Alone, one drop. Together, an ocean.

gsbrollies-deactivated20260223

The chief cause of problems...

…is solutions. Daryll had learned that in the last few weeks. Still, he had to get behind this, solve his problem, which quite frankly would become an international affair rather quickly all on its own. If he did this right - and maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, there was no other case, and he had no experience - he could speed up the process, and save a few lives. His own, at the very least.

It started like this:

“While you are angry at this American senator, may I interest you in some information about a military project said senator might or might not be involved in?”

“Ahhh, Daryll, this is why I adore you. Yes, please.”

“It is standing right in front of you, sir.”

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at the man before him, more than a little puzzled.

He knew there was more to Daryll than freelance and perfect skin, but he hadn’t expected the man to give up his secrets so quickly.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Mr. Waters?”

#governmentsanctionedbrollies

Daryll would have liked to wait, but time was running out. Quick and dirty was the only option left. Whether he got dismantled and studied here or in the US, it barely mattered. He could as well cause a scene on his way out.

"That the US has been making forays into artificial intelligence and robotics, where it claims to have made none, and that there is a working prototype, who is right now standing in your office. It barely gets any more compromising than this."

The chief cause of problems...

...is solutions. Daryll had learned that in the last few weeks. Still, he had to get behind this, solve his problem, which quite frankly would become an international affair rather quickly all on its own. If he did this right - and maybe he did, maybe he didn't, there was no other case, and he had no experience - he could speed up the process, and save a few lives. His own, at the very least.

It started like this:

"While you are angry at this American senator, may I interest you in some information about a military project said senator might or might not be involved in?"

"Ahhh, Daryll, this is why I adore you. Yes, please."

"It is standing right in front of you, sir."

#governmentsanctionedbrollies #the chief cause of problems #((trying it like this))#((because EATEN ASKS))

OOC:

Fuck sleep. Who needs sleep.

#ooc #fuck it all

OOC:

Friend via IM: Hey, did you get my ask?

Me: What ask?

Friend: The one with the thing.

Me: No, I didn't.

Me: Hey, person I rp with.

Person I rp with: ...

Me: Hellooo?

Person I rp with (two days later): Hey, did you get my ask?

#((WHY AM I STILL RELYING ON THESE THINGS))#((I SHOULD WRITE FANMAIL INSTEAD))

choijonghyun-si-deactivated2012

Reblog if I can call you my friend.

#((I'd love to get to know you better.))#((Not just you actually))

Digging it up.

Daryll doesn’t like the feel of it, all of it. He doesn’t shake, not made for it, but he does take deep breaths and digs his fingers into the bench he is sitting on, hard enough to leave dents. He needs the data this is getting him, he knows it. He just has to sit through this and bear it.

The log has been encrypted multiple times, each level using a different cypher. It can be done, but without a creative idea or two Jarvis might as well sit down and put this on his schedule for the next two weeks.

Tony watches the progress for a few minutes, notes little change in it and sighs heavily. “Yeah, like I thought. They’ve got it locked down like a tower of Hanoi.” He thumbs over his bottom lip curiously and has a think for a moment. “Wouldn’t be surprised if to find the next encryption you have to know the one before it, but as soon as you open the next one it locks the one before— Damn it.” That would take days to open. They didn’t have days,

“Okay. Alright. This is going to be unpleasant.” Tony warns, and stands for a few moments, contemplating it. “I can try and punch it— Ah, just smashing the lock rather than picking it, but you won’t be able to lock it back again if I do without sweeping out all the dusty broken bits. No risk to the rest of your brain, just you’ll be stuck with these memories. Are you sure you want to do this?”

#metalandcoconut #notabutler #Digging it up #((meh this is too short sorry))

Daryll looks up at Tony and nods, signals the same through the connection.

"Yes. Go ahead."

Because how much worse than as good as dead can it get? It's very, very likely that he will be better of with than without it. Without it, he is screwed, no doubt. How much worse can it be to be stuck with it?

vicforprez

Hovering over earth

Digging it up.

Daryll sighs. “Well, I am trying to find out why, am I not?”

The data in question has been encrypted, but is otherwise in place and intact. It shouldn’t be as ridiculously difficult to retrieve as it is. Yet, the trick Daryll used - and from what can be seen he did this himself - is simple, but effective: he simply shut himself out of it, and by that everyone else, too. The encryption is heavy, but nothing that hasn’t been seen or done before.

“You kids want some alone time?” Tony quips, looking over the screen for a few moments, eyes skimming over the text and taking it in. He picks the small screen up and begins to tap at the data, mouth turning down into a small frown of concentration. “Huh. Okay.. Jarvis, just copy the whole stream over onto my private server and duplicate it a couple of times.” He hums, pulling up the picture in his mind.

“Then, if you don’t mind, run it through the cracks, what do we have, like, couple of hundred? Put one through each crack to begin with, then mix it up. If we can manage it, I want all the possible combinations tested. Could take a while though.” He shrugs, shaking his head and taking up perch against the desk. “If that doesn’t work, I’m gonna have to do it manually.”

“I think we might just have what the doctor would prescribe.”

It is a bit tricky, retrieving data you don’t have access to, but circumventing any kind of rights management is one of the basic tasks involved in any hacking and Jarvis has done a lot of that at Tony’s side. Copying the whole thing, he starts by running a set of analytic software, meant to classify the kind of encryption and the kind of tool needed to crack it before he deploys set tools.

“Running decryption, now.”

#metalandcoconut #notabutler

Daryll doesn't like the feel of it, all of it. He doesn't shake, not made for it, but he does take deep breaths and digs his fingers into the bench he is sitting on, hard enough to leave dents. He needs the data this is getting him, he knows it. He just has to sit through this and bear it.

The log has been encrypted multiple times, each level using a different cypher. It can be done, but without a creative idea or two Jarvis might as well sit down and put this on his schedule for the next two weeks.

vicforprez

How do I fit into this, I wonder.

Digging it up.

Having a look a round, Jarvis displays the information on a screen next to Tony, going with a pure text output as well as some accompanying visualization. “No offense, but this place is a mess.”

He dives deeper, trying to access the given data.

#((don't worry about it))#notabutler #metalandcoconut #Digging it up

Daryll sighs. "Well, I am trying to find out why, am I not?"

The data in question has been encrypted, but is otherwise in place and intact. It shouldn't be as ridiculously difficult to retrieve as it is. Yet, the trick Daryll used - and from what can be seen he did this himself - is simple, but effective: he simply shut himself out of it, and by that everyone else, too. The encryption is heavy, but nothing that hasn't been seen or done before.

OOC:

#OMFG #IT'S WEEKEND #I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE IT #I'M ALIVE!

Digging it up.

“That’s reassuring.” Tony quips, crossing over the workshop to rummage through the cabinets, looking for what he needs. He grabs the box in question and brings it back over to his desk, dumping out the contents unceremoniously and rifling through it. Cable retrieved, he grabs up one of the tablets and brings it over, linking one end into the sole port available.

“This could be uncomfortable. I’m not sayin’ it will be, I’ve never done this before, but it might be. I dunno what it feels like to have some guy rummaging around in your brain.” He warns the android, hesitating a moment before moving to link him up to the cable.

“I’m sure it will be perfectly f—”

That’s when the cable connects and there is a short flash of light before his eyes and a high-pitched sound in his ears. It’s over as quick as it comes. It was only feedback, very likely, something perfectly harmless, but Daryll still gasps and rapidly blinks.

“…fine. That was unexpected.”

“Sensory overload,” Jarvis commented, actually sounding as if tehre was a smile on some invisible lips. “Used to happen to all of Mr Stark’s early prototypes.”

The next moment Darryl got an access request via the newly made connection. Jarvis had carefully walled of his main systems beforehand, taking away his own access to major security systems for the moment.

Tony wasn’t the only one interested in the android’s system.

#notabutler #metalandcoconut #Digging it up

"I see." Daryll doesn't nod, mindful of the connection. He does smile, though. It's different to have someone to talk to at eye level, even if it only was a few words so far. He grants Jarvis restricted access, for now. This is about his memory, no use giving away his motor functions. He'll have to decide case by case whether or not they need more system rights to help.

Data storage in here is a mess; Swiss cheese seems airtight in comparison. Part of this is normal, given that some of the brain structures are organic - an info Jarvis gets from a clearly electronic area of Daryll's brain that stores an initialisation text that sounds like advertisement. The rest of it is hurried encoding, data half sent or half erased due to connections killed to early, and some of the usual fragmentation. There is a readable file structure, but whoever made it up clearly was on drugs.

"I'm missing 25 minutes of audio and visual records at 554.5.4.4.2145," Daryll informs both of them. "That is what we are looking for."

Welcome to the human condition.

He could have buried himself in the ground, somewhere, anywhere. East Asia, the Hymalayas, maybe. Just buried himself, and waited. If it was only about preseving his own continued existence, that would have been enough.

He was meant to be autonomous, and he didn't need to take orders, that much he knew, but there was a buzz of something else, another order, older, hardwired, not or at least not yet overridden by that free will directive that had begun to make his life so difficult: Serve and protect.

You exist to serve and protect.

It seemed easy enough. If... Well, if.

If, for example, there was any specification to it. Serve whom? Protect what? How, how long, for what purpose? From outside harm only, or from their own impulses as well, and if so, when did protection end and domineering start, and wasn't that the opposite of serving? What was meant by "serve", anyway? Obey, cater, assist? And who in the world was supposed to answer these questions, really, when no-one officially had the authority to tell him? He could choose of, course, but by which criteria?

Even so, the urge behind those words was clear, and always present. He had a mission. A purpose. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was. Just a feeling, an itch he just couldn't scratch - utterly and entirely infuriating.

#about daryll

Digging it up.

Daryll shrugs. He wouldn’t put that “asshole move” beyond anyone involved in his construction, given that he already is very much misbuilt for his actual task. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t need to run away. He wouldn’t want to run away.

“Take your time. I made sure that I have 48 hours at the very least before I need to move again.”

“Try the box labeled C9-11 in the third cabinet, Sir.” Jarvis had been monitoring the procedure over Tony’s shoulder and would probably have provided the cable if it had been anywhere near one of the robots in the workshop.

“That’s reassuring.” Tony quips, crossing over the workshop to rummage through the cabinets, looking for what he needs. He grabs the box in question and brings it back over to his desk, dumping out the contents unceremoniously and rifling through it. Cable retrieved, he grabs up one of the tablets and brings it over, linking one end into the sole port available.

“This could be uncomfortable. I’m not sayin’ it will be, I’ve never done this before, but it might be. I dunno what it feels like to have some guy rummaging around in your brain.” He warns the android, hesitating a moment before moving to link him up to the cable.