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Staredit Network -> Literature & Writing -> Code: T.I.T.A.N
Report, edit, etc...Posted by Rabid_Wolf_101 on 2006-12-06 at 21:42:13
Dear Brother,

I am not sure when, nor who, I will come or find when I get home. The war on Baktus has reached maximum turmoil, and it seems as if every day may be the end of my insignificant life. If I am killed here, dear little brother, look after mom, dad, and our beloved sister Jeilen. I love you, never forget that, and survive. The nuclear holocaust may begin soon if we aren't able to get to the Bakton Nuclear Facilities, and if that happens, please remember me. If that happens, get to shelter. If that happens, don't weep for the dead. Focus on yourself and surviving. Noone wants the human race to be wiped out. Remember the gift i gave you? Bury it in the front yard, and wait. Wait until you're older to dig it back up, until the Haulocaust is over. And most importantly, never forget these words. Code: T.I.T.A.N.

-Kaiser Genevain, April 6th, 2351.

The blue haired man read the burnt peice of paper with a fluttering stomach. The letter seemed eerie, almost unreal. It seemed very real though. He silently folded the peice of paper and slid it into his left pocket, unaware how cold it was in his house. He thought about what had happened, and about all of the questions coming into his head. Why was this buried in my front yard? What is Code T.I.T.A.N? He paced back and forth, then deciding for going to his computer. He rolled up in the computer chair and clicked a button on a small, thin rectangle. A slit was cut into the top area, and a red light emitted from it. A Keyboard was decide the device, but the letters were holograms, hovering above a rectangular pad. Quickly, the button gave a click and a hologramic screen hovered over the slit, vertically aimed. The screen was horizontal towards him. He quickly dragged the keyboard across the desk to his lap, the hologram keys making a humming sound as they followed and began to hover in the same place over the keyboard body again. At the bottom right of the computer screen, it merely had five icons and a date. 8:30 A.M, October 12th, 2713. Whoever wrote this letter must have been a soldier in the Barakyan War. He thought, scratching his beardless chin. He began to type pretty fast on the hologramic keys, but they were solid, just like real ones. He finished up typing and pressed enter. The word in the search box, Kaiser Genevain, turned into a loading bar with a blue light flashing across the bar. Immediately, a web page popped up and it began reading;
Kaiser Genevain was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Barakyan war, and a machine gunner that took out five machine gun implacements before being killed by an artillery shell. Not much is known about him, except that he wrote one letter to his brother, Kiin Genevain, before he died. No traces of this letter have ever been found, and it is said it has been engraved with a special code. This code, however unknown, will unlock the Barakyan Galaxy from the outer reaches of the universe, and allow people to see what is in the legendary place. Nobody knows how the code would work, nor what to do with it to open the galaxy- but it's known that it does infact unlock the legend. The man clicked the X on the window, not bothering to read the rest, and a voice clicked on. "Would you like to save this web page to the directory, Arctic?" The voice asked, a feminine voice. "Yes, please, save it under Historical Information. Set for automatic computer shut down in twenty minutes." He replied. "Positive Input, Goodbye." The voice sounded again. The screen began to shrink from the top and bottom until it was nothing more. Clicks could be heard as the small machine saved the data. Outside, a foot of snow was on the ground- and he could see it clearly from the plasma-enforced glass walls. It looked nice, but it still was the aftermath of a nuclear winter. He headed for the door to go to the local museum, his letter under close watch in his pocket. He grabbed his thick jacket and wrapped it around him, then walked through a blue shield covering the doorway. He put his five fingers on a pad next to the blue light, and it turned red. A voice sounded. "Locking engaged. Have a nice day, Arctic." The voice was different from the computer. Inside, Arctic could see his three personal androids cleaning, cooking, and organizing things where they needed to go. They looked exactly like humans, except for their neck. A small emerald was on the back of each androids neck so you could tell them apart. He smiled and went toward a small sidewalk on the side of an old road. Surrounding his house was a pine forest, covered with snow. It looked like a large abandoned city from the right angle. Arctic lifted into the air with a pair of sneakers, a blue laser-looking board appearing under them. He lifted into the air and leaned forward, and began going at about twenty miles per hour to the five-mile-away city. The standard hover-shoes really didn't go fast. He heard zooms as two police officers, at this point in time wearing a thin swat jacket and each having a sub-machine gun. They looked like light-armored killzone troopers. They zoomed past on red hover-boards, SMGs in hand as they did their morning patrol.

He began to think again, I wonder if this is the right letter? It could be a fake. but quickly switched to another subject. Those androids i custom built. Why doesn't the government just use the AI and the models that i built? I had to sell twelve of them already, now i have eight. I barely even see Model 3, 4, 7, 5, and 8. The rest are downstairs readying for me. Before he knew it he was at the town. He tilted his hoverplate forward and landed, then it disappeared- the energy going back into his shoe heels. He saw the museum ahead on the next block, and began to jog towards him. His breath made a smoky stream in the cold air as he ran, and several more police officers zoomed past. He ran forward the the museum and walked through the blue plasma door. Green plasma was hovering around the top of the building, reading in large, bold letters OPEN. He strolled up to the nice, polished wooden desk and put his hand over a black metal pad. A loud beep sounded somewhere in the museum and a man came to the desk and went to behind the counter. "May I help you, Arctic?" He asked, examining how he was dressed. "Yeah. Here." Arctic replied, reaching into his pocket and handing the folded letter to the desk clerk. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out some glasses, and the man began to read the letter. His eyes grew wide as he read the last word- he must have read it over twenty times over before giving it back to Arctic. "That... that is... that is the real thing. The key to the Barakyan galaxy." The museum worker replied, very dazed. "I won't tell anyone; they may be out to kill you or steal it if i did." He added, eyes still wide with amazement- but Arctic was already gone. He clicked on the hoverplate from his shoes and started back to his house in a daze. Hundreds of questions were leaping through his head, ricocheting off of his skull and bouncing right back towards his brain. None of them he knew the answer to, none of them he could even ponder what the answer was. He got home, lightly aware now, and put his hand on the lock-pad. A voice sounded again. "Welcome home Arctic. The personal androids have prepared breakfast for you." The feminine voice sounded, greeting him. He thanked the automated voice and hung his jacket on a small hook jetting four inches out from the wall and continued over the polished oak floor. He sat down at the table and kindly gave a friendly hug to each android who had prepared his morning meal, and they dismissed and began to do their jobs again. Arctic looked in front of him to see three over-medium non-fertilized eggs, four peices of bacon, and a peice of toast. He began to eat the very delicious meal, and before long it was gone. He dried his mouth with a paper towel and quickly cleaned the plate and threw all of the excess food and trash away. An android came to the kitchen counter and began to clean the dishes more thoroughly. Arctic went back to the computer room and logged in again. The voice sounded again. "Welcome back, Arctic. Log in?" "Yes." He replied. The screen clicked on and several windows moved, and the keyboard appeared back. He went to LMM Search and typed in Starships. One hundred and twelve results popped up, and he clicked the first one, the one that said Used Starships. 6000 M' to 200,000 M'. New ships from 20,000 M' to 500,000 M'. A screen popped up with a small unarmed fighter, it looked torn up, and the price tag read 6000 M'. He clicked the arrow backwards, and it switched to a new ship. About the size of an aircraft carrier. The price tag was not at 500,000 M' but one-million Mathro's. It was expensive, but then again Arctic was rich. He had everything he wanted in life, and had graduated college at age eight because of a mind-link he had with a data system, all of the information was transferred to his brain. He became instantly smart, and his parents had forced him to do it. Two years later, his parents died in a car crash and he had to buy himself a house and get a job with his inheritance money of seventy-billion Mathro's. He clicked buy on the XX-C9 Attack Barge, and a screen came up. He quickly filled it in; it required his name, last name, age, zip code, and digital license. After he had filled it in, it said the XX-C9 would be shipped to the nearest Jump-Port before the end of the day. Arctic sighed and went into the living room, passed it, and entered his large decorated room. He crawled into bed and went to sleep to pass time.

<<<To Be Continued>>>

Comments Welcome.

PS: Arctic is an odd name, i know, but it is the future.
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