Everything is normal today during the early hours of the morning. There's really no hint, no way of knowing, no anything that could indicate that CERES -- and thus Cerealia -- is about to irrevocably change. There would be birds chirping, if there were birds, but since there aren't any, there's just the constant sounds of a city in motion, humming with technology even that early in the morning.
And then, regardless of where you are or what you're doing or how early it is, everyone's CereVices flicker on to show a perhaps-familiar, perhaps-unfamiliar face.
Bellona Recreare, the business owner of Cerealia and CEO of CERES, stares at everyone with a flat, cold look. She doesn't seem happy.
(When is she ever?)  It has come to my attention that there has been industrial espionage and corporate sabotage in CERES' personnel. Such a thing will not be tolerated.
Due to this, Mosley's employment with CERES has been terminated. Please now direct any public relations questions to 1-800-7322934844444.
Good day.
|
PHASE I [ 6 00 ] Bright and early, not long after that sudden announcement by Bellona, you may decide to go back to sleep, or you may decide to get up and go about your day (or you may not have woken up at all).
Either way, it doesn't matter.
Because your apartment is broken.
The entire apartment. The door is locked shut (and that sucker is solid metal so it might be time to try a window), the HOLO(gm) is flickering wildly between settings, and the blender is out for your blood. Anything technological in any way (that is CERES-brand or has been tampered with by CERES) will be malfunctioning in a way that comes across as... oddly malicious.
Now's a bad time for the late sleepers to realize that the beds, too, have auto-control tech functionality. Hope you enjoy that electroshock wake up call, or the fact that the bed could fling you totally across the room.
PHASE II [ 1000 ] The rest of the city isn't faring so well either.
The trains are completely out of commission; even if the doors do open, it's probably not a good idea to get on. If you do, it looks like the doors will slam shut behind you, and the train will go hurtling forward at dangerous speeds with sudden stops. Many of the shops can't be accessed at all, automated doors refusing to open, and worst of all, every single last piece of tech in Cerealia now seems to have the sole goal of Making Your Life Hard.
The Pleasure District is flooded now that the spas are broken, but hey -- at least the perfume ensures that water smells good, and it's pretty warm. That's good, right? Maybe go for a nice swim.
The CERES police bots are out of control, chasing people down to arrest them for imagined crimes (What do you mean you aren't a closet voyeur?), and heaven forbid you're around any of the auto shops when everything goes totally wrong. The auto-drive feature in many of CERES's cars seem to be a little... finicky today. It doesn't seem like anywhere in the city is exempt from this. Good luck.
And towards the end of the second day of this insanity, the train, with whatever unfortunate passengers are on it, will derail. It crashes into part of the shopping district, leveling buildings and leaving the wrecked overturn husk of a train resting there uselessly.
Suddenly, things don't seem so harmless anymore.
PHASE III [ 1100 ] Of course... you're CERES-owned too.
Your code, rather, is made and owned by CERES, and it's inevitable with the craziness going on that it would soon affect everyone's code as well. So as the hour approaches noon, a few unlucky souls may start to notice that things are just Not Quite Right with them. Their powers may be on the fritz, functioning entirely wrong or not at all, or even stranger -- fire powers turning into water, ice into flame, electricity brings mud. Your clothing might suddenly change when your coding glitches, or it might be gone entirely. You may suddenly have an uncontrollable urge to start singing, or frolicking. You may suddenly be wildly in love with the first person (or robot or mirror) that you see, unable to stop it until the odd glitching wears off.
And then, just like that, you're back to normal, if a bit more tired than before. How troublesome.
There are also moments where what appears to be an ID number appears on the back of your neck in glowing light blue numbers. Each of these codes is a 7 digit number, with an E at the front of the number. It appears that the longer you've been in Cerealia, the lower the number is -- like a brand of some sort. You may not be able to see it yourself with it on the back of your neck like that, but everyone else sure can.
PHASE IV [ 1645 ] And, just like that, on the last day of this madness, the city goes dark. The lights cut out. The technology shuts off. Every last robot in Cerealia is completely and totally down, and can no longer be booted up. Even when the lights come back on in a few hours... the robots remain dead.
Cerealia's a lot harder to function in without those handy dandy robots running the place. It's also a lot more desolate, and rather quiet.
Slowly but surely, the rest of the technology will boot itself back up towards the end of the last day. But the robots remain broken, and cannot be fixed. In fact, opening them up will reveal that nothing's wrong with them at all... they just won't wake up.
As time ticks by, it doesn't look like Bellona will address anything on the network about the events and all people are left to do now is... learn how to function again. Without any help.
BONUS [ ???? ] If you were a stupid brave enough soul to log into ViViD during this time (or were unfortunately glitched there, which could happen), you will find that ViViD is in... safe mode. It's struggling to boot up, and even when you finally enter, you'll find yourself wandering through skeleton levels of half-completed scenery and incomplete quests. There are readings in the corner of each level that can be seen now, one about Energy Gain and one about Energy Loss, and just as the gain goes up the longer you are there, the loss, too, rises. At first, it's fascinating, and it isn't particularly dangerous... but then it becomes clear that you can't actually log out.
You can't exit Safe Mode at all.
Slowly, it feels as though you can breathe less and less, that the empty walls of the level are closing in on you... and there's nothing you can do. Unless you are or find a particularly genius hacker and they can access the source code and find the exit buried inside that code within the next few minutes... there's nothing to be done.
And then everything goes dark.
You'll wake up the next IC day, with those same energy readings marked on your wrist like some sort of bright blue digital tattoo. When you wake in the mornings, it will read at 100% and slowly go down during the course of the day until you sleep. It will fade after three IC days.
And from now on, ViViD always has those energy levels in the corner, even when it's fixed. They always seem to be recording you, every time you're in ViViD. Strange.
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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no subject
Pyrrha leans back a bit, giving him some space. ]
It's good you're awake.
[ A clear sign of her adjusting to her employment: she's less enthusiastically cheery, more politely reserved. ]
We need to keep moving. Can you stand?
no subject
it seems to be manageable so far, though, and while he's a little shaky, he stands up without much trouble. ]
Yes, apparently.
[ he brushes himself off as well as he can, but he still definitely looks like he was just sleeping on the street. lovely. ]
What were you doing out here anyway?
[ what was HE doing out here... ]
no subject
Truthfully, and without hesitation, she gives her answer, ]
I came to make sure you're alright.
[ And to get his breakfast order, since cooking seems out of the question! -- Although that seems a paltry concern now. ]
no subject
[ he's not sure how much he believes that -- sure, he's used to brown-nosing underlings back home, but those are generally people with families to support whose lives he could ruin with a poor performance evaluation. pyrrha isn't in that kind of situation, and she's only known him for a few days; not nearly long enough to develop any kind of actual loyalty, in his opinion.
but it's an acceptable answer. ]
Well, in that case, I'll commend you on both your work ethic and your timing.
no subject
She nods, appreciating the remark for what it is. ]
It's all part of the job.
[ Apparently. ]
How's your apartment?
god SORRY I THINK I'M BACK
Last I checked, hellbent on destroying anyone who enters it.
[ otherwise he sure as hell wouldn't be out here. ]
I assume yours is the same?
[ since he definitely was not the only person leaping out the window this morning. ...in retrospect he's really glad he didn't faint in the middle of that jump. ]
I missed you :(
It... was a little chaotic.
[ That's all she's going to say on the matter. (Her hair had gotten caught in a hydraulic door, an incident she's not especially excited to relive.) ]
Come on, I'll take you somewhere safe.
i need to add you on plurk
Not that I don't appreciate the intention, but where might that be?
no subject
The gardens.
[ Bless you, Raven, for putting the idea in her head. There's also probably a pond in there somewhere, in case Rideaux gets tired of not looking at his own face. ]
It's not as plugged in as everywhere else, [ because of all the plant life, ] and you can unwind after that - window incident. [ Was it even a window he was thrown through? Whatever. Pyrrha's basically dropping him off in Rideaux Daycare, except she's being as cordial and well-intentioned as ever in both tone and thought. ]
no subject
also, while he's inclined to defend his window-jumping prowess, he doesn't feel like explaining the real reason for his ending up face down on the ground at this moment in time. so while he bristles a little at the phrasing, he doesn't rush to correct her. ]
I suppose that sounds like a solid enough plan.
no subject
She starts to walk, with the unspoken expectation he'll follow. ]
Are you really alright?
no subject
Not that much worse than usual.
[ at this exact moment in time, anyway. he was basically dead a few minutes ago, and might experience more acute organ failure at any minute. also his usual health is already pretty terrible, so that's not necessarily saying much. ]
no subject
... it looks like we're on our own, now.
[ Considering the state of the colony. ]
no subject
I think we can consider that an improvement.
no subject
A question occurs to her, prompting Pyrrha to ask, ]
How long have you been living here, Rideaux?
goes to mod journal to check calendar conversion...
A little over four months, I believe.
no subject
I've arrived twice, actually. My first stay, I was here for a few months.
no subject
I think I remember you saying something to that effect in your network post.
no subject
At first, we had believed CERES's propaganda.
[ Mostly. ]
I remember what it was like when they had actually tried to keep us too content to ask questions.
no subject
the idea that this place had ever tried to keep its residents happy rather than maliciously toying with them is hard to imagine from what he's seen in his time here. ]
Hm. How long ago was that?
no subject
It was still winter when I left.
[ That's the best descriptor she can give him. Things had seemed so optimistic back then, Jaune's attention such an innocent thing and home still an accessible concept. She had been more than a gravestone, then. ]
I guess things started to fall apart after that.
no subject
I've found that things usually do.
no subject
Pyrrha peers over her shoulder at him, a curiosity just this side of concern lending a faint crease to her brow. ]
What do you mean?