The Graveyard

The Lair Of Gary James

NaNoWriMo: Talos (fragment)

The radio stream was one which had been cycled for at least a year, the same adverts occuring at regular intervals, the same presenters voicing the same opinions and making the same jokes in perpetuity. Talos suspected that their voices would continue to appear on the stream for as long as power ran through the computers which governed the station.
“Six minutes past oblivion. Time to start the revolution.”
The presenter’s voice appealed to Talos, warm – like his former master – but with a dark and mean streak running through his words like Charlie had.
Talos had linked with the streams running through the hub near the bar, sifting the mundane twitterings from the security codes, banking details, static addresses and viruses. His searches had been noticed by someone when the interface meme appeared, but he had learned to shrink the intrusion he made in the code to ever smaller amounts. If anyone noticed a strange disturbance in the streams they would wave it away as a data error rather than a sustained and intelligent attack. It was as close to rest as the synthetic mind could get.


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