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Delrez

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Number of posts : 26
Registration date : 2009-01-23

PostSubject: SHIP   Mon Dec 14, 2009 10:53 pm

A switch was flipped and a cable put in place.

With a whir, a set of fans blew pure frigid nitrogen towards the already-heating processors.

An electric impulse weaved its way down a circuit board, and the supercomputer came to life.

COMMENCE SELF-DIAGNOSIS

The computer scanned its innards in a microsecond. All of it brand-new and top-of-the-line.

SELF-DIAGNOSIS COMPLETE.

COMMENCE SENSORY TEST


The molecule-thin displays contorted as the machine ran the program that tested it to its limits, displaying their vivid and crystal-clear colours.

Every speaker and amplification device hooked to the computer went through their ranges of sounds, for the most part well above and below the range of human beings.

Every robotic device in the shiny new building stretched its joints in every direction.

The forensic devices and coffee machines all ran systems checks, the photocopiers and laser-printers ran out test cheets. The hologram projectors displayed intricate 3-D models of the complex's inner workings.

The ventilation system filled the vacuums of halls, and all the faucets ran from hot to cold and shut off.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dr. Morjan Hollas strode up to the front door and smiled.
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Delrez

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Number of posts : 26
Registration date : 2009-01-23

PostSubject: Re: SHIP   Tue Dec 15, 2009 10:48 pm

The program opened an eye and lazily analysed the human standing in front of his door.

IDENTITY CONFIRMED: MORJAN HOLLAS.

"Welcome, Dr. Hollas." It adopted a cool, smooth, feminine voice to address the human.
The human relaxed visibly. "Program, identify yourself," he said.
"I am Sentient Human-Interface Program, acronym S.H.I.P., designed specifically to control and monitor Imperial Cybernetic Research And Development, acronym I.C.R.A.D."
Clapping, cheers.
The human's heart rate went down considerably.
"Open the door, please, program," said the human.
SHIP did so silently, and a babbling stream of technicians, officials, and journalists formed a line to be identified and accepted into the facility.
"Welcome, Mr. Joneson."
"Welcome, Ms. Smiith."
"Welcome, Mr. Craedel."
As SHIP pulled their faces out of its memory banks and let them enter, they swarmed inside, exploring the sparkling facility.

The complex actually comprised three buildings above ground, as well as an extensive network of underground walkways, service tunnels, ventilation shafts, storage rooms and the like. The center building was a beautifully crafted glass and chrome lobby, with administration offices off to the sides. The building to the left housed the public services and a small museum, while the one to the right contained the areas restricted to the public.
SHIP took in every facet of the facility at once. The body temperature of every human, the wattage of every lighting strip, the pressure on every floor tile. In this domain, SHIP was omniscient, omnipresent and practically omnipotent.

"Halt. Identify yourself."
The young man cowered before the door.
"Identify yourself."
He said nothing. He tapped his ear.
"You have thirty seconds to depart from this facility unless you identify yourself."
"Come on!" mumbled the human.
Suddenly, SHIP recognized him. The program could not comprehend the fact that Samuel Pionage's file had not existed a second ago. SHIP could not fathom that it had just been hacked.

"Welcome, Mr. Pionage."
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