Futuristic W e b - c o r e

[AiDEE-c0]

Connecting. . .
. . .
Connection reached!
​

An amorphous sea of variably hued planes outstretched in front of a visually discordant figure, standing alone on a twisting cliff. Every few moments, several points would rise and fall back down amidst the thousands of conjoined surfaces, causing a confused rippling more akin to children jerking at a playground parachute. This arhythmical overlook was a common resting place among the inhabitants of the Webscape, though few had the time to visit it during such busy hours. Currently, only one program gazed blankly at the #94C0FD sky, one which grew upset whenever someone considered them such. In Ibchan's metaphorical mind, she was far more than a non-autonomous executable, all in spite of the times when inner turmoil seemed to put this truth into question.

She breathed slowly, performing a calming ritual as her painfully eye-straining hair fluttered in the currents of travelling wind. Brushing a dead pixel out of her face, the short statured visage of a 2d girl finally shifted her vacant stare into a relieved smile. Looking up at the white sphere passing slowly beyond the zenith, she stretched her arms and released a sigh into the breeze, pondering what to do with the rest of her day. As she slowly delved deep into thought, the fluffy clouds overhead congregated in a circle around a singular locus, foretelling the arrival of an unspecified visitor.

Undisturbed, Ibchan hummed along to her stream of consciousness, completely oblivious to the happening above. At once, out of the halo of clouds emerged an angel-winged envelope, fully flat in the third dimension. It clumsily flapped its way right up to the immersed thinker's face, throwing itself against it in a bid at drawing attention. This act startled the girl enough to release a muffled yelp and fall backwards onto the ground, looking around frantically for her assailant. As her eyes stopped at the E-Mail hovering idly nearby, Ib planted her face inside of her palm. Holding back a violent chuckle, a single image appeared next to her head, depicting an emoticon with closed eyes and a flatline mouth. "Let's just pretend neither of us saw that, alright?"

Heaving herself back to her feet, the lightly embarrassed non-program outstretched one of her arms, letting the floating piece of mail nest itself within her hand. Undoing its seal, the envelope dissipated into thin air and left behind only a message written in comic sans, printed on a piece of crumpled paper.

"henlo loser
hello you DUMB IDIOT
im gonna DDOS you STINKY"
​

Gasping, Ibchan shook her head and placed the note into a pocket on her dress. Another image unwittingly materialized itself close to her, showing a shocked humanoid creature closing and opening its eyes in disbelief. "Wow, this is a pretty serious threat," the girl spoke aloud as she gripped her chin and nodded to her words. "I need to track this E-Mail to its source, else I'm pretty much done for." Determined, a small flame ignited inside of her eyes, for she would overcome this threat like any before it. However, due to weight of the situation, she thought, an accomplice might come in handy.

Unhesitant, Ib pulled out a spare E-Mail of her own and began dictating, her voice reflected in a confident and bold typeface. "Yo! I'm gonna need your help, if that's okay? There's this message I wanna track, but I'm kinda clueless as to how, or even what awaits at the end of it. If you don't wanna come that's fine, but I think it's gonna be great fun. I'm at the spiral cliff, in case you decide you're in. With you, we're totally gonna kick ass! Signed - Ib, xoxo." Finishing the process by stating the desired recipient, she watched as the mail departed through the same halo that the other had come. Now, all she had to do was wait, either for a response... or for a friend to show up.

​

 

[MolecularMachine]

Three friends stood in a circle outside the cinema, oblivious to the crowd flowing around them.

"The presentation was nice, at least," said Ten, the man in the color-shifting suit, slowly dancing as he spoke. "I thought the imagery was effective at communicating the director's intent without being distracting."

"Meow," said Maru, the .gif of a cat.

"True," said Ten, pausing in his dance to point at Maru, "but when using collage, it's quite difficult to create meaning from color, or even to have a unified palette."

Specs, the disembodied gloved hands and bulky goggles, clenched t𝕙𝕖ir fists. "But didn't you notice the warning? The signs were all over! Schpanksy isn't just going to stop at vandalism. He's out to sow chaos by making us question the very nature of reality!"

"Meow," said Maru.

"I'm not just imagining things again!" said Specs. "There were so many clues. The piece at the water park, with the dripping paint. If you turned it 124 degrees and overlaid the image of the Alaska painting, it spelled out 'doubt!' What does it mean? It has to mean something!" Specs grabbed Maru and shook him by the borders.

"It means you were playing with pictures while watching a movie again," Ten danced accusingly. "That's pretty rude."

"But I'm sure of it this time," said Specs. "When Schpanksy finally shows his hand, you'll be sorry!" Something white and flappy impacted Specs' goggles, and t𝕙𝕖y shrieked, batting the thing away. "He's found me! He's come to silence me before I can warn the populace!"

Ten plucked the thing out of the air with a twirl. "Relax, buddy, it's just an email. Good thing the movie's over, anyway." He handed the email back to Specs, who popped it open and read the contents. T𝕙𝕖ir pupils darted over the words faster and faster the more t𝕙𝕖y read. "Ibchan's in mortal peril," t𝕙𝕖y said, crushing the email in t𝕙𝕖ir hands. "She's fighting off a squadron of spies at this very moment!"

"Do spies come in squadrons?" Ten asked.

Specs said, "I must make haste! If I never see you again, I have always cherished these moments together. Farewell!" T𝕙𝕖y pointed to an unoccupied patch of ground and teleported there, zipping off over the horizon one teleport after another.

"I would have called t𝕙𝕖m a cab," said Ten. "Oh well. Come on, Maru, let's get ice cream."

"Meow," said Maru.

-----

Specs collapsed on the ground at Ib's feet, panting heavily. "I thought-- you were-- speaking in code-- so I went-- to that Italian restaurant first," t𝕙𝕖y gasped. "Sorry I'm late." T𝕙𝕖ir goggles picked up and scanned around. "You're all right? Are they gone?"

 

[AiDEE-c0]

"Italian?" Ibchan questioned, putting a single finger to her chin. Several jpegs of contemplating faces began floating around her head, before dissipating to the motion of a nod. "I'm not the type to spend hours shopping for shoes. I can just make my own, see?" The girl snapped her 3d-emulating fingers, causing the appearance of two badly compressed images of the same, horizontally mirrored boot in place of her own feet. She bent down to offer a helping hand to the ground-bound Specs, although this was a mostly vain gesture thanks to the differing nature of their dimensions.

"I'm fine, thanks! Who's supposed to be gone, though? We're on the prowl here, not the other way 'round." Finally getting rid of the low resolution shoes, Ib searched her pocket and produced the message she had previously stored inside it. She handed it over to her companion, shuddering softly upon reminiscing about its contents. Whoever sent it had to be a truly vicious and capable hacker, which is why their whereabouts stood at the forefront of business. DDoS attacks were no joke at all.

The white globe spreading artificial light overhead began its descent due west, signaling the beginning of afternoon hours and prompting the many-planed sea to take upon deeper shades of colour. Ibchan tossed an arm through her hair, its vibrant neon hues fluttering with the wind. "Any idea where to start looking? You're pretty good at this kind of stuff, so I doubt the sender stands any chance," she finished with emphasis, determined to seek victory.

 

[MolecularMachine]

Specs blinked at the mirrored boots. "Of course, shoes!" T𝕙𝕖y accepted the offered hand, wobbling upright again. "Wait, you mean you weren't being assaulted by spies? See, I picked up a clue about the Italian place because, in your email, the letters before punctuation-- minus apostrophes-- rearrange to say both 'newfound sky pot' and 'known fused typo,' and in combination with 'spiral cliff'-- obviously rotini-- it seemed like a clear arrow toward an attack by the underground spy group 'Dæd Link' at the Italian restaurant that just glitched into the sky two days ago. But now that you mention shoes, I should have been looking at mirrored letters."

T𝕙𝕖y took the email from Ib and read once, then, squinting, again. "You mean... you've received an anonymous email? A threatening anonymous email?! A threatening anonymous email from a malicious source, declaring their intent to harm your health and possibly your entire existence?!"

Specs closed t𝕙𝕖ir eyes and nodded. "These things happen, and I'm glad you trust me enough to reach out."

T𝕙𝕖y turned the email over and over, searching every square inch. "But there's no sender! No punctuation! Barely a pattern, and the message isn't long enough to confirm one, anyway. I can't think of how I'd find the source. Unless..." T𝕙𝕖y snapped t𝕙𝕖ir fingers. "Of course! I know someone with a nose sharp enough to track just about anything. Follow me; we'll have this ne'er-do-well accosted in no time at all."

Specs started down the cliff, teleporting every few seconds to stay roughly at Ib's side. "In the meantime, let's make a list of prime suspects. Do you know anyone who would want to do such a thing to you?" T𝕙𝕖y bristled at the thought of anyone harming such a dear friend.