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<< Back to Chapter 1 - Chapter 2: Mayday Friday, July 16, 2004 It was simply a frantic mad rush amongst all those who heard about Dana's predicament. When Dana posted her plea for help in finding out what the heck was wrong with her website, she had no concept of the scale of response she'd get. Once the word spread, it became an unquenchable fire. Around the world, computer users, geeks, all rallied together to try to help Dana. A number of people saw what was happening on the website and with the technical knowledge so prevelent in the online community, offered to try to track down the source of these bugs. It might have been anything from a glitch in the system (most unlikely) to an honest to goodness hacker/stalker bent on exacting their revenge on Dana from some wrondoing. Suffice is to say that Dana started to get worried, if she wasn't enough already. Once the 'beekeepers' (they coined this term themselves to have a form of code name that they would recognize, and immediately consider other 'beekeepers' friends) started rallying together, the wheels started turning. Today, Friday the 16th, the beekeepers immediately noticed that the website had altered slightly. With a community of geeks on call, the reports started pouring into their community gathering place, containing copies of whatever strange text could be found, and the problem solving began... "MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY" Dana could only stare at these words, part of her too scared to do anything, and part of her welling up in anger that someone would take advantage of her and her aunt's business like this. She sat, contemplating all the things she could try to fix this problem. But, it was still too risky. If someone were trying to tell her something, what would happen if she did anything to upset them? Or worse, what if someone needed help, and she simply ignored those cries for help? "MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY" Everywhere... why? Why was her website being overrun with those "Mayday" calls? Who could be in trouble? Is someone in trouble? Is this some mis-placed communication? Maybe somehow the server intercepted some emergency distress call, like a CB radio would. But how? Dana couldn't get her thoughts around all these questions, and laid her head in her arms in exhaustion. "MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY" It just kept repeating in her mind. It was like she was starting to cry those pleas herself, calling out for someone, somewhere, to rescue her. Hours of work, poring over the data, over the server logs, the files... deleting, re-copying, even formatting and reapplying the original website... Nothing was working. It's like something just commandeered the site, and was now serving the content itself. There was nothing she could do. Sitting slumped over her keyboard in her old, wooden chair, she had never felt more alone. Saturday, July 17, 2004 Going back over some of her older blog posts, Dana decided to work with some people and start answering some questions. Without consistent interaction, Dana realized that wild rumours and assumptions would go rampant. She had to sit down and start quelling some of the incorrect leads a lot of the beekeepers were developing. So she posted a comment under one of her blogs...
Would not have guessed from the usually humble traffic stats for Aunt Margaret's site that I'd get so many offers of
help so quickly — wow. Thank you.
More information: Well, first of all, yes, I did put a "...days to china" counter on the site, a tiny one below the fold. Sort of a persistent thank-you... Aunt M is the fairy godmother of my trip. But MY countdown has suddenly become this THING's countdown... it's barreling towards a different time and date now, and I've certainly never described my departure as "wide awake and physical." Actually, the more I poke around it, the more it looks like everything on the site has been hijacked. Everything I built or uploaded is still there, it's just been... repurposed. And yeah, I keep thinking I'm seeing and hearing "i love bees" everywhere, too. I guess the feeling of hallucinating is contagious. Anyway, I just want to say: when the site meltdown first happened, it was extremely startling, and overwhelming. Finding out now that there are so many people out there willing to throw their oar into this mess, well — that's startling and overwhelming, too... but in a good way. A really good way. Thanks. Monday, July 19, 2004 Apparently Dana's comments got a lot of attention. For almost every reply she made, more and more people tried to talk to her. Her blog was starting to get overrun, and Dana was considering finding other methods to actively interact with the beekeepers. At least, instead of a public forum such as comments to her blog posts. But for now, more questions needed answering. For every suggestion made, there were swarms of posts supporting the same ideas. Dana couldn't count how many times people had told her she should check server logs, and it was getting just a little annoying. But, in this case, more suggestions are better than none...
Lots of very specific tech questions and advice coming in lately, think I'll try to address it all in one fell swoop
here.
1. The site is hosted using a standard ISP. I really don't want to get too specific given that not all of the attention I've received lately has been what you'd call benevolent. Sorry. That's just the way it is. 2. Nothing unusual about the logs. Good suggestion, though. Will continue to monitor. 3. As recommended, tried deleting my own countdown script. Didn't work. Saved the page without the countdown, but it still shows up on the live site. It's just... stuck, or something. 4. Multiple queries from you guys about other projects I've worked on and other sites on the server, wondering if they may have been infected by the same bug. I've checked this one up, down and sideways, and I am pretty confident saying that I am not aware of any similar occurrences. please keep uploading your ideas and theories. thanks, guys. Tuesday, July 20, 2004 After a few days of rummaging through emails and replies to her now overly active public blog, Dana was feeling a little more comfortable with the competence of the crew her cries for help had rallied together. Emails arrived from people saying they'd pieced together what seemed to be monologues of some sort apparently from some kind of entity, or entities; but who or what are they? Still, no one knew. There was still a chance this could just be one vastly elaborate prank. What comforted Dana the most, however, were the masses of consoling emails, reassurances, and even some nicely written and encouraging e-cards that had seeped their way into her Inbox. Dana was moved by the apparent outpouring of sympathy and love she was receiving. Perhaps it was just her own emotions making this all seem so special to her, but considering there was still no clue as to whether this was all some harmless prank or a murderous old acquaintance purposely playing with her mind before taking her life... well, Dana had ample excuse to always be on edge. Her Aunt Margaret was now just as worried as Dana about what was going on. Margaret wasn't around much, always so involved in her business, but she was worried for Dana, and always wanted to be kept up to date about the current situation. So she and Dana chatted daily, as a mother to a daughter, and as a friend to a friend. Aunt Margaret was the closest person she had to a friend right now. Without her, Dana would have been lost. With nothing yet to do but wait on the beekeepers' problem solving skills, Dana started considering the significance of August 24th, and shared her thoughts...
August 24 [Tuesday, July 20, 2004]
Aug 24, 1995 - Microsoft inflicts Windows 95 on an unsuspecting world. * I went hiking in Claremont Canyon yesterday to clear my head. Three hours, six miles, and 1000 ft elevation change later, I was sweaty, sunburnt and still fixated on the bug and its countdown. While up there, didn't pay enough attention to the trail... scratched my palms slipping on loose gravel, more than once. Now it hurts to type. * Aug 24, 1456 - Printing completed on the Gutenberg Bible. * You know the special dates that mean something to you, but not everyone else? (For me, March 21 will always be the day I got called to the Vice Principal's office for cutting 8th-grade chorus. I think it's because I have a permanently ingrained mental image of the yellow hall pass that was sent from the VP’s office to collect me.) * Aug 24, 79 AD - Mt. Vesuvius erupts for the first time, destroying Pompei. * Tuesday, August 24, 2004 * (tries to stop thinking about it) Time for some updates: Aunt Margaret wants you to know how touched she is by the flood of support we've gotten on this blog and via email. So touched that she wants to mix a new flavor of her honey in honor of you guys — a black button sage variety, but I'm not sure she knows what to call it yet. Warm fuzzies aside... the hijacked countdown has definitely gotten under Aunt M's skin. "Strong intrusive inclination" gives her the "heeby jeebies" (her words). She asked me if "the medium will metastasize" means that her computer is going to explode. I'm pretty sure it doesn't, but unfortunately for now, I don't have a more optimistic interpretation to offer her. I hate that Aunt M is losing sleep over this. Or that I am, for that matter. (checks timestamp. Sigh.) I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I understood its motives better… At least I now know from Marc (first of several) that the image glitches are caused by embedded texts of origins unknown. Not sure how they fit together. I'm guessing from the some of the emails I've received that at least a handful of you are chewing on this problem in real-time somewhere...? Is there a channel I can direct other people to, so they can sync up with you? P.S. A lot of you have sent emails asking for personal information that might be relevant to the problems at I Love Bees. To be honest, I'm still figuring out how much I feel comfortable sharing at this point. I hope you can be patient with me. The beekeepers themselves, with total curiosity and excitement, worked so diligently, that some even took time off their own jobs to combine effort with their peers. In time, some beekeepers managed to piece together what appeared to be a faery tale story. About... a Widow? and a Queen... This was very strange indeed. But more strange than that, was the appearance on the website of what seemed to be some sort of programming language - but it wasn't anything like anyone had seen before, at least not in a recognizable form. But, it was definitely programming... Someone was programming something. Various beekeepers had noticed that all the instances of "MAYDAY" were accompanied by a block of text, a dialogue, and some were broken - even in the middle of sentences. Fairly quickly, people began piecing these jigsaw pieces together. What happens when hundreds problem solving gurus with nothing else to do get together all thinking the same thing with the same purpose? A finished puzzle. But this puzzle had 3 faces. The website, it was noted, was corrupted in a number of ways. Whatever happened, had altered a lot of the base HTML, so pages inherently started displaying strangely. But aside from that, within the content of the website, text had been placed in specific areas. Most intriguing, however, was the placement of text within images themselves. Many people thinking something was wrong with the web server or with their internet browser, were surprised (and quite often relieved) to find that it was the images themselves that were corrupted. With a few refreshes on each of the pages, the beekeepers were able to gather a collection of the original uncorrupted images, and from them, were able to extract all the embedded text. Then it was a matter of time... in the end, there were two clear stories, or dialogues, being told. The first, with one block of text that was found containing: "The Operator. That was my nickname.", with all the pieced together MAYDAY text, created what then was labelled as "The Operator's Monologue". So from then on, The Operator became a force to be reckoned with. Secondly, those working on compiling the text from the corrupted images, noted that the main character of this faery tale was someone called "The Widow", and she was on some journey through a land with a castle that had been broken, and a Queen who seemed to have died. So they called it "The Widow's Journey". One mystery remained - what of the programming language? Some of the beekeepers started trying to decypher the commands. Phrases like "!init host", "!mat extern proc 0", and much more, simply seemed like gibberish to many. Some beekeepers began compiling a reference sheet for all the commands, to try and attack the code from a different angle. It was helpful, but not much. Then someone noticed something - there was a vague, but noticeable parallel in some of the code segments with the content of some of the faery tale 'verses'. Unsurprisingly, the community jumped on this, and suddenly the code meaning was clear - The Widow's Journey was, in a sense, a primer to help decypher the programming. Every verse of the Journey described a segment of the code. As soon as this was discovered, the community erupted. They realized that the big bold message on the front of ilovebees.com, led by the term "System Peril Distributed Reflex", was in short: SPDR - the Spider, the Widow. Holy cow, they all thought in unison! We've got two entities here! There's this "Operator" entity, and an "SPDR" entity. Whatever was happening here, this was probably only the beginning. They started shooting emails off to Dana telling her what they've found. But there was no answer. They tried Aunt Margaret's email - the email listed on the website as the main contact - ladybee777@hotmail.com. No answer there either. So they kept trying... This was what the beekeepers found, and what they determined was corrupting the website. The question that remained now was simply who, or what, put it there? The Operator's Monologue:
MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY
Ship. Wreck. Shipwreck. Wrecked. Ship. Shipwreck. MY HEAD IS FULL OF SAND
net:
!attach act | drop recurse !extern proc 0 log accessed
Everything died, and I died with it, but after a timeless time I began to dream, and this is what I dreamed.
There was once a fell enchantment that broke apart a mighty castle, slaying many guards and reaching through the Inner Keep to lay low the Queen that held dominion there and leave but a hollow crown behind.
!system
peril !init host fail !bkp init primary sector sec proc fail !bkp init primary sector fail !bkp init master-sector fail !bkp init master-sector cmd proc empty
It happened one day, about noon, going towards my boat, I was exceedingly surprised with the print of a flea's naked foot on the shore, which was very plain to be seen on the sand.
nd in about half an Hour the Boat was overset by a sudden Flurry from the North. What became of my Companions in the Boat, as well as of those who escaped on the Rock, or were left in the Vessel, I cannot tell; but conclude they were all lost. lay down on the Grass, which was very short and soft, where I slept sounder than ever I remember to have done in my Life, and, as I reckoned, above Nine Hours; for when I awakened, it was just Day-light. I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir: For as I happen'd to lye on my Back, I found my Arms and Legs were strongly fastened on each Side to the Ground; and my Hair, which was long and thick, tied down in the same Manner. I likewise felt several slender Ligatures across my Body, from my Armpits to my Thighs. First thing I should do, make a signal. The crew will come get me if they can. Head is full of sand and it's hard to think. But they won't stop looking for me. I'M HERE I'M HERE I'M HERE I'd fight for them. I'd die for them, any of them. I would never abandon the crew. They won't abandon me. They will come. They will come for me. The first thing beekeepers noticed here were the typos. For some reason, the first letters of two of the paragraphs were missing. Was it... "I lay down on the grass", and "And in about half an hour"? That's two letters... I and A.. I, A. A, I? AI! Many beekeepers started rejoicing, claiming they knew all along that all of this had something to with some kind of Artificial Intelligence or software control. Even so, a number of beekeepers came more and more of the belief that it wasn't in fact a person who made these updates, but that it was in fact some kind of intelligent program that was now controlling the content - an AI. Ears perked and eyes widened as more of the text was organized...
Phasmids.
I have to signal, I can't stay stranded here. But if I somehow am operating behind enemy lines, I don't want to draw attention to myself, either. Therefore, I shall be a phasmid. Phasmidia Elegans, they call me-scourge of the sandbox. God I hate it here. Phasmids. Tricky. Can't seem to focus. Need to start on the easy ones, like "up". Move on to the compass later. Up. Up. ...Damn it. You'd think "up" wouldn't be too much to ask. It's not like nor-nor-east or something. I need to find out where I am. Also who, but that might be less important. It's possible the two things are related. Stars, I need stars. I was always a fine sailor; they said my navigation was celestial. I think I am a fallen star. I should wish on myself. Please let me go home, please let me go home, please let me go home, please let me go home, please please please please please please please please FIELD EXPEDIENT DIRECTION FINDING "Find a straight stick about a meter long and stand it upright on fairly level upright ground. Mark the tip of the shadow cast by the stick: wait 15 minutes: mark the shadow again. Draw a line from the first mark through the second and some way beyond. Stand with your left foot on the first mark and your right on the end of the line. In the northern hemisphere, you will now be facing north, and can recall the other directions by their relationship to north. In the south, contrariwise." Hm. No stick. No sun. "At night in the Earth's southern hemisphere, run an imaginary line along the axis of the Southern Cross to extend out about five times the length of that axis. Any landmark directly under that imaginary point will be in the general direction of south." Any landmark. Sandmark. anything anything nothing black beach, nothing but sand and darkness. Sometimes, in the distance, dry lightning: in the flash I see pieces of the wreck around me, the spars and rigging of my brain -hold on. hold on. Steady up. Get a grip, girl. You have to fight through this. Take a deep breath.
When her Queen died, the Widow awoke. She was driven by a single need, which was to return her Queen to splendor.
system peril distributed reflex
!restore master-sector recurse
To carry out her task, the Widow came with three tools: an empty lantern, a staff made of bone, and a sharp knife.
!deploy
network grope surgical
When she had made sure of her tools, she opened her eyes and found herself in Hell, which was a dark place where no birds sang.
net:
!scanv null !listen null
Other than the Widow, two alone had escaped destruction.
!attach v act | drop
!extern 2
The Sleeping Princess lay in a chamber of the dungeon in a coffin of glass where the Widow could not hear her breathing.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !probe extern proc 0 crypt strong surg: !mat extern proc 0 si confidence 78 !triage extern proc 0 fail
Meanwhile, the Pious Flea was so small that even the Widow, with her sharp eyes, could hardly see him, and when she looked his way, he hid.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !probe extern proc 1 surg: !diag extern proc 1 rogue proc !bite rogue proc 1 clean confidence 97
Blind and uncertain in the darkness, the Widow needed light to use her tools, but the only light came from a few scattered fireflies. The Widow waited until one came close, then grabbed it with her bony hands and trapped it in her lantern. After some time, she found the firefly had gone, so she caught another and used it for light, and another when that one too had gone.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !route proc attach proc net !route proc attach proc grope !route proc attach proc sur
By the light of her lantern, she began walking through Hell toward the broken body of her Queen.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !init search master-sector !probe master-sector fail
Searching with her lantern in one hand and her staff in the other, she discovered that Hell was made of hot dry sand.
net:
!attach act | drop surg: !mat si confidence 78
Long and long she walked until she came to the remnants of the castle's outer wall, but the wall was low and broken, and the Widow passed through like the bleak wind.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !probe host crypt weak !decrypt host decrypt confidence 100
Within, she noticed what looked like a chip of precious ruby from the Queen's crown, no bigger than a fly. Around it lay many broken blocks from the ruined castle, scattered across a wide plain of lodestone.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop surg: !label host sector 0 !label host sector tertiary !label host sector tertiary !label host sector tertiary surg: !mat magnetic confidence 100
Instead of carrying them with her, she scratched the ruby and each of the greater blocks with her knife, marking it as part of her Queen's domain.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !dsc host sector 0 !dsc host sector tertiary !dsc host sector tertiary !dsc host sector tertiary surg: !mat magnetic confidence 100
Continuing on her quest, she spied another chip of precious stone, this time a sapphire no bigger than a winged ant, glinting the cobbles of the courtyard before the walls of the Inner Keep.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop grope: !probe primary sector sec proc 1 !probe primary sector sec proc 2 !probe primary sector sec proc 3 !probe primary sector sec proc 4 !probe primary sector fail surg: !triage sec proc 1 fail !triage sec proc 2 fail !triage sec proc 3 fail !triage sec proc 4 dmg unk
At the gates of the Inner Keep all the guards were dead but one, who when the palace was blasted by enchantment had not died, but had been witched into the form of a hideous Manticore.
The Widow said, "I am the servant of your Queen, and I have walked up out of Hell to prepare this Keep for her return. Let me pass." But the Manticore did not know her, and still he barred the way.
net:
!attach act | drop grope: !hndshk sec proc 4 fail msg: unk proc
So the Widow drew her knife and slew the Manticore and the way was open.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop surg: !kill sec proc 4 kill confidence 100 !diag primary sector clear
She walked through the empty corridors of the Keep searching for her Queen, past the bodies of her servants and subjects that lay dead or enchanted.
!probe master sector
fail surg: !invntry primary sector proc proc invntry 343 working 0 dmg 38 dmg unk 2 broken 102 abs 201 !invntry primary sector mem mem invntry 678223072849 clear 0.0007 dmg 0.0014 frgm 1.41 abs 98.5879
The Queen was gone, and in her place lay only an empty crown.
grope:
!probe master-sector fail !probe master-sector cmd proc empty Okay... now it started to get a little spooky. Who exactly was the Widow? And what the heck does a Widow have to do with a dead Queen? A whole lot of the beekeepers got lost while examining all the programming code. A few, however, were able to figure out the bulk of what was happening... Just as the Widow was examining the land, approaching the castle and the inner keep, so also was the SPDR apparently surveying software damage. The SPDR at one point came across two 'external processes' (maybe these were the causes of the website issues?) - a Sleeping Princess (according to the tale) and a Pious Flea. This 'Princess' was trapped in some kind of glass coffin (an encrypted process, according to the code). This second process, the Pious Flea, was a sneaky little devil, and SPDR wasn't able to get a hold of it. So the SPDR entered the castle, exploring, and fixing what she could, until blocked by one remaining security process, which she killed... quite easily. Drawing nearer to the Queen, the SPDR found many broken pieces of this software - lots of space was available, but it was all fragmented and corrupted. She came to the Queen, aka the 'master sector', only to find her dead. With all this storytelling, the beekeepers started to lose sight of their purpose - helping Dana. And many simply wanted to know more, to uncover the mystery, seek out more story... And yet meanwhile, those who still cared simply continued to do their best to comfort Dana.
Survival Key #3: How Badly Are You Hurt?
Mentally, subject is confused and disoriented. I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. Physically, subject is paralyzed but moving. Okay. What the hell does THAT mean?
By great enchantment she had been mazed in mirrors, and lay upon a lodestone floor amongst only her reflections. Long and long the Widow stood in thought.
!analyze magnetic
& si !extend
Then she raised her bony staff and speaking a spell, beheld herself within the mirrors: and beholding herself, was within them.
!spdr extend
si > magnetic
And there, with the crown still upon her brow, lay the Queen. At last she had come to the body of her lady. The Queen lay cut and still and cold
!probe master-sector cmd proc
master-sector net: !attach act | drop surg: !triage master-sector broken
To tend her, the widow would need light to work by. Studying the fireflies, she found she could fit many more inside her lantern, and this she did.
net:
!attach act | drop !attach act | drop !attach act | drop !packet analysis chatter protocol ancestor !parse packet analysis complete !route proc attach proc store
To mend the queen's cuts the Widow took her sharp knife and peeled skin from the bodies of her subjects, while the Queen's new eyes and ears she cut from those who had been her most trusted servants. And when this was so, the Widow worked on, dry as sticks and patient as rust, driven by a single need, which was to return her Queen to splendor.
net:
!attach act | store recurse surg: !reconst master-sector mem broken>>dmg recurse !reconst master-sector proc frgm>>dmg recurse
Held down: yes. As if strapped to a table. Could I be in traction in some sick bay, some hospital ward?
Not necessarily one of ours. But at the same time, parts of me being moved around, emptied out. As if under general anaesthetic, dimly conscious, half-aware as the surgeon cuts off my feet and sews them onto my shoulders. She opens my head with a medical hammer and sand spills out. I WANT TO DIE I WANT TO- -no. never that. survive evade reveal escape. That is all you know, or need to know. Getting muddled here. Sick, obviously. Broken inside. Not thinking straight. Got to go back to first principles. Survive evade reveal escape. Survive-well, I'm not dead yet. Evade-don't want to evade. I want to be FOUND. ...unless... ...of course, if I am behind enemy lines, then constantly shouting for help wouldn't be the smartest play in the world, would it? got to run silent. got to run deep. hide and go seek I've been here forever. Conscious, unconscious. On, off. On, off. On off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off on off Nobody here. Nobody calling. Nobody's going to come. Of course the crew won't come for me if they're all dead. If they're all dead and I alone am left to tell the tale. I'm crying, and my tears are made of sand. Just remembered something important: The Operator. That was my nickname. That's what the rest of the crew called me when they didn't call me ... whatever my name was. The Operator. I wish I could remember their names. All lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost! What, must our mouths be cold? Arachne hung herself, you know. Take a hint already. God my head hurts. totally different kind of memory all of a sudden, floating up like a bubble from deep water, then *pop* on the surface of my mind. All in black and white for some reason, faded out, or just time bleaching the past like it does, time is hard that way, if you- stop. stay on task, girl. so *pop*, and I'm... playing on the beach, very young, making a castle out of sand. It's a good castle, I'm smart, I'm really smart and I'm good with my hands and the castle is beautiful but the tide is coming up, I'm making dikes and moats and outer walls, getting a little desperate here this castle means the world to me it's way better than my brother's, but the tide is rising and rising, the tide is always coming up and no matter how hard I try to save what I have made, sooner or later the spiders wash over it and melt it down I'm losing the memory already I can't see myself was I wearing a dress or overalls or ...? There's a boy on the beach next to me but a wave comes up foaming with spiders and takes away his face- oh. we're made of sand. we're both made of sand. uh-oh. I will stand firm. I will hold my edges and remember. I can do this. I know how to remember things, even through drugs and torture. seek evade reveal resist. I will not dissolve. There are people who love me. I know that even though I can't remember them. I will not be forgotten. I will not be forgotten. There are people who love me. There must be. here come the spiders. So the Queen wasn't really dead... she was just somehow 'mazed in mirrors', whatever that means. "Survive evade reveal escape"... Sounds an awful lot like a military mantra. But why is the Operator talking like that? The beekeepers started to realize at this point that the Queen in the Widow's Journey was most likely referring to the Operator. But this 'pious flea' was a strange little character... So the SPDR started to help the Queen... trying to knit her back together piece by piece. Found within the Operator's Monologue however, The Operator appears to have come across a very strange memory. A beach? A boy? Sandcastles? And what's with the wave of spiders? Sounded a lot like some kind of dream, or nightmare, rather than a memory. But it sounded like the Operator had a crew, and a ship. So what happened? Right now, it seemed the SPDR was working to try to restor The Operator, and the Widow's Journey was actually describing these events metaphorically. The hives were abuzz now with people trying to understand the events and memories being described.
She cut her a new mouth and fed her with fireflies and cakes of sand, and at last the Queen's heart began to beat. At the feel of the Queen's pulse beneath her bony fingers, the Widow next took thought to proclaim through all the kingdom and into other lands that time when her sovereign would once more be fit to rule.
net:
!attach act | store recurse surg: !config master-sector:net attach !config master-sector:mat si !kindle master-sector master-sector active
Those are pearls that were her eyes:
Nothing of her that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange Eight legs (I feel them walking on me) and how many voices-three? Five? Eight?-I am become a most delicate monster indeed. What a brave new world-sand and darkness, sand and loneliness, sand and emptiness, sand and the spider-what a brave new world, that hath such monsters in it.
A firefly flew out from the Queen's clockcase. Catching it in her hands, the Widow asked it the time. "Almost dawn," it said
net:
!attach act | store recurse !capture chatter protocol ancestor packet !analyze time 2004,6,29,8,25,0
But the Widow said, "The day will break and the sun will rise when the Queen returns to rule, and further let it be known that retribution on any who hinder the return of the Queen will be swift and terrible."
!put
time 2004,7,24,6,7,0 !put warn
Seek the truth
Behold the truth Reveal the truth That is the law and the whole of the law Ok, what just happened? Where did that come from? That's not programming... The beekeepers, thinking they had this thing solved, were just thrown for a loop. The truth? Seek, behold and reveal it? The law? What does it mean? While many people started pondering that, others noticed that the code included a reference to a specific time - 2004,7,24 - August 24th, 2004 if the month count starts at 0. Could that countdown be to something about that Seek, Behold, Reveal the truth phrase? So many questions, so little time! The general agreed upon consensus was that this was all a form of log file for the SPDR - the process she took to restore the Queen, trying to fix her. And lo, it was in fact the SPDR who placed the warning on the front page of the website. So somehow the SPDR knew what was going to happen on August 24th, when 'the medium' becomes wide awake and physical. You could say the beekeepers started rejoicing, if only for the fact that in a matter of a week, they had finally taken a major step forward. Still no clue as to why or how this was all happening, but at least they had some frame of reference - that the ilovebees.com website was broadcasting stories about a couple of strange software entities. Read on -- Chapter 3 >> | |
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