mendanddefend_archive: (flying)
G-Prime is a pretty quiet sector, these days. Megabyte is gone, but his legacy lives on in the form of a populace too terrified to get near his old stomping grounds. (Not everyone is scared of it, of course. Some programs like it there. But they're weird.)

As Annabelle and Enzo approach the Game's projected landing point, they might spot a speck of silver gliding across the sky from the general direction of the Matrix household.

Bob isn't running late yet, but he's cutting it closer than he'd like.
mendanddefend_archive: (Glitch: toaster!)
1.) Go here to generate 10 random numbers between 1 and 100.
2.) Then I will answer the corresponding questions from here.
mendanddefend_archive: (locations: Principal Office)
There are a number of surprisingly well-dressed programs waiting outside the Principal Office medbay.

They are well-dressed because they just came from a wedding.

They're waiting because the COMMAND.COM is giving birth in there.

They're waiting outside because when Hack poked his head in earlier he nearly went deaf from the screaming.

(Oh, and Bob's in there for moral support, and because he fears the wrath of his wife if he leaves her alone at a time like this.)
mendanddefend_archive: (Default)
It's been a relatively calm cycle. No Games, only one Tear, and--miracle of miracles--Dot actually has all her paperwork done before supper. Both she and Bob have a chance to just relax and put their feet up for the evening.

[where's that ominous music coming from?]
mendanddefend_archive: (small smile)
:: Hi, Mairi. ::

This has become a nightly ritual for Bob. Once Dot is drifting off to sleep on the bed beside him, it's time to 'talk' to the little program compiling inside of her. He doesn't expect Mairi to comprehend any of it yet, but that's not the point. The parenting READMEs all say that the more you talk to an infant, the faster he or she will learn to speak themselves. Bob figures it's as true of keytool signals as it is of normal speech.

:: Your mother and I went out shopping today. We went to an open marketplace in the underwater part of the city. You should've seen it--there was a big wide courtyard under a glass dome, and it was full of booths selling just about anything you can think of. And I mean *anything.* Clothes, food, magic potions, furniture, jewelry, live animals... I swear there was one guy selling *real estate* out of a *booth.* At least, I think it was real estate. I couldn't understand what language he was speaking. I'm not even sure 'he' was a he, for that matter.

:: Anyway. Dot and I spent the morning looking through the stalls together. We spent nearly an hour at a stall where they were selling pets. There were dogs and cats and fish and turtles and things, but there were also weirder things. Baby griffins, kappas, little miniature walruses... but my absolute favorites were these creatures called 'octopussies.' They're about the same size as a house cat, but instead of legs they've got eight tentacles, and another tentacle for a tail. Even their *whiskers* are little tentacles. It sounds weird, I know, but they're really cute! They crawl all over you and make these little burbling sounds like they're meowing underwater. There was this one little baby with purple stripes that we both just *adored.* I wish we could've taken her home, but octopussies need water to sleep in and there isn't any real water back in Mainframe.

:: After lunch your mother and I both went shopping separately, so we could surprise each other with gifts at the end of the day. I got Dot a velvet gown, trimmed in gold thread, and a gold necklace with a seahorse pendant. The shopkeeper said it's meant to be good luck for pregnant women; I don't know if that's really true, but it looks gorgeous on your mother. And I got a matching baby dress for you to wear once you're a little older.

:: Your mother got me a custom heraldic shield with my icon emblazoned on it--I don't want to think about how much *that* must have cost--and a charm on a necklace that's supposed to bring good luck to knights in battle. And she also got me... um... a kilt. A blue kilt. With matching leggings. I have no idea when she expects me to wear it, but there you are.

:: The honeymoon's almost over. We'll be going back to Mainframe in a few cycles. We've waited so long for this vacation and now it feels like it's gone by in the blink of an eye. It's been fun while it lasted, though. Maybe someday, after you're born and grown up a little, we can all come back here together. ::


Bob's eyelids flutter closed.

:: I love you, Mairi. I can't wait to meet you. ::
mendanddefend_archive: (swim trunks)
After a bit more research and a lengthy conversation with the front-desk clerk at their hotel, Bob and Dot have located another beach--not a nude beach this time, but at least it caters to humanoids rather than gastropods. Better still, there's no chance of getting sunburned, because this particular beach has never seen daylight and probably never will. It's an underground lagoon lit by bioluminescent mushrooms in every color of the rainbow, clinging to the walls and pillars of the cavern. ("Don't even think about trying to eat 'em," the desk clerk warned, which just made Bob wonder why anyone would want to.)

Whatever. The lighting is lovely, the water is pleasantly cool, and they've got the entire cave to themselves. For now, anyway.
mendanddefend_archive: (nekkid!)
The shores of Marina aren't all cliffs covered with buildings; there are a few beaches here and there. This one is more like a series of beaches separated by spurs of crystalline rock from the cliff face, making semi-secluded little coves in which one can swim or sunbathe in relative privacy.

It's still not quite private enough for Bob's tastes, though.

"Couldn't we have come here in the evening instead? It'd be cooler, less crowded..." Fewer people to ogle my naked wife...
mendanddefend_archive: (locations: Mainframe)
Holding the reception indoors is out of the question--there are just too many people attending. Fortunately, one of the perks of marrying the COMMAND.COM is that it's easy to get a public space set aside for whatever reason. Thus, the largest island in Floating Point Park is now decked out with balloons, ribbons, decorated picnic tables, and a low portable stage in front of a large area set aside for dancing.

Party on.
mendanddefend_archive: (brooding)
The wedding is less than a second away, and Bob's been informed that he's expected to write his own vows. He promised Dot that he'd have them written by the end of the week.

Now, two cycles later, he's still got nothing.

Bob gets up from his seat and paces to the far corner of the room and back again. He stares down at the .txt file on the table, willing the speech to write itself. Alas, it's just as unobliging as it was the first fifteen times he tried the same thing.

This is crazy. I'm not even the one doing the planning but the wedding is still driving me nuts. Why does this have to be so complicated?? We should just go to the P.O. together and tell Phong that--

His head snaps up. For a long moment, he stares off into space.

Then he bolts for the door and out of the house.
mendanddefend_archive: (don't speak Linux)
Taken from [livejournal.com profile] camwyn and posted here because I never actually use my mun journal anyway.

Name a character that you know I write or have written, and I'll tell you:

a. What initially prompted me to like the character enough to write about him/her.
b. One of his/her best traits.
c. One of his/her worst traits.
d. How easy/difficult I find it to write the character.
e. The story/thread/chapter/post/paragraph/tag/phrase where I feel that I truly captured the character.
f. My plans (if any) to write the character in the near future.
mendanddefend_archive: (brooding)
The steampunking of Milliways has worn off. Bob's back to being his normal self.

He should be happy about that, but he's got other things on his mind right now.

It wasn't real, Bob keeps telling himself. Dot loves you. She proposed to you, you're getting married in two minutes, you're having a child together, for code's sake...

But he still can't silence that nagging doubt in the back of his mind.


He knocks lightly on the door of Room 503. "Dot? Are you there?"
mendanddefend_archive: (Autobot)
After his talk with Ray yesterday, Bob resolved to finally make contact with Isaac. Getting permission from Prime is easy enough; hooking up the interface device proves to be a little more difficult, but he manages.

Finally, all the connections are in place. All that remains is to activate the interface, using a simple control switch.

If he had lungs, Bob would take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

He pushes the button.
mendanddefend_archive: (nervous grin)
Bob didn't get any more sleep after his little discovery. He spent the rest of the night pacing the living room floor, trying to keep his panic under control. This is big. This is really big. How in the Web is he going to tell Dot? (Never mind the weirdness of him having to break the news to her in the first place...)

As dawn starts to break, he heads for the kitchen. Might as well do something constructive with all that nervous energy. He's not a great cook, by any means, but he can make simple breakfast foods like flopjacks, hot links, scrambled Easter Eggs... or, in this case, all of the above.

Dot should be getting up any nano now.
mendanddefend_archive: (Bob and Dot: in bed)
Something's... off.

That's the feeling that stirs Bob awake in the middle of the night. Not for the first time, either. Glitch's keytool senses have added a new layer of sensitivity to his work--not only can he scan for Tears, but he can sense disruptions and imperfections in the energy flow which might become Tears under the right circumstances. Which is fine, except when they wake him up in the middle of the night like a fragging alarm clock.

For a few nanos, he just lies there, perfectly still, trying to pinpoint the disturbance. It's very small, non-moving, localized... right next to him?

Bob sits up and turns to look at the woman still fast asleep at his side. The altered flow isn't in Mainframe's energy--it's in Dot's. Is she getting sick? Bob closes his eyes and holds out a hand just above Dot's bare shoulder, frowning in concentration as he scans her bit by bit. There's nothing wrong with her brain, thank the 'Net... upper body systems are in good working order... as is her digestive system and her--

Bob's eyes snap open.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Oh, wow."
mendanddefend_archive: (Did I mention that Bob's a dork?)
[Meme courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] oh_wowee]

Tell me (ICly where appropriate) why you've friended this RP journal!

Meme redux

Dec. 1st, 2007 08:39 pm
mendanddefend_archive: (multi-pup post)
Ask any of the following a question and get an IC answer!

Bob ([livejournal.com profile] mend_and_defend)
Dominic Deegan ([livejournal.com profile] grumpyseer)
Artie ([livejournal.com profile] rt_5478)
Osaka ([livejournal.com profile] shikkari)
Audrey II ([livejournal.com profile] f33dm3)
The Laugh-Out-Loud Cats ([livejournal.com profile] kittehnpip)

Departure

Nov. 25th, 2007 10:33 pm
mendanddefend_archive: (surprised)
It's not a big system. Bigger than Mainframe, certainly, and faster, but there's really not much to it. There's the system core, a storage archive, a single data processing center, and that's it.

And, again, no sign of sprite presence whatsoever, or even space to accommodate sprites. Which means that, most likely, there aren't any sprites in this universe, period.

Still, it can't hurt to look... Bob closes his eyes and lets Glitch's keytool senses extend to the limits of the space. System stats: IP address, disk capacity, RAM, system software version, current date...

The last one makes him stop.

May 28, 2007.


2007. A full decade in Bob's future. Even if this is his world, and Mainframe still exists, everyone he knows will be long dead by now. Bob hesitates, and swallows hard. I have to try. I have to. And he starts looking through the ports.

.

.

.

Cybertronian tech is powerful stuff. When Ironhide gave the command to open all points of access to this system, it opened all of them. Including some that, technically, shouldn't exist.

Including one port which apparently opens onto nothing. Not an empty port or even onto a blank wall, but literally onto nothing.

There's only one thing Bob knows of that scans like that. He bolts for the port and--

2002

Nov. 24th, 2007 08:54 pm
mendanddefend_archive: (unscarred)
There's no sense of time passing. That's kind of the point of stasis lock, of course, but it still puzzles Bob a little that there's no sense of transition at all, no state change that he can detect. It's only by the rise and fall of the storage space walls that he can tell when he's going in and out of stasis lock.

"How long has it been this time?" he says blandly as soon as the walls drop again.
mendanddefend_archive: (scary source code)
It's been three cycles since Bob realized what this place is. He's searching with a purpose, now, following the data-tracks to see where they converge, looking for where they come in and go out. Eventually, one of them has to lead to an input/output port.

This isn't going to be easy... )
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