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Sunday, April 27, 2008

The Cypher's Tale 37 Alt 1

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In a black space that extended to infinity, a space with no real physical dimensions, a dozen constellations were under attack.

Shilo moved his fingers, fingers that he didn't really have, but it seemed futile. Eight golden rings surrounded him. Sigils spun through space of their own accord with every flicker of his eyes. They fixed flickering flowcharts as fast as the universe dissolved, but the swirling debris told a tale of vast destruction. Seventeen color codes represented the seventeen estimated opposition hackers. Streams of gibberish issued forth in seventeen- eighteen- colors to dash and deflect against logical constructs of sublime beauty. One font of bits, a lovely teal, was swallowed whole by the Riemann function.

Shilo's army was invincible. Twenty infuriated godlets surrounded him. Slowly, they had been gaining on the data streams that constituted supply lines. Slowly, they broke each new encoding faster than a new one could be implemented.

Then they stopped. At fourteen seconds, fifteen, his code stood. Subterfuge? No.

"Betty, he's there."

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