◘ 16 ◘ voice;

[hacktivist]

It's telling to examine the similarities in emotional and computing vulnerabilities.

Many of the same security problems that existed in IPv4's implementation were not corrected in IPv6 (buffer overflows). One careless programmer can make a hundred thousand problems down the line with a brief lapse of attention (bounds checking). Constant vigilance and repeated testing of personal defenses are the only sure methods of safety.

And safety is a target in motion.

Generally speaking: how many times do you have to make the same mistake before you learn? Only once? Twice?



A hundred times?

Comments

Voice; encrypted

[hacktivist]

Only one mistake.

Hmm. [he won't invite himself over.] I see.

Voice; encrypted

[futurebatwoman]

But you don't want to discuss that mistake explicitly. [ and okay, there may be a touch of pique in her voice, but mostly it's neutral. ]

I've got to make dinner. For one or two?

Voice; encrypted

[hacktivist]

No. Not now. ...that discussion is dangerous.

[she can't see it since it's voice, but his whole posture becomes more attentive, his everything shifts and straightens at this, a practical reason to come by]

Two?

Voice; encrypted

[futurebatwoman]

[ a long pause as she tries to figure out what he means by dangerous. Eventually shelving it for further thought later. ]

I wanted to run some code by you anyways. If you haven't eaten yet, might as well get two birds with one stone.

action;

[hacktivist]

[oh god two practical reasons and Max's company, there's no way on Earth he can resist this. So in about ten minutes he's arriving, drifting up to the door, passing his hand through the doorbell to make a soft, unique kind of ding.]

perma-action;

[futurebatwoman]

Come on in.

[ She is in the middle of mashing potatoes and he can phase through stuff. But she looks up and smiles, waving her hand for a moment. ]

So what have you been up to today?

[hacktivist]

I have finally restored 100% functionality to my suit. I am also translating a number of transmissions I believe are extraterrestrial in origin. [he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck]

And yourself?

[futurebatwoman]

Skrulls? [ freezing, because they will always be her first thought when she hears extraterrestrial. ]

I'm fine.

Quitting my job.

[hacktivist]

No. [curious. Cosmic shit happened so often back home that the Skrulls were one set of (shifting) faces among many]

Quitting? Why?

[futurebatwoman]

Oh. [ cosmic shit isn't her scene, Ghost. She relaxes a little, more curious now. ] Have we got other aliens out there, then?

I got offered a job at City Hall. [ a wave of her hand, as if to indicate that it's not that important. ] So you seriously aren't going to tell me about this mistake?

[hacktivist]

Exact data pending; I am working on deciphering the transmissions. [a beat]

...City Hall. [more thoughtful than anything. She's Batwoman, she's getting training from Scatty. Maybe later it'll dawn on him to remind her to be v. careful.] Ah. Affection.

[futurebatwoman]

[ she pauses, frowning a little in confusion, and then sticks the potato masher in the sink and puts the mashed potatoes on the kitchen counter. ]

Can you get the plates? [ a beat, and she turns to get glasses out of a cabinet, her back to him. ]

I didn't realize affection could lead to death.

[hacktivist]

It is a common theme in Shakespeare. [or so he had to read for school. He drifts over to snag the plates from the cupboard.]

[futurebatwoman]

Well, I mean, if you're thinking the really dramatic I'd-die-for-them sort of love, I guess it can.

A lot of Shakespeare was melodrama, though. [ beat. Looking directly at him. ] I don't think affection is a mistake.

[hacktivist]

Perhaps you're right. [this with a deceptive air of nonchalance, secretly intensely invested in all data relating to this subject.]

...Should I get anything else?

[futurebatwoman]

I make a habit of being right. It wastes less time.

[ It's casual, almost flippant, because Max is thinking. ]

No, that's all.

But you did say that it had led to death before.

[hacktivist]

Yes. My own. [he stops, looking over his shoulder, clutching the plates to his person as though they're some kind of stolen goods he expects to be re-confiscated at any moment, and holds a still and solemn silence for a matter of long, agonizing moments]

I am aware of the personal validation effect. [and then he's setting the plates down on the table gently, making nearly no noise whatsoever, shoulders hunched]

[futurebatwoman]

[ she bites down on her instinctive 'you aren't dead' response, because she doesn't think she'll get anywhere with it and she's got a different train of inquiry to pursue here. also, wait - ]

I'm not. Aware of the personal validation effect, that is. [ psychology isn't her field either, okay. ] How does it apply here?

[hacktivist]

It is anecdotal evidence as applied to oneself. Believing a thing is true because of one's own experience, and no outside data. One of the less logical approaches. [he considers] But facts are immutable, and supplement personal observations.

[futurebatwoman]

Well, I think once doesn't make for a satisfactorily complete test.

[ Quietly, she starts to dish out the mashed potatoes. ]

Why are you suddenly concerned about it now? Did something happen?

[hacktivist]

...Some mistakes are very expensive to repeat.

[he sits, pressing his hands to his chin, deeply contemplative in posture and affect. Unusual, for him to transmit emotions so plainly as this.]

Yes. I recognize similar emotional states and behavioral patterns.

[futurebatwoman]

True.

[ she works in silence for a moment, cutting some chicken and sticking broccoli on the plates before sliding his across the counter to him and sitting down herself across from him, picking at her food in concentration. ]

Okay. So what are you going to do?