May62012
sincerelyhun:
ask-drmobius:
sincerelyhun:
ask-drmobius started following you
Row: Mobius! *jumps on*
*Mobius uses his remaining eye monitor to look at the one she broke off on impact sadly* Oh… Well. Well that’s alright, it can be repaired. I’m sure. Yes.
*gasps loudly* Oh my gosh, Mobius! I didn’t mean to do that! Here, I can fix it! *grabs the monitor and starts poking it in the slot a few times, hoping it works*
Er…. hm… Believe me, I’ve attempted that before and it just doesn’t work. If you’d be so kind as to grab me a roll of duct tape so I can take care of this?
March262012
robertedwinhouse:
Someone is using data on my network again.
Dr. Borous needed bandwidth to feed his Neopets. I’m terribly sorry.
March192012
nogodsnomastersjustyes:
plan9sinplace:
nogodsnomastersjustyes:
The voice on the other line sounded cheerful… and mechanical. Taking an awkward moment to analyze this, Dr. Mobius came to the conclusion that he was speaking to a robot. Further investigation would be in order to ascertain whether or not it was a simple personality matrix, or an AI. He “cleared his throat”, as if some part of him was hoping to sound human itself, before speaking clearly, and for the first time in a long time, pleasantly into the microphone. “I must say I’m impressed that you picked up my signal at all,” He said, “But I’m afraid I’ll have to be reluctant to give you the location of the broadcast straightaway. You never know who could be on the other end of the communicator these days.”
He awaited a reply from the robot, pondering its function and speech pattern as he did. Listening hard enough would result in hearing mumbling from him, as Dr. Mobius had never really been a quiet thinker. Could someone have instructed the machine to seek out his signal? Or was it doing this of its own volition? Perhaps it’s a rogue AI. Possibilities sprang up right and left in his mind. Only carrying on the conversation would give him direct or indirect answers, but he was rightfully wary of that. Not long ago had he been contacted by an agent of the Enclave, and not long before that he had received a message from Mr. House himself. Temptation to rub that one into Dr. 0’s non-existent nose aside, it had been troubling. If outsiders were able to locate HIS signal, surely they would be able to tap into the Think Tank’s as well. He had heard of no such communications thus far, and that was how he hoped to keep it.
“Oh that’s ok! I know how that is! Especially if there are a lot of people who are not FOND of you out there!” Yes Man lets out a laugh. The man on the other side sounded like some sort of congenial old man. He must have been smart if he has a network set up like this…and he seemed pretty wary of outsiders.
…and he seemed… eccentric? That’s the right word. Yes Man listened to the man mutter and mumble. He picked up something about an AI, gosh, this man was good. “If you are curious, I am indeed an AI! You can call me Yes Man! Everyone does! And I assure you, I am not a rouge!”
Dr. Mobius contemplates the message in complete silence, foregoing even the mumbling typical of his person. “An AI…. Were you programmed to seek out such signals and make contact with them, then? Or is someone giving you orders to do so?” Should there be someone involved, he will simply close off communications with this machine. He would rather not risk another security breach at Big Mountain; it is simply too dangerous to all parties involved.
Regardless of his own reservations, though, he could not deny that he was enjoying having someone to talk to, despite the serious nature of the conversation. Were he not such a dignified business science man, he would have already tried to divert the conversation in a more pleasant direction. That would be foolish of him, though. He must figure out more about this mysterious signal breaching AI before asking it how the weather is wherever it might be hiding out.
March182012
nogodsnomastersjustyes:
plan9sinplace:
Communications with Big Mountain were often scarce. A place left truly to its own devices by the harsh desert, perhaps because it was more fearsome than even the Mojave, few dared enter. Those to wander in by mistake did not typically leave, and if they did, they did not do so with their organs…
Yes Man wasn’t sure where this signal was coming from, or what purpose it had, but he had decided to track it down. He had some down time in between the courier crashing in and leaving him to attend the city while they were out dragging themselves through the dirt and muck. He stumbled across the signal on accident, picking up it’s transmission to the pip-boy located on the courier, and finally he was making progress.
…and it seems he’s stumbled upon someones communication line. Boy, did he feel sheepish!
“Hi there!” Yes Man doesn’t let his mild embarrassment deter him or hinder the cheerfulness of his voice. “I’m sorry for harassing you out of the blue! Bit I found this mysterious broadcast, and I was curious where it was originating from!”
The voice on the other line sounded cheerful… and mechanical. Taking an awkward moment to analyze this, Dr. Mobius came to the conclusion that he was speaking to a robot. Further investigation would be in order to ascertain whether or not it was a simple personality matrix, or an AI. He “cleared his throat”, as if some part of him was hoping to sound human itself, before speaking clearly, and for the first time in a long time, pleasantly into the microphone. “I must say I’m impressed that you picked up my signal at all,” He said, “But I’m afraid I’ll have to be reluctant to give you the location of the broadcast straightaway. You never know who could be on the other end of the communicator these days.”
He awaited a reply from the robot, pondering its function and speech pattern as he did. Listening hard enough would result in hearing mumbling from him, as Dr. Mobius had never really been a quiet thinker. Could someone have instructed the machine to seek out his signal? Or was it doing this of its own volition? Perhaps it’s a rogue AI. Possibilities sprang up right and left in his mind. Only carrying on the conversation would give him direct or indirect answers, but he was rightfully wary of that. Not long ago had he been contacted by an agent of the Enclave, and not long before that he had received a message from Mr. House himself. Temptation to rub that one into Dr. 0’s non-existent nose aside, it had been troubling. If outsiders were able to locate HIS signal, surely they would be able to tap into the Think Tank’s as well. He had heard of no such communications thus far, and that was how he hoped to keep it.
7PM
Communications with Big Mountain were often scarce. A place left truly to its own devices by the harsh desert, perhaps because it was more fearsome than even the Mojave, few dared enter. Those to wander in by mistake did not typically leave, and if they did, they did not do so with their organs fully intact. The so-called “gods of Big Mountain” made sure of that. A group of five, all of whom have long since forgotten the value of morality and humanity, dead set on the pursuit of their own distorted branch of science. The doctors were constantly hard at work, slaving away over bizarre contraptions and ruthless lobotomies. Even the gods have something to fear, however; just across the crater they called home was a former comrade, supposedly driven mad by his own creations. In a zone he himself dubbed “forbidden,” he sends upon them scores of intelligence draining robo-scorpions and other such terrors. They dare not leave the sanctity of their Think Tank, lest they be attacked by his minions.
This is precisely the way he wants it. Dr. Mobius would rather they stay right where they are, even if they are forced there by fear. Better than unleashing them upon the unsuspecting wasteland; Lord knows what horrors they would let loose there, without the barriers of Big Mountain to keep them at bay. They’re just fine where they are, under the illusion that there is nothing beyond the crater, and he is fine where he is, in his dome, away from their shenanigans and away from the general population of the desert. He has plenty to occupy his time with, and yet he still feels those pangs of loneliness every now and again. Exiled of his own volition from his colleagues, Dr. Mobius spends a vast majority of his time alone. Robo-scorpions do not make the best company, unfortunately. The few visitors he has received were always a welcome reprieve to his self-induced solitude, but lately, there have been none. It has been quite a while since the meddlesome courier has shown their face in the Forbidden Zone. Plagued not with worry, but sadness, Mobius glides across the floor of his laboratory, waiting for them to reappear, hoping they’ll want a Mentat, or to have a nice conversation with him again. They weren’t even kind enough to leave their brain with him when they left. Just as he is about to surrender all hope that they’ll reappear, an unfamiliar signal begins to hassle his terminals. Someone is trying to contact him from outside of Big Mountain. It is with great caution that he allows the signal access to his communication device. It is with less caution, more amusement, that he foregoes the pre-recorded messages for once. He will allow the mysterious source to speak first, watching the monitor in silence.
March82012
tribal-waitress:
plan9sinplace:
Good evening!
tribal-waitress:
How are you?
Wonderful! Eh, except for one thing. How did I get here? Where am I? Who are you, who are all of these people? Ehm… hm… Oh, where are my manners! Hello there! Yes, that’s mannerly. Hello.
Hello sir! Can I get you anything?
No, no thank you! I couldn’t drink it if I wanted to, regardless. Hahaha… Ahhhh, I’m still not entirely certain how I got here. *pokes functioning screen out closer to her face* I seem to have… eh, wandered out of the crater, somehow… Must have been searching for places to write down more of my equations. *A trail of scribbles follows behind the floating brain in a jar, indicating the direction he came from* What’s the name of this place? What goes on here? Hrmmm.
(Source: thatdelicatepresence, via thatdelicatepresence)
March72012
(( I am so good at reblogging, I do it three times! MY BAD. XD ))
7PM
tribal-waitress:
How are you?
Wonderful! Eh, except for one thing. How did I get here? Where am I? Who are you, who are all of these people? Ehm… hm… Oh, where are my manners! Hello there! Yes, that’s mannerly. Hello.
(Source: thatdelicatepresence)
