Chapter One
“Can we take the motorcycle, Mouse?” Cursor asked, as they took a
final look around the only room they had ever seen, not fifteen
minutes after their “Birth”.
“Yes, but I’m driving.” Mouse responded.
“BUT I’M THE BETTER DRIVER, LOOK AT ME, I HAVE HUMANOID FEET AND
SOMETHING RESEMBLING HANDS. I SHOULD BE DRIVING, I’M MORE METHODICAL,
LOGICAL, AND CALM.” Cursor yelled in utter indignation.
“No, you’re the one who’s yelling, I’m the calm one, and I’m the
better driver. Mice at least have some human DNA, Cursors were just
created by humans.” Mouse responded, summoning their motorcycle out of
code data, built inside his and Cursors programs by Cath, and
instantly slipping into the drivers’ seat before Cursor could continue
arguing. “Into the sidecar, Cursor. We must keep busy to keep our
heads.”
“Figuratively speaking, I hope. I haven’t got a head, Mouse.” Cursor
said as he climbed into his sidecar.
And off they flew, through the figurative cyberspace, floating
aimlessly as pieces of code. They flew on for only a few seconds,
before they hit the Information Highway, where they continued flying,
arguing over how they should help, and the much more important who.
“You know our code, Mouse, we must fly the internet as we see fit,
finding people, and helping them overcome anything thrown at them. We
get much freedom, but even more responsibility.”
“Yes, I know that. The difficulty is in choosing whom to help. There
are so many people in need of our help, all over the world, and all of
them at our fingertips. How do we choose? How do we single out a
single person to help?”
“Easy. We don’t pick. We just choose at random.” So saying, Cursor
leaned slightly, tipping the motorcycle, and forcing Mouse into a
website called “Tumblr”. “Hmmm... I’m not sure this was wise..” Cursor
said, upon seeing the homepage of his chosen site.
“Well, you picked it, so, it must be right.” Said Mouse, inwardly
laughing at the expression on Cursors “face”. He aimed the motorcycle
into the site, and chose a random blog.
“... Well. This is... Uh... Different.” Said Cursor. They were
standing on a dashboard for a blog, and on the dashboard was several
blown up, anime styled drawings, of two boys, one dark haired with a
scar on his forehead, the other blonde, in several.. “Romantic Scenes”
as Cursor puts it. Meanwhile, Mouse was roaring in laughter at his
partners obvious discomfort.
“What an interesting expression! I thought you were cold, and immune
to emotions, Cursor?”
“I am... Merely surprised. And, vaguely disturbed as to how..” Here,
he checks the information of the blogs owner/operator “ah, here we go,
a 15 year old girl, would have this level of imagination and knowledge
of the human anatomy. It appears that she is either highly
promiscuous, or, she spends QUITE a large amount of time with these...
Characters.”
While Mouse continued to laugh, Cursor was examining the photographs
and general descriptions of the blog owner, and scrolling up and down
through her blog, noticing, that with time, her drawings became more
and more disturbing. Especially over the past few weeks. Less
“Romantic, and sickeningly adorable drawings” as Mouse puts it, in the
beginning, and slowly growing “More... Eerie, and disturbing”.
“Well, clearly she is in a deep state of mental anxiety. Look at her
photos, see as how over the past few months she slowly draws more and
more in on herself? How the drawings become darker, both in setting,
and in actual coloring? She’s becoming depressed, as well as shy,
withdrawn, and basically becoming more of a loner. See how her nails
are slightly bitten, in the photo where she covers her arm with her
sleeve? And look at her hair, it was carefully cut to keep her face
covered, and then left unkempt, a period of a few months ago. She’s
deliberately trying to hide herself, but why?” Cursor talked at Mouse.
“Um... Well, perhaps she’s having trouble at school? Her drawings are
excellent, but perhaps that shows a disposition against maths?” Mouse
responded hopefully.
“No, close but no.” Cursor said, drawing out the no’s. “See, the
problem is at school, that is clear, see the timestamps on some of her
doodles? It’s during school hours, so clearly she is drawing during
school hours, and then posting it. As if she’s distracting herself,
perhaps. Or, trying her hardest not to be noticed, while using it as a
type of stress relief. And notice how they seem to go up, during her
lunch breaks, when normally a student would be spending time with
friends. Clearly, she’s avoiding someone. But, again, in her posts,
she states things such as ‘ ^-^ Got lonely during lunch, so have this
drawing.’, what does this tell us, Mouse?”
“..... Errrmmm... She’s lonely, but she enjoys it?” Mouse tried, half-heartedly.
“No, it means that she is good at avoiding whoever it is, or is
putting on a brave face. Perhaps lying to her friends and saying she’d
rather be alone and draw, etc. Clearly the person she is trying to
avoid knows that she is avoiding them, and is making no effort to
change that. I would guess that the person she is avoiding is some
form of stalker. And not in a good way.” Cursor responded.
“So, we have a case...?” Mouse ventured, after getting tired of
watching Cursor staring blankly at the drawings.
“What? Oh, yes, I suppose we do. We might as well wait around for her
to get home. We have a few hours until school ends, I believe.” So
saying, Mouse and Cursor went, in unison, through the blog, and landed
in the girls laptop, where they faded out, and went into an automatic
sleep state. They wouldn’t awaken until the laptop was woken up.
Chapter Two.
It could have been hours, or seconds later, when Mouse and Cursor were
awoken. Instantly, Mouse began to hack into the laptop's webcam, while
Cursor was hacking the sound and mic systems. Not fifteen seconds
after awakening, they had complete control of the laptops media, and
could see and hear and speak out of it, without interrupting the
computer itself. They, however, kept their forms invisible upon the
screen, so that the girl would be unable to see them. Lucky they did,
for she wasn’t alone.
“What should we start with? Math or art?” One female voice asked.
“Stupid question, Cor.” Said another female voice.
“Knew it. Art?” The first voice asked again.
“Yup. I already finished earlier, which means I’ll be on Tumblr,
laughing while you struggle.”
“.. That’s cold. You won’t even help me, at all?”
“Nope.” The second voice said, while smiling, and reaching for some
colored pencils.
“God, spare me. I’m going to sleep.” Said Cursor to Mouse, without
using the speakers, so as not to be heard. “Wake me when she’s alone.”
So, poor Mouse then had to spend a few hours watching two teenage
girls doing their homework. While watching, he learned that the first
girl was a friend, and her name was Courtney (Cor), while the second
girl, their client, was named Theresa. Theresa seemed to be a quiet
girl. Mouse noted, with quiet irritation, that she was almost exactly
as Cursor described her. Although she seemed very comfortable teasing,
and joking with her friend, it was clear that it was only because
they’d been such good friends for such a long time. After Cor left,
Mouse shook Cursor awake, and then they revealed themselves to
Theresa, by making themselves visible on her laptop. And then trying
to get her to stop screaming. After several minutes of excited and
scared noises they finally calmed her down, and Cursor got to work.
“Alright, I’ll try to make this quick.” He began, speaking even faster
than usual. “We’re computer viruses. Kind of. We’re also AI’s. We were
designed to enter into any system ever designed, and then take it
over. Right now we’re in your laptop. We’ve taken it over. We’re using
your webcam to see you, your speakers to talk to you, and your
microphone to hear you. We can enter virtually, points for the pun,
any system in existence. We were designed to enter into people’s
personal systems in this manner, and then help them through their
life, in whatever they need. Emotionally, and mentally. We won’t be
doing your homework or chores for you, merely doing our best to
console you and help you through your life’s troubles. Any questions?”
He said, in his usual, quick worded, completely deadpan voice.
“... Only, who created you, and why are you both so smart?” Theresa
said after a few moments.
“We were created by a depressed, and clearly suicidal librarian. She
committed suicide mere moments before finishing creating us, and died
as we were booting up.” At this, Mouse burst into tears, and Cursor
shot him a short, somewhat impatient glance, before continuing.
“Alright, she fell unconscious and the ambulance we called took her
away, at any rate. Better, Mouse? We don’t know for sure if she’s
dead. I just happen to be more practical and believe she is. At any
rate, to answer your other question, we were programmed with several
things that most people have to go to school for decades to learn, and
we can access virtually, again, pun, any database we wish. Anything
else?” Cursor explained, semi-haughtily.
“... Why me? Why choose me to help?” Theresa responded, quietly.
“Oh, for gods sake, isn’t is obvious, look at you.” He then repeated
everything he had told Mouse earlier, when he had been observing here,
this time ending with. “Now, we’re here to help you find your stalker,
and hopefully rid you of him. Shall we begin?”
Mouse was very confused. Part of him wanted to yell at Cursor for
being so blunt, and the other wanted to laugh at the confused look on
Theresa’s face.
Chapter Three
Several hours later, things had been fully explained to Mouse and
Cursor and a plan had been made. Much to Mouse’s irritation, and
Cursors quiet pride, he had been completely right. Someone had been
leaving numerous notes inside Theresa’s locker. All of them following
the same pattern. All of them generally being hate mail on her
drawings. Calling her childish, moronic, imbecilic, and more besides,
for her childish obsession with characters. Admittedly, they were from
her childhood, but what should that matter? It was rather simple.
Someone wanted her to “grow up” and stop drawing.
So, Cursor suggested the simplest form of action. Theresa would place
her phone inside her locker when school started, Mouse and Cursor
would lie in wait, and they would snap multiple pictures of the
culprit. They would then take the pictures to the principal and stop
the harassment. It worked perfectly. Mouse and Cursor went into her
phone, and went to sleep. They set their sleep modes to be sound
activated.
The moment the culprit opened the locker, Mouse and Cursor woke up,
and began taking pictures. There were twenty minutes left in the
school day, and Cursor was examining the pictures of the culprit. The
culprit had the same severely dark hair and eyes, that Theresa had,
and as Cursor was examining the pictures he breathed out slightly, in
realization.
“Got it.” He breathed. “It’s all very simple. Look, he’s in a
letterman jacket, he’s a football player. And look at his teeth, he
spends far too much time and attention on them, clearly he’s very
“popular” with the other students, and works hard to maintain it.
Perhaps he’s not very good at football, or not very important on the
team. Which, you can again tell by how pristine his jacket is, and the
fact that it’s worn often, but dirtied and washed rarely. He has the
exact same hair, eyes, and cheekbones as... His sister.”
Mouse was simultaneously annoyed, impressed, and filled with pride at
Cursors quick deductions. Still twirling his moustache, he asked “And
why would he do this to his sister?”
“Well, clearly because she is reflecting badly on him. See the furtive
glances he cast left and right to be assured that nobody would notice?
And the heavy emphasis on his sister to “Quit her weird drawings, and
be a normal person”? She is reflecting badly upon him, and he wishes
that to end, by refusing to accept her, and also attempting to change
her to further his own status. Well, I think we’ve done more than
enough, here. What say you, partner?” Cursor said, typing up his
deductions on Theresa’s notepad app while he talked.
“Well... Shouldn’t we stay to help her get through the trauma of it?”
Mouse asked.
“No. She’s strong. She will be quite angry with her brother and I’m
certain the principal, and her teachers, and their parents will all
step in. She’ll be just fine in the morning. We have another case to
find.” He said curtly.
“Well... Alright. I’m driving.” Mouse replied, summoning their motorcycle.
“Confound it! Let me drive!”
“No. I’m driving. I’m older.”
“ACCORDING TO WHO?”
“Me. Just now. I thought of myself as older, and voiced it first,
therefore, I am older.”
Grumbling all the way, Cursor climbed into the sidecar, as they flew
off again, through cyberspace and into the next adventure.
End Part The Second.
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