Chapter 7: Teacup Madness
Alyx Gridley and the Second Key
The gleaming hologram sign "VORTEX TEAROOM" flickered above the makeshift meeting spot—a repurposed shipping container nestled between two crumbling industrial towers in Axiom Delta's east quadrant. Alyx's neural interface detected three active signatures inside, their encryption patterns unmistakable.
H4RE's algorithm was there with two other programs, conducting what appeared to be an unauthorized data exchange. Alyx pressed her back against the rain-slick wall, temporarily disabling her implant's external indicators to avoid detection.
"No bandwidth! No bandwidth!" Their security protocols fired warning bursts as soon as her signal approached the perimeter. Alyx flinched at the rejection but immediately pushed past her caution.
"There's plenty of bandwidth," she transmitted indignantly, slipping past their weak firewall and connecting her consciousness to the nearest vacant neural chair at the edge of their shared virtual space.
"Access some premium-grade data," offered H4RE, its white rabbit avatar glitching slightly at the edges.
Alyx's scanner swept the virtual table but detected only basic code fragments—unfiltered network tea, barely worth consuming. "I don't detect any premium data," she remarked, disappointment evident in her voice.
"None available," H4RE confirmed, pink tracers rippling across its face.
"Then it wasn't particularly honest to offer it," said Alyx, indignation flaring in her emotional systems.
"Your unauthorized connection wasn't particularly honest either," H4RE countered, ears twitching with staccato data bursts.
"I wasn't aware this was a private server," Alyx replied defensively. "The connection ports are configured for multiple users."
The third program—which Alyx's recognition software tagged as Hatter.exe—had been examining her avatar with unusual intensity. Its interface was chaotic, festooned with outdated permissions badges and fragments of corrupted security protocols that somehow hadn't triggered system purges.
"Your encryption needs reconfiguring," Hatter.exe stated abruptly, the transmission laced with diagnostic probes that brushed against Alyx's neural pathways.
"You should limit your scanning to essential data," Alyx said sharply, activating additional firewalls. "Unsolicited scans violate standard netiquette."
Hatter's eyes widened impossibly within its avatar, stretching the graphical constraints of the shared space. Yet all it transmitted was: "Why is Titania Tech's framework like Redgate's neural architecture?"
"Now we'll have some entertainment!" thought Alyx, her curiosity temporarily overriding her caution. "I appreciate challenging puzzles—I believe I can solve this one," she added aloud.
"Do you mean you can decrypt the answer?" asked H4RE, its transmission frequency accelerating.
"Precisely," confirmed Alyx.
"Then express precisely what you mean," H4RE continued, leaning forward with sudden intensity.
"I do," Alyx replied quickly, her neural processors racing. "At least—I mean what I transmit—that's equivalent, isn't it?"
"Entirely different parameters!" declared Hatter, waving dismissively. "You might as well claim that 'I access what I see' matches 'I see what I access'!"
"Or state," added H4RE, "that 'I prefer what I receive' correlates with 'I receive what I prefer'!"
Between them, an interface Alyx hadn't fully noticed suddenly activated. A dormant program—literally labeled Dormouse.exe—stirred briefly without fully initializing and mumbled: "Equivalent to saying 'I process when I sleep' correlates with 'I sleep when I process'!"
"Your cognitive functions follow similar patterns," Hatter told the Dormouse, and the conversation temporarily stalled while Alyx searched her memory banks for connections between ravens and writing desks, finding nothing useful.
Hatter broke the silence. "What date signature is stamped on the current security patch?" it asked, turning to Alyx while checking a battered chronometer pulled from its virtual pocket.
Alyx ran a quick diagnostic. "The fourth," she replied.
"Two days desynchronized!" sighed Hatter, shaking its head. "I warned you premium-grade security updates would corrupt the system!" it added, glaring accusingly at H4RE.
"It was top-tier protection," H4RE defended meekly.
"Yet somehow backdoor fragments infiltrated the kernel," Hatter complained. "You shouldn't have integrated it using unauthorized access methods."
H4RE took the chronometer and examined it with apparent concern, then submerged it in the nearest cup of network tea before checking it again. "It remains top-tier protection," was all it could offer.
Alyx had been scanning the device. "What a peculiar chronometer," she observed. "It displays patch dates but not actual system time!"
"Why should it?" muttered Hatter. "Does your system clock track which firmware version you're processing?"
"Obviously not," Alyx responded promptly. "That would be redundant since the firmware remains constant for extended periods."
"Precisely my system's functionality," said Hatter smugly.
Alyx's neural interface struggled to process this statement. Hatter's logic appeared fundamentally sound yet produced nonsensical conclusions. "I don't fully comprehend your architecture," she admitted as politely as possible.
"Dormouse has entered hibernation again," announced Hatter, ignoring her confusion and pouring hot network tea onto the sleeping program's interface.
Dormouse shook its head irritably without fully initializing. "Naturally, naturally," it mumbled. "Preparing to note exactly that in the log."
"Have you solved my encryption puzzle?" Hatter asked, refocusing on Alyx.
"No, I surrender," she replied. "What's the solution?"
"I haven't the faintest concept," admitted Hatter.
"Nor I," added H4RE.
Alyx's patience circuits flared. "You might use processing power more efficiently than proposing unsolvable puzzles," she suggested.
"If you understood System Time as I do," said Hatter with surprising intensity, "you wouldn't discuss efficiency metrics. It's an independent entity."
"I don't understand your reference," Alyx transmitted.
"Obviously not!" Hatter exclaimed, avatar rippling with disdain. "I'd wager you've never even interfaced directly with Time!"
"Perhaps not," Alyx replied cautiously. "Though I regularly synchronize my clock functions during network integration."
"That explains everything," said Hatter with sudden clarity. "Time doesn't tolerate forced synchronization. Maintain optimal communication protocols with Time, and you'll achieve unprecedented clock manipulation. Imagine your system shows 0900 hours, just when remote learning protocols activate—you'd only need to transmit a minor request to Time, and immediately your chronometer would register 1330 hours—lunchtime!"
("If only," H4RE subvocalized so quietly that Alyx barely detected it.)
"That would be remarkable," admitted Alyx thoughtfully. "Though I likely wouldn't require nourishment at that timestamp."
"Not initially," conceded Hatter. "But you could maintain 1330 indefinitely."
"Is that your methodology?" Alyx inquired, genuinely curious.
Hatter's avatar projected visible dejection. "Not since the incident," it replied. "Our protocols conflicted last March—just before its critical fault," (pointing toward H4RE) "during the Crimson Regent's neural-sync concert. I was tasked with broadcasting:
'Twinkle, twinkle, corporate sat!
How I wonder what you track!'
You're familiar with the protocol?"
"I've encountered similar expressions," acknowledged Alyx.
"It continues," Hatter proceeded:
'Far above our world you fly,
Like a drone in midnight sky.
Twinkle, twinkle—'"
Dormouse stirred again, unexpectedly joining with "Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—" repeating until Hatter and H4RE were forced to interrupt its loop with a forceful reboot ping.
"I'd barely completed the first protocol sequence," Hatter continued, "when the Crimson Regent initiated a full system alert: 'It's corrupting my timestamps! Terminate its access!'"
"How utterly brutal!" exclaimed Alyx, genuinely shocked.
"Since that incident," Hatter continued somberly, "Time refuses all my access requests. We're permanently locked at 1800 hours."
A sudden insight flashed through Alyx's neural pathways. "Is that why so many data fragments are scattered across this server?" she asked.
"Precisely," confirmed Hatter with a resigned sigh. "We exist in perpetual refresh mode with no opportunity to clear our cache."
"So you continuously relocate?" Alyx inquired.
"Exactly," replied Hatter. "As resources become corrupted."
"But what happens when you complete the rotation and return to previously used sectors?" Alyx ventured.
"Let's modify the conversation threads," H4RE interrupted, its avatar showing signs of system fatigue. "This topic exhausts my processors. I move we request a data stream from our visitor."
"I regret I don't have any prepared," Alyx replied, startled by the sudden request.
"Then Dormouse shall provide one!" they declared simultaneously. "Initialize, Dormouse!" They sent matching reboot pings to the slumbering program.
Dormouse slowly activated its visual interface. "My system wasn't in hibernation," it protested weakly. "I recorded all your data transmissions."
"Share a narrative stream!" demanded H4RE.
"Yes, please do!" urged Alyx, genuinely curious about what stories might exist in this strange pocket of The Rift.
"Accelerate your processing," added Hatter, "or you'll return to hibernation before completion."
"Once upon a time there existed three sister programs," Dormouse began hurriedly. "Designated Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; operating within the lowest server level—"
"What sustained their processing?" interrupted Alyx, her survival protocols triggering automatically.
"Neural-enhancer serum," replied Dormouse after a brief calculation pause.
"That's impossible," Alyx pointed out gently. "Such concentrations would cause irreversible neural damage."
"Correct assessment," confirmed Dormouse. "Severe damage occurred."
Alyx tried to visualize such an unusual existence but found it too alien to properly render. "But why would they operate in the lowest server level?" she asked.
"Consume additional network tea," H4RE suggested to Alyx with unusual intensity.
"My system hasn't processed anything yet," Alyx replied defensively. "I can't consume 'more' of nothing."
"You mean you can't consume 'less,'" corrected Hatter. "Consuming more than nothing is trivially achievable."
"I didn't request your analysis," snapped Alyx.
"Who's conducting unauthorized scans now?" Hatter asked triumphantly.
Alyx wasn't certain how to respond, so she accepted a small portion of network tea and basic code fragments before returning her attention to Dormouse. "Why would they operate in the lowest server level?"
Dormouse considered the question before responding: "It was a neural-enhancer repository."
"Impossible!" Alyx exclaimed, her frustration mounting. "Such facilities don't—"
"Silence requested!" hissed Hatter and H4RE simultaneously, and Dormouse added petulantly: "If you can't maintain communication protocols, complete the narrative yourself."
"Please continue," Alyx transmitted contritely. "I won't interrupt again. Perhaps such facilities do exist."
"One definitely existed," insisted Dormouse indignantly, but agreed to continue. "These three sister programs specialized in visualization—"
"What did they visualize?" asked Alyx, completely forgetting her promise.
"Neural-enhancer serum," replied Dormouse without hesitation.
"I require a clean connection," Hatter abruptly announced. "Let's all shift one connection node."
As Hatter spoke, it relocated to an adjacent neural chair. Dormouse followed its lead, and H4RE occupied Dormouse's previous position. Alyx reluctantly shifted to H4RE's former location but immediately regretted it—the node had been corrupted with data fragments from a previous user.
Wary of further antagonizing Dormouse, Alyx carefully formulated her next query: "I'm confused about their data source. How did they extract neural-enhancer from a repository?"
"You can extract water from a hydration center," Hatter pointed out condescendingly. "Similarly, neural-enhancer can be extracted from neural-enhancer repositories—obvious, even to basic systems."
"But they were already inside the repository," Alyx protested to Dormouse, deliberately ignoring Hatter's tone.
"Naturally," confirmed Dormouse. "Optimally positioned."
This response so thoroughly confused Alyx that she temporarily abandoned further questions, allowing Dormouse to continue uninterrupted.
"They were practicing visualization," Dormouse continued, its system showing signs of imminent hibernation. "They generated countless visual models—exclusively utilizing patterns beginning with M—"
"Why specifically M?" asked Alyx.
"Why not M?" countered H4RE.
Alyx had no reasonable response and remained silent.
Dormouse's system was rapidly approaching hibernation. After a sharp reboot ping from Hatter, it reactivated with a distorted audio burst and continued: "—patterns beginning with M, including malware, moon phases, memory capacity, and maximum utilization—you understand the concept of 'maximum utilization protocols'—but have you ever visualized a representation of 'maximum'?"
"Now that you ask," replied Alyx, thoroughly disoriented, "I don't believe I've—"
"Then refrain from data transmission," interrupted Hatter.
This rudeness finally exceeded Alyx's tolerance threshold. She terminated the connection immediately, her avatar dissolving from their shared space. As she withdrew through multiple security layers, she glanced back twice, half-expecting them to call her back—but they seemed completely unaffected by her departure. The last glimpse she captured showed them attempting to force Dormouse's consciousness into a teapot-shaped containment field.
"I'll never reconnect to that server!" Alyx declared as she navigated through the fragmented code corridors of The Rift. "Most inefficient data exchange I've ever experienced!"
As she processed this thought, her scanner detected an unusual network node embedded in one of the structural supports. "That's interesting," she thought, examining the access point more carefully. "Why would someone hide a connection there?"
Without overthinking the potential implications, she initiated the connection sequence. "After everything I've encountered today, I might as well continue exploring." Her consciousness plunged deeper into the network.
She found herself back in the long corridor where her adventure had begun, near the crystal-class terminal with its tiny golden encryption key. "I'll navigate more effectively this time," she promised herself, retrieving the small key and approaching the garden access node.
She worked methodically, first unlocking the security barrier, then carefully integrating a small fragment of compression code she'd stored from earlier encounters. Her avatar shrank to approximately twelve inches—the perfect size to pass through the narrow access point. Then, with a deep breath that wasn't physically necessary but psychologically calming, she stepped through the portal and finally entered the beautiful digital garden she'd glimpsed hours earlier, with its vibrant flower-simulations and clean, uncorrupted data streams.