Sorry, been chilling out over the weekend. It's a Bank Holiday today, so, y'know, no work.
Incidentally, I'm going to side with my co-workers about the paleness. I just compared myself to a photo my friend took of me last month, and I am pretty pale. I think it might be a dietary thing... I dunno, I'll need to see what I can do about that. To Google!
Monday, 30 May 2011
Friday, 27 May 2011
Blogger Sucks
I've been having trouble logging in over the past few days. Blogger's fault.
I don't think I spend enough time in the sun, on an unrelated note -- I'm looking a bit pale, according to my co-workers. Whatever.
Haven't got anything that I really want to talk about, to be honest. Eh.
I don't think I spend enough time in the sun, on an unrelated note -- I'm looking a bit pale, according to my co-workers. Whatever.
Haven't got anything that I really want to talk about, to be honest. Eh.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Eight PM, Sunday, Cardiff Central
So, I went yesterday. Foolish of me? Very.
At about eight PM, my train pulled into Cardiff Central. Before I left, my computer had the pop-up again -- it instructed me to look for a carrier bag underneath a bench when my train pulled up. I looked; there it was. Opening it, I found a transceiver; like, a kid's toy? I hooked it into my ear. There was also a note attached, which was rather implicit. "Put it in and leave."
I did just that. As soon as I went outside, the transceiver crackled and allowed a voice in. "Hello. Can you see me?"
Obviously, the transceiver didn't let me send a message back, so I looked around and didn't see anything -- then I noticed someone standing still. The train had just pulled in, of course there'd be people moving away. But someone staying still? Quite different; so much so as to be a torrent. I could not see their face (only just the top of their head), but it seems they could see my pace.
"Very well. Follow. Walk, do not run."
The figure turned (or, rather, the hairline moved) and walked away. I followed it, going with the crowd; it turned left, I followed. As the crowds parted, I could see the figure more clearly from behind; a black coat, fairly long and rather tatty. Black hair pausing just after the shoulder-blades. She didn't look back, not even once, to insure I was following her.
I know Cardiff pretty well, but I must admit that I ended up losing track of exactly where we were. Down through streets and alleys, past residential districts; through back lanes. I was occasionally given orders, such as "head to the end of the street, turn left, keep going until you see me again". I would have paid more attention to the signs if I'd been able to focus. She walks fast.
Now, my memory, I note, is becoming rather patchy. I know I looked at signs, but can't remember what was written on them. It's... annoying. I felt like I was coming out in a rash, too. That's not important. I followed the figure into what looked like a disused construction site or something. A few unfinished rooms; one had a roof built over it, and that was the one she walked into. I saw her raise a hand to her face, as if adjusting something. She walked in, and my transceiver crackled. "Wait two minutes. Keep an eye open."
I looked around, didn't see anything. I'm not sure if 'construction site' is a good thing to call it, since it might have just been an old school building or something, which had fallen on hard times. I'm not even sure where it was, so. Hey, whatever. A "yes" from my earpiece, and I walked in.
I found myself in a small room. Very cold, like it was outside. There was just one light source (a bare bulb: hooked up to a battery on a circuit. Not sure what to think about that); a table, on which a checkered board was set, with chess pieces upon it (the table was actually just some bricks on top of one another). And the person I had been following. Standing in the room. I wouldn't make a guess as to her height, besides 'shorter than I am.' Black hair, black clothes. I could see a theme going on here.
Now, I'd describe her features, but I can't. She was wearing a mask; painted black, too. And some random white lines... which I realised were basically in the shape of the symbol on the envelope. She told me to sit; I did so, and as did she. I noted that despite the mask, I could see her eyes; she was either staring at me, or looking over my shoulder. She didn't blink a lot. It was... disconcerting.
"Why the mask?" I asked.
"Keep your voice down, please. I cannot tell you. I know you're going to post it on your little blog-thing," she replied, in a voice which seemed like ice. (I think I'm beginning to slip into a sort of story-telling mood here. Forgive me for it. While we're at it, forgive me for not writing things exactly as they happened. I can remember the gist of the conversation, so I'm just matching words to how it went.)
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes. In the case of the mask, anyway."
"So, if I promised...?"
"Promises don't mean anything. But I will take your word for it." And then she told me, and I'll honour my word. I'll repeat, again, that what I'm saying here is generally right. I might have gotten some things wrong. I'm sure she'll correct me if she wants to. When she finished, I responded, and she talked back. Then she pointed at the chessboard; white faced towards her, black towards me. A white pawn had already moved two squares forward. "Take your turn."
We kept talking and playing. I don't recall the exact words, but I asked her about the game, and she said it was just a "prop". I went along with it and moved some piece. She'd checkmated me three or four times by the time I left.
We discussed a few things. Firstly, we strayed over the issue of what she'd stole from me; after a rather long argument, she returned the money, grudgingly. But not the camera. She apparently 'knew' it was dangerous. Whatever. Anyway, I noted here that she kept looking over my shoulder. It was sort of disconcerting, since I kept having the feeling that something was looking at me from behind. Probably because she was looking behind me.
After that, the Doors. She claimed that they were, in fact, aberrations -- one of many, listing things called 'the Whisperer', 'the Supremacy', 'the Teacher', 'the Shifters' and 'the Slender Man'. I, obviously, burst out laughing at the last one, calling it a joke; she quite agreed, saying something about exaggeration by "immature idiots". We got quite sidetracked talking about such things (most of which I've forgotten because I don't memorise bullshit), before she pointed out the time -- and asked if she could stay at my place. But before I could answer, she grasped my wrist. She, in a low voice, told me to not turn around, but to act natural. When she finished speaking, I had to say 'checkmate', put all the pieces on the chessboard into a bag, lift up a section of the board, and put them in there. Then, take the chessboard with me and go straight home -- never look back.
I was surprised at both her question and her sudden frantic whispering. Nevertheless, I said "checkmate" and did as she asked, while saying that she couldn't stay at my house. Why? She's a complete stranger, probably a deranged lunatic and definitely a criminal. I don't even know why I went, since there was obviously no point in me doing it. I turned, with my money and the chess-set, and walked out, not looking back. She didn't even call back to me.
I found my way to somewhere I recognised and went back home by train. Now, this is weird: I looked back, while the train was moving away. And there was some guy in a trench-coat staring at me. He probably just missed his train and looked at me with the emotions of "you twat, how dare you get on the train before me!" I don't know what happened to AM. I might go back to Cardiff tomorrow and see if I can find her home. I only posted this today because, well, I struggled to find the energy to type it all up.
Incidentally, I found her blog. It's amercurialsmile.blogspot.com; it's rubbish, but might be worth a read.
Now, back to reality.
At about eight PM, my train pulled into Cardiff Central. Before I left, my computer had the pop-up again -- it instructed me to look for a carrier bag underneath a bench when my train pulled up. I looked; there it was. Opening it, I found a transceiver; like, a kid's toy? I hooked it into my ear. There was also a note attached, which was rather implicit. "Put it in and leave."
I did just that. As soon as I went outside, the transceiver crackled and allowed a voice in. "Hello. Can you see me?"
Obviously, the transceiver didn't let me send a message back, so I looked around and didn't see anything -- then I noticed someone standing still. The train had just pulled in, of course there'd be people moving away. But someone staying still? Quite different; so much so as to be a torrent. I could not see their face (only just the top of their head), but it seems they could see my pace.
"Very well. Follow. Walk, do not run."
The figure turned (or, rather, the hairline moved) and walked away. I followed it, going with the crowd; it turned left, I followed. As the crowds parted, I could see the figure more clearly from behind; a black coat, fairly long and rather tatty. Black hair pausing just after the shoulder-blades. She didn't look back, not even once, to insure I was following her.
I know Cardiff pretty well, but I must admit that I ended up losing track of exactly where we were. Down through streets and alleys, past residential districts; through back lanes. I was occasionally given orders, such as "head to the end of the street, turn left, keep going until you see me again". I would have paid more attention to the signs if I'd been able to focus. She walks fast.
Now, my memory, I note, is becoming rather patchy. I know I looked at signs, but can't remember what was written on them. It's... annoying. I felt like I was coming out in a rash, too. That's not important. I followed the figure into what looked like a disused construction site or something. A few unfinished rooms; one had a roof built over it, and that was the one she walked into. I saw her raise a hand to her face, as if adjusting something. She walked in, and my transceiver crackled. "Wait two minutes. Keep an eye open."
I looked around, didn't see anything. I'm not sure if 'construction site' is a good thing to call it, since it might have just been an old school building or something, which had fallen on hard times. I'm not even sure where it was, so. Hey, whatever. A "yes" from my earpiece, and I walked in.
I found myself in a small room. Very cold, like it was outside. There was just one light source (a bare bulb: hooked up to a battery on a circuit. Not sure what to think about that); a table, on which a checkered board was set, with chess pieces upon it (the table was actually just some bricks on top of one another). And the person I had been following. Standing in the room. I wouldn't make a guess as to her height, besides 'shorter than I am.' Black hair, black clothes. I could see a theme going on here.
Now, I'd describe her features, but I can't. She was wearing a mask; painted black, too. And some random white lines... which I realised were basically in the shape of the symbol on the envelope. She told me to sit; I did so, and as did she. I noted that despite the mask, I could see her eyes; she was either staring at me, or looking over my shoulder. She didn't blink a lot. It was... disconcerting.
"Why the mask?" I asked.
"Keep your voice down, please. I cannot tell you. I know you're going to post it on your little blog-thing," she replied, in a voice which seemed like ice. (I think I'm beginning to slip into a sort of story-telling mood here. Forgive me for it. While we're at it, forgive me for not writing things exactly as they happened. I can remember the gist of the conversation, so I'm just matching words to how it went.)
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Yes. In the case of the mask, anyway."
"So, if I promised...?"
"Promises don't mean anything. But I will take your word for it." And then she told me, and I'll honour my word. I'll repeat, again, that what I'm saying here is generally right. I might have gotten some things wrong. I'm sure she'll correct me if she wants to. When she finished, I responded, and she talked back. Then she pointed at the chessboard; white faced towards her, black towards me. A white pawn had already moved two squares forward. "Take your turn."
We kept talking and playing. I don't recall the exact words, but I asked her about the game, and she said it was just a "prop". I went along with it and moved some piece. She'd checkmated me three or four times by the time I left.
We discussed a few things. Firstly, we strayed over the issue of what she'd stole from me; after a rather long argument, she returned the money, grudgingly. But not the camera. She apparently 'knew' it was dangerous. Whatever. Anyway, I noted here that she kept looking over my shoulder. It was sort of disconcerting, since I kept having the feeling that something was looking at me from behind. Probably because she was looking behind me.
After that, the Doors. She claimed that they were, in fact, aberrations -- one of many, listing things called 'the Whisperer', 'the Supremacy', 'the Teacher', 'the Shifters' and 'the Slender Man'. I, obviously, burst out laughing at the last one, calling it a joke; she quite agreed, saying something about exaggeration by "immature idiots". We got quite sidetracked talking about such things (most of which I've forgotten because I don't memorise bullshit), before she pointed out the time -- and asked if she could stay at my place. But before I could answer, she grasped my wrist. She, in a low voice, told me to not turn around, but to act natural. When she finished speaking, I had to say 'checkmate', put all the pieces on the chessboard into a bag, lift up a section of the board, and put them in there. Then, take the chessboard with me and go straight home -- never look back.
I was surprised at both her question and her sudden frantic whispering. Nevertheless, I said "checkmate" and did as she asked, while saying that she couldn't stay at my house. Why? She's a complete stranger, probably a deranged lunatic and definitely a criminal. I don't even know why I went, since there was obviously no point in me doing it. I turned, with my money and the chess-set, and walked out, not looking back. She didn't even call back to me.
I found my way to somewhere I recognised and went back home by train. Now, this is weird: I looked back, while the train was moving away. And there was some guy in a trench-coat staring at me. He probably just missed his train and looked at me with the emotions of "you twat, how dare you get on the train before me!" I don't know what happened to AM. I might go back to Cardiff tomorrow and see if I can find her home. I only posted this today because, well, I struggled to find the energy to type it all up.
Incidentally, I found her blog. It's amercurialsmile.blogspot.com; it's rubbish, but might be worth a read.
Now, back to reality.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Fantastic Concert
It really was.
I mean, they didn't play anything from Journal of Plague Lovers, which sucks, but they played a bunch of awesome tracks. The Masses Against the Classes, Everything Must Go (as an acoustic!), You Love Us, Motown Junk, It's Not War (It's Just the End of Love), Some Kind of Nothingness, Enola/Alone... really great.
They also played some... unexpected tracks. Slash and Burn was cool, even if Bradfield forgot the lyrics. They also did My Little Empire, which I've never heard live before... uh, they did a bunch of other weird tracks. Like, uh, Solitude Sometimes Is, Life Becoming A Landslide.
The support band (The Joy Formidable, if anyone wants to google it) wasn't bad either.
I'm surprised, incidentally, that nothing happened when I was out. Normally, when I mention going out on this blog before I do it, something bad tends to happen while out or shortly after... confirmation bias? Yeah.
I mean, they didn't play anything from Journal of Plague Lovers, which sucks, but they played a bunch of awesome tracks. The Masses Against the Classes, Everything Must Go (as an acoustic!), You Love Us, Motown Junk, It's Not War (It's Just the End of Love), Some Kind of Nothingness, Enola/Alone... really great.
They also played some... unexpected tracks. Slash and Burn was cool, even if Bradfield forgot the lyrics. They also did My Little Empire, which I've never heard live before... uh, they did a bunch of other weird tracks. Like, uh, Solitude Sometimes Is, Life Becoming A Landslide.
The support band (The Joy Formidable, if anyone wants to google it) wasn't bad either.
I'm surprised, incidentally, that nothing happened when I was out. Normally, when I mention going out on this blog before I do it, something bad tends to happen while out or shortly after... confirmation bias? Yeah.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
A Virus?
I'm in my computer's Safe Mode at the moment. Why?
My last post was interrupted by a pop-up. Immediately after, it sent my blog post before I could complete it, and without my consent. The pop-up immediately expanded, filling the whole of my monitor. If any of you have used AIM, it looked a bit like an AIM window. Moments later, words appeared on the screen; it was rather similar to an instant messaging conversation. Here is the transcript, as recorded by me. C is what I inputted; A.M., presumably, is from a foreign source.
<AM> Hello.
<C> ...hello?
<AM> That's what I said, yes.
<C> What is this?
<AM> Useful.
<C> Seriously.
<AM> This is something a former friend made for me. Think of it as forced instant messaging.
<C> Okay. Who are you?
<AM> I am what I am. I am Mercury. I am Achromatic Morality.
<C> Why did you break into my house?
<AM> Why not?
<C> That's not an answer.
<AM> Yes, it is.
<C> Fine. Why did you take my camera and the envelopes?
<AM> For the envelopes, my fingerprints were all over them. I didn't think to wear gloves.
<AM> As for the camera, it's because you strike me as a trigger-happy person.
<C> You know, "trigger-happy" normally refers to guns.
<AM> Cameras are far more dangerous then guns in this game.
<C> "Game"? I'm glad you think of stealing my stuff as a game.
<AM> Don't be so pedantic.
<C> Whatever. The envelopes...
<AM> What about them?
<C> How did you know about the Doors before I told a soul about them?
<AM> I didn't.
<C> Then how did you know to say "Janus"?
<AM> Janus was not just the god of doors. He is the god of beginnings and transitions; the god of gates, endings and times.
<AM> That's a good range of meanings. I chose him on the basis that there was no way it wouldn't be applicable.
<C> And "epic"?
<AM> Greek god of discord, Eris. "Epic", as you say, is how the Greeks would write it.
<C> On the same basis as Janus, I'm guessing.
<AM> Nope.
<AM> Eris means discord. Concordia means "harmony".
<C> ...
<AM> Just my little joke.
<C> What about the other stuff?
<AM> Work it out for yourself.
<C> Whatever.
<C> Wait. When did this program get onto my computer?
<AM> At the same time as the post.
<C> Ah.
<C> Why did you take my money?
<AM> Because I'm desperate.
<AM> I initiated this conversation for one reason.
<C> What is it?
<AM> I want to meet you. Face-to-face, on neutral ground.
<C> You must be out of your tiny mind.
<AM> Says the man who left his back door open.
<C> Whatever.
<AM> Sunday. Cardiff Central. Eight PM.
<C> What makes you think I'll turn up?
<AM> Call it a hunch. See you then.
And then the program closed. The logs popped up a moment later. I will note that at points, the program didn't accept my inputs from the keyboard; I'm not sure if it's moderation or not, though.
I am unsure of what of whether to go or not. I'm running all of my antivirus programs now to try and find the program, although I'm not confident.
My last post was interrupted by a pop-up. Immediately after, it sent my blog post before I could complete it, and without my consent. The pop-up immediately expanded, filling the whole of my monitor. If any of you have used AIM, it looked a bit like an AIM window. Moments later, words appeared on the screen; it was rather similar to an instant messaging conversation. Here is the transcript, as recorded by me. C is what I inputted; A.M., presumably, is from a foreign source.
<AM> Hello.
<C> ...hello?
<AM> That's what I said, yes.
<C> What is this?
<AM> Useful.
<C> Seriously.
<AM> This is something a former friend made for me. Think of it as forced instant messaging.
<C> Okay. Who are you?
<AM> I am what I am.
<C> Why did you break into my house?
<AM> Why not?
<C> That's not an answer.
<AM> Yes, it is.
<C> Fine. Why did you take my camera and the envelopes?
<AM> For the envelopes, my fingerprints were all over them. I didn't think to wear gloves.
<AM> As for the camera, it's because you strike me as a trigger-happy person.
<C> You know, "trigger-happy" normally refers to guns.
<AM> Cameras are far more dangerous then guns in this game.
<C> "Game"? I'm glad you think of stealing my stuff as a game.
<AM> Don't be so pedantic.
<C> Whatever. The envelopes...
<AM> What about them?
<C> How did you know about the Doors before I told a soul about them?
<AM> I didn't.
<C> Then how did you know to say "Janus"?
<AM> Janus was not just the god of doors. He is the god of beginnings and transitions; the god of gates, endings and times.
<AM> That's a good range of meanings. I chose him on the basis that there was no way it wouldn't be applicable.
<C> And "epic"?
<AM> Greek god of discord, Eris. "Epic", as you say, is how the Greeks would write it.
<C> On the same basis as Janus, I'm guessing.
<AM> Nope.
<AM> Eris means discord. Concordia means "harmony".
<C> ...
<AM> Just my little joke.
<C> What about the other stuff?
<AM> Work it out for yourself.
<C> Whatever.
<C> Wait. When did this program get onto my computer?
<AM> At the same time as the post.
<C> Ah.
<C> Why did you take my money?
<AM> Because I'm desperate.
<AM> I initiated this conversation for one reason.
<C> What is it?
<AM> I want to meet you. Face-to-face, on neutral ground.
<C> You must be out of your tiny mind.
<AM> Says the man who left his back door open.
<C> Whatever.
<AM> Sunday. Cardiff Central. Eight PM.
<C> What makes you think I'll turn up?
<AM> Call it a hunch. See you then.
And then the program closed. The logs popped up a moment later. I will note that at points, the program didn't accept my inputs from the keyboard; I'm not sure if it's moderation or not, though.
I am unsure of what of whether to go or not. I'm running all of my antivirus programs now to try and find the program, although I'm not confident.
A Solution
My thanks to my anonymous commentators for making the connection between the envelopes and the burglar's post for me; the hidden message led me to google "Mercury" and find the symbol. So it is clear, then, that the two are definitely connected. It never hurts to be sure of these things.
So, Achromatic Morality. You are my only follower with the initials "A.M." and, indeed, the only person I know at all who has such initials. I, frankly, do not think it coincidence that you happened to start following me after I began analysing the envelopes.
Tell me, was it you who sent the envelops and broke into my house? I'm purely curious, so if you could tell m
So, Achromatic Morality. You are my only follower with the initials "A.M." and, indeed, the only person I know at all who has such initials. I, frankly, do not think it coincidence that you happened to start following me after I began analysing the envelopes.
Tell me, was it you who sent the envelops and broke into my house? I'm purely curious, so if you could tell m
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Going to a Manics Concert
On Saturday. Feeling pretty good about it, too. I'll be sure to relay what I think!
Anyway, work's going fine. The locks are getting changed tomorrow, and I'm still looking at the pictures of the envelopes on the blog. Something's nagging at me -- it feels like I'm missing something obvious... anyone got any clues? It's this vague tugging at my mind. Had it since I looked at the post the world's most inept burglar put on my blog. I dunno.
Also: good lord, I didn't know I could sneeze this ha- strike that, I just managed to sneeze and get blood all over my wall. Musta banged my nose on my hand or something. I'll be back later.
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