fh_matrix | Entries tagged with environment

zin-the-matrix.livejournal.com

Early in the morning, the skies went black.

"Citizens of Simulation 45y," Zinyak's voice boomed, "You are disappointing me."

Amidst the black, the shape of a large alien became clear, sitting forward, a chalice in his hand. "I have given you ample opportunity to behave," he said. "I am not unreasonable. But since it appears a prison of peace will not keep you, I must introduce more stringent measures. Behave peacefully, and you will lack for none. Continue this immature, destructive behavior, and I will be forced to make this even worse, until you obey."

He cleared his throat.

"Now, for an excerpt from the Scottish Play..."

That went on for another hour.

When it ended, the skies didn't clear. They remained black like the night. Clouds rolled in, and rain descended on the town. Buildings seemed to stretch and reach for it, becoming taller, even though nothing changed on the inside. Hunters poured onto the streets, shaped like cartoon dogs. Ordering coffee became markedly more difficult, and the Mooby Calf had grown a mind of its own.

But thanks to the efforts of others outside the simulation, the captives were now not without means...

[[ establishy! ]]

zin-the-matrix.livejournal.com

The voice came at a civilized time: just before breakfast, or at least, the hour any reasonable person would be having breakfast. It was a cultured voice, benevolent, with only the slightest undercurrent of threat.

"Citizens of Simulation 45y," it began, "This is Emperor Zinyak of the Zin Empire. I am willing to forgive your trespasses from yesterday as a mere initial surge of confusion, but for your own safety, I have installed some guards. Please, settle in peacefully, and no further measures need to be taken. Thank you. And now that I have your attention..."

The rest of the hour was taken up by Zinyak reading choice chapters from Society & Sociability aloud to the simulation. He was quite fond of Austen.

Afterwards, he sank back into his seat and waved a hand. Some of yesterday's pleasant island-dwellers began to congregate around the towers and morphed, gaining the appearance of a Zin, gaining blasters; he'd rather wished he didn't need to do that. Not just because he really had hoped they'd go along willingly: the act of adding something always meant the act of displacing something else.

Like replacing his NPCs' clothing programs with the Fast Food Mascot collection. Filling up the stores with a collection of gag weapons that he hoped weren't entirely functional. Replacing several restaurant items with flapjacks: he supposed that wasn't too bad.

He decided to slap the Laughter soundtrack on both bars on the island just to give it all a bit of panache. That would hopefully do.

[[ establishy! ]]

zin-the-matrix.livejournal.com

With a quiet, shimmering hiss, the simulation snapped to life. It was almost a perfect copy of the island itself: every shop in its place, every home as it had been. It did not even end at the Causeway, but rather it spread out a little further, covering a square mile area of mainland; only those who ventured beyond that would hit upon the 'forcefield' that denoted the edges of the simulation.

The air smelled nice. It was like someone had hung a large bouquet of fragrant flowers on every block. Neighbors greeted each other. Every rickshaw driver had a smile. And with the simulation at peace, the integrity of these simulacra of humanity was intact. There would be no weird digital shimmering across their features, at least not for as long as everyone remained peaceful and orderly.

There were the towers, of course: three of them. One where Godiva Street met Serendipity Place in the north, by the shop that had once held a megalomaniac who liked to sell people cursed toys. Another near the Rocky Bits, by Selkie Peak. And a third, situated firmly in the village itself, within a space between Photo Hut and the Post Office that simply did not exist on the actual island.

People wandered outside those towers, too, blank looks on their faces. They would greet you kindly if they saw you; it was all perfectly pleasant.

Unless you were particularly attached to your powers, of course. But who truly was?

[[ AND WE ARE OFF! All townies/fandomhigh/dorms posts go in this comm; private posts go into your own journal with a mention of which Fandom you're on. Acting up will be punished by being shoved into reasonably benign pop culture and fear-fueled pocket universes as explained here. Otherwise, Fandom is just an exceptionally nice version of Fandom. But that won't last.]]

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Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player--

-- it's a quote from Macbeth.

Entries tagged with environment

All Over The Matrix, Friday Morning

A Disembodied Voice All Over The Matrix, Thursday Morning

All Over, Wednesday, The Wee Hours

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