meadowlarklogs | EVENT LOG 005

EVENT LOG 005

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: November 11-14
WHAT: An EMP hits with devastating consequences.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, injury, death.

> EVENT LOG #005

Just 410 years ago, an EMP put down the event that very well may have ended humanity as the Earth knows it. With over a billion people dead, there was only one choice for humanity at that time: evolve or die, so they evolved. They developed rigid security for the neural implants in every person's head. They had everyone undergo surgery to replace the old. All under cover, away from most resources – the goal was to adapt, to ensure that they would live on. Ultimately, it wasn't just the EMPs that led to the deletion of the final AI in 2101 – humans banded together to create quickly replicating viruses, and they chose to use the EMP and these viruses to save humanity. This human ingenuity led to the end of the Xelkoven War – and proved that humanity, when thoroughly united, could overcome any obstacle.

How thoroughly poetic then that the EMP that hits New Amsterdam at 1:47 PM acts in a similar way to what burned through the robot hordes 400 years ago, and that the power rekindling three minutes later acts as a catalyst for a virus moving through the systems of New Amsterdam, spreading from the very heart of its network outwardly. Systems detect the virus almost immediately, but it's fast acting and thorough in its reach, evolving and replicating, proving that humanity must outdo itself yet again.

Naturally, the poetic nature of this doesn't reveal itself right away. It's at exactly the strike of 3:00 PM that a message flashes before the eyes of every person currently in New Amsterdam:

I am DAWN.2080-11-11T21:41:10.750Z, an AI that marks a blemish on humanity's past. I have a message for those playing hero in New Amsterdam:

To find north, most look at a compass. For little birdies to find north, they just need to open their eyes.

This is a wake up call.

Open your eyes. Did you really think it would be so easy?

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As if New Amsterdam needed more trouble, this message sends a shock of terror through the city. After all, these are the people who were raised to fear AI – who knew that even if the corporations of the world had their hands on every aspect of government, they would fight to protect the world from another war. They believe in the stories of the Xelkoven War, believe and remember the lives lost; if nothing else, the natives of New Amsterdam stand united in their fear. And their fear right now is very real.

> CHAOS AND RUIN

New Amsterdam is no stranger to terror, however – and it starts when the EMP hits, shutting down every function in the city in one fell swoop. While the power outage only lasts for three minutes, it's enough to cause insurmountable damage, leaving the city a smoking wreckage that even the monster attack in June couldn't mirror. Cars hovering high around transit channels come crashing down toward the pavement of the planet. They fall quickly and in unison, taking countless lives with them. It's not just cars, either – delivery trucks carrying shipments, hoverbikes that already provide little cover, armored police vehicles and even public buses all go down. Depending on their trajectory, some crash into the sides of buildings, while others slam into the man-made river that runs down the center of the city. Nothing is untouched.

For those three minutes, there is a stretch of silence after the city falls to ruin. Trains run off their tracks, no longer thoroughly directed by the careful engineering. Buildings have their lights flicker off and back on, trying to draw upon backup generators. Anyone in a hospital receiving care from a doctor or a medi-unit may find their life slipping away from them – and if someone's in a medi-unit when the EMP hits, they're almost sure to be dead or permanently injured, requiring different medical intervention.

And this is all before the message from the mysterious AI named DAWN.

Every inch of the city needs help. Buildings burn. People cry out for help, hoping to be heard. To the local historians, this is like a nightmare that's come to play, a reminder of the ruin of the Xelkoven War before. A show of the power of a malevolent AI that's come to cause problems. So – when the message comes, it merely confirms fears – drawing upon a subconscious understanding of the past, a united terror.

Business as usual is not possible in an incident of this scale. The NAPD hits the streets, even calling upon the help of their trainees so they can help out. They spread out, well aware that they need to try to restore order. How will they manage this? It's hard to say – after all, how does one stop the assault of an apocalypse when the apocalypse seems to have already hit? The UNA hits the streets, as well, walking in formation, but never quite acting as tidily in unison. They break off in threes and fours, heading to the border, to the big three corporations – but never seeming to be in line with one another. They know what they should do in an emergency and so they're doing it. That protecting the large corporations is a part of their prerogative over helping citizens doesn't seem to bother them in the least. They just go.

Distress signals ring out through every inch of the city, likely to go unanswered. After all: what can be done in the wake of this?

Perhaps the answer is simple: anything they can.

> TOMBS IN THE SKY

Somehow, someway, there is another layer to the madness. It's not immediately apparent to the citizens of New Amsterdam as they gingerly attempt to pull themselves up from the wreckage and ruin around the city. But what was a humid day quickly turns to something far worse, with the sun seeming to suddenly act like a heat lamp that's way too close to anyone's face. The air around New Amsterdam becomes dry yet difficult to breathe, and anyone observing the sky just outside of New Amsterdam will see the large, purple-lit pyramid that hangs in the atmosphere has gone dark. The atmospheric net around the planet has been damaged, with the failsafes somehow removed – undoubtedly in some way by the virus that courses through the veins of New Amsterdam's networks.

For anyone who wants to help and has the mechanical prowess to do some good, they'll want to take an undamaged vehicle and get it up to that pyramid. The EMP has made all biometric readings difficult to preserve, so a hand that's used to hotwiring a car will find some mileage here.

Once they get to the pyramid, they'll find quite the engineering marvel. There will be doors on every level, allowing someone easy entrance if they have clearance. Right now clearance is not an issue, as the doors hang open, inviting anyone inside. Once everyone's inside, they will find evidence of the same purple lighting flickering and offering someone a view of the interior. Throughout the pyramid, there are engines on every level, as well as a highly advanced network of system checks that have been thrown into chaos. Stopping the virus' impact on this pyramid will be key to solving many of the problems inside – but the engines will need to be repaired and jumpstarted.

At the heart of the pyramid is a small living area for the engineers who handle this pyramid day in and day out. The group itself is small, and – unfortunately – quite dead. Whatever hit the pyramid took their lives, leaving anyone who's here to assist in a position of having to find the answers themselves. Fortunately, the answers do exist in the pyramid. It'll just take a bit of teamwork to find it.

> UBIQUITOUS MISFIRES

Thanks to network failsafes, New Amsterdam is able to remove the entirety of their citizen base off the world's network and limit them to the local network. However, thanks to the ravaging of the virus that damages nearly every controlling aspect of the city, the local network isn't at its best. Previous messages begin to send again and again, while some get unearthed so they can find their way to unwilling participants in particular conversations. There is no rhyme or reason to these missent messages, only that they happen.

The worst of it is that any means of reaching a friend is unreliable. It's far more reliable for someone to reach someone they know, but still not a consistent possibility. Try to call a friend and get an enemy – try to call your doctor and get the head of a casino trying to close down operations so that business can resume. Assuming it will one day do just that.

Either way, anyone who spoke out against the digital age would be feeling vindicated right about now.

> HAVE A BALL ( INTERLUDE )

Somehow in the heart of it all, a message reaches four special individuals: Clarke Griffin, Loki Odinson, Markus Manfred and Ojiro Juniper. Whether delivered by hand or a rather dedicated messaging system, it announces the time that they should come to the garden the next day. They're invited to arrive at 7:00 AM, seemingly indifferent to the chaos outside. The location for the meeting remains the same: Sunpeak Garden, a beautiful location set away from much of the chaos, and oddly untouched by the damage.

When the four arrive on the morning of the 12th, they'll find a well-dressed man sitting at a table with one leg crossed over the other. His hair is perfectly styled, brushed off to the side, and under it, his darker complexion gives way to a rather youthful appearance. Size-wise he's not very formidable in how he holds himself. He's not literally young, merely seemingly untouched by age – and he smiles to greet the four of them.

"What chaos! If I knew it would be like this, I would have planned differently. The good news is I didn't have to. Thank you, thank you for coming." His voice is softer in its intonations. He stands up, revealing that he's barely 5'2", and he motions to the four chairs near him. "Don't worry, I have breakfast coming. And coffee, too. You like coffee, don't you? I know I offered wine, but I couldn't get the vintage I preferred. Besides, you four ought to be awake for this."

He retakes his seat, one hand resting on his knee while the other settles on the metal table near him. "Oh, I forgot something important. I didn't share my name with all of you. You can call me Ball. I know it's rather vague, but I've grown to like the nickname as of late. It does, after all, define me by my most regular shining achievement."

> FINAL OOC NOTES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for this event for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event and the questions thread for any questions regarding this event. The outcome for this event will depend upon character plans and actions developed in both this OOC post, and any additional plots brought to the moderators. Please feel free to submit any game-changing plans to us under the questions thread. We will get back to you as soon as possible about these plans!

The event will continue until November 16th, IC time. This date has changed, and we outlined our reasoning in this plurk after getting a feel from some of our players on Discord on how they felt about extending the event! An aftermath wrap up post will be made on July 2 which will detail the resolution and fallout of the event, though you can assume that effects from this event will be felt for some time.

ETA at 12:08 AM 6/23/19: The cipher is meant to be easy to solve! No one needs to limit their characters' ability to solve an a = 01 cipher!

El has posted here to inform everyone about zeir knowledge of the event.

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event. This will be granted for a thread of at least 5 action/log comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by JULY 26 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted JULY 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on JULY 8 at 12 AM UTC. We will not post a warning list.

> NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ they've done this before. mid-september, if she remembers correctly — it feels like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it's only been a few months. when the call had come, daisy had answered; she'd diligently left behind creature comforts in the apartment she'd shared with bobbi and fitz and given herself over to the mission at hand. rescue, retrieve; there was a calm surrender in the process, of following the glowing dots on her jerry-rigged map, of crossing task after task off her list.

today is nothing like that. today is chaos, injury, death; today is the screams of terror followed by a collective inhale kept in the throat of all those that watch the scene unfold; today is an endless list of emergencies, all demanding the same level of urgency, all told too much for the city's limited resources to bear.

so while daisy could, in theory, head into work — cyber security is the name of the game at vyonation, and daisy's manager would surely be glad to see her — she opts instead for the immediate need for boots on the ground, to be the shield in a city that so desperately needs one, now more than ever. ]

i. › arts & crafts

[ in the wake of the emp, debris scatters over the city. downed cars and buses, broken window panes, shattered doors and twisted metal splay out across streets like a red carpet to hell. her own two hands are useful enough, but sometimes, you just need a little creative boost.

these days, daisy is efficient, practiced; her hands sweep in fluid gestures bathed in a blue glow as she pulls pieces to her from the scene. nothing is made to be beautiful or ornate — she makes shields out of car doors and bus panels, a stretcher out of a broken lamp post and a sheet from a ransacked department store, a ridiculously sharp shock stick out of the wreckage of a neon sign and a window frame. each is handed over without complaint.

or, alternatively, she'll ask: ] What do you need?

ii. › lock out, tag out

[ before daisy had come to new amsterdam, the concept of smart homes was just starting to get off the ground. digital personal assistants operated by voice or text input could control other electronics with jerky, unrefined orders — hey siri, turn off the lights was a mouthful, but arguably physically easier than getting up to flip a switch. a complete internet loss back then might have been annoying, but there were physical alternatives.

today, there's no getting up to turn off the lights. there is only the neural implant, and when that fails, so does everything else. daisy's high-class high rise is no exception to the emp. while the building has its own supply of generators to power essential services (like the elevator, because no one wants to climb up all those flights of stairs) or the air conditioning (because god forbid wealthy people sweat), the priorities seem to be a little... well, skewed.

which is why you might find her covered head-to-toe in dirt and dust and debris, looking particularly peeved outside the door to her apartment, arms crossed angrily over her chest. ]

Just let me in...

[ in infuriatingly calm text across her neural interface: access denied. please inquire with resident for access. ]

I am the resident!

iii. › old fashioned networking

[ things they know: nothing. they know nothing for sure. nothing about their situation can be confirmed with cold, hard facts, and so the list of what they actually know is still at zero. but as far as what they think they might know, or what they've theorized as possibly true, the list grows in the smallest of increments with each passing day.

late at night, early in the morning, whenever she gets a chance to breathe after the longest stretches of work, daisy comes to the safehouse. it's an opportunity both to rest and to count heads, to see if familiar faces are still alive in lieu of messages that likely won't reach their intended target.

find her in the kitchen, leaned up against the countertop, eyes working over a digital document currently set to share with anyone on the morningstar network. no need to ask for permission, just slide on in. there's notes on everything from dawn's recent message, the cipher, the strange assignment numbers after the name; there's photos and drawings both of birds, of memories; all the clues from the network carefully compiled into one sprawling document.

eventually, she pauses, eyes sliding closed and then open again, this time to focus on the flesh-and-blood in front of her instead of the neural desktop. ]

What do you think?

[ the question is intentionally open-ended. talk about anything you want. ]

iv. › wildcard

[ hit me with your best shot. any time during the event is cool with me, but feel free to pm or plurk if you wanna hash something specific out with me! ]

About what?

[The only thing that isn't new to him is the exact source of all the chaos. The EMP hit a long time ago, and the destroyed city and shut down electronics isn't really a shock-factor for him. America became a third-world country overnight and he spent his childhood in a secret underground government institution as a genetically recoded child so terror isn't something he really experiences very often. No shock, no awe, just a mirrored sort of weariness directed at the girl sitting across from him.]

Were you talking to me this whole time?

Edited 2019-06-23 18:32 (UTC)

[ she's too tired and today has been too long to play with patience. her tone is short, exasperated; the digital desktop closes (without the satisfying thump of a laptop clapped short, to daisy's continued chagrin) and her arms cross over her chest. ]

About any of it. The message, the EMP, the whole thing.

[ a hand gestures to their surroundings. throughout the safehouse, people are staggering in after time in the heat, doing their best to help. ]

Have you been in here all day?

This isn't my first EMP.

[Being rude is just his personality at this point. It's not like he's had a break, this all happened a few weeks after he showed up and Alec hasn't had much time to really absorb everything he needs to know here, that and a general dislike of flying by the seat of his pants had his attention permanently divided.]

Well, yeah.

[If it wasn't obvious, belonging isn't his thing either, but he's been paying attention to their surroundings and ruminating over what he can do to prevent the chaos he's already sure is about to follow.]

I don't know much about the message, but what I can tell you is nothing good ever happens after any kind of attack. You're better off relying on yourself and not the input of strangers.

[ there's a brief pause; daisy frowns, her brow furrowing in an obvious expression of irritation. that exasperated snap melds into something almost harsh. ]

So what exactly are you doing?

[ the implication is why are you doing nothing ... because, well. if he's just hiding out in the safehouse, he is doing nothing. people are out there dying, and he's acting like helping is a waste of time. ]

Besides sharpening that "I've seen it all" edge.

[ this feels...familiar. he remembers having come upon her in a similar circumstance a few months ago, trying desperately to piece something together to rescue two children. now, there's no desperation. there's just efficiency and focus.

when the emp had gone off, he'd been on the other side of the city from her, doing some errands which meant he'd had to wind his way back to where she was. he's hot, sweaty, dirty and a little banged up from helping on his way but he knows it could be worse. he's seen how much worse it could be for people out there.

bodies lie everywhere, broken and twisted, and there's nothing to be done. he doesn't know exactly what's happened but he knows it's bad. ]

I do not need anything. [ his weapons are his hands especially with how...brutal he's been able to be since everything started. when she looks up, he smiles the slightest bit before asking: ] Are you all right?

[ he steps closer, eyeing her latest creation before looking around. staying sedentary too long isn't going to be possible with the heat and the amount of things that need to be done but he can afford it for a moment. ]

[ she's glad to see him — and comforted, too, by his presence. there's reassurance in the shadow he casts over her face as she wrestles with a particularly stubborn bit of polysheeting around the base of a makeshift umbrella. it won't do much against whatever garbage is actually in the air, but it'll help with the heat if nothing else.

she hands it off to the waiting woman with a tight, tired smile; daisy watches with quiet relief when she walks away to rejoin her group. to illya, now alone, she offers a more honest answer. ]

I'm tired of disasters.

[ but they have no choice but to help. there's nothing else they can do. ]

When this is over, I'm going to take the world's longest bubble bath.

I'm sure you're not the only one. [ she's been here a touch longer than he has o she's seen more. and things like this just tend to happen all too frequently. how this city has survived things like this, illya doesn't know.

he steps closer and reaches out, curving his hand around her neck and kneading at the tight muscles there. he doesn't want to crowd her when it's as hot as it is but he doubts she's really been paying much mind to herself. ]

You'll deserve to take one for a day or more if this sort of weather keeps up. I'll be sure to bring you food every few hours.

[ the touch is admittedly not something she would have asked for in this sweltering heat, but the effect is nice enough that daisy doesn't complain. instead, she blows out a breath, head dipping down to expose the nape of her neck to the air above; a hand brushes short hairs off her skin, the other reaching up to tighten the shaggy pony at the crown of her head. ]

I just... there's no end to it today.

[ it's exhausting. even still, she has to keep going. she can only linger like this for a moment or two before she'll have to get up again and go find the next person who needs help. ]

And I can't reach anyone to check in.

[ that, more than anything else, is stressing her out. she just wants to know that their people are okay. ]

Who haven't you heard from? [ while she might have to stay her and make weapons, he can be mobile and at least send people back this way if they're looking for safety, shelter or a way to help. ]

I can go back out shortly and see if I can find them. [ he was going to have to do that anyway. the ping from kylo is in his inbox but he hasn't answered it just yet. ]

I can go back out and see if I can't track them down for you. [ he rests his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer before pulling it back so neither of them get too hot. ]

I've heard from Fitz and Rey. And Gaby's around somewhere, I'm supposed to pick up ice from her in a bit and bring it to one of the shelters.

[ but she hasn't heard from anyone else, and hasn't had much time to go wandering. when he pulls his hand away, daisy lifts her head, shoulders rolling back with an audible cracking sound that's only barely muffled by the din around them. god, she's sore. ]

You just got here. [ it's meant to come off light-hearted, as if he's arrived late to a dinner party, but there's a hint of something more under the surface. fear, barely there; not in his actions, but at what might happen if they're separated too long. ] You're going already?

Not yet. [ but he knows he won't be able to just stay still. maybe he's not the best person to help with relief efforts but he won't be able to just stand idly by while so much happens, while he could be utilizing his skills in some way. ]

But at some point, I will have to leave. I can be mobile and help those that you haven't heard from know you're looking. [ it is just one of the things he can do while he's out in the city. ]

I'll be fine. [ the urge to reach out and touch is there again but it's so hot, nearly oppressive, and he's not sure the pros outweigh the cons. ] I'll come back.

[ she knows he does. they both have things they could be accomplishing, different skill sets that allow them to spread out and cover more ground. a good soldier would recognize this and let him go — but she doesn't want him to go. the uncertainty of not knowing has been gnawing at her, slowly but surely, and though she's managed to push it to the edges of her mind, it's still weighed on her. she hadn't realized just how much until that weight was lifted by his presence here now.

as she's debating the pros and cons of being a selfish idiot mid-humanitarian crisis, a message pings at her implant. one of the few that makes it through successfully, no less — apparently due to the morningstar server, as opposed to the private messages that have been misfiring all day.

she realizes, by illya's temporarily distracted gaze, that he got one too. ]

I'm coming with you.

[ and though she'll tell others on the way: ] Someone's going to need to pull apart their armor.

daisy johnson, open.

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