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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Password please


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Good morning Lord Zadown said the computer in a cheerful voice. Would you care to log in now?

 

Z shook his head briefly trying to unfog it from sleep. He stared blankly then just as his eyes began to burn he blinked.

 

It's a trick. My roomie has been messing with my puter, I'm sure of it. But Z's mind wasn't making him feel any more comfortable.

 

Z crept to the computer, reached for last night's water on the desk and was struck with fear. There was no keyboard.

 

Uhhhhh... he croaked aloud slightly startling himself with the sound of his own creation.

 

Please speak clearly, Lord Zadown. chirped the computer gleefully.

 

The water tasted real enough. Looking at the surface of it, Z was struck with the realization that perhaps he should dust at least once every few months. A few minutes and a fresh glass of water later, Z returned to his rump-sprung computer chair still feeling quite confused and out of place.

 

I'll play along. he thought.

 

I'd like to log in please. said Z in what he had attempted to make sound like a confident, normal voice. He failed miserably.

 

Despite the obvious questioning tone in Z's voice, the computer seemed to accept this as a command rather than an inquiry. Password please.

 

Thoughts, roiling like storm clouds above a vast desert, rushed through Z's head. Password. Okay, that should be simple enough. I don't use many.

 

Zipping through his standard list of passwords, four to be exact, he found that each met with the same exact intonation from his computer as his initial request had. Password please. He tried adding single numeric digits to the end of each password. Password please.

 

An hour passed. He tried frantically to remember some obscure password he was sure he'd snatched from his brain not long ago. Nothing would come to him.

 

This isn't real. I know it isn't.

 

And yet the computer seemed to be watching him... and he could feel it... feel some artificial awareness boring holes into him waiting, expecting, demanding. It felt very real.

 

Random words began to fly from his lips. One then another, faster and faster he ran through anything he thought he might use. The computer, never changing tone, never speaking faster, somehow sounded more and more irritated with his incomptence. Password please.

 

I know what it is! It's that one I used on those two sites... it's... it's something clever. I certainly don't feel very clever right now.

 

Password please.

 

Why did this feel like such a life threatening situation. Surely he wasn't that dependent on being tied to his computer.

 

Panic. He had to think of it. Quickly he grabbed the first thing within reach to read. It was the back of a candy wrapper. He delivered each word with emphasis, with confidence, with utter desperation, with hideous mispronunciation. Something had to be the password.

 

The sweet songlike quality of the voice from his computer send chills down his spine. Password please.

 

Three hours passed, then four, then six. Z's bladder ached and his stomach was protesting loudly, yet even after the onset of hoarseness, Z continued without moving from his seat.

 

Material snatched from arm's length was beginning to pile around the base of his chair. Wrappers, bags, boxes, drink cans, jewel boxes, a prescription bottle, even one of his computer speakers with the words Made in Taiwan emblazened on the back all lay strewn at his feet. He got up... only once and came back with dictionaries in two languages, a phone book, and a porn magazine. Password please. Nothing worked.

 

Finally well into the night, his voice aching from constant speach, his head throbbing with panic, his legs, rear, and bladder all numb from the pain of some hours ago, he tried the only thing he could still think of.

 

Reset password.

 

The computer whirred quietly for a moment then spoke. Security alert. Unauthorized access attempted. Computer shutting down.

 

NO! he screamed. It was too late. The sweet torturing voice had fallen silent. The computer purred, beeped, and shut down. He looked. There were no buttons. Thinking of anything, he fumbled for the surge protector. There was nothing there. No cords snaked their way down from the back of the case.

 

In rage and fear, Z snatched the case, uncertain if he was going to throw it violently or simply carry it out to find someone to help him. It would not budge. It seemed as much a part of the desk as the wood itself.

 

I have to get someone. He tried to call for his roommate, but he didn't have enough voice left to carry beyond his room. He walked through the apartment. He was the only one home.

 

Stopping only long enough to pull on shoes and make sure that his shirt wasn't too twisted around his body, he darted for the door and reached for the....

 

There was no doorknob on the front door.

 

What in the name of... how do I get out of here?!?

 

Just as his fingers started to grope the inside of the door, a hauntingly familiar voice arouse from where the doorknob had been.

 

Password please.

Edited by Illianna Wolfsong
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