Warning! Harmful and Malicious Software Detected
Sept 10, 2018 14:32:13 GMT -5
The Anarchist, Kyle Shane, and 1 more like this
Post by Tyler Scott on Sept 10, 2018 14:32:13 GMT -5
Internal error! Your body ran into a problem and needs to restart....
Tyler Scott smashes the keyboard.
Undo
Undo
Refresh
Fuck
CTL ALT DEL
CTL ALT DEL
ESC
ESC
ESC
...Fuck
Warning! Harmful and malicious software detected.
Trojan_Seromine.Fake.Saint.app - Alert Level High!
Virus.Win32.G4bri3l.exe - Alert Level High!
Worm_Holden.Ro55.newbie.zip - Alert Level...meh...Mediocre.
Bits of Tyler Scott code float around in the ether. Green ones and yellow zeros zoom across space and time. What was once a tidy string of numbers, built in solid sequence, is a kaleidoscope of collisions. His personality is broken into a thousand pieces. No longer do they form a coherent whole host, but a misfiring set of attributes with no direct link to each other. Generated code converts his previous character traits into new ones, each less desirable, each vastly more negative.
// Sociable replace(“reclusive”)
// Dependable replace(“carelessness”)
// Efficiency replace(“unproductive”)
// Confident replace (“anxious”)
// Stable replace(“insecure”)
Tyler watches on as the green ones turn to grey and the yellow zero flicker and die. His code is depleting by the second. Tyler tries desperately to nip the degradation in the bud. He searches for characteristics that he hopes have not been touched yet in the hope of protecting them. He begins looking for his most prized personal traits.
<search:name>dynamic</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>passion</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>commitment</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>integrity</search:name>
1 result found.
Tyler latches onto the one glimmer of hope. Maybe the virus was yet to fully take hold. Perhaps it hadn’t spread to everything. At least he had some integrity left. Tyler clicks to open the remaining file. The relief on his face soon turns back to worry and concern.
You don’t have permission to access this file. Please contact your administrator.
Tyler closes the window and tries again. The same message reappeared. Frustrated, he clicks and clicks and clicks. The retry button takes a hammering as the rejecting bong sounds each time. Tyler takes a moment to calm his emotions before closing the window and right clicking on the file. Opening information on the folder, he sees the author, editor and administrator of the file.
Author: Tyler Scott (12th February 1982)
Edited: Lazarus (19th August 2018)
Administrator: Seromine
Files are either in the wrong sequential order or separated by vast gaps. There is no coherence. Performance is badly affected. Where one move previously led to another, there is now no transition.
Suicide dives are not timed right.
Tyler finds himself trying to hit a German suplex from the front or side.
His step up enziguri has no step up.
An X-Plex used to be followed immediately by a deep and wrenching crossface. Now there is a stutter, a hesitation, a glitch.
Long strings of weak predictable moves make it easy for an opponent to counter. Defences are left open. Attacks are rendered harmless.
Tyler must do something to maintain his systems otherwise his entire being will be stripped from him in a digital identity deconstruction.
Defragmentation. Tyler runs the program. 24%. He tries to bring broken bits of code back together again. 57%. He tries to fill in the gaps where knowledge, physical capability and expertise once stood. 89%. He attempts to bring his moveset back into a recognisable order.
100%. He runs the anti-virus software again.
To his horror and anger, the virus remains.
Seromine.exe
If a computer virus could smile, this virus would have the smirkiest of all smirks.
Without prompt, the files opens a series of windows popping up here there and everywhere. Before Tyler has chance to hit cancel, another appears in front of it. Again and again Tyler chases Seromine around the screen, each time just too slow to catch him. Soon the screen is full of a myriad of pop ups - all obscuring Tyler’s original desktop. The home bar is covered. No other icons are available. There is no way out.
Suddenly the pop-ups stop and, in the middle of the screen, two separate messages appear. The cursor returns and Tyler is now allowed to make a choice.
In front of him lay two different paths.
Run Lazarus program?
Are you sure?
Continue / Cancel
Restore to factory settings?
Are you sure?
Continue / Cancel
He thinks for a moment, a minute, a while. The complexities of the decision circle in his mind. The consequences of his actions are on one hand evidently clear but on the other dangerously vague.
Tyler Scott’s finger hovers over the return key.
CLICK...
Tyler Scott smashes the keyboard.
Undo
Undo
Refresh
Fuck
CTL ALT DEL
CTL ALT DEL
ESC
ESC
ESC
...Fuck
Warning! Harmful and malicious software detected.
Trojan_Seromine.Fake.Saint.app - Alert Level High!
Virus.Win32.G4bri3l.exe - Alert Level High!
Worm_Holden.Ro55.newbie.zip - Alert Level...meh...Mediocre.
Bits of Tyler Scott code float around in the ether. Green ones and yellow zeros zoom across space and time. What was once a tidy string of numbers, built in solid sequence, is a kaleidoscope of collisions. His personality is broken into a thousand pieces. No longer do they form a coherent whole host, but a misfiring set of attributes with no direct link to each other. Generated code converts his previous character traits into new ones, each less desirable, each vastly more negative.
// Sociable replace(“reclusive”)
// Dependable replace(“carelessness”)
// Efficiency replace(“unproductive”)
// Confident replace (“anxious”)
// Stable replace(“insecure”)
Tyler watches on as the green ones turn to grey and the yellow zero flicker and die. His code is depleting by the second. Tyler tries desperately to nip the degradation in the bud. He searches for characteristics that he hopes have not been touched yet in the hope of protecting them. He begins looking for his most prized personal traits.
<search:name>dynamic</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>passion</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>commitment</search:name>
No results found.
<search:name>integrity</search:name>
1 result found.
Tyler latches onto the one glimmer of hope. Maybe the virus was yet to fully take hold. Perhaps it hadn’t spread to everything. At least he had some integrity left. Tyler clicks to open the remaining file. The relief on his face soon turns back to worry and concern.
You don’t have permission to access this file. Please contact your administrator.
Tyler closes the window and tries again. The same message reappeared. Frustrated, he clicks and clicks and clicks. The retry button takes a hammering as the rejecting bong sounds each time. Tyler takes a moment to calm his emotions before closing the window and right clicking on the file. Opening information on the folder, he sees the author, editor and administrator of the file.
Author: Tyler Scott (12th February 1982)
Edited: Lazarus (19th August 2018)
Administrator: Seromine
Files are either in the wrong sequential order or separated by vast gaps. There is no coherence. Performance is badly affected. Where one move previously led to another, there is now no transition.
Suicide dives are not timed right.
Tyler finds himself trying to hit a German suplex from the front or side.
His step up enziguri has no step up.
An X-Plex used to be followed immediately by a deep and wrenching crossface. Now there is a stutter, a hesitation, a glitch.
Long strings of weak predictable moves make it easy for an opponent to counter. Defences are left open. Attacks are rendered harmless.
Tyler must do something to maintain his systems otherwise his entire being will be stripped from him in a digital identity deconstruction.
Defragmentation. Tyler runs the program. 24%. He tries to bring broken bits of code back together again. 57%. He tries to fill in the gaps where knowledge, physical capability and expertise once stood. 89%. He attempts to bring his moveset back into a recognisable order.
100%. He runs the anti-virus software again.
To his horror and anger, the virus remains.
Seromine.exe
If a computer virus could smile, this virus would have the smirkiest of all smirks.
Without prompt, the files opens a series of windows popping up here there and everywhere. Before Tyler has chance to hit cancel, another appears in front of it. Again and again Tyler chases Seromine around the screen, each time just too slow to catch him. Soon the screen is full of a myriad of pop ups - all obscuring Tyler’s original desktop. The home bar is covered. No other icons are available. There is no way out.
Suddenly the pop-ups stop and, in the middle of the screen, two separate messages appear. The cursor returns and Tyler is now allowed to make a choice.
In front of him lay two different paths.
Run Lazarus program?
Are you sure?
Continue / Cancel
Restore to factory settings?
Are you sure?
Continue / Cancel
He thinks for a moment, a minute, a while. The complexities of the decision circle in his mind. The consequences of his actions are on one hand evidently clear but on the other dangerously vague.
Tyler Scott’s finger hovers over the return key.
CLICK...
