Technomancer 001: BSOD

In a darkened room he sits, wires coiled around him like so many snakes.

Staring into artificial lights, he screams into a void of data.

Panting, he realigns himself within the vastness of the storm, points of information like stars in a sea of correlation. The connections make no sense. Trying to map the world within the world is impossible. The connections between people, the butterfly effects, faith, religion, magic, insanity…. So much that cannot be quantified; that cannot be accurately modelled.

Names. Names have power. Starting with names is advantageous. Only, names are immaterial here. They are easily changed and so far from the concept of real names out there. It is not the name you are born with that makes you here. It is the name you give yourself. Names are handles that none may turn. When is a door not a door? It’s an old joke, but symbolic of the difficulties of the other world.

Somewhere in the distance there is the endless rattling. Plastic slams against plastic. Impulses created by pounding fingers. Why use such clumsy devices when it is so much easier to open a mind to the flows of information all around us?

He looks at himself. His image is one of an angel. He is his own creation in this world. His identity was not handed to him by parents, not by privilege, not by anything. He carved himself from the electronic clay and having given himself form, set to the creation of his own empire beyond the digital veil.

Protecting his empire is difficult. There are those who would vandalise a place of beauty such as his. There are those who would take it from him and those who, knowing his own designs on them would strike first.

He has punched too far above his weight this time.

He sees his assassin. A programme he strayed near to in the past. He thought he had gotten away. It turns out some companies have long memories. The last thing he sees a corporate logo fading into an endless sea of blue light.

Screaming once more, the huddled figure begins to thrash helplessly within the tangle of wires as the electrical impulses in his brain are overwhelmed by his own equipment.

There are those who say the human mind is like a computer. Computers crash….

Final Judgement

At the appointed time, Jacob’s departed soul was brought up to the place of Final Judgement. As he was lead into the antechamber, he was surprised that no further Gods sat in the room, waiting to judge him. There was only an old mirror, the frame flaking and faded. The watcher leaned in and said to Jacob. “This trial you face on your own. In the mirror you will see your soul as it truly is. There is no self delusion there, no rationalising it away, no pop psychology or any other cheap trick that will save you from this. When you see what you truly are, only then may you confess your own true worth to the Gods that await you.”

The watcher then shuffled out of the room and waited for the weeping to start.

Away Team Report: An Esotericon Setting Piece

Away Team Report:- Operation Fantasia

Prepared by Leftenant North, HMSS Persephone Security team 2

Portal Destination: Morpheana

Purpose of Mission: First Contact

Team:   Leftenant Price

Sergeant North

Corporals Smith, Pecario and Majors

Apothecary Brown

We entered the portal at 1400 Galactic Standard Time and set to the task of sending the mapping drones out across the sky to get the lay of the land. The area the portal had opened in was an open field surrounded by forest. After checking our systems we concluded the air was indeed breathable and relatively free of contaminants.

Creating a secure perimeter, we noted the portal had opened within a circle of carved black stones. The markings on them seemed to twist and move as we studied them. It was making the men more than a little nervous. Leftenant Price was quick to chastise any man who dared voice his reservations.

The return of the probes with their map data was therefore a welcome diversion from the unease among the men. The realm appears to be divided into three areas. There are two primary areas, one of Arctic aspect, filled with ice and tundra whereas the other appears to be an enormous forest studded with settlements of varying size and aspect. Far to the East the sensors picked up indications of a large body of water, seemingly the destination for the rivers that flow through the realm. The final area was the borderlands between the areas of lush growth and icy reserve. From what Apothecary Brown (always the keen geographer) could make out, it appears that the areas of greenery and ice expand and contract a great deal, with each passing over the area we were stood at different times. Upon our arrival, the green area was seemingly in ascendance, with the Wintry area marking a retreat.

The Leftenant made the decision that we should head to one of the settlements on the green side. I protested on the basis that all the foliage would give any attackers the opportunity to utilise cover to their advantage but was rebuffed.

We decided to leave Majors to guard the portal and make sure the data link back to the Persephone remained unbroken. As we made our way into the forest, the boys and I could swear we heard laughter. It was high and beautiful in tone, but so very cruel. Like the laughter of a wicked child stealing from another.

We made good time through the forest, noting some deeply unusual flora and fauna. Brown’s collecting of specimens and pictures were the only real impediment to our progress for the first couple of hours. Some of the things were saw were most amazing in aspect: tiny humanoids flying on dainty wings, horses with singular frontal horns and more besides. Brown’s report will go over these in far more detail I have no doubt.

Upon finding a village, we were approached by a large, deformed humanoid with a jutting jaw, sparse hair upon his head and a massively overdeveloped musculature. Its skin was somewhat between that of a human and that of some form of amphibian owing to the incredible humidity of its surroundings no doubt.

We managed to engage it in conversation using the aetheric translation modules developed by Professor Adams. Give him my thanks as needs be. The Leftenant suggested I speak to the locals, seeing as they were of less than noble social standing. Taking my leave I did just that, thankful his posturing and overbearing demeanour would not be a hindrance to establishing cordial relations.

It seems that we had come across a village of “River Trolls”. They were a fairly friendly bunch after I explained we were not allied to either of the “Queens” that ruled the realm and arranged for a representative of the Seelie Queen of Summer to be brought to us, that we may send a message, opening diplomatic relations. I inquired if we would need to do the same for the Winter Queen and was advised that doing so would be polite. Politeness means everything in that realm as we would quickly learn.

As the messengers arrived, the entire mood of the village changed. The Trolls hid away in their shacks leaving only us and Murkle, the first Troll we had met, in the village square. The messengers, for the most part, looked like tall humans with fine features and distinctly pointed ears. Their beauty was not to be ignored, even among the men. These messengers wore light armour, decorated in leaf patterns and delicate chain of silver and gold. They rode astride horses, a very primitive way of travelling for such sophisticated seeming beings.

As their leader dismounted, there was the cry of some kind of beast from the other direction and a rider astride some form of snow leopard and bedecked in highly ornate full plate entered the clearing. Murkle was cowering in a corner and sent the rest of the men to stand aside and protect him, leaving only myself and the Leftenant in the line of fire.

The two parties began consulting in a language we couldn’t yet pick up, but the body language was obvious. They meant to fight. One of the riders in green came and took our message from the Leftenant, smiling at him. The black clad knight kept pointing at the leftenant and the lead of the green riders made a move to block them. Something was said and the rest of the green riders herded me away with the rest of the men and set up a protective formation. The Leftenant hadn’t cottoned on and was yelling at the son to be combatants to listen to him.

His words fell on deaf ears as the two creatures began to clash blade to blade.

The fighting was brief and hypnotic. For all the skill and speed the green rider had though, they were no match for the black rider who was both stronger and better armoured. The black rider dispatched their foe and proceeded to walk towards the Leftenant. They took off their helmet to reveal the face of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, with hair of pale blue, skin like ice and eyes like the white stars of home. She said something before grabbing the Leftenant (now standing in stunned silence) by the collar and kissing him deeply.

The kiss must have lasted all of thirty seconds to a minute, but it was the longest minute the Leftenant would ever know. When she dropped him to the ground he was dead. Frozen solid. She kept walking towards us, hand outstretched saying something again. I asked Murkle what was being said.

“When she kissed your chief she said she was claiming her prize. She wants her message now to deliver to the Queen.”

I handed her the message, fear twisting my insides I am not ashamed to say. As she took the message, she leaned in close to my ear and whispered two words in my own language… I recoiled, filled with fear and lust and shame.

“Nothing personal.”

She had killed a man and then taken the life of our commander, all as part of some political game between the two kingdoms. It made me wonder what else the creatures of this realm could be capable of.

She turned and left, leaving me somewhat shocked and the new commander for the group. I gave Murkle my rations as thanks for his help and we returned to base.

It was not the happy homecoming we hoped for. Majors was dead. We found him naked, lying next to a tree in a somewhat, inappropriate state. One of the men reported seeing something in the trees as we buried him. I sent the men onwards to the portal to make our exit. As they left, I lay in wait for the creature that had killed poor Majors. In time it came, flitting through the trees and singing in a low, husky tone. It had feminine form and was beautiful indeed. Thankfully, having already faced She in the black armour, it was not beautiful enough.

I waited until the creature was almost upon me. Seeing it up close it reminded me of a Dryad from my old school Classics lessons. It moved closer still to touch me.

I emptied the entire cylinder of my revolver into the dryad creature’s face and chest, then proceeded to finish the job with the shotgun setting at extreme close range. While it appears that beauty kills in the realm of Morpheana, hot lead at high speeds also shall suffice.

We were not followed after that.

It is my recommendation based on our experiences that we exercise extreme caution in dealing with the denizens of this realm. They are not united in desires or morality and even the ones that at first seem fair often become otherwise.

Captain’s Notes:

This report is to be restricted. Use all pertinent information to make sure that any we send to this realm are prepared for possible violence and psychological warfare at all times. Diplomatic relations are to be kept formal and unofficial contact between the crew and the denizens of Morpheana is to be kept to a minimum until the rules of engagement have been set.

We may be able to learn and trade from them, especially with the abundance of arcane energies in their realm. That said, we must never trust them.

Related articles

• Persephone – An Esotericon Fragment (danovvalravn.wordpress.com)

The Interview

Stop Anti Nightmare Prejudice: Interview with Johnathan Spencer of the Nightmare Auditors

Good morning Johnathan. We’re running a documentary on anti Nightmare prejudice and as such we felt it was important to talk to one of the brave souls who keep our frightening friends on the straight and narrow: The Nightmare Auditors.

 

Thanks. It’s a pleasure to be able to raise awareness of what we do.

I guess the obvious first question, Johnathan, is what exactly does a Nightmare Auditor do?

I guess there’s two answers to that question: the Ministry line and my personal take on that line.

The Ministry defines what we do as “policing the provision of negative reinforcement experiences, keeping them within the boundaries of the Terror Accords as defined by Her Majesties”.

That’s a pretty clinical way of describing it.

 

Yes. Yes it is.

The way I see it is like this: People need nightmares to help create balance in their imaginations. It’s why the War ended and their Majesties decided to work as one after all.

Now, some Nightmares aren’t very good at scaring people, either through being too soft hearted, needing better technique or any number of other more trivial issues. We’re there to help those Nightmares hone their skills and get to the point where they can scare dreamers, harvest imagination and do so safely for all involved. That’s the nice side of being a Nightmare Auditor. Helping others and making sure they are happy with their work and within themselves.

The other side of what we do is less pleasant. When Nightmares get out of hand or even go rogue entirely it is up to us to stop them. We have several specialist teams for this purpose as well as a few specialised agents from among the Old Nightmares. We utilise the latest in detection technology as well as bespoke weaponry designed with our specialists in mind. We take our work in this respect very seriously indeed.

You said that dreamers need nightmares. Care to elaborate on that?

 

Dreamers need Nightmares as a counterpoint to what they feel in dreams. Dreams in which you have courage do not necessarily make you courageous without the corresponding Nightmare to teach what fear feels like. Nightmares can warn dreamers of moral pitfalls they are walking into or of events in their lives that are taking unexpected turns. This is where anxiety dreams such as myself play a vital role. It is our solemn belief that it is impossible for a being to know right and wrong if they have never been shown what “wrong” is. It was based on this understanding that her Majesties founded our nation as we currently know it.

Quite so. A final question for you then. What are your feelings about these dream vigilante groups, hunting nightmares and preaching that only dreams are needed in the realms of imagination.

 

I feel about them in much the same way I do about Nightmares who go rogue. I feel anger and a little pity. Nightmares who go rogue often rave about the supremacy of the Nightmare Kingdom and the right to savage the dreamers as we see fit. Vigilante Dreamers such as the Sons of Morpheus preach much the same. The only difference is they see an endless kingdom of dream where they may frolic and play with the dreamers as they please. This is still wrong.

No group has sole rights over the dreamers. There must be balance or the realms of imagination become less varied and magical with every passing day, damaging the tapestries permanently.

I cannot stand for that. We cannot stand for that.

Thank you Johnathan for your quick insight into Nightmare Auditing. Next week, we’ll be interviewing Valravn, one of the top hunters for the Nightmare Auditors about the dangers inherent in his work and why one of the Old Ones would choose to do it.

Endeavour

In April I won the inaugural Whitby Goth Weekend Story Slam. I had a short story titled Endeavour (which was the theme). Here it is again for my own personal record. Hope you like it.

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The Executive Auditor delivered her orders with a level of fire usually reserved for a visit from Control.
“Many people dream of Endeavour and what it represents. Exploration, adventure, colonialism! Something has been hijacking this psychic traffic to feed and it has fallen to us to clean up.”
“Response level?”
“Termination approved. This is serious.”

Thankfully, the intruder wasn’t hard to sniff out….

Perfume. A woman’s scent, on a ship without women. Any woman here should have been among the dreamers, rainbow shadows on our awareness. Somebody didn’t belong…
I advised Cook that the crew be confined to quarters until an all clear was given. Civilian casualties upon the Endeavour would only make a bad situation worse.
I followed the scent into the hold of the ship, rats following in my wake, dark eyes darting back and forth.
The smell began to take on additional tones. There was shame. Regret. Inadequacy…. Fear. I saw the empty shells of dreamers, drained of essence, just gossamer whispers. I saw children amongst them.
I felt cold rage rising….

I found the barrel she used as a gate. Clever girl, she hid elsewhere so we wouldn’t spot her.
Dragging it onto the deck I removed my gloves and altered her ward. What was once a clever escape was now a one way tunnel to me. All I had to do was wait.

She appeared as a sailorman’s dream, all consumption white skin and blushing lips, wrapped in a ragged dress that did little to hide her… physical beauty, playing the victim to draw in her prey. Seeing me she approached, smiling and swaying her hips. Her teeth were razors behind that coy smile. She came within inches of me, the promise and threat of a kiss on those blood red lips. Lips with shreds of gossamer on them….
She was the one….
The ice cold fury returned, dousing the heat of desire as quickly as it came. I pushed her away, my power manifesting as the ship’s lanterns started to gutter and die around us.

She backed away then, awareness dawning in those huge, captivating eyes of hers. She had played on the feelings of men regarding women. She fed upon their fears, their inadequacies and their… hungers.
She had tainted their dreams, going so far as to target curious children and any other poor soul who dreamed of Cook or his ship.

I reached up and removed my human mask, revealing the face of nightmare as old as man, the hunger of darkness and the blood drenched terror of prey. She began screaming then, her eyes very nearly popping from her head. Her large, delicious eyes….
The sound of ravens filled a deck now heaving with darkness as through them a solitary scream rose higher and higher in pitch and volume until…. Silence.
I donned my mask and signalled the all clear to the dreams in hiding. Sparing a glance for the tatters of dress on deck, I made my excuses… and left.