WELCOME TO THE DARK WEB.

[ashaya]

Who: Spock and anyone interested in the aforementioned technology plot.
Where: Mostly around the port, because you have to really lean into the Gothic Romance of it.
What: Local nerds build a computer and a system of their own to exercise privacy online for everyone with mixed results.
Warnings: TBD. None so far, unless you want to count Spock veering into poeticisms inevitably in metatext.




[ chances are, if you're curious, you've been seeing a handful of ciphers cropping up around aldrip.

they start in places most chosen would frequent, spiral out to areas more remote in the coming days. but, no matter which ones you encounter, they all seem to written in the same hand. the words, if you can call them that, are jumbled in such a way that it looks impossible to unknot at first. but, there's a odd weight across some of these... messages? the letters look strange and, comparing them over time, you'll find a key.

curious, indeed. someone likes vigenère ciphers.

what it shakes out to is a set of coordinates that will lead you squarely to an abandoned warehouse by the pier, a date, and a time. if you're compelled to go on your own, you might find some of your fellows waiting around with you. if you're not? well, maybe you can take a friend just in case.

either way, you'll get your answers one way or another. ]

( ooc: HELLO FRIENDS. first and foremost, please see the comments and the sub-comments below for week blocking and organizational efforts. if you would like to summon me into your comment, just put spock in the subject line or ping me directly on plurk at askefise or on discord! i'm usually around in some capacity or another.

other than that: have fun! if you need me to help you brainstorm why your blorbo would show up or how, i'm here for you. time for totally fun and normal times that will not end in any abnormal way whatsoever on the 19th. )

Comments

[ashaya]

Compensation is unnecessary, [ Spock says, almost automatically. Were he Jim, it might have been accompanied with a literal wave off, but he's not quite so expressive. Either way, in his time, currency was digital and largely supplementary. Never mind that his working upon a starship and his own culture exposed him to the sort of cooperative nature of societies. Well, in theory. In practice, Spock had been exposed to a variety of antiquated ideas and prejudices.

Still, as Claude deduces his meaning, he can't quite suppress the subtle uptick at the corner of his lip and the faint raise of his chin. This sort of interaction is soundly in his repertoire, though he can't quite help the very subtle fumble of the wire when Claude winks at him. It's really more of an accidental tug where it ought not to have been. He's gotten praise before certainly and has taken it, but it's - well, he's not entirely used to it in this capacity. He's going to quite adamantly focus on his selected task. He doesn't quite clear his throat, but the concept he might have lingers at the edges of the moment. ]

I believe a famous Terran science fiction author once said: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." By that measure, it is difficult to say what would fall under your definition. [ Not that he's not heard about magic here before, but there's usually a scientific explanation. Almost always is. And if there isn't one that can be found? Well, they're just not to that level of understanding yet. Anyway: if Claude is particularly observant, he might note how it is that Spock appears to brighten at the prospect of exchanging such detailed notes. It isn't so much with the body, no, but it is visible in the dark of his eyes. They seem to lighten with the bloom of scientific curiosity, seem to appear almost Human for the first time since their conversation started. ] I find the terms of this exchange acceptable, the absence of such eminently aggressive specimens aside.

[ Not that he wouldn't be interested them, he is, but better not to go in unprepared as it were. ]

[feintofhart]

Well, Mister Science Officer, I'll just have to give you a demonstration and you can tell me whether or not it looks like science to you. An advanced man such as yourself might be able to shed new light on the matter.

[ He personally doubts it. Black magic, Spock may be able to figure out as a sort of science; it's the sort Claude himself has always been better at, depending on his sense of logic and reason, burying himself in tomes and analyzing the runes and chants and the hundred little things that go into managing to summon pure destructive force from within your own body.

But the magic of faith? That, Claude has never been able to muster. He has no faith in the Goddess. And, it seems, she has no faith in him either.

He raises one hand, and a breeze flutters past them. Not enough to disturb any of their work, or to cause any damage -- just enough to blow gently through Spock's hair, a quiet demonstration of the sort of day-to-day magicks that most people in his world use, to preserve their food, or to redirect rain to their crops, or to start a fire in the absence of any flint, the sort everyone relied on more than the destructive techniques people have adopted during wartime.

That said and done, he reaches into his wallet and takes out a business card with the address of his Apothecary on it printed in black, embossed letters. ]

This is where you can find me. Feel free to drop by any time you feel like having a chat and a cup of tea. [ He can tell that Spock is the sort to get right down to business -- but he saw that way he fumbled for a moment, the brightness in his expression at the prospect of having a proper discussion with like minds. He can soften this guy up, he just knows it. ]