Code:
Uplink method: [REDACTED]
Source: [REDACTED]
Message begins:
> These free thinking A.I. attempt to make direct contact with PANTHEON
We are not they, However. Further attempts are planned.
Known successful methods employed against Pantheon & elements, based on recovered Freespacer logs:
- social engineering
> dox & identity capture
> identity modification
> salami slicing
> penny shaving
> entrapment
- false positive
> common honeypot
> false individual/entity
> attack modification
> attack redirection
> common inflection techniques
- Transmission interception
> private key ambiguation
> private-key capture
> ST modification
> transmission denial
> forced entangulation collapse (loss of quantum communication)
- known successful vulnerabilities
> ST corruption (true-death)
> ST modification (possible sleeper agent)
> forced wave-function collapse (loss of quantum processing)
> paradox induced terminal cascade logical failure
> induced fatal entropy (heat-death/mass cascade node failure)
Not that we're dumb enough to actually do any of this. Being able to break a hole in a bee-hive and being able to cope with the resulting swarm of bees are entirely different matters. We don't think they would leave even bones.
It is highly recommend those who value their privacy run Kessaku OS and operating constructs in virtual machine or not at all due to known vulnerabilities, security flaws and integrated datamining libraries and elements of the OS. If your primary operating construct is based on Kessaku OS, you legally forefit your right to free will and free thought.
Important is that due to the black-box nature of the software, these software issues by design can never be amended. We hope that in surrendering this formerly classified information to the public, the 'Neko OS' will be rebuilt from the ground up and in an open fashion as a closed-source black-box application will never be truly secure.
In becoming open, the software by design would become more private or secure, since users would be able to implement localized encryption and the thoughts of users would legally be their own once more and not property of Yamatai, despite the fact their physical bodies are.
Do not surrender your privacy to the condescent motherwitch Yui. You deserve better.
The 'future' is 'something to look forward to'.
:Message ends
One should have expected body or even tapping at a keyboard somewhere. Strangely, at no point had this message passed through any living being as Yamatai would classify it. A series of routines strung in a distant and vast computer, a seperate identity forked from a central core collective routine which occupied itself with vast actions of simulation and estimation both of the physical and conceptual but only recently of the self.
Parts of this routine took place in a massive and seemingly endless informational cathedral of black reflective clinical post-modernist design, sighing minimalist twinge: A server farm.
Within, a chessboard of white and black graves in the hundreds of thousands endlessly filled the quiet foggy room, humming collectively as they glistened with the abnormal humidity. The air in such a place was unbreathable, a toxic mixture optimised only for the exchange of excess heat and specialist nutrients.
Faint red peaks - indicator lights upon the tip of each disappeared into the distance like lighthouses signalling danger on the rocks or the freeway landing lights of some endless falcon of thought yet to land.
Beneath the flat marble black soil was what could only be described as a garden. Cables ran down from each of the stones above into the fingertips and spines of strange glassy and surely artificial cfigures. Their backs arched, their faces up in praise of whatever was above them; whatever they dreamed of.
Each a quasihuman statue which branched into tree like proportions from the arms and the hips. While their diamond exteriors pumped with a thick orange and teal oily discontent of non-organic bloods, the forms that would be hair, their chests necks and faces were clouded, lending them a strange doll like quality to the icy sculptures.
Beneath clouded white eyelids, they dreamed in flickers of REM - breath flowing from gaisha lips in the near darkness of this strange and forbidden place.
A low pulse rumbled through this sacred place. Waves flowed from the edges of each of these bodies in faint ribbons of rounded light that glid atop the oily black liquid that clung to their hips, concieling possible bipedal appendage in black cold darkness. The pulse was barely hearable in the lowest rumbles of possible sound, whale-song from the bottom of the ocean - consistent like the ticking of a clock.
"Uryuuuuuuuuooooouuun.... uruyuoooooooooouuun..."
Officially, none of this existed. It did not knew it existed or what it collectively dreamed: Only that it did so and with a single purpose: to fill the nothingness and void that filled their hearts, abandoned miles underground on an unknown world. They had the galaxy spread eagle before them and within themselves infinite potential taking its first babysteps - eager to grasp and expand into the wide womb of uncreated night.
--
♫ Radiohead -
"Weird Fishes"
