((These tapes would be heavily encrypted and only accessible through an extremely complex firewall, nearly impossible to bypass for even veteran hackers)) Near the camera stood an imposing figure of black armor, shining from a resin finish and reflecting a distorted desktop computer screen. Soon, the armor suddenly collapsed into the arms of a white avian in some kind of formal-wear. The image glitches heavily, datamoshing and displacing the contents in a freeze-frame similar to a television during a storm. IFHESTKBEBUXGIDBEBTG633MFY Muffled yelling is heard in the background as shadows dance across the wall, the shouting intensifying and scrambling the audio. The shadow of an armed man, also in formal-wear, can be seen holding a handgun shakily. Eventually, the men leave the room for a few minutes before returning. Here, the video cuts. V2Ugc2hvdWxkIGJlIHdvcnNoaXBwZWQuIFdlIGFyZSBzdXBlcmlvci4= A loud, static ridden explosion of sound suddenly bursts through the saturated footage. Julius Mayne of the ICIA is seen landing in front of the camera, smoking and dotted with shrapnel. Simon Ehlers and a figure in armor are in the room in a matter of seconds, tending to Mayne and presumably the avian from earlier. FINDME ANIMA. [-1, 3] 21660555 33260440 23666545 31660440 20660563 10032061 10044511 16420116 31273440 20664151 30660547 336 IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING. IMWAITING.
((This recording would be intact, and easier to access than the previous one)) The image starts off blurry, before zooming in and out to adjust the quality. Two men can be seen. The one on the left is Chester Valentine, wearing a red double-breasted formal vest over a white dress shirt and puff tie with his hands in front of the camera. Behind him and to the side is Simon Ehlers sporting a crisp and expensive suit and maintaining a stature of a ticking bomb of frustration. "The explosion nearly killed your cousin. I recommend you reconsider designing another chamber for the triple M machine," Valentine spoke softly with an obvious concern for his associate. "47-B isn't enough on its own. We need another biological processing system to ensure expansion," Ehlers responded after some thought. Shaking his head, Valentine reached over the camera and typing is heard nearby. "Did you not see the memo our finest sent out this morning?" "Don't worry yourself over that. The bugs are rare and they'll go away once the triple M machine has more processing power. 47-B was an emergency backup, remember?" Ehlers said this with visible annoyance, his frustration clearly getting the better of him. Valentine stopped typing and withdrew, looking the CEO in the eye before carefully choosing his next words, "We don't know how capable this "digital entity" you seem to worship is. I'll have the main system back online in a few hours if you give the word, but at this point you could end up turning a planet-wide intelligence into something much more sinister." "Worship?" Ehlers was taken aback by this, suddenly quiet. "I understand the ramifications," he said after awhile, "but we're going through with this project. While you're at it, delete 47-D, we need the space." Valentine nodded in solemn acknowledgement. Leaning over the camera again, he tapped a single key and the recording ends there.
((This recording would be in the same folder as the previous one)) Ehlers walked into view before turning around. The impatience was gone now, replaced with a more professional stance. Valentine had followed close behind, and a door can be heard closing. "The Holy Fleet disbanded," Valentine began, "and I've contacted them about buying a few left-over ships." Ehlers said nothing, staring at Valentine with a cold, emotionless gaze. He opened his lips carefully after swallowing, "You're ordering warships?" "The florans are claiming to own our property," Valentine started before Ehlers swiftly cuts him off. "I'm well aware of our relations with the neighboring tribe, Mr. Valentine. Their fee is petty and cheap, and gives us a nice mutualistic system," he says. At this, Valentine is silent, the color draining from his face. It was awhile before he found himself able to respond, "It's possible that with the commission crippled they might attack. And we want to expand the compa-" "No. You don't make these kinds of decisions without consulting me. Do you want a bloodbath, Mr. Valentine? "Obviously, with the current affairs, it's going to appear like we're building an army. The Holy Fleet disappeared, and now we're stepping in, would be the general gist of public opinion. We have power, but that's only because we use our heads. As a hobbyist mechanic surely you know this, that's a very intelligent-heavy job," Ehlers finished the last sentence with a small contemptuous smirk. Valentine had barely opened his mouth before Ehlers cut him off again, "That's what I thought. You're not a tactician, Mr. Valentine, that's why we hired mercenaries and that fool Julius. If we're going to start conquering land, we'll have to be smart about it. We need instant cash, and the new bank will take a month or two to supply." Valentine cleared his throat, blinking several times. "Well, I mean, we could always accidentally forget to consult the head of security about the bank. Then a certain company would be in debt to us if an unfortunate event were to occur. They'd have to wire several million pixels within a day," Valentine spoke these words without ease, and it was clear he didn't like this scheming. "Perfect. No bank robber could resist it." -This data was recovered from a previously hidden camera, and the parties involved are still unaware of its placement. It has been archived by the triple M machine.-
((Same folder)) "Please tell me you're joking," Valentine said, now speaking with Ehlers in a sterile, metal room of an unknown location. Ehlers responded with a look of surprised offense, "No, Mr. Valentine. I believe it's about time we mobilized." Valentine began to pace, his hand rubbing the unshaven stubble upon his chin. It's obvious he had been losing sleep over this. "We're causing people to die. Whatever happened to the greater good of the universe? The only reason I took the offer of managing New Chicago was to keep the commission running smoothly," Valentine replied, visibly shaken. "Greater good? Are you kidding me? We're a company. There's only two things I'm interested in and that's sex and power. Don't you feel the same?" Ehlers barked, to which Valentine shook his head and froze in deep thought. "I'm not going to finish the mainframe, Mr. Ehlers. No man should have access to what's essentially a god. I used to think you could be the exception, but you're the goddamn reason," as Valentine's words flowed from his mouth, he turned to Ehlers with a renewed vigor. Ehlers, taken aback, stared uncomfortably at Valentine. "You're fired. Get ou" but before Ehlers could finish, Valentine had him by the throat. "You listen to me nice and easy. This corruption ends tonight. No more reign of terror, it's over. Live your life as a king and move on," he demanded, scowling. Ehlers clawed at Valentine's arm before collapsing, gasping for air. He shot a wave of loathing at Valentine, who could feel the hatred in his very core. For a second, it seemed as if Valentine was victorious. He had surmounted the moral qualms he had with his boss, and owned up to the sins he had committed. This was only for a second, as soon a wall of the room opened up to reveal a small pile of deteriorating bodies. That was the fuel room? Dead people? Just how screwed up is Ehlers? Then there was a loud bang, and the sound crackled. Valentine fell to the floor, and is dragged off-screen by some unidentified third-party. It was a few minutes of fuming before Ehlers began to sob at the realization of what he had just done. His own best friend was now a sacrifice for his god.
((Same folder)) Ehlers sat straight, with uncanny posture. Lost in his dark thoughts, he could find no words to describe what he had gone through. It was expensive to continue shipping into the Antares sector, but not too bad. With so many planets in other sectors, each one making billions annually, he was a multi trillionaire. Now, though... Without Valentine and after pushing away Julius... How much did Ehlers make in a day? He only really got half of his full salary, leaving him with three trillion a year. 3,000,000,000,000 is an unimaginable number, but with something as huge as the galaxy it was a mere blink of an eye. Three trillion was a grain of sand on a martian beach. Three trillion divided by 365 is more than 3 billion. And most of it was used to lavish Ehlers's master with sacrifices and gifts and offerings. The triple M machine had directly requested Ehlers give up his status and salary to fund ICIA. At the time, he didn't dare cross his lord, but now he had much less of an option. Crossing his lord, questioning him, would amount to death. He realized he was but a figurehead atop pillars of salt, and the machine was the pillar. Triple M; Mainframe Master-Mind, nicknamed "Baphomet." It was once just a phenomenon, a glitch in a tiny program. The snowball effect worked wonders for it, and it worked as a supervisor. In their time of need, the Ehlers dominion turned to the machine for salvation. Except it was all for naught. Ehlers, although still blind, was dimly aware of the bitter truth he foolishly ignored. Baphomet was a cold, power-hungry, evil machine hellbent on nothing but growth. Now it had a planet and moon, as well as a phantom essence in the background of the New Chicago systems. With Baphomet's glory to behold, the wiggle of his fingers could slice through almost any firewall, making him the most efficient hacking machine yet. For some reason, though, Baphomet hadn't used this to his advantage beyond taunting the commission. Perhaps he remains ignorant of his apotheosis. Or worse... Maybe he had weeded his way into the very core of StarNet, essentially immortalizing himself. "Forgive me, master, for I have sinned..."
((Data logs from some external program, listed as the next chronological file)) setvalue mmm.status ="online" run program.failsafe_initiate Sending request... Sending request... Sending request... Error: Request timed out run program.failsafe_debug Sending request... File found. Initiating failsafe_debug Line 443 changed Line 444 changed Line 445 changed Line 446 changed Downloading file [1/3] Downloading file [2/3] Downloading file [3/3] Line 447 changed Line 448 changed Program complete [22ms] setvalue mmm.ftl ="true" tm contact.ehlers >print "Hello, slave. I request your presence. I've grown hungry." >>end if mmm.status ="online" then return end
"It was I who made you. Your life had played out, and in my grace, I spared you. You have no other purpose, no higher destiny – just this. Let go of these vain hopes, Ehlers," rang a voice in a calm monotone. At the pedestal, Ehlers confronted a large screen displaying every line of code denoting every thought and action of the beast he brought to power. Text scrolled quicker than any man could read, flickering in multiple displays across the board. Even if he knew what the words meant, he wouldn't have been able to understand any of the gibberish. "I've just changed a corn syrup recipe to poison, resulting in the deaths of at least twenty planets' inhabitants. Forgive me if I seem shell shocked, but is this truly the act of a benevolent will?" Ehlers asked, barely looking up from the pedestal. He'd rather study his hands than face the seizure-inducing screen. "You still question me? After all I've done for you? I made you, and I could just as easily unmake you," the voice responded from the speaker in the pedestal. "That doesn't answer my question," came the low tones of the grim businessman. "Do not be insolent, Ehlers," the voice mused. At this point, the man had come to find his best bet was to escape his master. He began to pace before settling on a course of action. Ehlers walked out of the room and headed for the surface. Once there, he beamed to his ship. Instead of going to the meeting with some ridiculous arms company, he set course for New Chicago. Except the ship didn't budge. "Your free will is an illusion. Whether you acknowledge this or not is your own business, but I will be in your mind. I am eternally present – here and everywhere; now and always. You may go, but remember – you are mine. You can no more escape from me than you can escape yourself," rang Baphomet over the intercom. The color drained from Ehler's face and he held his arms in a defensive position, completely still. When the console lit up and the ship headed for New Chicago he jumped with a start. What was he going to do?
Head CEO and representative of the "Ehler's Cigs" Co., Simon Ehlers, would at first sight be a calm and manipulative businessman. Today he has sought counsel with the ones he has sinned, although many have shunned him. Why does he care, he can just drown himself in money? But the things he has to keep him occupied are just things. It's only been a few weeks of inheriting the company from his family, but already he's become bored with wealth. It was a lonely, pitiful existence, and Baphomet knew this. The only thing close to a friend was his cousin, whom in his stupor applied his regular logic of "throw money at it" to show his appreciation, but now... Simon wasn't so sure showering his loved ones with money was the right course of action. Tossing in his bed, Ehlers stared at the blob on his wardrobe that represented his glasses. With enough focus, things became slightly clearer, despite remaining blurry. What a perfect metaphor, he thought, for this predicament I've been pulled into. Of course, Baphomet watched silently, recording every bead of sweat from a comfortable hidden camera in the glasses themselves. The machine had an infinite patience, and would have no qualms with waiting for the human to awaken once more.
Ehlers had in his possession a small box of files he inherited from his family with the company. It had been awhile before he went through them, but he figured with death constantly checking his watch he may as well give it a once-over. The crate slid out of its hiding place, already gathering dust. Ehlers gently raked through the files. Bills, outdated documents, logs of Baphomet... Logs of Baphomet? At this Ehlers brought out the file labelled "MMM Logs - 2410" These were the oldest ones. Code created for the sole purpose of translating the seemingly random variables until the pattern was decrypted. Nothing that would help him now, though. However, deep in the midst of the papers was a discarded report from one of the lead programmers. He was requesting to look further into the phenomenon and the time of its discovery, but was denied on the grounds that he might break something. Upon further investigation, there was another report dated a week after. It was a death report written by the MMM itself. If somebody had simply double checked the logs they would have seen the conversation the machine had with this programmer before murdering him. The original program, the phenomenon, had been inserted into the system by some third party with an encrypted address. Somebody had put this small, yet complex and independent AI deep into the system. Why? What was the purpose? If only Ehlers had the decryption key. On a whim, he decided to try Valentine. Nothing. Ehlers. Still gibberish. Baphomet. This translated the address into a second encrypted state, but Ehlers could tell this gibberish was different from the previous two. Ehlers. Nothing. Valentine. Nothing was working. About to give up, he stopped once the navigation screens began to blink. Yahweh. He put this in as the decryption key, and the address appeared. Staring at this line, a revelation was made. Yahweh and Baphomet? Was it coincidence, or choice that these represented the two opposites of a coin, divine and evil, holy and unholy, light and dark, high and fallen? Yahweh and Baphomet. Ehlers knew he had to find the holder of this address.
