reverielogs | Tech Team catchall [semi-open]

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Tech Team catchall [semi-open]

» WHO? 9S, Amos, Erika, Hank, Haruto, Naomi, and anyone else who wants to prod the station's tech—or the people working with it.
» WHEN? After the gravity problems.
» WHERE? Mostly Deck 1, but some work throughout Reverie.
» WHAT? Collaborating to unlock station systems.
» WARNINGS? None planned; will add as needed.

One month in, and one major station failure. Not to mention the mystery rosters, fragmented logs, and doors that like to eat people for lunch. With Reverie's latest crisis mostly back under control, there's time for everyone to rest, recover...

...or, put those resources towards unlocking what they can.

The physical doors aren't budging anytime soon. But air, heat, and electricity all move throughout the station. So do the signals from the communication consoles, and the software that connects them. Whether your skills include hacking terminals or rewiring connections, you can probably lend a hand. And what you can do will go a lot further with some like-minded people helping out.

So, welcome to the party. Less alcohol, more live electrical wires... and occasional (de)activation of nearby lights or doors. Local power fields seem to be coming from inside the walls, a possible objective for some. The more digitally inclined might find themselves engaging with the communication consoles, trying to extract data or lift the apparent lockdown.

Watch your step on those dismantled panels, and try not to cuss out the software too much. At least some of it is on your side.

[[ooc: This is a catch-all for tech things. Hank's bought into a few bits of station access, which I'll be tossing up starters for below. Feel free to add your own or tag around—on the above objectives or any others. Spectators also welcome!]]

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[ Haruto settles himself at a terminal, trying to hack in to access cameras on the other side of doors that are locked. They've got to be connected to the same network, or so he figures, but he can't seem to bring up access to them.

It's worth nothing that his fingers are touching the keyboard or touch screen or whatever interface the terminal has, but the screen seems to be changing more rapidly than any input would show. The benefits of being able to connect wirelessly... ]

A. For things we've always had but had no eyes to see

[As much blood, debris, and sheer chaos as Reverie's physical halls have been recently been subject to, the network paths that make up its communication system are unsettlingly pristine. No relays to the other systems. No logs recorded before the last few weeks. No fragments to indicate that there ever were. If it weren't for the occasional resurfaced file, it might be easy to assume these consoles were always as dead and boring as they feel. But if they were just cleaned out for the newcomers... who by? What ran these systems before that?

And would anything stop the people responsible if they chose to wipe it all again?

That last one, Hank does his best not to dwell on. There's enough to worry with the carbons he can see—about or for them, depending on the day. His own access terminal is out of easy reach, but a skilled enough programmer could do plenty across a remote connection. Fortunate, that these operators are focused on a different problem. And even better if he can find a way to be of help.

The blue geometry of the AI's "face" glows on all nearby terminals, flickering occasionally to Domesticon's logo. Hank won't distract anyone who's occupied, but he's happy to talk: providing feedback for the hackers' efforts, testing the lockdown from the inside, or just chatting with any curious passerby. He'll also offer deck-wide warnings when they're about to test any big upgrades. Probably for the best... especially when the second try at accessing the station's lights produces a brief blackout.]

<Oops. I'm sorry.>

[Success?]

B. Something new is going to happen

[Breaks may no longer be a part of Domesticon's manual, but Hank's pretty sure you organic types still need one. And even those less bound to human needs could do with some time to refocus or recharge. Anyone who's been at one task for a surplus of hours—especially if they've begun showing signs of fatigue—will hear a friendly voice emerging from the nearest console.]

How's it going?

C. But nothing we'd expect

[They've made some progress. Not everything, and no life support or station power yet. But enough access to keep an eye on things—and maybe, make it easier to go forward. Say, after most of the technicians wake up.

With the repair efforts largely on hold for the "night", Hank turns his focus back across the station, skimming between cameras more or less at random. The halls are quiet, but he pauses where he sees movement. Watching living people is a treat he doubts will ever get old.

And then the person on his camera wavers. And disappears.

Any of the tech crew still outside their rooms will find the nearest console flickering very hurriedly to life. The voice that emerges from it is recognizably Hank's, but rushed. Babbling.]

Okay, okay, uh. Hi!

Can you help with a, diagnostic?

[He sounds scared.]

[[ooc: <bracket text> from Hank comes in a robotic monotone, regular text sounds like a human voice.

While he'll be glad to work on any projects, his bonus AC will guarantee success in unlocking access to the lights, (not-sealed) doors, and power flow monitoring through the station. Feel free to assume your character is helping with any part of that!]]

Hank.

[Says Jasnah, approvingly, when he greets her from the console.]

It's good to hear you're still with us.

[The disappearances have been harder and harder to ignore, lately. Jasnah isn't exactly bothered by them, but his perspective is unique. Invaluable, in fact.]

<Welcome to Domesticon. Working together today, for a more efficient tomorrow.>

[Or, well, not. But Hank chips in for his own self without much delay.]

Nice to see you too, Jasnah.

Can I call you Jasnah? Never did get around to asking which you prefer.

Jasnah is fine.

[She agrees, quickly.]

Hank, do you have an interphase somewhere near a chair? I'd like to have a discussion.

[And her attempt at spacewalking has left her aching.]

[A discussion? Now he's curious.]

No problem. I'm locked out of the consoles in your rooms, but would the mess hall work?

Or you can call me up on your wrist-comm.

I'll meet you in the mess hall shortly.

[She proposes, with a gracious nod, already stepping back in that direction.]

Thank you.

[And...it's go time.

As much as Erika wants to stick her hands into the network, group efforts require distribution of duties, and she's not as fast as she used to be, anyways.

She positions herself as a monitor, with two key jobs - information relay and security countermeasures. Part of their dilemma, she's been thinking, is that who/whatever they're throwing their weigh against has the advantage of seeing any preparations performed on station computers. Any serious attempt at hacking in will have to be less than straightforward. They'll have to be coordinated, and any messages sent between them will have to be secure. And when they secure access or control, they'll need to immediately put down defenses to avoid being forced right back out as soon as their adversary regroups.

So.

Erika brings a bit of levity to their physical hub, with a physical keyboard that smiles lazily at all in sight, and a pet that's content to sit in her lap being fed chunks of replicated snack crackers but occasionally gets up and bounces around to see if any of its surroundings are edible.

But her own mood is raw focus, near-silence and rapid typing. She has a spare, uninitialized communicator on her other wrist that she's jury-rigged into a dual screen machine for her first. Other members of the tech team receive commentary-free messages, periodic updates on the actions of their teammates, Status? inquiries, requests to aid someone else who looks like they could benefit from specific skills. Security programs to run. Warnings about station defenses. So on and so forth.

Erika can go a remarkable length of time without getting up and walking around. (Or eating.) She'll be at this for a while, but the project won't be without its lulls in activity.]

[What the fuck is sleep? Erika has logs to review. Long, sprawling readouts that would normally be as routine a read as skimming the back of a shampoo bottle, but regular human hardware has its limitations.

She jumps a little at the sudden blink of light; Botamon bounces like a piece of popcorn and flaps its ears excitedly.

Hank?

Instead of getting up - she's gone from fine to stiff back to fine, and doesn't want to disrupt that - she opens a conversation with him on her own comm.]

What's wrong?

[Are you using one of the terminals? Do you perhaps appear a little too furtive in your hacking? Or maybe you’ve uttered an unkind word about the machines in your frustration. Whatever you’ve done to warrant suspicion, you’ll soon get the feeling of being watched. A glance over your shoulder will confirm it—a faceless, armored figure stares fixedly from across the hall. And that distance will close if your “suspicious” behavior doesn’t stop.]

What is your intention with this terminal? [The artificial, feminine voice is toneless and without accusation. It could not, however, ever be mistaken for friendly.]

Looking forward to it.

[Naturally, Hank's as much in the mess hall as he is in the hallway now. But when Jasnah enters, she'll see a terminal along one wall flickering steadily.]

[Erika, has he mentioned he loves your terrible sleep schedule? Probably not. Probably he teased you friendly-like and tried to encourage you to take a nap.

Hank sure is glad you didn't listen.]

There's, a console down on Deck Three. It's...

I'm getting some weird visuals.

[She helps herself to a cup of coffee, then comes over to sit in the chair nearest the console.]

Have you been well?

[Mostly she wants to know what that means for a machine?]

[It takes a lot more than teasing to make her do something she doesn't want to do. Even if it's teasing from a probably-objectively-correct AI.]

Weird? [She hesitates for a moment. Then dunks one of her new little flock of security programs into a message and shoots it his way; if he's concerned about something interfering with his inputs, she's not sure just how much help it'll be, but it is meant to combat the station's interference so it's a cute security blanket if nothing else.] Show me?

[9S has never heard Hank be anything but upbeat and casual, so the way he rushes through his words has 9S' internal systems spikes in energy, like a boost of adrenaline.

He remains calm as he approaches the terminal.]

Sure. What is it?

[9S was working in tandem, trying to dig through the system for any hidden files or access points. He could work for hours straight, and usually didn't bother with breaks when he was engrossed, but after working for so long with zero results he had to walk away for a minute.]

What a pain... There's nothing here.

[He'll go see what the others are doing. It's then that he walks by Haruto, and it only takes a few moments of observation for him to realize that what was happening on the screen didn't match up with Haruto's typing.]

Hey... [He starts, brow furrowed.]

[9S was also used to working for extended periods of time without breaks or sustenance, but he was an android. Erika was human. When he sees that she's still working even after he's taken a frustration-induced break of his own, he decides to make a trip to the mess hall.

He comes back a short time later with a tray of food and several glasses water.]

Um... Erika? I brought you something to eat.

[ Haruto glances over his shoulder, sees 9S, and smiles, only belatedly realizing that 9S thinks he's human and stopping his search through the terminal. ]

Oh. Um. Hi, 9S. How are you?

Edited 2018-06-12 16:40 (UTC)

[He lets out an exasperated sigh.]

Getting nowhere... What about you? Any luck?

[It takes a bit of work to jar Erika out of a computer fugue. It's a comfortable state for her, an environment of near-total control, and stepping back for food and drink and sleep is like venturing into the jungle for necessities.

Luckily, Botamon is here to go COMPLETELY BUCKWILD at the mention of food. It's hard to ignore a fuzzy glob of gelatinous data(?) rampaging up and across your keyboard, ears a-swinging.]

Hey-! Oh. 9S? [She tries and fails to corral Botamon before it can go and start orbiting his ankles. "Don't step on him" probably doesn't need to be said, so she doesn't bother.] Sorry about, mm. What is it? [the food.]

Erk--! [9S stumbles back a step before freezing when the creature starts to circle him. It looked harmless enough, and he was more concerned with not spilling the supplies he'd been so careful escorting back here.]

Oh, uh... I'm not sure? The food dispensing device gave it to me. It should be edible!

Not really. The station's systems are locking me out, every way I turn.

[ He sighs, bringing a hand back to scratch at his neck. ]

I wish I knew what else to try.

[9S glances at the terminal again. Was Haruto processing information remotely? No, that's not possible, unless he's using some technology he doesn't know about.]

It looks like we're all hitting a dead end. Man, what a pain...

[Even if they hadn't been able to do it, 9S had been confident in his own abilities until recently. This place was really hurting his ego.]

You should take a break, I'm worried about how long you humans have been working.

[And here Hank assumes she's just being polite. Which he appreciates!]

Just swell. Thanks for asking.

What's going on with you?

[The file is subject to some quick scrutiny of his own before he unpacks it, nudging the program's focus down an appropriate relay path. It doesn't mesh too well with his own protocols, but that's not an issue—if anything, having a distinct coding style on the problem should help.

Assuming, of course, that software is the problem.]

Here.

[The vidscreen of the nearest console flickers, Hank's blue identifier vanishing to be replaced with a view of Deck 3's hall. Or more specifically, the human walking down it. Only for that human to waver... blur... and vanish out of sight.

The same file transmits to Erika's device for analysis.]

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Tech Team catchall [semi-open]

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