[
Halen:
sry he wont give that shit up
]
Fuck.
[
Emmie:
why not?
]
Emilia forced herself not to glower back at the two men trailing their group as they continued to climb the stairs. Having been forced to climb so many fucking stairs over the course of her life, both here as punishment and in Dion as
training,
Emilia and Lan’za both could climb to the top if necessary… not that Emilia particularly wanted to or thought Olivier would force them to do so.
The hike up the top of the Huss’tra was long and arduous, lasting days. It really wasn’t something most people did willingly; more, it was used as a punishment or occasionally as a pseudo-religious pilgrimage of sorts. Probably, there were some crazy fitness enthusiasts who climbed it for fun or training—fucking masochists. As something of a crazy fitness enthusiast herself—although it was more tangential to her various interests rather than an obsession with fitness itself—Emilia had climbed the Huss’tra for no other reason than she could a number of years ago. There
may
have been a bet involved in that decision. She and Avery
may
have also forgotten to properly convey where they were going to the adults keeping track of them; virtually the entirety of Seer’ik’tine and several dozen clones had spent the few days they were missing panicking. They hadn’t noticed, both of them having muted their Censors as they alternated between climbing two rarely used stairwells and using {Hidey Hole} to emerge onto the river side of the Huss’tra to climb the outside—their dumb asses had figured it would be better to land in the river than on the ground if they fell.
Needless to say, when they’d finally been found on the upper walkway, chaos had broken loose. Threats of groundings had been issued, but mostly, their parents had just been happy they were okay—there had been some concern that the pair of them had found themselves kidnapped, either due to their shared silverstrain gene or because they were the children of important people. It had been neither; rather, they had both been interested in bedding the same cute boy and decided to compete to see who would be allowed to honour of taking him to bed first. In the end, Emilia didn’t think either of them had taken him to bed, which did seem a shame—he had been exceptionally cute, with his soft brown eyes and skin that reddened at the slightest embarrassment.
“I think he’s just really attached to it,”
Halen finally responded, enough time having passed from his first message that Emilia assumed he had been trying to get more information out of Olivier as to why he wouldn’t update her stupid fucking stalking function!
At this rate, she might have to admit the horrible truth of it all to him. Well, that would be terrible. The man might very well never trust her again! And, you know, she kinda needed him to trust her so he’d take her case!
Fuck.
“Yeah, I think it’s just a strange attachment to it. He can’t even really explain why, but he’s really adamant that if I give him any functions or hack his Censor at all—all of which has to be run through his cousin beforehand—he doesn’t want me touching your function. Fuck. I can’t even see any serious differences in this version and the newest? Why’s he being so sticky about it? He doesn’t give a shit about anything else.”
“Do you think he somehow knows there’s something weird with it?”
Emilia asked, trying to rack her brain for any conceivable reason why the obstinate man wouldn’t just update the thing.
Halen was right: very little had actually changed in how the function worked over the decade and a half since its release. Really, the main changes had been between that first, stalking-enabled release, and the second,
stalking is bad and we shouldn’t do it
release. Primarily, the update had removed the stalking feature, but knowing that it would be suspicious if she released a second version so fast without a reasonable reason, and not wanting to label it as no more than the
fixing of a bug,
she had slightly expanded the function, which helped low-devs whose brains took in too many details of the world and either became overwhelmed or just wanted a break from the noise of the world.
It hadn’t been much of an update, only expanding the ways the function could catalogue the information it took it. Who didn’t like options? Apparently not Olivier who, as Halen pushed and pulled information out under the guise that he was curious what would make anyone, especially a non-dev, so attached to a function, admitted that he had been perfectly happy with the original options. Why mess with a good thing, apparently.
That was all fine and dandy—and a little part of Emilia had the audacity to preen that her original cataloguing style, which she herself used, was also what Olivier preferred—but she needed him to update!
[
Emmie:
why wont he update when it wont alter the style he uses?
]
“Not going well?” Lan’za, whom Emilia had summarized the problem and plan of attack to while Olivier was distracted with reprimanding some students for attempting to touch melting hot glass while still in the industrial district, asked. Rudely, there was a note of exasperated amusement in her voice.
Lan’za had suggested she just talk to Olivier about the issue. Emilia had, of course, refused—seriously, what was she supposed to do? Just go up to him and blurt out that for fifteen years she’d had the ability to see every one of his vitals with nary a thought? That she had so much data on him that, in combination with the consensual data she had accumulated from her friends and various Black Knot members over the years in order to design support skills for The Black Knot, she could run his data through a function and come back with every emotion he’d felt over those years? Every time he’d been aroused? Orgasmed? Wanted to kill someone?
Yeah, no fucking way could she tell him that. If Halen couldn’t figure out a way to make him update the function, Emilia would just have to deal with the fact that she could peek in on how he was doing every second of the day. One day, her future proofing would run its course and the man would have to update the stupid thing.
…
…
Hopefully, her future proofing would run out. Unfortunately, Halen had already released a hacked Censor System through Hail, which had become instantly popular among young adults. While both of them had released hacks before, it had always been under their hacker pseudonyms, and only every reached a specific crowd: other hackers and occasionally people who were fans of their functions and skills. Hacked CSs were even less prevalent than people using their functions and skills.
That was changing with Hail’s official release of an alternative to the standard CS. If Olivier’s cousin worked for Hail, what were the chances that she had installed it onto his Censor? According to the answer Halen sent back when she asked: yup, Axelle had installed Hail’s CS onto Olivier’s Censor.
Fuck.
While the standard, government issue CS cared little for updates being compatible with older functions, Hail’s CS was lauded for its ability to run a number of outdated function because the man was just as insane as she was. While Halen might not spend his time updating outdated functions or creating new alternatives, he clearly understood it was an issue and was purposefully designing his CS to run as many functions as he could manage.
Fuck. Halen, stupid genius that he was, might very well be able to keep her original function running far longer than she had intended—and she had intended it to run for a long ass time.
“I don’t imagine you’d be open to making your CS not support that particular version, would you?”
she asked, already knowing the answer would be no.
Maybe if it was something more important, Halen would make up a reason why it couldn’t be supported by his next CS release. Even then, it probably wouldn’t really matter; if Olivier was that attached to the function, he may very well ask his cousin to ask Halen if he could make it run again. There was no universe in which Halen would be capable of lying that no, he couldn’t make it run. Plus, if this Axelle were as much of a fan of hacking as she apparently was, she’d know full well that, for enough pay, a person could always hire someone to design a CS specifically so it could run an outdated function. It wasn’t common—seriously, it was less expensive to just have a new version of the function designed most of the time—but was occasionally done when the outdated function was still under copyright, or when finicky, obsessive users like Olivier came along.
Fuck.
“I would be easier just to tell him,” Lan’za commented as they reached one of the long inner hallways that stretched through large sections of the Huss’tra—only a few spanned the entire length, most only running a few hundred feet before reaching near solid stone, only broken up by the stairwells further along the Huss’tra—the majority of the class collapsing onto the floor. Gasping breaths filled the air as Emilia tried not to judge them too hard; their lack of fitness could be a result of a decade of relaxation, the majority of them only a year or two out of their gap decade, or the fault of the Baalphorian government.
The compulsory schools of The Penns might make sure all their students left with the fitness and abilities necessary to join the military, should the need arise, but schools elsewhere in Baalphoria weren’t usually so thorough. Combined with Sub-30s genetic inclination to maintain muscle with little effort… well, it wasn’t really fair to judge her not-quite-classmates for their their lack of Perfect Physical Levels or the government’s lack of care in making sure they didn’t have such pathetic endurance.
They’d only climbed a few hundred stairs!
“You know a few hundred stairs is a lot for pretty much anyone, right?” Halen interjected as Emilia was complaining to Lan’za about their nation’s lack of physical fitness and combat skill education. He had abandoned Olivier to his job, which currently seemed to be making sure none of his students were about to keel over.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Says who?”
“Says everyone?”
“You seem fine.”
“I have Perfect Physical Levels. I’m not a good judge.”
Emilia tilted her head, examining Halen like she wasn’t perfectly aware that he was just as fit as she was, the two of them having lured one another into multiple competitions over the years. Running. Climbing. A variety of sports. Wresting. Water gun fights. There had been a few fist fights as well, virtually no one even trying to break them up because they were little shits and no one was getting in the middle of their nonsense unless they seemed liable to kill one another—
Well, Samina had once gotten in the middle of them, but she’d just wanted to join the fight… allegedly. Emilia wasn’t convinced she hadn’t known a teacher was coming and joined to take some of the heat off her; their teachers had always been so quick to blame Samina in particular for every fight she was a part of. It didn’t matter that she was often attempting to break things up or even the odds. In the end, adults just fucking sucked and judged everyone based on their preconceived notions and faulty information.
“Do you remember Professor Hunt?”
Halen wrinkled his nose in disgust. “The asshole who tried to have Samina expelled after she tried to break up
our
fight?”
Huh… so Halen saw it as Samina definitely trying to break them up? Interesting.
“Give up?” she asked rather than answer his question, turning to look out the windows that offered a view of the Seer’ik’tine side of the Huss’tra.
Several of the hallways offered small views of the river side and glimpses of Mitine Dyn, but they were rare and primarily meant to be used by soldiers, should war break out. It wouldn’t be until they reached the uppermost walkway that they would really be able to see Mitine Dyn, off in the distance as it was. For the moment, they’d have to content themselves with a view of Seer’ik’tine… not that any of the students were looking, collapsed as most were, the few who didn’t look a moment from death getting their friends water and making fun of them for their lack of physical fitness.
Their loss; even still this low down, it really was a nice view.
.
!
Arc 9 | Chapter 313: Finicky Bastard
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