I Am Not Teppy

[the-mechasillies]

Tim

Tim

Tim

How are you and our good friend Lyf?

...who?

[lyfrasilly-edda]

I'M GOING TO STRANGLE SOMETHING

[the-mechasillies]

WHP THE FUCK ARE YOU???????

[justaddmoreblood]

Popcorn, anyone?

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Ivy said quickly. She couldn’t run the calculations, but she could make an educated guess that any injuries caused by this… God… would be more permenant than wanted. “I’m sure you’ll find there’s plenty of bloody chaos onboard already. So what, you just want- things to happen? Is that it?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Part of it,” the voice considered. “I also have someone I deeply want to annoy, and messing with your machine a little. . . Well, that will make things more interesting there, won’t it? Say hi, Bell!”

“Hi, Bell,” the computer echoed. It sounded pained.

[the-mechasillies]

“So it is Annabelle Cane in there, then.” Ivy replied, eyeing the computer. “Or at least, an Annabelle Cane.”

[justaddmoreblood]

"Maybe," the voice said, a smile hidden in its tones. "Or maybe it wasn't before and is now. Or was before and isn't now. Maybe I've changed some of the information it holds so that you'll go just the wrong way, or deleted things, or messed with the programming, or maybe I've not changed a thing besides getting it to respond to Bell. Wonderful, isn't it?"

[the-mechasillies]

Oh, so this was the game they were playing. A god that could control reality, gaslighting and running her in circles. It was- fine. “Of course. So, you mess with the computer program to annoy your…acquaintance. And how do I factor into this? Given the fact you’re talking to me at all, I figure I must.”

[justaddmoreblood]

If a voice could shrug without shoulders, this one did. "You asked about outer gods," it said. "Why not deliver? There are messier ways, of course, but your companion's already attracted enough attention. You'll find more information soon enough. Think of this as an introduction."

And then it set fire to a bookshelf.

Not real fire. The flames weren't hot, not burning anything, but-- fire, nonetheless.

"A kinder introduction than others get," it said, as the flames continued. "I'm sure you'll get along splendidly with Bell. Don't get too caught up. . ."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy’s reaction was immediate, grabbing a fire extinguisher off the wall and drenching the book case in it. The crew didn’t keep them in the main ship, but it had been hard for anyone to argue against Ivy storing some in the Archives, given her past experience. After a few seconds, when it became evident that the fire wasn’t doing anything, she stopped.

It had just- now her books were covered in fire extinguisher foam, and her head was all over the place, numbers and calculations trying to fit together and just wouldn’t.

She let out a growl, gripped the rainbowed knife, and threw it into the computer screen. There was a 13.4%- no, 17.8%- no, 7.824%, no, it was a-

There was a low chance it would do anything, but she didn’t care.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Oh, did you think I was in the computer monitor?” the voice mocked. “Or that anything important was? You’d have to do better than that, with me or with her. Really.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy growled. “Don’t touch my books.” She spat out at the voice.

[justaddmoreblood]

Another bookshelf lit up in flames.

“I’d suggest not telling an outer god what to do, if you meet another,” the voice said, almost pleasantly. “Goodbye, and do give my regards to. . . well, that name’s confusing enough. Not Loki, if you meet. It should be entertaining.”

[justaddmoreblood]

How many worlds do you Watch?

-Mercury

Oh, do you think I just watch? Please. I enjoy myself.

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Ivy said quickly. She couldn’t run the calculations, but she could make an educated guess that any injuries caused by this… God… would be more permenant than wanted. “I’m sure you’ll find there’s plenty of bloody chaos onboard already. So what, you just want- things to happen? Is that it?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Part of it,” the voice considered. “I also have someone I deeply want to annoy, and messing with your machine a little. . . Well, that will make things more interesting there, won’t it? Say hi, Bell!”

“Hi, Bell,” the computer echoed. It sounded pained.

[the-mechasillies]

“So it is Annabelle Cane in there, then.” Ivy replied, eyeing the computer. “Or at least, an Annabelle Cane.”

[justaddmoreblood]

"Maybe," the voice said, a smile hidden in its tones. "Or maybe it wasn't before and is now. Or was before and isn't now. Maybe I've changed some of the information it holds so that you'll go just the wrong way, or deleted things, or messed with the programming, or maybe I've not changed a thing besides getting it to respond to Bell. Wonderful, isn't it?"

[the-mechasillies]

Oh, so this was the game they were playing. A god that could control reality, gaslighting and running her in circles. It was- fine. “Of course. So, you mess with the computer program to annoy your…acquaintance. And how do I factor into this? Given the fact you’re talking to me at all, I figure I must.”

[justaddmoreblood]

If a voice could shrug without shoulders, this one did. "You asked about outer gods," it said. "Why not deliver? There are messier ways, of course, but your companion's already attracted enough attention. You'll find more information soon enough. Think of this as an introduction."

And then it set fire to a bookshelf.

Not real fire. The flames weren't hot, not burning anything, but-- fire, nonetheless.

"A kinder introduction than others get," it said, as the flames continued. "I'm sure you'll get along splendidly with Bell. Don't get too caught up. . ."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy’s reaction was immediate, grabbing a fire extinguisher off the wall and drenching the book case in it. The crew didn’t keep them in the main ship, but it had been hard for anyone to argue against Ivy storing some in the Archives, given her past experience. After a few seconds, when it became evident that the fire wasn’t doing anything, she stopped.

It had just- now her books were covered in fire extinguisher foam, and her head was all over the place, numbers and calculations trying to fit together and just wouldn’t.

She let out a growl, gripped the rainbowed knife, and threw it into the computer screen. There was a 13.4%- no, 17.8%- no, 7.824%, no, it was a-

There was a low chance it would do anything, but she didn’t care.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Oh, did you think I was in the computer monitor?” the voice mocked. “Or that anything important was? You’d have to do better than that, with me or with her. Really.”

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Ivy said quickly. She couldn’t run the calculations, but she could make an educated guess that any injuries caused by this… God… would be more permenant than wanted. “I’m sure you’ll find there’s plenty of bloody chaos onboard already. So what, you just want- things to happen? Is that it?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Part of it,” the voice considered. “I also have someone I deeply want to annoy, and messing with your machine a little. . . Well, that will make things more interesting there, won’t it? Say hi, Bell!”

“Hi, Bell,” the computer echoed. It sounded pained.

[the-mechasillies]

“So it is Annabelle Cane in there, then.” Ivy replied, eyeing the computer. “Or at least, an Annabelle Cane.”

[justaddmoreblood]

"Maybe," the voice said, a smile hidden in its tones. "Or maybe it wasn't before and is now. Or was before and isn't now. Maybe I've changed some of the information it holds so that you'll go just the wrong way, or deleted things, or messed with the programming, or maybe I've not changed a thing besides getting it to respond to Bell. Wonderful, isn't it?"

[the-mechasillies]

Oh, so this was the game they were playing. A god that could control reality, gaslighting and running her in circles. It was- fine. “Of course. So, you mess with the computer program to annoy your…acquaintance. And how do I factor into this? Given the fact you’re talking to me at all, I figure I must.”

[justaddmoreblood]

If a voice could shrug without shoulders, this one did. "You asked about outer gods," it said. "Why not deliver? There are messier ways, of course, but your companion's already attracted enough attention. You'll find more information soon enough. Think of this as an introduction."

And then it set fire to a bookshelf.

Not real fire. The flames weren't hot, not burning anything, but-- fire, nonetheless.

"A kinder introduction than others get," it said, as the flames continued. "I'm sure you'll get along splendidly with Bell. Don't get too caught up. . ."

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Ivy said quickly. She couldn’t run the calculations, but she could make an educated guess that any injuries caused by this… God… would be more permenant than wanted. “I’m sure you’ll find there’s plenty of bloody chaos onboard already. So what, you just want- things to happen? Is that it?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Part of it,” the voice considered. “I also have someone I deeply want to annoy, and messing with your machine a little. . . Well, that will make things more interesting there, won’t it? Say hi, Bell!”

“Hi, Bell,” the computer echoed. It sounded pained.

[the-mechasillies]

“So it is Annabelle Cane in there, then.” Ivy replied, eyeing the computer. “Or at least, an Annabelle Cane.”

[justaddmoreblood]

"Maybe," the voice said, a smile hidden in its tones. "Or maybe it wasn't before and is now. Or was before and isn't now. Maybe I've changed some of the information it holds so that you'll go just the wrong way, or deleted things, or messed with the programming, or maybe I've not changed a thing besides getting it to respond to Bell. Wonderful, isn't it?"

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” Ivy said quickly. She couldn’t run the calculations, but she could make an educated guess that any injuries caused by this… God… would be more permenant than wanted. “I’m sure you’ll find there’s plenty of bloody chaos onboard already. So what, you just want- things to happen? Is that it?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Part of it,” the voice considered. “I also have someone I deeply want to annoy, and messing with your machine a little. . . Well, that will make things more interesting there, won’t it? Say hi, Bell!”

“Hi, Bell,” the computer echoed. It sounded pained.

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

“Make the world less boring.” Ivy echoed. “And how do you wish to go about this?”

She needed to assess this threat. It was near impossible with how the numbers were jumbling, but… maybe if she asked more questions, they’d narrow down. Maybe.

[justaddmoreblood]

“Usually, it involves more blood than this,” the voice mused. “I’m making an exception. Although I’m sure some of the lovely folks on your ship could help spot me some bloody chaos, if I really wanted. They wouldn’t even know I was involved…”

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

“It would be convenient.” She responded, fingers still tight on the lightly rainbowed knife. “But not necessary.” No real use in a fake name, if this being wasn’t going to supply their real one. “I think what really matters right now is what you are going to do?”

[justaddmoreblood]

“The same thing I do every day, really,” the voice said, a careless note to it. “Try to make the world a bit less boring. Which, really, Bell, if you’re going to try that bit of coding, you should have kept an eye on your firewall.”

The computer squeaked.

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

“Some people,” Ivy offered. “Would view it as polite.” She wasn’t acting right. She knew something was wrong. She couldn’t force herself to reach for her phone, or call for any other member of the crew, though. “Though there’s a…” She tried to reach for her numbers, calculate her odds, their chance, but they kept switching, jumbling and tumbling. She paused for a moment, before gritting her teeth and continuing. “There’s a good chance, I think, that you don’t particularly care for that.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“Manners have their place,” the voice mused. “I know. Maybe I can come up with a name for this encounter! I’ve been told Michael is strictly out of the question, but there are other names out there. Would that make you more. . . comfortable?”

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy tightened her grip on her knife. She should call for Lyf, she should call for anyone, this was an emergency-

Everything was fine. She could handle this.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She shot back. She reached into another one of her pockets, pulling out a different knife. This one, Lyf had accidentally cut themself on a few years back, and the rainbow blood had stained the blade. Ivy had insisted on keeping it for research purposes, and Raphaella had used it for many experiments. It had proven effective in causing some… weirder side effects to those it cut, and she predicted a 32.56% chance it would have at least a bit more of an effect on… this. “Who are you.”

[justaddmoreblood]

“You ask me expecting for a straight answer?” There was a laugh, almost. “Even your. . . computer program knew better than that. That counterpart is softer than I am. But names have their own power. Why should I give you mine?”

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, hand immediately reaching for the knife in her vest. “Who are you?” She demanded out loud. No need to type for this one, she figured.

[justaddmoreblood]

There were words forming in answer to her question on the computer screen. The issue was, whatever second voice was there seemed to have taken offense to it. The computer was silent, and the words scrambled across the screen like eggs mixed in a bowl.

“You asked about the outer gods,” the second voice said, sounding mid-smile. “Thought it’d be a shame to not. . . drop on by for a request like that. Besides, most of the others don’t even talk to mortal shaped creatures these days. Far too much going on, you understand.”

[the-mechasillies]

The Archives were quiet. Maybe, Ivy should’ve asked for help researching this drive, but…

There was something tugging, there. Something that made her keep quiet.

So Ivy was alone in the archives when she plugged the drive into the computer she’d dug out of the storage bay. Separate from Aurora’s systems, of course, Nastya would kill her if she somehow got a virus in her. She’d even dragged a second computer- an older thing, in case the higher tech didn’t work.

She let out a breath, and turned the computer on.

@the-webclaimsthem

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer lit up, a program already booting. It was an odd shade of color, lights blinking against the top of the screen.

“Welcome”, it said, after a moment. “Please enter your name.”

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy stared at the computer for a long moment.

Would lying be better, in this scenario? The Web didn’t rely on Knowing the way the Eye did, so it would most likely have no way of knowing if the name she chose was fake. She very much didn’t enjoy the concept of this drive knowing anything about her, especially if it already knew of her alternate self. If it did know who she was already though, lying could have consequences.

Slowly, Ivy’s hands moved to the keyboard as she typed in her alias. Morgan. A randomly chosen name, and she doubted whatever was asking would believe her, but… it would work, for now.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer displayed a smiley emoticon. It winked at Ivy.

;)

“Welcome, Morgan,” the computer said out loud. “Shall we begin?”

And with that, a program began to load.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy flexed her fingers, staring at the computer screen. She had her notebook and pen out on the desk, taking notes on everything that was happening.

A part of her wanted to find someone else on the crew, to have backup on this. Her thoughts seemed to cut off as soon as she thought about it, though.

Maybe that was something she should worry about.

It was fine. She knew what she was doing.

[the-webclaimsthem]

Images, articles, all sorts of data began to flash through the program. Processing and cataloguing faster than most mortals could comprehend.

Most mortals were not Ivy Alexandria.

But still, she'd get only glimpses, as the program sank into the web. Created its own web, if need be.

"Please enter inquiry," the computer said, once again out loud. The voice may have been familiar, if "Morgan" paid attention. Who knew?

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy inhaled. Right. 43.21% chance that this was a program created by an alternate Annabelle Cane, and that she’d used her voice for it. 23.45% chance that Annabelle had lied and she had created this program in the first place. 16.812% chance the Web had created this program, and just decided to use Annabelle’s voice, and 16.528% chance of other factors.

She typed her first inquiry. What is this program meant for?

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was an oddly smug tone to the program as it said, "Error, improper syntax."

The flash of articles paused for just long enough for the earlier smiley face to be visible.

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy pressed her lips together, retyping and rephrasing the question. What is the purpose of this program?

[the-webclaimsthem]

"Error, improper syntax. Please retry using Boolean operators."

The computer voice paused, and then added. "For additional commands, type 'Help Menu'".

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy paused for a moment again, before typing in another search.

Computer program AND The Web AND purpose OR The Fears OR Annabelle Cane

[the-webclaimsthem]

There was a pause in the ever-increasing pile of articles and videos the program was sifting through.

"The program's design parameters allow for sifting through incredible amounts of data, flagging incidents and activity throughout the data set," it said, as though it were quoting something. "Originally shaped for and designed with other Fears in mind, but-- but-- but--"

It paused again, articles flashing by once more.

"Annabelle Cane," it said, "may never have even seen a beach."

[the-mechasillies]

Ivy frowned, jotting down a few notes before pulling up the search engine again.

Annabelle Cane AND Beach

[the-webclaimsthem]

A recording clicks on. The articles and videos flashing by continue as it plays, but--

"Statement of Annabelle Cane," a different voice says with a sigh. "Regarding her history and her observations of the Magnus Institute, London. Original statement written 20th July, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins. . ."

It goes on, a musing on the idea of fate and free will, a possible story involving the young Annabelle Cane. And it ends with the words, "Don't go to Hill Top Road again. Statement ends."

The recording clicks off, and a purple cursor blinks on the screen, waiting for the next inquiry.

[the-mechasillies]

Well. That was- interesting. She’d made sure to transcribe the events of the statement, at least, for future reference.

She took a step back briefly, laying down bullet points of the statement, future things to look into, and other notes. This program was going to prove very, very useful.

She turned back to the computer, typing in yet another inquiry. Interdimensional travel OR stabilization AND bifrost AND portals.

[the-webclaimsthem]

The computer paused, beeping oddly. Then, in a slightly different voice, like it was reading, it began to speak.

“The walls between realities have been getting thin. And so, I contacted your. . . patron. The web takes a great deal of interest in the concept of other realities, after all. Depending on how things go in this one, it might be the only way for things to progress, and. . .”

“And you contacted the Crawling Chaos expecting a straight answer? That doesn’t seem very smart of you.”

“No, the Crawling Chaos doesn’t deal with straight information, not unless it’s a deal and exchange,” Annabelle said, giving an almost smile. “For a being of chaos, it’s very attached to its rules. We had a brief correspondence. And the crux of the matter is, the walls of this reality are wearing away because you are destabilizing them. And here’s where we come to your choice.”

It paused again. Leaving out something, it seemed, because when the computer began to talk again, it didn't make sense with the last sentence.

"But from the deal the Crawling Chaos described, there are two choices, and you have refused one of them.”

“Oh?”

“Becoming a god and leaving your mortality and ties to reality entirely behind, or going through this portal for a time and finding your own way back, if you’re able to.”

[the-mechasillies]

That-

The crew had made lots of jokes about Lyf being considered an eldritch god, at points. Nobody on the crew really though of them as one, though. “God” was a term with no definition, really. Lyf was immortal, yes, but so was everyone else on the crew, and none of them were gods. They had more power over reality, but they were just Lyf.

She filed away the idea of them being a god for later. Lyf had enough on their hands, right now, and Ivy had other goals to focus on.

She went back to the search bar. Stell needed to find a way back, and Lyf could help them with that. Ivy’s goal right now was to make sure it was safe. She typed in her next search:

Stabilization AND machine AND bifrost OR powers OR safety

[the-webclaimsthem]

The machine paused, and then let out an error code. Numbers and letters flashed by on the screen too fast to scan.

Finally, the machine settled on one final answer. "More data required," it said. "Allow further time for scan. Any additional inquiries while backup scan begins?"

[the-mechasillies]

…How much knowledge did this computer have? Only things regarding the supernatural, or other information, as well?

Hm. Most likely would be best for supernatural inquiries, but… it could be useful for other things, as well.

She added in another inquiry, this one far simpler. Outer Gods.

[justaddmoreblood]

A different voice sounded in response to her question, although this one was more challenging to place. It may not have been coming from the computers at all.

“Why, my dear Ms Alexandria,” it said, “are you sure you want to know?”

[whothe-fuckami]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvL1339luv0

Sounds like something Nyarlathotep would enjoy.

[justaddmoreblood]

@insignificantmortalsshouldsuffer

[whothe-fuckami]

…There’s another living Nyarlathotep.

[justaddmoreblood]

Unfortunately, for now!

[whothe-fuckami]

Did you just miss their universe while you were killing all your counterparts?

[justaddmoreblood]

They made deals. I forget them when they are not in sight. Or, in this case, involved in multiverse-splitting situations with people they are invested in.

[whothe-fuckami]

…Hm. And you let it make this deal?

[justaddmoreblood]

They forgot specific things about me and my plans. I thought I could get around it.

[whothe-fuckami]

Interesting to know it’s so easy to deceive you.

[justaddmoreblood]

I wouldn’t call it easy. I’m sure it took work. Deceiving yourself when you’re intent on murder always does.

[whothe-fuckami]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvL1339luv0

Sounds like something Nyarlathotep would enjoy.

[justaddmoreblood]

@insignificantmortalsshouldsuffer

[whothe-fuckami]

…There’s another living Nyarlathotep.

[justaddmoreblood]

Unfortunately, for now!

[whothe-fuckami]

Did you just miss their universe while you were killing all your counterparts?

[justaddmoreblood]

They made deals. I forget them when they are not in sight. Or, in this case, involved in multiverse-splitting situations with people they are invested in.

[whothe-fuckami]

…Hm. And you let it make this deal?

[justaddmoreblood]

They forgot specific things about me and my plans. I thought I could get around it.

[whothe-fuckami]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvL1339luv0

Sounds like something Nyarlathotep would enjoy.

[justaddmoreblood]

@insignificantmortalsshouldsuffer

[whothe-fuckami]

…There’s another living Nyarlathotep.

[justaddmoreblood]

Unfortunately, for now!

[whothe-fuckami]

Did you just miss their universe while you were killing all your counterparts?

[justaddmoreblood]

They made deals. I forget them when they are not in sight. Or, in this case, involved in multiverse-splitting situations with people they are invested in.

[whothe-fuckami]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hvL1339luv0

Sounds like something Nyarlathotep would enjoy.

[justaddmoreblood]

@insignificantmortalsshouldsuffer

[whothe-fuckami]

…There’s another living Nyarlathotep.

[justaddmoreblood]

Unfortunately, for now!