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damned_institute2013-09-13 09:03 pm
ninelivesonce) wrote in damned_institute2013-09-13 09:03 pm
Night 72: Computer Lab
[from here]
Taura followed the swinging door into the room, stopping just inside the door. Not the quietest entrance she'd ever managed to make, but the rows of chairs and tables didn't seem to notice. There were screens on them -- and keyboards, which didn't look like the ones she was used to, but were close enough to identify. Aside from direct neural interfaces, no one had managed to beat technology designed for, if Miles hadn't been pulling her leg, striking little hammers onto paper.
What there wasn't, in between any of the rows, was anything else. She slid her hands along one of the screens -- a button turned it on, but it stayed dark. Just a screen, then -- but the keyboards had cables on them, and so did the screens, which led down to a box bolted to the underside of the table. Now we're talking, she thought, as she pointed the flashlight at it. There was a big friendly button, so she pressed it. The box grunted and whirred.
"Hey, look," she called out to Rita. "They haven't turned off all the power up here." She hooked a leg around one of the chairs and folded herself into it -- her knees banged the desk, but she didn't bother trying to figure out if it adjusted; she was used to it. As the screen flickered to life and the system booted itself up, she looked down at the keyboard, squinting at the letter arrangement. It made absolutely no sense, but the letters were all familiar, and this looked like a teaching lab; the system couldn't be that complicated, could it?
Taura followed the swinging door into the room, stopping just inside the door. Not the quietest entrance she'd ever managed to make, but the rows of chairs and tables didn't seem to notice. There were screens on them -- and keyboards, which didn't look like the ones she was used to, but were close enough to identify. Aside from direct neural interfaces, no one had managed to beat technology designed for, if Miles hadn't been pulling her leg, striking little hammers onto paper.
What there wasn't, in between any of the rows, was anything else. She slid her hands along one of the screens -- a button turned it on, but it stayed dark. Just a screen, then -- but the keyboards had cables on them, and so did the screens, which led down to a box bolted to the underside of the table. Now we're talking, she thought, as she pointed the flashlight at it. There was a big friendly button, so she pressed it. The box grunted and whirred.
"Hey, look," she called out to Rita. "They haven't turned off all the power up here." She hooked a leg around one of the chairs and folded herself into it -- her knees banged the desk, but she didn't bother trying to figure out if it adjusted; she was used to it. As the screen flickered to life and the system booted itself up, she looked down at the keyboard, squinting at the letter arrangement. It made absolutely no sense, but the letters were all familiar, and this looked like a teaching lab; the system couldn't be that complicated, could it?