Monday, November 1st, 1999. 6:21 AM.
Silence. Beautiful silence. Everyone else on the block is asleep, but you’re just getting into your habitat.
Click!
Whirrrr.....
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick....
MRRRRR!
beep!
Whatever silence there was sure is gone now.
The less than faint sounds of an old personal computer starting up engulf an otherwise dark room, faintly echoing off of the floor and walls.
On the screen, various commands related to hardware are run as a Packard Bell logo appears in the top left.
“America grew up listening to us. It still does.”
After a wait time that classifies as a CIA torture method, the computer boots to an all-too familiar sight: CS-DOS 9.20.
C:\>
It’s waiting patiently for a command.
With the rough clicks of an even rougher Model M keyboard, the command prompt is commanded, promptly.
C:\>cd WINDOWSILL
C:\WINDOWSILL>
C:\WINDOWSILL>WINDOWSILL.COM
Enter.
The screen goes black as the computer begins loading a legally questionable fork of Microsoft Windows 98, Chronospace Windowsill ‘99.
The screen lights up with a splash screen. The Chronospace logo engulfs it.
The splash text reads:
“Starting Chronospace Windowsill ‘99... Please wait... We mean that, by the way! Wait!”
The screen momentarily goes black with no more than a command prompt in the top left reading: “Starting Windowsill ‘99...” before going back to the colorful splash screen.
After what feels like an eternity, the computer boots to a log-on screen, with a risque picture of a posing rabbit woman as the wallpaper.
“Please input your Chronospace Windowsill username and password.”
User Name: Wade Harris
Password: ************
Enter.
A rather cheerful tune plays as an extremely unkempt desktop loads up. There’s a mouse cursor in the center of the screen.
The cursor hovers around the desktop, rubbing against the corners of the screen, almost as if the person controlling it was bored.
Wait.
You are.
The cursor hovers over a shortcut labeled “Dreamscape! E-Mail” and double clicks it.
An electronic mail client opens.
Nothing’s happening.
Maybe if you weren’t so impatient about your slow computer, it would do something.
A dialing window appears.
“Dialing 1+(484)-820-1337...”
Rrrrrrrr-
Beep, boop, beep, beep, bop, boop, bop, bip, bip, beep.
Riiiiiiiiinngg......
Riiiiiiiiinngg......
Dingdingdingbwooooobwaaaaaa...
NOOOOOONEEEEEEEEEEEEEBWAAAAAAAKSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHBWBWBWBWOOOOOUUUUMMMKSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHH!!!
That’s still the worst sound you have ever heard in your life.
After a few moments, the dialing window closes as a list of your inbound e-mail messages prints onto the screen.
Your latest is, unsurprisingly, from Wallace. It’s addressed to both you and Betty, and the subject is: “this is bullshit”
Click.
An e-mail message loads.
“Subject: this is bullshit
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected], [email protected]
Sent from: WebTV Classic (Philips Magnavox MAT960A103)
Imma be real with you both, i am starting to genuinely save up for a computer
i’m tired of THIS shit happenin man
Anyways
If you two have any money you can spare that would be greatly appreciato thanks
cya
P.S: stop bullying me
‘Live long and prosper.’ - Star Trek: The Motion Picture (the best film evar made!)”
There’s an image attached.
Click.
...
It was downloaded, rather quickly.
It’s amusing, to you at least.
If your WebTV reciever is no longer calling from 412-673-XXXX, choose 'Moved' to check for local numbers.
Explain Same Place Moved
However, that’s his problem, not yours.
The cursor hovers over the “Reply” button, and clicks it.
A reply box opens.
“Subject: Re: this is bullshit
To: [email protected], [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Sent from: A personal computer running Chronospace Windowsill ‘99
Fuck off lmao. Get your own money. We already made the mistake of giving you money, and you went and bought that dumbass thing where you get called a cocksucker in 7 different ways and get harassed with those damn commands that turn your shit off. Remember when your box called 911? Not making that mistake again”
Send.
...
It sent.
However, he’s not going to respond to it because he’s asleep. You have better things to do, anyways. Like breaking into Chronospace! Nobody’s awake at this hour, so it’s the perfect time to at least try.
The cursor clicks the X in the top right, hovers over to a folder labeled “Dreamscape!” and double clicks it.
The folder opens to reveal files related to this abhorrent Internet suite.
The cursor hovers over “Dreamscape.exe” and double clicks it.
A mix between a Web browser, an instant messenger app, an electronic mail client and a phone dialer all simultaneously appear on the screen.
Since you already dialed into Dreamscape! to check your e-mail, you don’t need to do it again.
A Web portal with an abundance of hyperlinks and uppercase text appears on the screen.
The main page shows an abundance of hyperlinks to various websites.
The cursor clicks on a link labeled “Dreamscape! TalkCity”.
A list of chatrooms drops down. You click the top one, labeled “General”.
The chatroom window opens.
[email protected] has joined.
wadebraid: List
There are 8 other people in this chatroom right now: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected],
[email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected]
You just strolled right into the lion’s den.
sudokoko: for the last time, i don’t know how they got in, so i can’t tell you
nolanr: Well then you should get to figuring that out <3
sudokoko: it’s not that easy, though, one of them busted our tracking system, and unless we were to somehow get them to tell us how, we’re fighting a war we’re losing
cinnapoodle: Well, I think we can ask one of them right now! Hello, Wade!
This was the worst idea you could’ve made, and you confidently made it. Good luck!
patrickhobbs: WELL, IF IT ISN’T BOY BLUNDER, LEADER OF THE BAND OF ‘TARDS! WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE?
wadebraid: A sleepless night
chandlerj: why would you come here when we’re actively chasing you lmao
nolanr: You made yourself obvious owo
wadebraid: Well, i have a real habit of barging in
Your screen shakes violently.
cinnapoodle: Yeah, WE KNOW! You’re pretty notorious, sir.
thephreakingsky: Yeah, we all know about you, Wade
amye: and we know you broke the tracking shit
wadebraid: I’m flattered you think that, but that wasnt me sadly
sudokoko: i find that HARD to believe
thephreakingsky: No, he’s right Koko, the guy who did it didn’t leave tracks like Wade does
wadebraid: Thanks for the compliment
cinnapoodle: Shut up. If it wasn’t him, who could it have been? There’s no other hackers as... can’t believe I’m saying this, as ambitious as Wade is.
gazingatthemoon: There is one.
sudokoko: who?
gazingatthemoon: It’s someone that Mr. Brave over here knows. A Betty Kristoff, screenname bettyboop.
cinnapoodle: Oh, her... I know all about her.
thephreakingsky: How are you sure it’s her, other hackers might hide their tracks
gazingatthemoon: I’ve seen many hackers in my time here. None of them have masked their footsteps like she does.
nolanr: What about their other friend?
gazingatthemoon: Wallace Clark? LMAO, that stupid son of a bitch ain’t got shit to even hack with! Wade and Betty run around with their custom computers, yeah, we know you two modified your computers, which is illegal by the way, Wallace on the other hand rolls with one of those dilapidated WebTV boxes.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
thephreakingsky: Plus?
gazingatthemoon: No.
cinnapoodle: I almost feel bad for him, but then I realize he’s a fuck.
wadebraid: Are you idiots done bashing my friend for me or are you gonna let me go
cinnapoodle: Let you go? Absolutely NOT! As a matter of fact, you’re going to help us.
wadebraid: Hold the phone, I did not sign up for this
patrickhobbs: TOUGH SHIT, ROOKIE! YOU’RE GONNA GET US INTO YOUR LITTLE GIRLFRIEND’S HEAD, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!
wadebraid: And if i don’t?
Beep! Beep! Beep! Bebebebeep! Bebebebeep!
You pull your face out of the monitor to find a red laser pointing at your keyboard.
Turning your head to the right, a silhouetted figure with one red eye stares you down. Wait... There’s two. No, three! There’s four... FIVE?! FUCKING SIX?!!!? S E V E- Oh, wait, no... There’s just six. FUCKING SIX?!!?
You shove your face back into the monitor.
patrickhobbs: THAT’S WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU DON’T, CURLY HAIR!
What?
[email protected] has left the chat. “[DISCONNECT FROM CHAT; USER LEFT]”
wadebraid: Wait, how did you know that i looked out my window
gazingatthemoon: We see all, Wade. You, your pity friends, all of the kids on your block, everyone.
We are Chronospace.
We are everything.
We are everyone.
We are everywhere.
We are every entity you comprehend in a day.
Chronospace is upon us.
The window begins to garble and glitch, with all text except for the chat text becoming incomprehensible.
patrickhobbs: CHRONOSPACE IS UPON US.
sudokoko: Chronospace is upon us.
amye: chronospace is upon us
chandlerj: Chronospace is upon us!
gazingatthemoon: Dasvidaniya, puppet! When we need you... we’ll find you.
[email protected] has left the chat. “[DISCONNECT FROM CHAT; USER LEFT]”
wadebraid: but i’m right here
gazingatthemoon: Not on-line, Wade. Not on-line.
You have been disconnected from TalkCity.
[DISCONNECT FROM CHAT; REMOVED BY ADMINISTRATOR]
That could have gone way better.
You pull your face out of the monitor to look out your window again. The figures are gone, but your window is open.
You get out of your chair and walk over to your window.
A barely illuminated yard lies outside it. Nothing to be gained by taking in the sights of something you see every day, so you close the window and lock it.
You turn around and walk back over to your desk, and sit back down, shoving your face back into the monitor.
Ding ding!
You have a new e-mail message.
You click the e-mail window in the taskbar. It maximizes to the display.
You have an e-mail from thephreakingsky. The subject reads: “URGENT: READ NOW!!!”
What a hypocrite.
You click the e-mail in skepticism, but become rather surprised by the contents.
“Subject: URGENT: READ NOW!!!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent from: Apple Macintosh Color Classic II (Performa 275)
Wade, listen up. I know you don’t have a good relationship (like, at all) with me or any of the other “techies”, but I need you to turn your ears to me just this once.
Chronospace is a brainwash op.
Most of the people working there aren’t themselves. They’re confused, impure souls wearing the skin of someone who can’t fight for themself. And they’re just forced to be heinous, even if the person was a sweetheart before.
Whatever you do, DO NOT LISTEN TO ANYTHING GAZINGATTHEMOON TELLS YOU TO DO!
She’s trying to turn you into one of them... a mindnumbed husk of who you used to be, to be used as a vessel for utter chaos.
They do it to regular people too... most computer owners aren’t themselves anymore.
Wade, you have to listen to me.
Me and a small group of tech supporters are the only “pure” ones left who actually stuck around. We’ve been blending into their mayhem, forcing ourselves to commit online atrocities just to satiate the horrid needs of Patrick and Kate.
You were fighting for a free Internet on your own with your friends... but now, you’re not on your own.
Wade.
You need to help us.
You need to help us take back the Internet from these monsters.
You need to help us return the digital world back to solace, and free these poor brainwashed souls.
I don’t care how you do it, but you need to shut Chronospace down.
Be it rallying a community to hit them head on, sneak in the way you usually do or some other unknown way, regardless of how you do it, regardless of how volatile or lethal you are, you have to kill it.
Kill Chronospace.
This might sound cheesy, but the Internet quite literally depends on you, Wade.
You’re the light at the end of the tunnel for most of us, don’t let yourself extinguish.
Before you do anything though, you’ll want to arm yourself in the real world, because the moment you fuck with anything internal on a broad scale, they’re gonna send their Dreamscrapers after you. Better safe than sorry, right?
Wade... Don’t see this as just a joke, please.
I have effectively given up my life just to send this e-mail to you. They know where I am, and they don’t want to chat. But I’m not scared. I knew this day would come.
Print this out, Wade. Before it’s too late.
You’ll be contacted by any surviving tech supporters in the coming days with more vital information to help you reclaim the Internet.
You and your friends carry the torch now. Light these fuckers up.
For the Internet.
For everyone.
Goodbye, Wade.
End communication.
- Barbara “thephreakingsky” Kornell”
You stare at your monitor in disbelief for a few moments, before quickly clicking the “Print” button at the top.
Your printer starts... well, printing the e-mail to various sheets of paper, using an inbuilt laser to suture the pages together.
Pulling the abnormally long sheet of paper out of your printer, you hold it against the wall with one hand, and tack it down with push-pins.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
...
Someone’s at the front door.
Given what you just read, that’s either a good thing or a really bad thing.
Grabbing a golf club, 9 iron to be exact, you raise it like a baseball bat and slowly open your door.
A dark hallway greets you. No way, man! Facing a possible intruder has your name all over it, but the dark? Hell no!
You walk back into your room, and over to your desk.
Rummaging through it, you pull out a flashlight.
You walk back over to your door, and aim the flashlight down the hall.
Click!
The light turns on. You step out into the hallway, and walk towards your front door.
...
......
.........
Face to face with your front door, whoever lies on the other side can only be friend or foe, and you have a big feeling they’re a foe.
With an inhale, you unlock your front door, and open it.
Who’s there? A stranger, obviously.
It’s a short-standing lady with short curly brown hair, and scenecore clothes on.
You: Can I... help you?
???: *You’re* Wade Harris?
You: Yeah, that’s me.
You grip the club harder.
???: Can I come in? It’s urgent.
You make yourself bigger to prevent any unwanted entry into your house.
You: You’re not taking a single step in my house until you tell me who you are, lady.
She drops her shoulders and sighs.
cinnapoodle: I’m Cinnapoodle, that “bitch techie” you keep running into. This concerns what happened to thephreakingsky... God rest her soul.
You: How about... no? We can have a conversation right where we stand.
cinnapoodle: Stubborn even in the real world, I see.
You: Sure am.
cinnapoodle: Well, if you insist, we can talk out here.
She sits down on the porch. Any chance you had of defending yourself is gone, because you just closed the door behind you and sat down with her.
You: So... is there a reason you came to my house instead of... I don’t know, e-mailing me?
cinnapoodle: Because I actually want to live, Wade. The only reason they got her was because she e-mailed you. They can’t track me if I don’t use Dreamscape! to talk to you.
You: Right...
cinnapoodle: Listen... They’re probably going to come after you, y’know?
You: Why? Don’t they have better things to do?
cinnapoodle: Yeah, and those better things are kidnapping you, Wade. Barbara is dead, and you’re next probably, because you’re who she spoke to last. However... they can’t get you if you don’t exist.
You: But I do exist...?
cinnapoodle: Not if you disguise yourself. See, Dreamscape! doesn’t consider a new user on the same computer, number or IP to be the same person until up to 30 minutes after the user was made... So if you just keep making new users... they can’t get you. Not only that, but the server wasn’t set-up to properly accommodate new users on the same system or setup, so the more you do it... the deeper in you can go.
You: So you’re saying...
cinnapoodle: ...that if you account hop, you can get as far into Chronospace as you want within that time-frame.
You: Didn’t think I’d be taking advice like this from you, considering you like to jack up my shit.
cinnapoodle: And I didn’t think I’d be giving advice like this to you, considering you like to jack up my shit.
You: Fair point.
She stands up.
cinnapoodle: You should sleep, Wade. You’ve got a lot to do if you’re gonna bust in.
You: Wait, wait, wait... How the hell am I gonna make more than one account every 30 minutes? There’s a 5 minute cooldown.
cinnapoodle: Unless... you macro.
She presents a soldering iron out of her bag.
You: I like the way you think.
cinnapoodle: Are your folks home?
You look at her with an unamused look.
You: What?
cinnapoodle: I don’t mean like that, stupid. I’m not driving 7 miles in the other direction just to sleep at home and then drive 7 miles back this direction just to help you.
You: *sigh* No, they’re not.
You open your front door and walk in.
...
Walking through your house, your unlikely companion dives onto your living room couch, throwing her bag onto the floor.
You: Isn’t that uncomfortable?
cinnapoodle: No way, man! I sleep on the floor some nights!
You say nothing, and walk down the hallway to your room.
Stepping in, you forgot to sign off of Dreamscape! before you left, so your phone bill is gonna be through the roof. Damn.
You close your door, place your 9 iron back in the corner, toss your flashlight on your bed, and sit down at your desk.
Shoving your face back into the monitor, you click the Go! button on the taskbar, as the Go! menu prints onto the screen.
The cursor hovers over “Shut Down or Sign Off” and clicks it.
A pop-up appears.
“What do you want to do?”
There’s a dropdown. Clicking it, the options are:
“Sign out of Windowsill
Shut down your computer
Restart your computer
Restart your computer in Chronospace Disk Operating System”
The cursor clicks “Shut down your computer”, and then clicks “Confirm”.
The desktop fades away as the splash screen reappears briefly, before cutting to black, and an ominous message.
It is now safe to turn off your computer.
Click.