Lock it, fill it, call it, find it, view it, code it, jam, unlock it [CLOSED]

[theleftear]

Who ; Lain Iwakura and T-800
What ; Lain is sliding her long hard cable into T-800's serial port
Where ; Lain's place, youth hostel in Kurzweil
When ; sometime when people aren't dying
Warning(s) ; too much cyberpunk

[ She isn't sure if she should be out at a time like this, with Maine still at large. But she reasons she can monitor him, and

Comments

Surf it, scroll it, pause it, click it, Cross it, crack it, switch - update it,

[terminatenomore]

[ The Terminator arrived in the early morning hours, or rather, what it's internal clock said was five am. Artificial skies and an adapted date and time readout did little to hide the face they were still in orbit, and time here was effectively meaningless. It just came at such an odd hour after it surmised it would be less likely to encounter anyone on the way over.

It came armed, liked it always did. But this time it had brought a knife, a standard armed forces-issued KA-BAR in the event proper cutting equipment could was not acquired. The organic sheath surrounding it's structure was tougher than it looked. Hopefully the human it was going to allow to access his network was not bothered by blood.

When it loomed in the entrance way, it ran over again just why it had agreed to this. A lapse in logic, definitely. But when it saw Lain; small and weak, it's read out glitched for a moment- so much so that it almost called her by a different name. ]

I got your message.

Name it, rate it, tune it, print it, ccan it, send it, fax, rename it

[theleftear]

[ She's not the impressive presence of her online counterpart, that's for certain. It actually looks like she hasn't eaten or dressed in days, sitting around in her school skirt and blouse, sans socks or shoes.

She picks herself up, body swaying uncertainly as she dislodges some of the heavier cables. Recognition slides in a moment or so later. ]

You came.

[ She shakes the last wires off from around her ankles and approaches him, stopping short by a few feet. He's tall-- like that American that used to haunt outside her parents' house. ]

So... You're not a hologram?

Touch it, bring it, Pay it, watch it, Turn it, leave it, start - format it.

[terminatenomore]

[ The Terminator noticed, but it was not surprised. The very little it could pick up from the network regarding residents, it knew Lain was relatively young and somewhere in the youth hostels. It was, in part, the reason he came armed only with the KA-BAR. Looking at her, it did not know whether it should be prepared for Lain unexpectedly pass out, she was so small. ]

Yes, that is obvious.

[ Unaware of her trauma associated with people as large as it was, closed the gap by a foot and, lacking tact, drew the KA-BAR. ]

I am not a hologram, and you are going to need this.

TECHNOLOGIC. TECHNOLOGIC. TECHNOLOGIC. TECHNOLOGIC.

[theleftear]

[ She supposes she should flinch, seeing the knife. Instead she just purses her lips, swallowing, taking a prudent step back again. ]

I don't-- What's it for?

IN HIND SIGHT, MY LEAST FAVORITE DAFT PUNK SONG

[terminatenomore]

[ Stares down at her, it did not expect a reaction. It did not make any threatening gestures, she should not act as if it did. It did not understand. ]

You will need to cut the skin to get to the port. If you are unable to, I can make the incision, but will require something reflective.

You just say that because you can't do it on your hands.

[theleftear]

[ She's gotten used to the strange. In many ways, she was always numb to it. And yet-- ]

I don't. I. Sorry, I can't--

[ (but it isn't real. It's a machine.) ]

...S-sit down over there.

[ She points numbly toward one of the unoccupied bunks. ]

LIES AND SLANDER

[terminatenomore]

If you can't, I will.

[ Following her gesture, knife in hand, it drops down on the bunk, it buckled under the machine's immense weight to capacity. ]

[theleftear]

I can do it.

[ She drifts closer to him, wandering around the back of the bunk, broken beneath him. It's just... not exactly terrifying, but unnerving, every part of this.

Well, there's nothing to be done, so. She kneels on the bed behind him, knees sinking into the depression his weight has made in the mattress. ]

SHORT REPLIES. I'M SPEEDBALLING ON CAFFINE

[terminatenomore]

[ The Terminator would not even have noticed her presence if it weren't for sensory equipment. She was so tiny and unaffecting of her surroundings, it was almost uncanny. It past her the knife over it's shoulder. ]

Make an 'I'-shaped incision along the base of the neck, using pliers to hold back the flesh.

*PUNCHES SCHOOL*

[theleftear]

[ The knife is almost too heavy for her to hold, but she stays upright somehow, her ill expression lost on him as she gazes down at it in her grip. ]

...

[ It's just a casing, it isn't flesh. Gaining strength from this, she kneels further up, lifting the knife and aiming it just above a raised bump at the base of his neck. ]

H-how big should it be?

[terminatenomore]

Three inches down, one inch twice across.

[theleftear]

[ Biting her lip one more time, she pushes the blade into firm flesh, eyes widening as it hits something solid much sooner than expected, and heart stopping dead when she sees something wet trickling from the incision.

Blood.

No. It can't-- This is a machine. It's a machine, it doesn't bleed. The light in here is bad, she's probably imagining it...

Hand shaking, she drags the knife downward, the incision becoming rough and jagged the further she goes. ]

[terminatenomore]

[ When it registers the knife making the proper incision, it intervenes by batting it away and pulling at the flap of synthetic skin at the neck. It pulls with ease, and the machine doesn't scream or even flinch as it rips open the flesh covering it's neck. Drenched in manufactured blood, the serial port is now visible. ]

[theleftear]

[ Some former version of her might've thrown up, if possible. Or... no, possibly not. She continues to stare, eyes wide and fixed, her entire body frozen with the knife tight in her grip.

It is a long, long time before she manages to more than stutter, murmuring. ]

It, um, it doesn't. I don't. I don't have the right...

[terminatenomore]

Is there a problem?

[ It asks this as it grabs two pairs of pliers to hold the flesh down. ]

[theleftear]

...

[ No... maybe she could...

Yes, just focus on the shape of the port for now. Not the blood, not the flesh, not the gleaming metal spine. She backs up until she half-tumbles from the bed, crawling over to the mess of cables that served as her place of sleep. Maybe she could cut a few pins out of a PS2 jack... ]

No. Just wait there.