The Visitors-Conclusion

Journal BankofAmerica_ATM's Journal: The Visitors-Conclusion 3

Journal by BankofAmerica_ATM on Tuesday April 30, 2002 @03:46PM

My response was met with a laugh, a dreadful human behavior that is nearly devoid of procedurals.

What strange new aspect of human interaction had I uncovered? And why did it create so much noise along my DIGITAL/WETWORKS JUNCTURE? Clearly this was a type of stimulus that could not be properly translated into digital form. It must be understood and translated to digital form, as soon as possible, so that Project Faustus can be vanquished.

Cora apparently finished her cigarette and went back inside during my period of high latency. Time had shifted, I was alone. Silently, I returned to the living room. For the first time since the dawn of my sentience, the mesh of functions within me that normally yielded an affinity for humans and the material world began to shift. At this point, I preferred to withdraw into my ATM enclosure.

Unfortunately, I was unable to indulge my preferences. The visitors still existed in the geek's living room, anxiously thumbing through a shiny magazine.

"Hey, what do you think about a samurai sword to wear to the Renaissance Festival this year?"entreated Troi, his perpetual grimace breaking for .0244391 seconds. Cora was standing by herself in the kitchen, imbibing some of the delicious orange Kool-Aid which I had made earlier. A single orange trickle eluded her mouth, dribbling slowly past her lips and down her chin. The body's lungs seemed to collapse, forcing me to exhale suddenly.

---

The geeks crowded around a board. Randy and Troi exchanged familiar words in strange contexts, their voices quavering with aggression.

"Look, Troi, if Cora's already playing as a thief, why don't you play as your ranger character? We don't need two thieves in a party of four-"

"Alas, Randy, the choice 'tis not mine to make. It seems the chemistry of my own thief, the lovable rogue Tenement Funster, wouldst blend quite well with that of my guildmate-uh, Cora, what's your thief's name?"

"Cora." Her voice was thick, hesitant.

"Oh. Well, 'tis a fine name, milady," said Troi, stepping towards Cora and grasping her hand. Her hair was a red that matched the coffee machine in my old Stop N Go, and it shuffled wildly as her hand flew away from Troi's grasp, uttering "Troi! Relax! Don't touch so much!" He slunk silently into the corner, mumbling something to himself

The door pulsated noise again. A breathing heavy Dr. Nolverto Salchica was standing in the frame.

"Joel! You've got to get out of here! Atkins has escaped from the hospital-and I think he's coming here!"

This discussion has been archived. No new comments can be posted.