(no subject)
Underneath a city, hidden in a labyrinth of sewers, there’s a bunker. On the outside it doesn’t look like much, but it’s protected by a dense network of alarms and traps. Within it is a powerhouse of computers, the absolute most advanced technology to be found this side of the future; and a young woman, dressed in a cargo pants and a tank top, monitoring it all.
“888, you’re on the Global Frequency.”
She commands an army of people and computer programs monitoring every major news source in the world. Anything suspicious is red-flagged for her appraisal, copied, and immediately forwarded to her boss. There are 21 agents active at this precise moment, located around the world, dealing with crises of varying proportions. She is responsible for ensuring that every one of them has every tool, every piece of information, every bit of support needed to do their job.
Oh, and if she has a spare moment, she watches a little Buffy. She’s marathoning the fourth season this week.
“763, vous êtes sur la fréquence globale.”
Somewhere, some small Kansas town is three seconds away from complete annihilation; some newborn child broke the eardrums of everyone in J.F. Callaway Hospital with her first scream; and some scientist just discovered how to cause mass blackouts and hysteria with the flick of a switch.
Tomorrow morning, no one will even know how close they came to disaster. Tomorrow morning, there will be new crises to avert.
“901, você está na freqüência global.”
This is the Global Frequency.
Welcome.
“888, you’re on the Global Frequency.”
She commands an army of people and computer programs monitoring every major news source in the world. Anything suspicious is red-flagged for her appraisal, copied, and immediately forwarded to her boss. There are 21 agents active at this precise moment, located around the world, dealing with crises of varying proportions. She is responsible for ensuring that every one of them has every tool, every piece of information, every bit of support needed to do their job.
Oh, and if she has a spare moment, she watches a little Buffy. She’s marathoning the fourth season this week.
“763, vous êtes sur la fréquence globale.”
Somewhere, some small Kansas town is three seconds away from complete annihilation; some newborn child broke the eardrums of everyone in J.F. Callaway Hospital with her first scream; and some scientist just discovered how to cause mass blackouts and hysteria with the flick of a switch.
Tomorrow morning, no one will even know how close they came to disaster. Tomorrow morning, there will be new crises to avert.
“901, você está na freqüência global.”
This is the Global Frequency.
Welcome.