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Message: <blockquote data-quote="threshel" data-source="post: 2180264" data-attributes="member: 5164">OughtHe didn’t bother with the monitor.  He didn’t really need to see the computer’s output, anyway.  Bathed in the monitor’s blank blue light, he stood perfectly still, and raced through the binary landscape, tracing the transmission.“Who are you?” He sends.“You’ll see.”  The reply. It is mere text, devoid of emotional content, but it gave him fresh data for the trace.  Ought worried for the sanctity of the Aerie, and in the pale blue light, lines creased his face.  The cyber landscape blurred past him, his connections made at impossible combinations of the speeds of light and thought.  For a brief moment he was catching up, and then his trail ran out, the landscape resolving into a great barrier stretching from all horizons across his path.  By all the data he had, he was at the source, but he knew this to be a lie.  He was at a firewall (he had always though that such a curious name), a fabrication designed to hide the true source.  Briefly he tried to find a way around, but this wasn’t like the flimsy barriers he normally encountered.  In fact, he had been created to bypass this type of barrier by being on site.  So that is where he turned his efforts.A few minutes of searching turned up the likely owner of the firewall, a company called GGC, Inc.Ought stopped, and rubbed his temples.  It was late when he began surfing.  Any more and he’d start making mistakes.  It wasn’t as if there was a landline that could be tracked back to the Aerie.  He’d just been discovered online, although that was disconcerting enough.Ought shut down the computer, and walked back towards the bedrooms.  As was his habit, he scanned the Aerie, his portal eyes seeing through most surfaces.  He saw that Warhawk was well enough, and that no others occupied the small group of caves.  He had to walk around a bit to be sure, the imperfect nature of his vision unable to see through the aluminum components of the machinery of the lab and computer.  Ought was used to being imperfect.  Wasn’t that the reason he failed in his tests for the government?  Wasn’t that the reason he had been scheduled for disposal, and fled?  Ought didn’t sigh, but only because he wasn’t able.  Ought went to the last bedroom in the hall, and sat down in a chair to begin his recuperative phase.</blockquote>

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