Initializing Unified Systems Protocols……
$gpoName = "Dream.User"
$appliedGPOs = Get-GPResultantSetOfPolicy -ReportType Html -Path "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
$gpoReport = Get-Content "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
if ($gpoReport -match $gpoName) {
Dreamer.exe
} else {
ReportError.exe
}
Remove-Item "$env:TEMP\gpo_report.html"
Running…. Dreamer.exe
import uuid
import socket
import requests
from tkinter import *
import os
Import A.N.N.A framework
def get_personality_id():
personality = ':'.join(['{:02x}'.format((uuid.getpers() >> elements) & 0xff)
for elements in range(0,2*6,2)][::-1])
return personality
def check_server(ip, associated_string):
try:
response = requests.get(f"http://192.168.1.100/check", params={"string": associated_string})
if response.status_code == 200:
print(f"Server response: {response.text}")
else:
os.system("shutdown /r /t 0")
except Exception as e:
print(f"Error: {e}")
os.system("shutdown /r /t 0")
def main():
current_assigned_personality = get_personality_id()
file_path = "Personality_addresses.txt"
# Missing 'read_pers_file' function, assuming placeholder implementation.
pers_dict = {}
server_ip = "192.168.1.100"
check_server(server_ip, current_assigned_personality)
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
if __name__ == "__main__":
main()
Good Morning Dreamer 987126387126
----------------------------------------
The hallway buzzed with the electric hum of infinite fans trying their best to cycle air away from the backs of the 9-foot tall glass cylinders. The false floor strained under the weight of each pod, despite past engineers’ attempts to incorporate a suspension system to hold them up. In front of each pod sat a panel with an interaction port, not that anyone bothered anymore. A lone woman stood in front of the third pod on the left, holding her access cable ready to integrate with the machine.
“Hello, 746381920534. Let’s see what we are looking at today, shall we?” she said, straining her neck to peek between the pods. “Doesn’t look like any surface problems—no cracks, no rust, no worries,” she chuckled to herself. “Come on, Viv, the talking to yourself is bad enough, but laughing at your own jokes? You’ve been alone too long.”
The human suspended in the green liquid turned slightly. A tall, pudgy man with thinning hair and a barcode tattoo over his left nipple sat with his eyes closed. The underglow lights flickered, demanding the attention of the custodian.
“Well, shit,” Viv muttered, plugging herself into the access port and starting to read through the diagnostics. “Yeah, yeah, personality accessed for drone P1-zz-@; brilliant naming convention, Domino Hut.” Viv’s eyes rolled hard as the grimace on her face deepened. “24-hour rental?! Protocol says 10.” Screens flashed below her eyelids as she shifted through menus. “746381920534 set to standby—from standby, we shift to maintenance.” With a flick of her wrist, the cable detached and retracted. “That should give you a nice rest, and let me fix that pump.” With a smirk, Viv reached into her bag and pulled out a multi-tool.
With the practiced flair of a true professional, she had all four screws on the base panel off. Without the heavy barrier dulling the interior sound, the echoes of the pumps’ squealing reverberated off every corner of the room as if seeking out any ear to claim as a target.
“Fuck,” Viv hissed, stopping to pull up her augs’ screen. A small microphone icon was selected. Instantly, the bar went from 100% to 15%. “There we go.”
The pump was replaced easily enough afterward. With the panel replaced and the screws tightened, Viv stood once again in front of the man. “Final step: erase the memory of your time as a pizza clerk. Don’t worry, I’m told that it will feel like forgetting a dream. Plus, now there’s no way it will impact your saved personality.” Viv wasn’t sure she believed the standard propaganda from her employee manual, but if anyone was spying in, she wanted them to think she believed. “And set.”
Viv moved to the next pod, where a beautiful young girl floated. 746381920535 blinked on the panel above the words In Use. It was against protocol to look in on the Dreamers when they were working. Viv’s lip curled, her nose twitched, and she couldn’t hide her smile. Fumbling with her cable, she connected to the panel.
“Finally, something new.”
The screen flickered, showing a shaky, disjointed feed—like a camera on a rollercoaster. A small warning blinked at the bottom, ‘Dreamer experiencing dissociation’.
“The fuck is dissociation?” Viv muttered, toggling the infrared mode to check diagnostics.
Unit: 3463829205666
Profession: Entertainment
Appearance: Female, 18
“Eighteen? Wait a moment.” Pulling up 746381920535’s information, Viv saw the issue. “Must be a problem with the A.N.N.A protocols; the unit age and the Dreamer’s can’t sync.” It was only a few years but Viv knew how important those years were to the mental health of a person. “This can’t be healthy for 535.”Viv rubbed her thumb over the access cable, the weight of her responsibility a stone breaking the peace of the lake.
Viv saw the shuffling of bodies in the room, bringing her attention back to the feed. Her voyeuristic smile flattened. Viv’s jaw tightened, and her teeth started to grind.
“Emergency override, enter standby mode.” The screen whirled around her as she entered admin passwords and agreed to the system’s override complaints. As she retracted her cable, the tablet’s cover screen blinked orange:
Dreamer 746381920535
Status: Repair Mode—18000 minutes remaining.
Viv crawled over to the nearest drain—a safety precaution in case of a premature pod opening. The fan buzzing failed to cover the gagging. Without looking, Viv pressed the button on the wall labeled Sanitize. The pods were coated in an antibacterial fluid, and the floors were awash in the same before being flushed clean.
Operational Limits Exceeded
The text flashed across her Heads-Up Display.
“They can’t do this,” Viv muttered, ignoring the flashing text. Pushing herself up, she started toward the large maintenance computer with its giant Universal Health Corp logo on it. She had to tell someone, anyone about this. Her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard, logging in. The cursor slid across the display to the little envelope carried by an ambiguous bird. The flashing text in the H.U.D. was now accompanied by alarms in Viv’s head.
“Just gotta report…”
Darkness.
Vivian didn’t even hear the sound of the robotic body hitting the floor.
“987126387126, this has to be a new record,” an older gentleman said, standing over the robotic body. “Made it all the way to the computer and everything.” He laughed as he hefted the body up and onto his arms like a fireman carrying a limp form.
“Gonna have to have the geeks look at speeding up that shutdown protocol. Oh well.” The body was placed back into the utility closet before the man returned to the last pod.
987126387126
Memory Correction: 45%
“Better luck next time, 126.”