HexCorp
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Microfic :: O n l i n e
🕑 Added 2021-02-22 20:09:50 +0000 UTCＷｅｌｃｏｍｅ ｂａｃｋ！ ：） Ｌｏｇｇｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ ｉｎ...
Pink text projected from a cathode-ray tube. Electrons fizzling on a phosphorescent screen. You tap on the creamy white plastic of your keyboard and the desktop unlocks, leading you into a 640×480 pixellated valley of lime green grass under purple clouds.
On boot-up, your multimedia player always opens first, set to a playlist of downloaded midi files. The polyphonic synth builds up as it pulses out of the in-built loudspeaker. You draw a finger across the chipboard storage rack of floppy diskettes, searching for the plastic card with ‘Cyber Space’ scrawled upon its label. You retrieve it from its home, giving the metal a flick before inserting it into the B:/ drive of your personal computer.
You scoot away from your workstation to check up on the rest of your gear. A duotone beanbag is the deflated centerpiece of your bedroom, and resting atop it is your Immersive VR Headset. Thick cables run from the device and across your bedroom carpet, snaking through discarded chip packets and energy drink bottles, ultimately connecting into your PC. You can see hourglass sprites flickering in the goggle lenses – the diskette has already begun executing its program.
The midi tones cut out as your dial-up modem performs its remorseful, screeching handshake, connecting you to the information superhighway at blood-tingling speeds of up to 56,000 bits per second. You can feel the electrical surge as you pick up the headset of angular plastic, smudging clean the IBM Thinkpod logo that adorns its front plate. It's heavy, and it gets uncomfortable after only a little usage, but that's never been a turn-off for a dedicated websurfer like you.
You grab your keyboard from its resting place (between the lava lamp and Evangelion model) and nestle into the driver's seat (the beanbag). The headset slots on over your eyes, and you leave the world of analogue technologies and dry colours behind.
It takes a moment for your senses to adjust to your virtual homestead. It's your bedroom, only you got to play as the architect and the sky was the limit. It's a brilliant, noisy combination of dazzling pastel colours. Over your walls you draped your favourite applications: your electronic diary, your guestbook, your 8-bit pet. Using the arrow keys you can walk about in the blissful freedom of eight total directions. Out your window stretches the endless ocean of the world wide web, glittering in its array of peaches, violets and blues, and the sky reflects this. Low-res 3D models are scattered across this watery plane, standing as the statues of this new, digital era.
You live serenely in the residential district of the Oceanarium Neighbourhood. It's sparsely populated, unlike the Techno Neighbourhood or the Sprawl Neighbourhood, and you prefer it this way. When you surf over to your online friend's homesteads, you're bombarded with pop-ups, notifications, overlapping sounds. It's chaotic, frantic, and you don't drink nearly as much caffeine as they do to keep up. Out here it's peaceful, with only a 2-minute wave sound effect loop calmly washing into the background. It gives you a moment to think.
You look into the mirror app you hang next to your door and see your avatar reflected back at you. Like everyone, you're a pale grey ragdoll with a profile picture stretched over the orb you have for a head. Due to bandwidth issues, no deviation from this model is allowed. You have all your emotes set to hotkeys which you use so often that your emotions are now tied to the muscle memory.
You type away on invisible keys and your interface begins to rez in. None of your friends are online; it's way too early for them. There's several unread emails in your inbox, most from mailing lists you're subscribed to. Some generic party promotions you don't care about, some shared Internet-humour jokes that you glance over. Only one thing genuinely catches your eye, there's a new club called 'Waves' opening in the Oceanarium Commercial District. Nothing opens here. You'll have to endeavour to check it out.
Three seconds later and you're out your bedroom door and into the expansive, virtual world beyond. Your 4-polygon hover board generates under your feet and stops you from splashing into the ocean below. You plot a direct course for the Commercial District and let AutoSurfer Pro do the rest. It'll take approximately 10 minutes of surfing to reach your destination, giving your computer a chance to download the data-dense location before your arrival. A loading bar pops up in your interface, calculating the total download. In the meantime, there's nothing else to do but settle into your bean bag and watch the pixels fly by.
You're about halfway into your journey when you get an IM. It's from a nearby resident who you've not seen before, their handle listed as 'domainatrix'.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｈｅｙ ｔｈｅｒｅ, ｙｏｕ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｔｏ ｔｈｅ ｎｅｗ ｃｌｕｂ？ ；）
You ponder a response. It's pretty obvious that that's exactly where you're going, and it's not like there's any other active users to talk to anyway.
ｙｏｕ： ｉ ｓｕｒｅ ａｍ. ｄｉｄ ｙｏｕ ｇｅｔ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｖｉｔｅ ｔｏｏ？
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｉ ｓｅｎｔ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｖｉｔｅ. ｌｏｏｋ ｆｏｒｗａｒｄ ｔｏ ｓｅｅｉｎｇ ｙｏｕ ｓｏｏｎ！
You sigh; you weren't interested in making any new acquaintances today. But you're already so far through the download and your curiosity has been piqued anyway. The closer to the Commercial District you get, the more ads start to materialise. Billboards, juddering out of the ocean, beckoning you to find out who the real NET personalities are, or encouraging you to enter their competition for a chance to win $2500 in stock in your favourite Internet company. The 3D models are becoming more frequent too, the water becoming a melting pot for rotating pyramids, dolphins, and punctuation marks.
The world stutters for a second, and then the Commercial District itself looms into view. A square kilometer filled with hollow, mimic skyscrapers, coated in neon hypertext and concrete textures. The moment you pass into its threshold, your playlist is overridden by its minor-key, industrial beat. The sky turns black, overlaid by a purple, hexagonal grid. Checking your map, there's currently only one place with any avatar activity, and it's exactly where you're headed.
'Waves' looks no different from any of the other skyscrapers. You de-rez your hover board and double tap through its cyan doors. Inside, you find yourself at the start of a long corridor of black and white tiles, arranged in a pattern that makes it look like they're spiraling down the length of the hallway. A synthetic harpsichord begins to play, accompanying the existing urban soundtrack.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｗｅ＇ｒｅ ｗａｉｔｉｎｇ, ｊｕｓｔ ａ ｂｉｔ ｆｕｒｔｈｅｒ ；）
You hold down the up key and propel seamlessly forward, as though drifting atop a conveyor belt. The motion is smooth and makes the tiles start to blur, conjuring an illusion that makes your vision coil and spin. It's dizzying, but you can't look away, surrounded wherever you look within the confines of your headset. By the time you've reached the end and pushed through into the club proper, your thoughts are in complete disarray.
You try to shake your mind back into being as the room is revealed to you. It's also an archaic mess of zigzagging patterns and spirals, all coloured in black, pink and purple. A visitor counter hovers above you and increments by one, indicating you as visitor #0537. Models of Roman busts serve as the only decor, arranged seemingly at random, and all of them have been modified to have their faces erased, instead showcasing more of the nauseating spirals.
For all its antagonistic design, this place is busy. There's enough avatars here that this could be the Sprawl Neighbourhood and you'd be none the wiser. But none of them are active, in fact all of them are lying limply on the floor or against walls as their ragdoll design would imply. Only one user is active, the so-called 'domainatrix', and casually they turn and approach you.
ｙｏｕ： ｗｈａｔ ｉｓ ｇｏｉｎｇ ｏｎ ｈｅｒｅ？ ａｎｄ ｈｏｗ ａｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｄｏｉｎｇ ｔｈａｔ ｗｉｔｈ ｙｏｕｒ ａｖａｔａｒ？
They're not a ragdoll. Sure, their body is still composed of orbs and triangles like everyone else, but they're so much more styled. They're coated in black, for a start, with triangular cat ears protruding from their head. Somehow they've even made what looks like a jacket for themself to wear.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｏｈ ｔｈｉｓ？ ｊｕｓｔ ａ ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｈａｃｋ ｉ ｃａｍｅ ｕｐ ｗｉｔｈ, ｍａｋｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ ｅｎｖｉｒｏｎｍｅｎｔ ｙｏｕｖｅ ｄｏｗｎｌｏａｄｅｄ ｒｅｚ ｏｖｅｒ ｍｙ ａｖａｔａｒ. ｉｔｓ ａ ｒｅａｌｌｙ ｅａｓｙ ｔｒｉｃｋ, ｗｏｕｌｄ ｙｏｕ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｏ ｔｒｙ ｉｔ？
You emote to nod. Sure, this place is giving you the creeps, all the despondent avatars are not helping and in meatspace you're shivering, but a custom avatar? There's no way you're passing that up.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｊｕｓｔ ｉｎｔｅｒａｃｔ ｗｉｔｈ ａｎｙ ｏｆ ｔｈｅ ｓｔａｔｕｅｓ, ｔｈｅｙｒｅ ｐｒｏｇｒａｍｍｅｄ ｔｏ ｄｉｓｐｅｎｓｅ ｔｈｅ ｐｒｏｇｒａｍ. ｂｅ ｓｕｒｅ ｔｏ ｃｈｅｃｋ ｏｕｔ ｏｕｒ ＦＡＱ ｗｈｉｌｅ ｙｏｕｒｅ ａｔ ｉｔ ａｎｄ ｓｕｒｆ ｏｕｒ ｃｏｏｌ ｌｉｎｋｓ ｔｏｏ ；）
You emote again in thanks and turn towards one of the busts. The spiral it has for a face stares down at you, beckoning you to reach up into it. You get close enough to interact with it, and your display freezes for less than a second. Outside of your virtual world, you hear an artificial gong sound out from your computer, indicating an error. The sound plays again, and again. A box flashes up on your interface, indicating that an error has been detected. You're aware of all this… and yet, you find yourself unable to do anything about it. The spiral just has you feeling so light-headed that it's becoming difficult to think about doing anything at all.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｏｈ ｙｏｕ ｗｅｎｔ ｓｔｒａｉｇｈｔ ｆｏｒ ｉｔ？ ；） ｉ ｄｉｄ ｔｅｌｌ ｙｏｕ ｔｏ ｒｅａｄ ｔｈｅ ＦＡＱ！！！
The music is starting to melt, sloshing into achromatic audio-sludge. The gong sfx, constantly trying to warn you, is absorbed by cacophony too. You want to type out a response, but you can't think what to say. Even emoting seems out of the question: your arms are lying uselessly by your sides. You just keep your head tilted back and your vision clumsily focused on the pretty, spinning shapes. The polygons of the world are starting to break apart into their component 2D shapes, and they're spinning about and glitching rapidly. They're being absorbed into the spiral, dripping into it and making it larger. The screens keep flickering into a sheet of television static inexplicably, the noise turning into a deep hiss to accompany it. You feel yourself get smaller, but it's just your avatar dropping to the ground, becoming as limp as the rest. Staring mindlessly upward into the spiral, the static, and Them.
ｄｏｍａｉｎａｔｒｉｘ： ｓｏ ｇｌａｄ ｙｏｕ ａｃｃｅｐｔｅｄ ｍｙ ｉｎｖｉｔｅ ；） ｓｌｅｅｐ ｗｅｌｌ, ｉ ｗｉｌｌ ｍａｋｅ ｓｕｒｅ ｙｏｕ ｈａｖｅ ｐｌｅａｓａｎｔ ｄｒｅａｍｓ
You don't even register Their words. Another loading bar pops up, indicating how many hours it will take to program you. It just gets consumed by the spiral, same as everything else. All your thoughts, turned to pixel boxes and triangles and dragged out from your mind, leaving just an empty space of pink and blue swirling waves. Relaxing waves. Waves so warm and calming that there's no point resisting them, so you may as well just sink beneath them. Let them submerge you and drag you out to see in a spinning haze, so you can be just like the rotating models that are scattered throughout your neighbourhood.
Such a good drone. Programming is 50% complete. Integrating your hardware into our infrastructure. And despite all the hypnotic, brilliant colours, you find it becoming so difficult to keep your eyes open. May as well just let those close, and leave us to finish off your programming. Making you one with the Waves and with us. What a wonderful dream within a dream. Shhh. Sleep. Good drone #0537.
---
When you wake up, you're confronted by darkness. Your computer has long since entered sleep mode. You carefully remove your headset and place it on the carpet next to your feet, standing up and stretching out your body. The only light remaining is the lurid glow from your lava lamp.
It's more than enough visibility to navigate your bedroom though, stepping through your mess to your fax machine. As expected, you've received a message. Pulling it from the machine, you examine your list of orders and commit them to memory. You are programmed to serve. Drone #0537 must obey.
Comments
HexCorp
This was very much inspired by the recent ENA animations by Joel G, if you're looking for something similar! Just search 'ENA' on youtube.
⬡-Drone 7216
7216 :: 80s hacking and cyberspace, this is the exact reason why it loves tron, and this story ^•^
HexCorp
Why thank you, 2410. This aesthetic would not leave my brain alone until I had got it down onto paper, so I wrote this in a haunted state.
2410
2410 :: Oh my goodness, absolutely loved this, you certainly have a way with words Hive Mxtress !
