyway. It's a wave of her hand to partition off a few machines into a DMZ. It's simple enough to walk herself, so to speak, out to them and take up residence, virtually, in one. But she's wary, and nervous. She's not really cared for full dives, not since getting trapped after one. But here she is. And in that digital voice, D.crypt offers a more poetic greeting then she might otherwise. Come in to my parlor, said the spider
Well that’s a stranger danger introduction! A seasoned, older technopath would never have come in after that greeting, too many red flags. This one, though, wanders right the fuck in to Raytech’s systems without further hesitation. Hi! So, we all have cool codenames. Mine’s Transceiver! I um, come bearing some gifts? Alia can feel that this isn’t a disembodied technopath, there’s a data trail going off somewhere that, were she so inclined, she could try to trace back to its source. He’s not doing a great job of hiding his trail.
Alia just… does the digital equivalent of staring for a few moments. Which is likely not as noticable given she's now in the machine and thus reacting a bit faster then she would be otherwise. D.Crypt. She offers as her name. And yes, I suppose you do, which is why I set aside some space for you to put these gifts here. There is the digital equivalent of a sigh, as instead, she pings back the kid's route to make sure he's not being -followed-.
After all, there are things that eat technopaths out there. Or at least, there were.
Oh um, gifts. Yep. Right it’s. I wasn’t— recording anything, Ma’am. Uh— Ms. D.Crypt. Transceiver stumbles over his thoughts, retyping the same sentence more than once. So, Mr. Ray called in a favor from somebody, and I’ve been handling all those favors! So he wanted me to deliver some information to you, that you need to go through the um, what was it— the records he brought back from Antarctica?
There’s a beat of dead air.
That’s gotta be a code phrase, right? Because it sure as hell doesn’t make sense to Transceiver. The robot ghost said there was a collection of records encoded with encrypted data about some sort of solar research or something. Encoded in the um, the silent lockgroove, whatever that is. Um, there’s some other specifics. The data encoded is in a data format for a Sinclair ZX Spectrum, which uh, according to the internet is some sort of old computer than ran on cassette tapes?
😰
He said you’d need to transfer the data to a tape and then use it in the Sinclair, but like, I don’t think the robot ghost considered just using an emulator? That’d be easier than trying to find a dusty antique! Transceiver pauses, considers, and then adds. That might be it.
Might.
D.Crypt counts to ten, before she finally replies. Might? It is rather important for the whole message to arrive. Though, honestly, Alia likely has a ZX Spectrum emulator rigged up on her own machine just for giggles, getting the audio in might be more challenging. Maybe Liz has a record player tucked away in her room?
And hey, Alia might -finally- get the crap in the storage room backed up to digital. Maybe. The boss isn't here to tell her no after all.
Um, I think that was it. There was a lot of stuff Mr. Ray told me not to repeat to anybody ever, so I probably shouldn’t tell you either. But I figure you can ask him about it later! Is um, did you need me for anything else? Transceiver wonders, not really sure how these sorts of things are supposed to work.
Oh Alia will so be asking. Yes, for now, that's all… and if you end up needing to ask questions about your… talents… well… Alia simply sends an email link pointing to a name only a few people likely realize is in the system. Namely, d.crypt at the raytech domain name. Be careful out there. I'm not the scariest stranger danger ever.
And now, to go burgle the boss's storage. Preferably with Liz with her or something.
Buh-bye Ms. D.crypt!
Guest User: Transceiver@localhost has signed off.