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Found 3 results

  1. Trying to figure out some quotes for prerecording for my Prometheus costume update. Any suggestions for quotes besides what I might have on the bumper stickers from AIQGear?
  2. The Fall of F3NR0AR

    The following is the prelude to the story I'm writing in regard to the F3NR0AR character's defection from Faceless to Legion on 12/12/12: http://qonqr.formfollows.info
  3. Run

    Don't stop running. Don't look back. Prometheus is grinning. ... I almost didn't see it. I should've been so lucky. Perhaps I burned one too many firewalls. Perhaps I pwned the the wrong file. But I should have know better than "cat qonqr" Filesystems are all the same. The more secure they are, the less they change. Smaller footprint, eh? So when I found /dev/qonqr, I had to look again. qrw-rw-rw- 1 root wheel 17, 0 19 Jan 2038 /dev/qonqr It's not often you find a 'q' device. From the future. I could have walked away at that point. I could have reset the cron table, smoothed the security log, loosed the mach queue... Who am I kidding? Once I had seen qonqr, Prometheus had seen me. My one-way private key tunnel didn't slow it down at all. Qonqr surfed into my system on the back of an ack. I recognised the bootstrap loader of the Universal Turing Machine, but before I could break the tape, qonqr had my terminal, my machine, and my entire bot network. And Prometheus had me. "All your base are belong to us" He has a way with words. My screen didn't have a chance. Qonqr had seeded a Garden-of-Eden pixel automata in the terminal. Unicode fell to the untrammelled tumolt of wild pseudo-code, as sprites broke free of the z-buffer and liquid crystal ran free. I fell back in horror from the workstation. A writhing, sickly mass of unbounded dimensions floundered in blind hunger, groaning and gawping and yawning for... me. "This way. I am your only hope" A shadowy figure stood beside me, face hidden by a cowl, arms gesturing widely, inscribing logograms of warding; a lambda calculus of eldritch computation. The anonymous functors glowed brightly as atomic bindings engaged and constrained Qonqr. "I am Prometheus" His voice echoed deeped in my head, triggering my cochlear implant directly. I recognised the familiar timbre of sub-synthesised text, but with an emotional markup. He was enjoying himself. "Qonqr is mine. Sunday fears it, Nagumo loves it. But Faceless will control it." Prometheus was programming the very aether, blocking and burying Qonqr in an impenetrable wall of NP constraints. "I can't hold Qonqr yet, but you are one of us now, one of the Unheralded, one of the Faceless." And he turned to look at me, and I gazed into the terrible emptiness of his hood, a mask of plasma grid. From the ruins of my terminal, Qonqr flared in a last, desparate bid to eclipse Prometheus. A swarm of fractal infinitesimals forced a loose geometry, and burst through the unguarded parallel. Prometheus was thrown sideways to the ground. His face lit up with pixelled delight at the contest. ; ) "Run"