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Post by Tumult on Feb 18, 2011 21:12:32 GMT -5
The lab was a bit of a mess when Tumult walked in. Not physically, as the janitors were doing their job with aplomb, but digitally - the computers all showed the subtle first signs of lack of care, and a few were labeled with hand-written signs. "Does not boot" appeared on more than one computer, and "freezes randomly" was found on a few more.
Tumult sat down at one of the randomly freezing ones, and brought it to life. It was probably just a memory problem. A moment's poking at the bios and the box rebooted, asking her via wireless what it should be running. She passed it a memory test program and moved on to the next box.
This one looked to be a hardware problem - she popped the side off and dove in with both hands, while via the wireless, she poked at a few of the other boxes that seemed to be suffering from software issues.
Administrative accounts had, of course, been locked down by the previous maintainer. Not a problem - Tumult spun a recursive password-seeking loop together, and set it to run on the few boxes that were turned on and not exhibiting problems.
It was only at this point - elbow deep in a computer, with another running some odd test and most of the others running what clearly looked like a hack attempt - that Tumult realized that she probably should have asked permission first.
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Post by Aurora Lumina Robinson on Feb 28, 2011 16:43:49 GMT -5
<Whatcha doin?>
Aurora's 'voice' came in just as cheerful and flowery through her supernatural 'link' with Tumult and other machinery as she might have sounded in person. She sounded distant, but that Tumult could hear Aurora at all meant the cyborg girl was still on the grounds - probably in the yard somewhere.
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Post by Tumult on Mar 1, 2011 1:06:57 GMT -5
<I'm fixing things?> Tumult replied, slightly hesitantly. <They sorta needed it?>
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Post by Aurora Lumina Robinson on Mar 1, 2011 1:49:18 GMT -5
<Ooh, I like fixing things.>
Meanwhile on the school grounds, specifically inside of a lonely shed in a remote place on the grounds (the large KEEP OUT sign had not drawn Aurora's attention when she had first spotted the rustic structure, and the heavy padlock was discarded on the ground, a common fate for mundane locks in the young girl's wake), Aurora had busied herself examining shelves upon shelves of glistening metal tools.
There was little around she could manipulate - she had played around with opening and closing a few clippers but otherwise everything was mechanically devoid, and therefore noiseless. Still, crafted tools like this, particularly in such a number, gave off a kind of 'echo', like one might experience putting their ear to a seashell, and she basked in the ambiance of them.
But something in Tumult's 'voice' seemed a bit off.
<You sound nervous - is something wrong?>
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Post by Tumult on Mar 3, 2011 1:04:38 GMT -5
<I might have forgotten to ask permission first?> Tumult replied. She changed her mental voice, to make it obvious she was pretending to be someone else. <Oh no, that horrid robot is taking over the lab!>
<Not that it's anything that didn't need doing...>
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Post by William Jason Fredericks on Mar 3, 2011 16:15:40 GMT -5
Outside the shed was the unmistakable trod of boots on the gravel path which methodically grew louder and louder until they came to a sudden stop just short of the shed's entrace. The sky suddenly grew darker as it went from partly cloudy to a heavy overcast that left local weather forecasters perflexed.
The shed grew darker still as a shadow appeared in the doorway, blocking what little light was still coming from outside. Although mostly hidden there was no mistaking the bald head and hunched posture of Groundsman Fredericks. One fist was clenched at his side and in his other he held a sickle.
His eyes narrowed as he looked directly at Aurora, his lips turned down in a sneer. "Out".
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Post by Aurora Lumina Robinson on Mar 4, 2011 1:29:48 GMT -5
<Permission to fix things? Why would you need - eep>
She jumped backwards, falling onto one of the carefully prepared shelves and sending a dozen various tools scattering to the floor.
"Oh! I'm sorry! You uh..." she anxiously eyed the sickle. "...scared me."
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Post by William Jason Fredericks on Mar 4, 2011 15:20:59 GMT -5
Fredericks sniffed the air.
"Again....burnt sand...can't swing a....running into..."
He advanced a couple steps into the room, the hand with the sickle twitching but before reaching her he stepped aside, leaving her path to the door clear.
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Post by Aurora Lumina Robinson on Mar 4, 2011 17:53:41 GMT -5
"Er, right..." she bent down quickly and picked up wrench that she dropped and placed it back on the shelf, followed quickly by two other tools. There were in the completely wrong order and position, Aurora having forgotten how they were before and arranging them with a mixture of how pretty they looked and whether she could make them sound a bit neater with certain combinations of positions.
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Post by William Jason Fredericks on Mar 17, 2011 11:53:19 GMT -5
"All wrong...no sense of order..."
He stepped forward, putting his hand on the tool she had just released. "If ya' can't bloody well put 'em back where they were, jus get out and lemme do it."
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