Demiurge says "I believe that certain people were planning to head to a library, or at least to somewhere with computers?"
Daimon says "We collect Sarah and drag her, bodily, down the street to the library."
Daimon says "If the library is anything like libraries around here, they're wired for sound. A nice public computer."
Demiurge says "Are you going to the Library of Congress, or just to an anonymous public library near you?"
Sarah has to be dragged? Since when?
Sarah would recommend an anonymous public library, given that we likely do not want to send email to the Game from a Tether.
Daimon says "Just anonymous public library, unless Sarah has a commentary."
Sephar perches cheerfully on Daimon's shoulder, little bird little bird...
Demiurge says "Okay. You find a nearby public library. It does, indeed, have several public access terminals."
Daimon says "Woo hoo! Do I have to mug any little kids to get one? Or is there a free one?"
Sephar says "Are there folks accessing?"
The lady on the desk at the library eyes Sephar-bird askance.
Daimon grins at the lady. "All the rage, you know."
The lady says, "As long as you have it under control, young man."
Sephar chirps cheerfully at her, but stays perched.
Daimon says "He's trained. Not to worry."
There are five terminals, all currently in use, but the one at the end is about to come free: the student there is just packing up his belongings.
Daimon waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaits for the terminal. While looking at books. *look look*
Daimon has a predilection for weird stuff.
Sephar says "Are any of them looking particularly distrait over not being able to do what they want to do?"
<
Demiurge says "No, Sephar, they all look pretty much under control."
<
Sarah waits with Sephar and Daimon while they, well, wait for the terminal.
Sarah might as well keep them company. :)
As Daimon scans the shelves, he runs across _Under the Pear Tree Bough: A Critique of Sexual
Customs and Public Justice in Ancient China_.
<
Daimon . o O ( Woooo! )
Daimon pulls that book down and starts checkin' it out.
Two pages into the book, the terminal comes free.
Sephar peers from Daimon's shoulder...
Sephar bird flutters over to the terminal as it realizes it's free...
Hitherladybug wiggles its wings, and then settles down to meditate drowsily while people fiddle
with weird human stuff.
Daimon goes and ZIPS over and sits at the terminal.
Sarah accompanies Sephar hastily.
Daimon plops in the chair, then starts fooling around with the computer.
Sephar sits on Daimon's head for a moment before fluttering down to hop, perch by the keyboard,
peering up at the terminal.
The terminal is a standard enough one, with the usual facilities.
Sarah murmurs, "I'll get to my own work, then?"
Sepharbird bobs at Sarah's murmur.
Daimon looks up and grins at Sarah. "Hi."
Sarah smiles at Daimon. "I'll take that for a yes. Enjoy yourself."
Daimon says "Okay. I will. I promise."
Sarah uses the singular out of respect for the humans about, but winks at Sepharbird
nonetheless.
Sepharbird chirps cheerfully.
Daimon peers at the computer, brings up Netscape, goes to tucows, and starts grabbing things
he's going to need - traceroute, scriptable terminal emulator, DNS tools, a better ping
program.
All these things can, indeed, be grabbed.
Daimon makes careful note on his pad of paper (in English now) of where they all get installed,
to delete every trace of them later.
Daimon also makes note of the defrag program on the disk. There is one, yes?
There is one, indeed.
Sepharbird watches approvingly.
Sarah wanders away and goes back to her own list of research topics. And making flash
cards.
Daimon pulls the folded up death warrant out of his pocket, and puts it on the desk for Sephar
to see.
Sephar peers at the headers and times on each handoff between machines.
Daimon then opens the traceroute program, and flips it on DNS name lookup. He then does a
traceroute from the public terminal to the host machine the email originated on via the host
address after the log in name.
Daimon is wanting to see how far to route Sephar.
<
Sephar grins and flies to perch on the top of the terminal screen to peer at what the traceroute
says, upsidedown.
The traceroute can track to a server somewhere in Georgetown University.
Daimon writes Georgetown University on his pad and underlines it.
Daimon says "Sephar, we have A server."
Daimon unpacks the scriptable telnet emulator, and telnets to that IP on the DNS port.
Sepharbird whistles softly and bobs a nod, sings in pidgin, "Yes. Telnet sniff."
The machine fails to respond like a DNS port, meaning it must be a router or a proxy server or
private machine.
Daimon telnets to port 80, to see if it responds like a web server.
It does not respond like a web server.
Daimon telnets into the firewall daemon. Does it hang?
There is a firewall.
Daimon says "Sephar, we've hit the proxy server. We need to get in."
Daimon says "We can port scan attack it and bring it down."
Sephar says "Hyup."
Daimon says "Or we can break into it."
Sephar bobs.
Daimon tries the standard login attacks, realizing they won't work.
Indeed, they fail to work.
Daimon does the telnet in as root, sys, daemon, uutp, nntp, etc.
Nope.
Daimon says "So, they put the patches on the system."
Sephar remote controls the keyboard to try the ftp in routes.
Daimon tries to remember how to get sendmail to cough up root.
Sephar says "Is there even anonymous ftp into the machine?"
Daimon grins.
Demiurge says "No."
Daimon telnets to the finger port.
Daimon says "Is there a finger or whois server on this machine?"
Sephar hops cheerfully.
Demiurge says "No."
<
Daimon suggests to Sephar, "Sniffing?"
Sephar bobs sadly, "Seems to be the cleanest way left. Just takes a while."
Daimon says "I have a book. The router is at
<
<
<
<
After some brief work, Sephar thinks he has written a sniffer.
Daimon says "You are an excellent Kyrio, Sephar."
Sephar gives it to Daimon to look over and double-check.
Daimon says "The problem is now we have to get into the router to get it to run."
Daimon scans the code.
The code looks good.
Daimon pushes it through the compiler and waits for bits to fall out.
Daimon makes a point of fraggling these guys after all is said and done.
Daimon says "Well, hmmm."
Daimon telnets into
<
<
<
<
Daimon uses, gads, vi, to cut and paste the code into a file on the router.
Daimon will then compile.
<
The code compiles.
Daimon runs it, baby, and has it listen to the packets between the router and the proxy server. He
pipes it to a file while it goes to the screen.
Daimon then waits. *wumph*
Sepharbird nests quietly on the warm terminal.
Daimon loves this part. Watching packets. Ho hum.
The packets incoming seem to be largely data/text, heavy density, which are being dumped to the
file. Nothing is outgoing at the moment except for some sort of acknowledgement squirt each
time.
Daimon helps Sephar to sift through the data.
The data seems to be encoded.
Daimon will go to the net and download crack and satan.
Daimon says "Kerberized? Or just public key, you think, Sephar?"
Sephar contemplates the coding.
<
It looks like that stuff with a public and private key. PGP?
<
Daimon says "Oh, PGP. That's simple enough."
Sephar nodnods. "Brute force it..."
Sephar says "... or. Hrm. There was that study about the correllation of the public key with the...
hrm..."
As a clock outside strikes the hour of eleven, three packets are blasted _out_. These are also
encoded. Three acknowledgement squirts come rapidly back.
<
<
<
Daimon notes the packets. "Clock syncronization, probably."
Daimon also downloads the /etc/passwd file off the router to run that through a crack program.
Hmmmm.... root... network admin level... probably other machines.
Daimon works on reassembling the packets.
Sepharbird hops and sings quietly, "Wonder if lazy demons might have used the same password
on the proxy as on the router?"
Daimon says "Oh, very possibly."
Daimon downloads the passwd file and runs it through CRACK.
<
<
The passwd file fails to be cracked. One might assume very ingenious coding, or just plain
paranoia.
Sepharbird tries it?
Demiurge says "Sure, Sephar. Are you going to peck the computer with your beak, or possess
it?"
Sephar possesses just the keyboard.
<
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<
<
Even for Sephar, the passwd file fails to be cracked.
Daimon says "Ah hell."
Daimon looks for an /etc/shadow file.
Possibly given more time and work, it might be feasible.
Sepharbird fluffs its feathers.
Daimon says "Try another decryption program?"
<
Sephar nodnods.
Daimon pokes around on the net, and grabs Satan.
As Daimon works on the incoming packets, he manages to assemble a couple of them. They
appear to be basic reports on the activities of people: where they went during a given day, what
they did, the like.
Daimon is vaguely amused that his little app is working, then.
<
Sephar bird sings a few happy notes.
<
Daimon pushes the passwd file through Satan.
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<
Sepharbird watches Satan work, fascinated.
As Satan works away on the passwd file, it seems to have succeeded.
<
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<
<
Daimon telnets in with the daemon password.
<
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<
The screen shows the usual sort of thing that one might expect. Everything is going fine.
Daimon says "Okay, Sephar, now what?"
Daimon telnets into the proxy server using the same name and password.
Sepharbird saves most of the known passwords into it's own private memory cache.
Everything goes swimmingly. No problems.
Sephar sings, "Priorities. a) get that letter off that you and Pat wrote. b) get info from the machine
to get in again or for what reasons we can see c) trash what we can."
Daimon says "We're in, Sephar."
Daimon can send mail into the system from the proxy server, as it is technically over the
firewall.
A prompt comes up. READY, LORD, AT YOUR COMMAND.
Sepharbird whistles cheerfully. "Good. YOu know how to spoof letter from within the system,
so the letter can go off easy."
Daimon falls off his chair, laughing.
Sepharbird peers and blinks at the prompt.
Daimon says "Certainly. That's hilarious."
Daimon says "That's absolutely hilarious."
Daimon will need to change that prompt on the way out.
As if in response to some time limit, another prompt comes up. INFOSEARCH REQUESTED
Y/N?
Daimon hits Y.
Another prompt. PLEASE ENTER KEYWORDS AND THEN PRESS RETURN.
Sepharbird unpossesses the keyboard to just get out of the way as Daimon explores.
Daimon types in LIGHTNER, DAIMON
There is a pause, then up comes LILIM OF KOBAL. FULL FILE AVAILABLE ON RECEIPT
OF PRIORITY CLEARANCE. TARGET.
<
<
Daimon gives it the password.
<
Daimon says "Now why, Sephar, do you think they'd have this service running here?"
<
<
It may be purely imagination, but the keys actually feel slightly _warm_ under Daimon's fingers.
Or perhaps it's just the effect of using the computer for a large chunk of morning.
Daimon says "Hmmm."
Daimon says "Sephar, the keyboard is getting, um, warm."
The computer shows PLEASE STAND BY WHILE FULL RECORDS ARE ACCESSED.
ACCESSING.
Sepharbird pulled out of the keyboard already... but...
Sepharbird sings softly, "I have no idea why they'd have such a service running for root..."
Daimon says "And here, too."
Daimon says "Bizarre. Just bizarre."
Daimon hums.
Sephar nods and hrms.
The prompt shows FURTHER INFOSEARCH REQUESTED WHILE RECORDS ACCESSED
Y/N?
Daimon hits Y.
Sepharbird sings, "I wonder what happens if you say no."
The prompt comes up PLEASE LIST SUBJECTS OF INQUIRY.
Sepharbird hops about a bit nervously.
Daimon types in: JACKSON, TERRY; MURPHY, PATRICK; BRADLEY, ELIZABETH
Sephar says "How hot is it getting?"
Daimon is getting nervous.
Daimon says "I need to get out of this application and do the deed."
The computer scrolls ACCESSING: ACCESSING: ACCESSING.
Sephar bobs a nod.
Sephar says "Kill it?"
The keys are definitely warm to the paranoid touch now.
Daimon says, mockingly, "Do. You. Want. To. Play. A. Game?
Sephar says "Or ^Z it or ^C it?"
Daimon tries to get out of the program.
The screen flares a blinding white, and then quite literally explodes.
<
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<
As the screen flares, Daimon is looking directly at it, and his eyes white out. For the moment, and
till it clears, he cannot see. Everything's a total blur.
Daimon throws his arms up to protect his face.
Shrapnel from the monitor sprays outwards, a couple of pieces slashing Daimon's arms, but not
seriously. There is a rising hum from the monitor and keyboard, and the other four computers are
beginning to echo it.
Daimon just yells, "FUCK!" and grabs Sephar.
Daimon also grabs his notepad.
Sephar goes with Daimon and sings which way.
The other four monitors detonate, one by one, and there are screams and yells as the people in
front of them - who had already begun to move away - duck or cover their faces. One of the
librarians is running across, and another is dialing 911.
Daimon just gets away from the computers.
The library microfiches are now beginning to hum, too, and the book-checking equipment at the
desks by the entrance and exit.
Daimon helps people get out of the damn library.
Sepharbird sings, "Tell them to get away from the equipment."
Daimon yells, "GET AWAY FROM THE EQUIPMENT, AND GO TO THE DOORS!"
Sarah comes stumbling from among the stacks, drawn by the uproar. As she reaches Daimon and
opens her mouth to ask a question, the first computer _detonates_, shattering casing and sparking
electricity.
Daimon is also trying to follow Sephar's directions.
The crowd is, verily, heading for the doors. Daimon and Sarah can easily be a part of it.
Daimon, completely blind, allows himself to be herded out the door.
Sepharbird uses a point of essense out in the parking lot to try to Corp heal Daimon's eyes.
<
Behind, in the library, you can hear the four other computers exploding.
The Song of Healing functions. Daimon's eyes return to their normal state, though feeling a touch
pained.
Sarah says, "What _happened_?"
Sepharbird sigh-sings softly, "I think they got onto us."
Daimon says "Ow ow ow."
Sarah looks round nervously, as in the distance the sound of police sirens drifts melodiously.
<
Daimon says "Let's get the hell out of here."
Daimon tucks his notepad back into his pocket.
Sarah says "You found a major computer, or something?"
Sepharbird bobs quietly. "Not really, or we didn't think so. Just a proxy for Hell."
Sephar says "Maybe."
Daimon says "We hacked into the proxy server, so we were behind the firewall. For some bizarre
reason, there's a database sitting on it."
Daimon says "We never got to the sendmail port, but hey, I have all the passwords here."
Sepharbird bobs.
Daimon says "We're going to need to hit from somewhere else."
Daimon is saying this, all bloody.
Sarah looks at Daimon, sighs, and draws him into a side alley to try and deal with his cuts.
Sepharbird thinks a while.
Sarah says, as she mops up blood, "So you know where their, ah, server is?"
Daimon allows his cuts to be dealt with. "They're in Georgetown. Georgetown University."
Sarah frowns. "That's about the oldest Jesuit school in America."
Daimon says "They're anal Jesuits. Hey, that stings."
Sarah says, chidingly, "It's good for you. It'll stop them getting all infected."
Daimon says "Hey, I'm a demon. They don't get infected."
Sepharbird chirps, "I didn't know that."
Daimon says "Or maybe they do. I'm not entirely sure."
Sarah says, "Tch. Let's just be sure." She finishes the job.
Sephar bird peers at Daimon, "I also didn't think you were a demon anymore..." and sings a
chuckle.
Daimon suggests, "We need to find another set of terminals and bring down the router. It'll keep
whatever that was from doing anything for a while.
Sephar nods. "Sounds like a good idea, as then things can't come *out*."
Daimon says "If they get cut off from the WAN, they they're dead for a while."
Sepharbird hrms, "Hyup."
Daimon says "They can't even talk on their own subnet, just on loopback. The machine won't go
down, but they'll be looking for network problems for hours."
Daimon says "Now we need another machine."
Sepharbird, "And the keyboard only got hot when we went for the machine behind it."
Daimon says "Right. I mean, there's more then one way to do this."
Daimon wonders, idly, where that machine is housed.
Sephar bird bobs and thnks.
Daimon grins. "We should go to Ameritech or whoever runs the WAN, pose as inspectors, and
get networking diagrams from them. It'll have addresses of where the main machines are
stored."
Sepharbird chirps a chuckle. "Sure."
Daimon says "So who runs the WAN?"
<
<
Sephar bird contemplates, "How do we know what WAN serves it?"
Daimon says "Maybe we should talk to your people, Sephar."
Sepharbird bobs a nod. "Maybe get a machine and hook it up outside somewhere..."
Sephar says "Or a trial AOL account."
Daimon says "Or better yet, they have the city networking diagrams. Just a thought."
Sephar chirpchuckles.
Daimon grins. "Yeah. AOL. YEAH. That's Funny in and of itself."
Sepharbird bobs a nod. "Well, let's go to to my place, then. It'll be good for you to know where
it is. The Smithsonian's Air & Space museum.
Daimon starts walking in what he hopes is in the direction of the Space and Flight museum.
Sepharbird corrects as necessary... seeing-eye bird. Heh.
Daimon is, of course, slightly bloody, wearing a bird and trailing Sarah.
Daimon is wearing black, though.
Oddly enough, people on the DC streets don't pay Daimon any particular attention.
Sepharbird hops about cheerfully, "Oh. Would it be a problem if I reported what we were doing
while we're at the Tether, and the keys and passwords we've already found out? There's folks
that'd likely be interested in it."
Daimon says "No, I figure that we should tell them."
The Air & Space Museum is another fifteen minutes walk or so.
Sepharrat in the Lab tells the Tether folks that they're coming and that he needs a computer that
can be moved.
Sepharbird bobs, "Thanks."
The Seneschal in the Lab mutters somewhat, but arranges for a less-than-first-hand computer to
be arranged.
<
Sepharrat doesn't mind that it's shabbyish.
<
Demiurge says "Right. Fine, no problem."
Daimon just bops along, looking CROW-ish.
Sepharrat would rather have something not-too-good blown up.
Sepharrat thinks that Jean's testing the AOL disks for Infernal Influences?
A modem and AOL disk are likewise arranged.
Sepharbird peers about?
Everything seems to be fine for Sepharbird. No mysterious followers.
Sepharbird sing-chirps that things are setup, we'll likely have to haul the computer to an outside
phone line or something, but... it's ready.
Sepharrat settles back into its cage.
Sepharbird experiences Liz's troubles, and tells Daimon of the phone call and flying out and trying
to call Pat and Sistine's and getting no one... and and and...
Sepharbird then tells of Liz getting awway.
Daimon blinks at all this. It's a lot of stuff.
Sephar nodnods.
Daimon is going to concentrate, for now, on his current task. Mostly so Sarah doesn't freak.
Sepharbird tells him of Liz running from three folks, and with just tripping up the lead two, she
gets away to a car that Sephar possesses the driver of (and haven't you ever just kinda 'woken up'
on the road, realizing you were on 'autopilot' but you were safe so you never really thought twice
about it) and drives off to the SEC safely.
Daimon looks amazed and concerned and the like.
Sepharbird also tells Daimon that one of the demons chasing her was the woman that Liz shot at
Focals.
Daimon says "Oh boy."
Daimon decides to get to the Lightning Tether quicker.
Sephar bird bobs unhappily. "Liz wante d me to try and take her, but I'm busy here with you and
I don't want to leave Hitherby without backup."
Daimon sighs. "Christ. This is what happens when you get busy. The universe goes to hell."
You arrive at the biiiig area of the Smithsonian, and head for the Air & Space Museum.
Daimon tries to look, ah, casual.
Sepharbird directs Daimon to the correct side entrance.
Sepharbird then hops down to punch the day's code into the security system.
The door hisses quietly open, showing the nicely lit corridor inside.
Daimon goes on inside, carrying Sepharbird.
Sepharbird pipes, "Just keep going... towards that door down there."
Daimon follows Sephar's instructions.
Sepharrat warns of incoming...
The door swings open. Becca, a lively-looking girl with frizzy brown hair, has fallen asleep in the
corner with her head rolling to one side. The Seneschal, Ithuriel, rises from the table where he is
making some notes.
Ithuriel says, "Good afternoon." He is punctilious: it's only just past midday.
Daimon says "Hi."
Sepharbird bobs happily. "You have the machine?"
Sepharbird blinks and then remembers it manners, "Ithuriel, this is Daimon. Daimon, this is
Ithuriel, the Seneschal of this tether."
Daimon says again, "Hi."
Ithuriel says, "I have a machine for you, yes, though I hope that you do not intend to blow up
every computer in the Museum."
Sephar says "I have some data on a possible Game server and router that might be interesting to
those more apt at cracking systems than I..."
Ithuriel says, a touch smugly, "Though of course our resources are somewhat better than those
of a public library."
Daimon says "As cool as that would be. Has Sephar briefed anyone?"
Sephar blinks and chuckles, "I have no intension of doing that.
Sephar nodnods, "Quite a bit better."
Sepharbird asks, "Is there a line that looks like it's not from here that we might use? Or should
we move the equipment elsewhere?"
Ithuriel says, "We have a private line set up in a secure room here. Will that be sufficient?"
Sephar says "Certainly."
Daimon says "That'll work. Do you have band-aids?"
Daimon says "The last computer took chunks out of my arms."
Sepharbird flutters over to the First-Aid station...
Daimon looks at the Seneschal. "Wouldn't your Boss want to know what we're up to?"
Sepharbird blinks at Daimon, "After you said it was okay, I wrote a report on what we're going
and what data we've got..."
Ithuriel tilts an eyebrow. "I am sure that Sephar is acting as he should be." He goes across to help
Sephar with the first-aid box.
Daimon drops his notepad, open, on the table next to the Seneschal, so that he can see it clearly.
"Two words. The Game."
Sepharrat squeaks from its cage by a computer that is on as well.
Ithuriel raises the other eyebrow. "I am aware that they have some of the tightest security in Hell.
Your point being?"
Daimon says "We got in. And we're going to get in again. Do you want details, or should I forget
it?"
Sepharbird sings, "Tell him if you like, Daimon."
Ithuriel says, "Sephar informed me of the basic facts. I would be glad to have any more data, if
you would give it."
<
Daimon says "Well, if we do this and get killed, then I'd like someone else to know, is all."
Ithuriel says, "Would you like some coffee? And that is a very efficient point of view."
Daimon says "Coffee would be great. I can never be too wired."
Sepharbird just watches and listens.
Ithuriel nods. He glances at the dozing Becca, then walks over to a humming cafetiere in the
corner, and produces two cups of coffee. The smell just knifes across the room.
Ithuriel says, "Milk, or sugar?"
Daimon says "So basic rundown. Sephar, on an expedition with Hitherby, broke into a Game
computer... yesterday? Yesterday. And during that drip, retrieved my own death warrant, which
was very cheezily emailed. The email, as you know, has routing headers. We sat at a computer,
and hit the machine, which is basically just a stand alone running its own firewall so people can't
get in on some LAN somewhere. We tracked the LAN's edge router, got in, grabbed the
password file, and cracked it. Sure enough, we have lazy system administrators who use the same
basic system passwords on both machines. We got in through one of those, and it sudo'd us to
root. As root, it shoved us into a database, and then the computers blew up. The machine and the
router are in, well, it looks like Georgetown but it would be nice to confirm through city WAN
networking diagrams. We're going to take the router down and shut them off from the
network."
Daimon says "And both, thanks."
Ithuriel tips milk and sugar into one of the cups, puts a spoon by it, and brings it across, then
settles back into his own seat, folding his hands round his cup.
Daimon says "Just call me the Network Terrorist. I haven't done this in a few years, so I'm not
surprised things blew up on me."
Ithuriel says, "This is astonishing."
Daimon says "Everyone needs a hobby, man."
Ithuriel says, "No, no, astonishing that you could hack into a private Game-router from a public
terminal."
Sepharbird blinks a bit.
Daimon says "Well, we had a scriptable term emulator, and Sephar wrote a quick and dirty sniffer.
We didn't need the packets, but we have their encryption schemas now."
Sepharbird bobs, "Keys and some of the schemas are in the data I reported."
Sepharbird, "There were some we only partially figured out before it blew, but the partials are in
there as well."
Ithuriel nods. "And you actually managed to get their passwd file?"
Daimon says "It just irritates me that I got outsmarted by something else listening in the system.
Which, weirdly, blew up the machine."
Daimon says "Oh yeah. Sure."
Sephar says "To the router."
Daimon points on the notepad where the decrypted passwords and signons are that he wrote
down.
Ithuriel says, "Probably an infernal failsafe. You might be lucky that you didn't get a Shedite
coming out of the machine after you."
Daimon says "We just have the router, we don't have the machine."
Sephar peers at the thought of a Shedite coming out.
Ithuriel says, "So what do you plan to do, if you can cut off the machine?"
Daimon says "Well, we were going to fraggle it from the router, and then shut it down off the
network."
Sephar nodnods.
Daimon says "That was my amazingly blah plan."
Sepharbird says softly, "Perhaps get a 'help!' message out on the router just before it goes out to
see who responds?"
Daimon says "Maybe the plan has now taken a less then blah dimension. I was just going to be
outright destructive."
Sepharbird whistles thoughtfully, "We have their encryption, so they might take it as real,
now."
Ithuriel nods. "If it's a Game-server, I see no problem with that."
Daimon says "I wanted to change the prompt on their machine too, but we're not going to get
back in, I don't think."
Sephar says "Not the machine, likely. The router, though."
Daimon says "Blah. Who telnets into routers except network engineers and us?"
Daimon says "That whole 'what can I do for you master' thing HAD to go."
Ithuriel says, mildly, "It could have been worse, I am sure."
Sephar says "But the router could spoof the email as being from the main machine as it has the
same IP?"
Sepharbird sings a note of laughter at the 'HAD to go.'
Daimon says "The router has the same subnet, but I think we can send from there, if it's running
sendmail. But it won't be."
Sephar hrms, "Raw packets?"
Sepharbird, "I might be able to just introduce raw packets at the router..."
Daimon says "We might have to write something that builds the header by hand and delivers
it."
Sephar nods.
Daimon says "That's fragglin', Sephar. Raw packets across ports to simulate artificial network
traffic, and run the network to capacity."
Sepharbird, "We know the format adn what goes in it now, including the machine name."
Daimon says "We can write code from here, remember."
Ithuriel listens, with an air of intelligence.
Sepharbird sings a note of laughter.
<
Sepharbird, "That would work."
Daimon says "So we can do the encryption here as well."
Sepharbird nodnods. "But I don't understand why we should flood it other than just chaos?"
Sepharbird, "Wouldn't it be better to send out what we want and then just shut everything
down?
Sephar says "or are you saying nasty traffic loads instead of shutting it down?"
Daimon says "Hmmmm. Well, I think you're right. We use the router to deliver the mail to the
machine, wait for the reciept, and then just shut it down. IT's just, if we leave crazy network
traffic, it will cover our ass. That brought it down, not us."
Sephar nods. "Yes. It would, and we could get the traffic to come from all over, so they can't
target a machine to kill."
Daimon says "It's not like we can't write the fraggle program to run around the network. That'll
just tack on some time."
Sepharbird sings a laughing note, "Or have it all come from AOL... and then they might hit Vapula
in the foot."
Ithuriel snorts at the mention of AOL, and sips his coffee.
Daimon laughs out loud.
Daimon says "You get the Funny award for the day."
Sepharbird hops happily.
Sephar says "Okay. So. The Letter. Encode it, packetize it, send it. Then the packet shotgun."
Daimon says "Indeed. From AOL."
Daimon says "Just because, well, then it's a Prank, and it becomes ultracool."
Daimon asks the Seneschal, "So, do you have WAN networking diagrams with addresses on them
here? You know, for DC?"
Sephar hops about cheerfully.
Ithuriel nods. "Just a moment." He goes across the room, and opens a filing cabinet, fishing out
a large book of charts and tables and diagrams, which he brings back to the table, swivelling it
across to Daimon.
Daimon digs through until he finds the router matching the address that he and Sephar hacked
into. It should be hanging off the end of a frame relay near Georgetown.
The router is, indeed, in Georgetown University.
Ithuriel frowns. "_There_?"
Daimon writes down the address in his notebook.
Daimon says "Yeah, there. What's wrong with there?"
Ithuriel frowns more. "Only that it is the oldest Jesuit College in the United States of America.
Such a location..." He tails off, thoughtfully.
<
Sephar bobs quietly. "It is interesting, no?"
Daimon says "Yuck. Jesuits."
Ithuriel says, to Sephar, "Very."
Daimon is applying bandaids to cuts, while he looks for the networking diagram for that particular
subnet, to find the Game machine.
The machine is _registered_ as being in the Department of Biblical History.
Daimon writes this down, along with the room number, and any contact telephone numbers.
Daimon says "Biblical History? Funky weird."
Daimon ponders.
Daimon looks at Sephar.
Daimon looks at the networking diagram.
Daimon looks at Sephar.
Daimon laughs out loud.
Daimon says "Excellent."
Ithuriel raises both eyebrows.
Hitherladybug crawls sleepily out of the back of Daimon's jacket onto his shoulder, alertly
noticing that she is no longer in the library.
Daimon giggles. "That's fabulous. Who would ever credit them with _taste_?"
Sephar blinks at Daimon?
Ithuriel says, pedantically, "Actually, I knew a Game-Servitor once who frequently quoted
Auden."
Daimon says "I knew a Game servitor who got his head held down into a toilet in a bus station
in Newark once, just for kicks. But that's another story entirely."
<
Sepharbird peers at the diagrams and then blinks again at Daimon.
Ithuriel says, "Remind me to forward this information to the Sword, Sephar."
Sephar says "Certainly. Or I could do it now?"
Daimon says "Sephar, it's some big database. It had my name in it, even if it was out of date. It's
a Game database. Do you think they'd just leave it anywhere? Just anywhere unprotected? Of
course not. And why would a big server with a database be sitting in the office of Biblical History
at a Jesuit college?"
Sephar says "It must be protected, then."
Daimon says "I would think it would be somewhere that Hell is very accessible."
Daimon says "That must be one hell of a department. Look! A Pun!"
Sepharbird hides its head under its wing at the pun.
Sepharbird peeks out, "So it's a Tether?"
Ithuriel says, "Logical."
Daimon says "Probably."
Sepharbird bobs a nod.
Daimon says "And now we have their address and phone number."
Sepharbird laughs quietly.
Ithuriel says, "Most efficient of you."
Daimon thinks of fun things to do to a Game tether's phone number.
Sephar says "Maybe you should be telling your Boss, too, Daimon?"
Daimon says "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Hitherby fans her wings.
Daimon says "My Boss is hangi- er, man, I need this shit written on my hand or something."
Sepharbird sings that laughing note again.
Daimon finds a magic marker. A black one.
Ithuriel adjusts his glasses. "Though I must say, you seem to have obtained this information
remarkably easily."
Sepharbird cocks its head to watch.
Daimon shoves up his sleeve, and on his arm, he writes, "I AM AN ANGEL."
Daimon shoves his sleeve back down and puts the pen away.
Daimon says "Too easily."
Daimon says "I bet they're expecting us now."
Sephar bird nods.
Ithuriel says, "Probably."
Daimon says "I'd hate to let them down."
Sepharbird chuckles.
Sephar says "Then let's."
Daimon says "Bastards have my Boss, you know. They won't get away with it."
Sepharbird bobs a nod and flies for the rather decrepit machine that's been plugged into the private
line and secure office.
Daimon says "Well, we're off to have fun. You're welcome to kibbitz."
Ithuriel says, "Unfortunately, I need to see to some of the administrative duties. Feel free to call
if you need any help."
Sepharbird feeds in the AOL CD, and the machine flickers on. It makes sure that the modem's
plugged in and then installs AOL's Stuff.
Daimon grins. "I probably need plenty of help, but it's not technological."
Sepharbird bobs a nod to Ithuriel, "Thank you, and Walk in Order."
Ithuriel says, "Journey in wisdom," as he rises. "I'll be next door."
Daimon sings, as he walks into the other room, "They're coming to take me away!"
Sepharbird twitters a chuckles at Daimon again and it's tiny claws dance on the keyboard...
Daimon says "Sephar, when this is over, can I have a drool bib?"
Daimon sits down at the computer.
Sepharbird murmurs, "Only if you order ribs."
Daimon says "What if I just need JELLO?"
The computer, though possibly old by Lightning standards, is otherwise definitely
cutting-edge.
Daimon says "Can you imagine that? NEEDING JELLO?"
Daimon says "Wooo!"
Sepharbird sings, "Well, Jello's okay. Good meditation material."
Daimon says "You are cooler then soup, mein Freund."
Sepharbird blinks. "Soup is cool?"
Sarah murmurs, "Evidently to Daimon..."
Daimon says "Campbells extra chunky!"
Hitherby eyes Daimon. Or, well, antennaes Daimon.
Daimon's fingers start flashing over the keyboard, as he looks for the necessary tools on the
machine to do the deed. Especially, now, a quick and dirty C compiler.
Daimon says "soup soup soup"
Sepharbird gets out of the way and watches with bright eyes.
Sarah stays closer this time as Daimon plays. A lot closer.
Sarah stays, indeed, within reasonable distance for dragging Daimon the heck away from the
computer.
Daimon is chanting "Soup" as he readies his tools.
There are, indeed, beautiful tools that may be readied.
Daimon giggles insanely, says "SOUP!" and telnets in, baby.
Daimon says "Getting in is easy, now. We want to send the mail from here, yes?"
Sephar says "Yes."
Hitherby spreads her wings and flutters over by the window, if there is one, in hopes of grabbing
a bigger host (a bird or a lazy-looking human) to bring in if something horrible happens. Not that
it's likely, in her mind, to be necessary.
Alas, there is no window.
Hitherby clings to the ceiling, then, philosophically.
The computer screen looks the same as it ever did.
<
Daimon says "Okay, Sepharbaby, what now?"
Sepharbird chuckles, "I'd have encoded the letter first adn then telnetted in. But..."
Sepharbird, "Where's the letter?"
Daimon digs the letter that Pat wrote out of his coat pocket. He unfolds it, smooths it out, and
lays it flat.
The cursor on the screen blinks happily.
Sephar says "You wanna enter it in Helltype? Then I'll try and encode the image?""
Daimon says "Yeah, sure."
Daimon searches the net for a Helltongue font.
Demiurge notes: the keyboard is a normal human one.
Sephar says "Log out and go to AOL until we get this done."
Sephar eyes the cheerful screen warily.
Sephar says "I just don't like being there more than we have to."
Daimon goes through /var and cleans out the log files to remove all traces of being there, logs out,
and then logs into AOL.
Sephar says "Thank you... then we can find that font and if it's Net ready, it should map to a
normal keyboard with some command and alt keystuff..."
After some searching, and half a dozen sites with mortal variants on "Ye Tongue Of Demons"
(including a cookery site) you find a site that seems to offer a genuine Helltongue font. It is,
however, asking for username.
Daimon says "Ah, dammit."
Daimon looks at this with some interest.
Sepharbird peers.
Daimon says "Okay, well, what now?"
Sepharbird laughs, "Well, on AOL you can set your user name to be anything."
Sepharbird pipes cheerfully, "Trial accounts."
Another message scrolls up beneath the username request. YOU DOWNLOAD THIS, YOU
OWE ME, BABY.
Sepharbird blinks.
Daimon says "What the hell."
Sepharbird dances uncertainly.
Daimon sits back and EYES the box. Cute.
Daimon gets up to find a makeshift ashtray.
Sarah says mildly, "I wouldn't suggest taking him -" she glances at the screen - "or her - up on
that.'
Sepharbird nods and contemplates. "Can you draw the script? Do a hand written version and we
just scramble that?"
Sephar says "No."
Sephar says "Then your handwriting gets sent and analysed. Hrm."
Sarah glances at the monitor again, uneasily.
Sepharbird thinks a bit.
Sarah says "You had, ah, another message, didn't you?"
Daimon comes back with an ashtray, and goes back to assaulting his lungs.
Daimon says "I can just write the script in paint, I think."
Daimon says "Or I can download the font."
Daimon says "Or I can spend the next 8 hours making my own font."
Sephar hrms, "What about if you had athe original binary format of the letter you have in your
pocket?"
Sepharbird sings quietly, "I think I have a copy of that on file."
Sarah taps the air by the monitor. "Ah. I don't suppose we could get away from, ah, this, for the
moment?"
Daimon hits CANCEL, and goes back a page.
Daimon mutters something about goofball Sisters.
<
<
Daimon pulls out the original death warrant as well.
Sepharbird wings its way back into the Lab and comes back with a floppy holding the original
image.
<
Daimon actually, through AOL, telnets to his OWN ISP in California and gets into his own
email.
Sepharbird drops it before Daimon.
The email, when Daimon checks it, is much as he might expect.
Daimon shoves the disk into the drive, and looks at the original image.
Sepharbird hrms and doesn't look, just nests a bit thoughtfully on the desk out of viewline of the
screen.
Daimon smokes and peers.
The script looks much as ever.
Sarah turns away from the screen, looking somewhat ill.
Sarah stays that way for a few seconds, then realizes that it's even worse if it's at her back, and
edges out of view of the screen herself.
<
Daimon says "Okay, I'm lost. What am I supposed to be doing?"
Sephar says "Uhm... we were going to take Pat's letter, put it into this stuff, then send it out from
the router?"
Sephar says "Though..."
Sarah says "Is there any way we could..." She gestures vaguely. "Use that as some sort of
template? Take it apart and reassemble pieces into the letter we want to send?"
Sephar says "If we know where the Tether is."
Sarah pauses.
Sephar says "Why do we need to do this?"
Sarah says "Sephar?"
Daimon says "That's a DAMN good question."
Sephar blinks up at Sarah.
Sephar says "What?"
Sarah says "Please remind me to kiss you next time you're in a form that appreciates it."
Sephar blinks.
Daimon says "My God, I've out manuevered myself!"
Sepharbird looks like it would blush but it really can't.
Daimon closes the picture.
Daimon says "We don't need to send them mail. We know where their tether is."
Daimon is impressed that he's out thought himself.
Daimon thinks, hey, it's all just a money trick.
Sepharbird fluffs a bit.
Sephar says "I don't know why I didn't think about that earlier, but I wanted to think about
anything other than that image..."
Daimon says "We're thinking too hard."
Sepharbird hops down from the computer as the computer shuts down. "Yeah."
Daimon says "What we need to do is just attack the system and get out."
Daimon closes down his own personal email.
Sephar says "Just to see which it was..."
Sepharbird ruffles quietly and didn't shut down the machine if Daimon had stuff up, too.
Sorry.
Daimon says "So we just need to hit the router, and fraggle the network."
Daimon says "Yes? Am I crazy?"
Liz has disconnected.
<
<
<
<
<
<
Sephar says "We could. I'm not sure if it wouldn't warn them unnessarily, though."
Daimon says "Bringing down the network through too much traffic through the router is a fairly
common thing, all things considered."
Daimon says "I was going to flood the network with packets and then shut it down."
Sephar says "True. Just the scattershot approach might be nice, untraceable."
Daimon says "It'll keep them offline while we, I dunno, call the Media and/or the Malakim hit
squad?"
Daimon says "That was my plan."
Sephar says "Hokay."
Sarah says "Daimon?"
Daimon says "Yeeeessssssss?"
Sarah says "If it's common, won't they have taken measures against it?"
Daimon says "This is external to their network. This is not on their primary machine."
Daimon says "We're attacking the fiber, not the hardware. It's a subtle difference. You can filter,
but not against every IP packet in the world."
Sarah looks politely dubious, as well as noncomprehending.
Sarah says "They, ah, do have an alliance with Vapula."
Daimon says "This is just generic, randomly generated IP packets with generic, friendly, unbroken
headers. They will route just fine through the network."
Sephar says "Even Microsoft can't completely defend against it unless they know where the
packets are all coming from."
Daimon says "Does Vapula control the entire WAN in DC?"
Daimon says "How about in the entire world?"
Sephar says "And that sometimes takes half a day to a day to trace."
Sarah says "I don't know. Partly because I don't honestly understand what you're saying."
Daimon smokes. "The net is a Funny place. Sometimes it's an exceedingly good place to Prank
from."
Sephar nods at Sarah. "It's weird stuff."
Daimon says "Sarah, if they were filtering IP, they wouldn't be able to send any messages at all
off their machine."
Daimon says "The only really secure machine is one that is not hooked up."
Sephar nods.
Sepharbird chuckles, "It's cause the Net is a working anarchy."
Sarah pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. "All right, I suppose."
Daimon says "Worst that can happen is that they trace us here."
Sephar says "Well, if we put the packet generators on AOL, it'll look like it's from them, on the
most part, especailly if we start them as we log out."
Sepharbird chuckles, "More AOL spam..."
Sepharbird hops about cheerfully.
Daimon grins. "Ah, the irony."
Daimon logs back into AOL, if he had logged out at any point.
AOL receives you like the warm arms of a Servitor of List... er, Lust.
Daimon laughs.
<
<
<
Daimon will finish off the fraggle program, and prepare to spam like mad.
Daimon will need to telnet into the router at the last moment through AOL.
Daimon uploads the attack program...
The programs are all humming and ready.
Daimon runs the attack program, and then telnets to the router - the telnet will be slow if things
are working.
Instead of the usual screen, the computer shows as Daimon logs into the router, SHALL WE
PLAY A GAME?
Daimon says "Ooooh shit."
The router does respond slowly, mind.
Sephar says "Just disconnect."
Daimon disconnects.
Sepharbird sighs.
The computer goes down.
Sephar says "It's working. But I don't think I want to play their Game."
Daimon says "We will lose."
Sephar nods.
There is a pause, then the door is opened, with what almost might be a slam. Ithuriel is
frowning.
Sephar blinks.
Sarah is also frowning. At Daimon.
Sepharbird peers up at Ithuriel, "What?"
Daimon says "What? What?"
Ithuriel says, "Do *you* know anything about AOL crashing across America?"
Daimon says "Me? Nothing at all."
<
Sepharbird hides its head under its wing.
Ithuriel turns a Seraphic Gaze upon Sephar.
Sarah hides her face behind a hand.
Sepharbird murmurs, "We didn't do it, but it may be a consequence of what we did."
<
<
Daimon lights another smoke.
<
Ithuriel snorts.
Sepharbird sighs, "It'll be in my report."
Daimon says "What do you want us to say?"
Daimon says "Sephar, I suspect it's my fault. I did, after all, write the program."
Sepharbird, "We basically used a temporary account on AOL to flood the Game machine."
Ithuriel says, "I admit that I was hoping for a somewhat vanishing-probability fact that you were
_not_ behind the crashing of a USA-wide Internet provider.
Daimon says "Yeah, well."
Sepharbird bobs a nod.
<
Sepharbird peers a bit at Daimon's statement of fault.
Daimon shrugs vaguely. "I don't think a letter of apology will work, will it."
Ithuriel takes a deep breath, and pinches his nose between his knuckles.
Ithuriel says, "More coffee?"
<
<
<
Sepharbird flutters a bit, "Is caffiene bad for avian systems?"
<
Daimon says "Coffee would be cool."
Daimon starts shutting down the machine.
<
Ithuriel says, "Birdseed is also available."
Sepharbird bobs happily. "Thank you, Ithuriel."
Ithuriel walks out. He returns a minute later with two mugs of coffee and a small plate of
birdseed, which he deposits on the table.
Ithuriel says, "If you will excuse me, I have a few reports to write."
Daimon picks up his ash tray and moves it to the table. Then he smokes and drinks coffee.
Daimon says "Well, that was fun."
Sepharbird perches on the edge of the plate and pecks away. "Indeed."
Sarah shares a long-suffering look with Ithuriel.
Sepharbird peers up at Daimon, "You're very good at this stuff."
Daimon shrugs vaguely. "I was bored for a while. It's amazing what you pick up."
Ithuriel peers at Sarah a moment, then leaves the room again.
Sepharbird, "If you ever wanted to contract for security for a while, I'm sure we'd be glad to have
you for a while."
Daimon says "Beeeeeeeeesides, making the Game miserable is the Kobalite national
pasttime."
Sepharbird bobs and sings a note of joy at that.
Daimon says "Mebbe. Right now I'm working for the Guy in the Cloak, which is really ironic,
because we just broke maybe half a dozen FCC laws."
Sepharbird looks astonished, "We did?"
Daimon says "Yeah, we did."
Sarah half-groans, mildly and briefly, "Daimon..."
Sepharbird fluffs thoughtfully.
Daimon says "I'm going to be unhappy, I think. But it was for a good cause."
Sarah gives in and hugs him.
Daimon gets hugged. And hugs back.
Sarah lays her head on Daimon's shoulder.
Sepharbird peers at the two of you quietly.
Sarah whispers, "Vessels aren't supposed to be *able* to get gray hair, dear."
Daimon strokes Sarah's hair.
Daimon says "Poor Sarah. Having to put up with me, the anarchist."
Sarah sighs, and straightens. "Well. I suppose it could have been worse."
Daimon says "How? I tossed millions of people off of their Beanie Baby Auctions."
Daimon drinks his coffee, and waits for the Man to kick him in the ass.
Sarah says "You could have sent that email, gotten attention, and been pulled through a computer
rather than a phone line."
Daimon says "Quite true. Then my life might be even more entertaining then it is now."
Sepharbird cocks its head.
Sephar says "You were pulled through a phone line?"
Daimon says "Yeah, by Andre."
Daimon says "A very weird experience, let me assure you. Andre lacks style points."
Sepharbird's eyes get big. "My."
Sarah shudders.
Sepharbird pipes, "Okay, what now?"
Sarah says weakly, "Nothing disastrous, I hope."
Daimon says "I can call Terry and see what's up, while we wait."
Sepharbird asks, "Whom did you want reports sent off to?"
Sepharrat peers happily at a computer near its cage and writes reports by remote control of the
keyboard.
Daimon says "Your Boss. And probably the Big Dude I work for."
Sepharbird bobs a nod. "You mentioned the Sword."
Sarah says still more weakly, "I'm really not sure it would be a good idea to call Terry from here,
Daimon..."
Daimon says "Well, it helps that I don't have a phone."
<
Sarah looks fairly relieved.
Sephar says "The line in the secure room is a private line, not connected with the institute."
Sarah says "No."
Sepharbird bobs a nod at the no. "Okay."
Sarah says "No, and no, and no."
Daimon just drinks his coffee. Then stares sadly into the cup when it's all gone.
Sarah, prompted, belatedly shuts down the computer Daimon was working on.
Sarah then slides the second cup over to Daimon.
Daimon says "I'm going to be bouncing off the ceiling soon, with all the caffeine and
nicotene."
Sepharbird crouches a bit under its wings with all the no's, but just squints a bit.
Daimon starts on the second cup anyway, trying to think.
Daimon says "We know where the Game tether is. Now what?"
Sarah smooths Sephar's feathers, gently.
Sepharbird soothes quickly as it definitely trusts the Cherub.
<
Sephar says "Tell the Sword and Stone and other folks about it and see what happens?"
Daimon says "You want me to go sit on the phone? I can do that, sure."
Sephar says "Nah. I can just send reports."
Daimon says "That works."
Sarah smiles briefly. "There is someone of the Sword I should talk to, anyhow."
Daimon sips his coffee, not knowing what to do next.
Sephar sends reports of the Tether's possible location to Sword's main electronic intelligence area,
and another report to Stone with a highlight on the possibility of the Games Tether's location.
Sephar says "Whom, Sarah?"
Daimon smokes patiently.
Daimon says "So now we know, and we know they are on to us."
Daimon says "We could move to Canada. That's an option."
Daimon says "How about Argentina. I hear that's nice."
Sepharbird thinks a bit. "My Boss said that I should stay here and find out what's happening,
seemed the most efficient way to get to the bottom of the mess."
Daimon says "I'd like to know what else was on that computer."
Sepharbird peers up at Daimon.
Daimon says "You know, the database."
Sepharbird bobs a nod.
Daimon says "Call me curious, call me Ishmael, I'm always interested in what kind of dirt the
Game has on me, and everyone I know."
Sepharbird says thoughtfully. "Maybe I should ask the Boss to put some of our better security
people on cracking that machine to see what's on it, if the stuff I got from Focals was useful, this
might be more so."
Daimon says "That might be wise. This isn't exactly my main line of work."
Sepharbird bobs, "I used to be on the other side of it, but it's been a while, and I know there are
Angels that are much better at it than I am."
Daimon says "I've always been on the attacking side of things. I've never done security. Why
would we have security? We're Kobalites. What are you gonna take? Joke mail?"
Sepharbird chuckles.
Daimon says "For example, here's a joke. A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is
smoking a cigarette and has a satisfied smile on it's face. The egg is frowning and looking a bit
pissed off. The egg mutters, to no one in particular, "Well, I guess we answered THAT
question!""
Sepharbird blinks.
Daimon drags deeply on his smoke.
Sepharbird thinks about that and frowns, "The chicken came..." and then starts laughing.
Daimon says "You know, shit like that. That's what's on our machines."
Sepharbird fluffs happily and listens.
Daimon says "And who wants to break into that?"
Daimon falls silent, drinking coffee, and doodling on his notepad. Little guitar tabs...
Becca, rubbing her eyes hastily, opens the door and pokes her head around. "Er, good afternoon,
people. Ithuriel asks if there's anything else?"
Daimon says "I'm just wondering what the status of things is."
Becca says, "Which things, er, sir Bright?"
Daimon says "Ah, that's gotten around, I see."
Daimon says "So what do they tell you about me?"
Becca edges further into the room. "That you're a Servitor of Creation."
Daimon says "I'm fairly sure that's true. Anything else?"
Daimon gestures. "You can come in, if you want."
Becca frowns. "Well, they don't have to tell me that you're good with computers, I've seen that."
She closes the door. "Hey, perhaps you'd know. Is it a good idea to include a laptop as part of a
standard emergency kit?"
Daimon says "Emergency where? In the middle of the jungle? Probably not. In the middle of a
corporate office building? Sure."
Sepharbird just listens quietly.
Daimon searches his pockets for a rubber band. Upon finding his hair thingy, he pulls his hair back
into a ponytail and snaps it in place.
Becca looks a shade downcast. "In the sewer?"
Daimon says "Why are you going into the sewer? And how long is the battery on the laptop?"
Becca says, "To look for an unconscious angel, and it's a six-hour battery."
Daimon says "Who?"
Sepharbird cocks its head at the question and hop-flutters onto the now hair-cleared shoulder.
Becca says, "Well, it was the Malakite named Eduardo last night." She looks embarassed. "I'm
not very good at missions yet."
Daimon says "Uh, I saw Eddie this morning."
Daimon says "He was thinking pretty hard about wiping me off the face of the Earth."
Becca looks shocked. "Oh, but surely you're joking."
Becca says, "I mean, that would be really illogical."
Daimon says "I often joke. I even pun. But not this time."
Sepharbird peers at Daimon.
Daimon says "I was arguing with Eddie about the nature of Fire right before we left to the
library."
Becca says, hopefully, "Perhaps you misunderstood."
Daimon says "That's a distinct possibility."
Sepharbird sings, "Why would disagreement mean he'd want to wipe you off the Earth? You don't
seem cruel."
Daimon says "Because Eddie is a little, well, trigger happy and I'm still not kosher in his
book."
<
Sepharbird sings quietly. "If you were bad in his book, you wouldn't be here."
<
<
Sepharbird fluffs.
Daimon says "Very true."
Becca says, "I know Fire-Servitors can be hasty, but Ithuriel says it's a divine madness. Well, and
then he mutters a lot. But they are angels."
Daimon sighs. He's stinky, and there's nothing like wearing leather pants for multiple days.
Daimon says "I'm sure it is a divine madness, like Ezekiel, who saw the Chariot of God."
Sepharbird says, "So you are good in his book."
Daimon . o O ( More like the later Maccabbees, but hey. )
Daimon says "I'm tolerable."
Sepharbird hears the sigh. "You wanna get back to Pat's? I think we're as done here as we're
gonna be."
Sephar says "Or was there something else you wanted to do?"
Daimon says "No, we better catch up with Pat."
Sepharbird bobs.
Daimon says "He's probably a little curious where I wandered off to. And I was supposed to meet
with Liz."
Sepharbird, "Then we should go."
Daimon stands up then, putting out his last cigarette. "Okay, well, we've come and done our
damage. I think we're gonna motor."
Sepharbird bobs to Becca, "Thank you very much. And I think you were fine to bring the laptop,
as it's part of standard kit, and you won't learn what you need until it happens, I think..."
Becca smiles at Sephar. "Thank you, Sephar. I hope to see you again soon in our Lord's
service."
Sephar bird bobs. "I'm sure you will."
Sepharbird hops a little as Daimon stands but then perches quietly there.
Daimon smiles and nods at Becca. "Well, seeya."
Becca gives a wave. "Walk in illumination, sir Bright. Oh, and do crash AOL again soon. Don't
tell Ithuriel, but _I_ never heard him swear like that before." She looks momentarily guilty.
Sepharbird sings a note of pure amusement.
Daimon laughs out loud.
Daimon says "I'm an Anarchist on Legs, baby."
Daimon says "Oh, and my name is Daimon. Calling me 'sir Bright' is just really weird."
Becca says, "Okay. Drop by again, Daimon? We've always got coffee on."
Daimon says "Sure thing."
Daimon . o O ( If the game doesn't kill me off. )
Becca holds the door. Ithuriel is not in the main room on the way out, though technological noises
are coming from the lab.
Sepharrat is probably helping Ithuriel try and get AOL staggering back to its feet again?
Daimon waves, and wanders out into the main body of the museum.
Demiurge says "Probably, Sepharrat. :)"
Sepharbird chirps happily.
<
Daimon doesn't feel overly bad about crashing a large portion of America.
<
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