300 Baud
#2 of Outlier
LOGIN: Parallel
PASSWORD: *******
Parallel stared at the device as the cursor spun around. He waited a few minutes, occasionally putting his ear back to the receiver to hear the digital world's voice again as it loaded before him. After a few minutes, he was signed in. Immediately he was greeted with what the Rising Sun BBS had to offer. A BBS, standing for Bulletin Board System. Privately owned computer servers. If the network was a nation, BBSes were its cities, the hubs of culture, born of the modem and the wire. He pressed "F" to enter the forums, greeted with a slew of new topics, ranging from new users saying "hello" to veterans rattling off the results of their latest phreaking escapades. However, one post intrigued him.
WESLEY CORP INTERNAL NUMBERS VOICE+MODEM [Posted by AkAsHa]
The Wesley Corporation. They managed most everything in the city nowadays. Many users on the Rising Sun were very vocal on how they hated the company, but Parallel himself never harbored any hard feelings, or any feelings at all towards the corporation. That wasn't to say his curiosity wasn't peaked by the post. He opened it, waiting a few moments for the post to load.
The title definitely didn't lie. It was a masterpost of phone numbers used by the Wesley Corporation. Mostly voice lines for the suits to use, but there were a few modem lines listed. He noted one down, thanking "AkAsHa" before logging off, eager to try the number. He was a child of the networking era. The system was his toy, and the movement was his store.
[02:43:21 EST] Parallel: nice find. def gonna have some fun with these.
He hung up, waited a few seconds, and then picked up the receiver again.
"Please deposit 50 cents to make a call," Mother said. To anyone else, she was the voice of the system, the disembodied woman who greeted every caller, informing them of why their call failed or how much they need to pay or whose answering machine they reached. To him, however, she was Mother, the voice that greeted him every time he came home, the voice of comfort in an unforgiving world. He redboxed again, and dialed the number, meeting with the familiar rings of the network before the other line picked up. However, instead of the beeping of another modem, he was greeted with another message from Mother.
"Warning: The network you are attempting to access is the property of the Wesley Corporation. Unauthorized access beyond this point, or access with the intent to maliciously use or modify documents in this network is strictly prohibited. If you proceed, you and any parties involved will be in direct violation of International Corporate Statute 71J-36WF9, and will be traced and forcibly disconnected by this network's anti-intrusion software. Thank you for your understanding, the terminal should load shortly."
He was shocked, at least for a moment. Mother's tone was so...different...than the usual voice. Instead of the kind, guiding, gently urging voice that usually came through the lines, this was a strict, almost commanding one. He almost felt guilty just for calling, but that guilt was quickly diminished by the curiosity that swept his mind.
****WESLEY CORP PRIVELEGED ACCOUNTS DATABASE****
**UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS IS PUNISHABLE BY LAW**
USERNAME:
PASSWORD:
Looked as standard as ever save for a few warnings. Almost instinctively, he tapped SHIFT+SPACE, transforming the screen into a spectrum of code. To the untrained eye, this would merely be a jumbled mess, but to Parallel, it told him everything he needed to know. After playing around with the code for a little while, he managed to get past authentication, without even needing a login. He was prepared for whatever could come next, or at least he believed he was.
Almost instantly, the screen lit up with menus, flowcharts, and recent messages. The system was convinced he was a "JKirchner", whom upon looking through his messages was the "Director of Marketing". A world of information was opened up right before him, mountains upon mountains of numbers, PINs, security codes, hell, even a link to a live map of the Wesley Corporation's building.
The map was what intrigued him the most. He stared as he saw the little squares move through the hallways, patrolling. Hard to believe this was all in real time. Pressing "K", he opened up the map key. Circles signified workers, while squares were security bots. The large brackets were main doors, while small ones were office doors. He sat there, staring at the map before he drifted off to sleep.
He woke up, the streets pressed against his face, Rising from the ground, he rubbed off any pebbles that got tangled in his fur, at least the ones he noticed. He looked around for his PNC. Still there, thank God. Looking closer, he saw that he had been automatically signed out. He disconnected the device, and was about to make a quick walk around the city when a sound pierced his mind.
A ringing.
A payphone's ringing.