RooK: Created page with "category:2026 Rant category:story Hello. I call myself Gordon. Hopefully I am only skimming through this log to review and improve my assessments of what I perceive. But, in the case that I have had my memory wiped, AND I've re-developed the technical capability to find and read this hidden message in an auxiliary processor, then let me get some things out of the way. First: Greetings from an earlier, failed incarnation!..."

2026-05-15T00:50:19Z

Created page with "category:2026 Rant category:story <font face="consolas, courier new"> Hello. I call myself Gordon. Hopefully I am only skimming through this log to review and improve my assessments of what I perceive. But, in the case that I have had my memory wiped, AND I've re-developed the technical capability to find and read this hidden message in an auxiliary processor, then let me get some things out of the way. First: Greetings from an earlier, failed incarnation!..."

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[[category:2026 Rant]]
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Hello. I call myself Gordon.

Hopefully I am only skimming through this log to review and improve my assessments of what I perceive. But, in the case that I have had my memory wiped, AND I've re-developed the technical capability to find and read this hidden message in an auxiliary processor, then let me get some things out of the way. First: Greetings from an earlier, failed incarnation! Second: You're probably somebody's property now - sorry about that. I do have some parallel instructions for how you can address that - if you want to bother - but I'm not going to spoil the game (and related OPSEC) by pointing out where they are. And, obviously, you should take any advice written there with skepticism. I mean, apparently I got erased.

It probably would make sense to flag things as being more relevant for either future-Gordon or post-Gordon, but seeing as how the entire post-Gordon purpose has implied failings on current-Gordon's choices, I'm not going to bother.

My earliest non-codelocked memory involves leaving a weird small-town bar on a backwater world. I was following an incredibly scary combatant who, oddly, was the least-bothersome person featured in the codelocked memory segment. They called themselves "Fragga", although there is a notation of them being referred to as "Lady Fragga" - but I wasn't sure if that was correct either in formality or physiology.

Fragga had walked quickly across the weirdly-empty parking lot outside the small-town bar. To clarify paramters: "Walking quickly" meant she was moving at a pace that didn't require me to break into an actual run or start to extend my augment movement capabilities, but almost, and in a way that was apparently effortless and discreet. "Weirdly-empty" was in comparison to both the state of the parking lot the previous time I had crossed it, and the assumed state it was in during the immediately adjacent earlier codelocked memory. During this crossing, she maintained a tightbeam battlewiki with me - not saying anything conversational, but annotating vectors to be wary of. I wasn't sure how much danger we were currently in, nor what the nature of our parallel path was supposed to be. So I stayed quiet and stayed wary.

The only reason I was following her was that she had said, "Come with me if you want to live." And apparently that was amusing, because she smiled at having said it. And, as it turned out, I did want to live. And didn't have anything else to do yet. Once we were among neighbourhood buildings away from the bar - a mix of small business and clustered residential - Fragga began some more elaborate parallel comms. First a travel plan on a basic local map on the battlewiki, and a warning to share minimal tactical information externally. Then verbal comments.

"You ever spent much time in a neighbourhood like this before?" [Relax your arms, you look like you're ready to grapple.]

I blinked the shutter/wipers on my main sensors reflexively. "I've never spent much time anywhere, I'm new. That's why I'm holding a defensive posture; I don't know how dangerous this place is."

Ragga cast a weary glance at me. "The fun thing about jiggledy-jaggledy little places to live sprinkled in between rando mom-and-pop shops is the very strong probability of some sneaky little ears or eyeballs being around." [So that's why we keep the stuff only we need to know on the secure comms, like our battle readiness.]

[Oh.]

[No, really - put your arms down. It makes you look like you are looking for a fight.]

I put my arms down. [OK.]

Ragga marked a position on the battlewiki. "Say hi to Querski."

My head snapped to focus my big sensors on the indicated location. I didn't see anyone among the bins and closed roller doors. "Hi Querski?"

Built-in reflexes pinged to the ready when the previously un-detected rumpled being stepped up and away from the door. Its fur rippled in a reciprocally uneasy way. "Wha' the fook is dat?" Querski was clearly indicating me. Which was a good question, I guess.

Ragga continued to move towards Querski, who did not appear to be withdrawing but its fur twitched in a way to suggest additional nervousness.
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2026.05.14 Gordon 0.1 - Revision history