How to take advantage of a corporate fuckup

The pre-dawn light filtered through the apartment's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the sleek, minimalist furniture in shades of gray and blue.

Urban silence-, incredibly rare- a brief respite before the city roared back to life. But the quiet only amplified the disgust churning in my gut.

I sat at the computer terminal, my fingers drumming against the cool metal surface, my mind sifting through the vast trove of data I'd stolen from the Militech facility.

'Alright, time for a debriefing,' I thought, my mental voice reaching out to Rem and Ram, who were lounging on a plush white sofa, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and boredom.

'These skill shards…' I projected the image, the concept, into our shared mindscape. 'They're fucking disgusting.'

'Meaning?' Ram's thought was sharp, impatient.

'They're useful, sure. For practice. For getting a feel for… whatever the hell programming and netrunning actually are.' I struggled to find an analogy vile enough. 'Imagine someone trying to teach you swordsmanship by shoving a rusty, broken blade into your skull that imparts useless knowledge of a style you don't even want to learn. It might give you a vague idea of how to hold a sword, but it's useless for actual combat. Then you'll just bleed out because there's a sword in your fucking brain now.'

'That doesn't sound helpful. Please explain,' Rem urged, her thoughts laced with a quiet intensity.

'Each skill shard is basically a goddamn gacha.' My mental voice crackled with disgust. 'A lottery. It contains a single operating system and a single programming language for that system. It even has the whole language on it, but it'll only give you basic, middle, or high-level knowledge. Randomly.'

'So, to get the full knowledge, to truly master a language, you'd have to get lucky three times in a row?' Rem asked, her thoughts sharp, and analytical.

'Exactly. And even then, you wouldn't have the whole thing. The final level, the true mastery, you have to buy directly from Militech.' I practically snarled, my revulsion for this exploitative system bleeding into my thoughts. 'They're dangling a goddamn carrot on a stick, forcing you to keep buying more, to keep feeding their greed, just to get a taste of the real deal. It's sickening.'

'And the netrunning shards? Ram asked, starting to get irritated at the idea. 'Are those a gacha too?'

'Even worse,' I spat. 'They grab the knowledge of a random netrunner, their skills, their experiences, shove it all into your brain with no regard for compatibility or consequence. Also, from what I've seen, none of these netrunners are particularly impressive. They're all using outdated code, relying on brute force tactics, stumbling around in the dark. It's like trying to learn martial arts from a drunkard brawling in an alleyway-. One that knows how to punch and kick- but with no skill at all.'

I paused, my gaze shifting to the Skill Shard Reader/Writer, its sleek black casing gleaming in the morning light.

'This,' I thought, projecting a sense of relief, 'this is the real prize. It has all the data. Everything. Operating systems, programming languages, netrunning techniques, even… other stuff I haven't figured out yet. That's just the net related stuff, too. It's organized, comprehensive, and most importantly, it doesn't require jamming a goddamn chip into your brain.'

So, we're not using the skill shards? Rem asked, her thoughts laced with confusion.

'Not for learning. Maybe for practice, for experimenting with our budding technokinesis.' I shuddered, imagining those data shards' But this reader/writer? This is the key. This is how we unlock the secrets of this world, how we level the playing field.

—

'Alright,' I said, my mental voice a low hum, the words echoing in the vast expanse of my soul storage as I pulled out the Skill Shard Reader/Writer. 'Let's see what this baby can do.'

The device, sleek and black, hummed with electricity as fans spun up internally, its blue port glowing with a light that turned from red to green and back to blue. I connected it to the apartment's computer terminal, the screen flickering to life, displaying a complex interface filled with cryptic symbols and cascading lines of code.

'Ready?' I thought, my mental voice reaching out to Rem and Ram, who were watching me with curiosity.

As we will ever be, Ram replied, her thoughts laced with a hint of impatience.

Just be careful, Tereda, Rem added, her concern a gentle warmth in my mind. We don't want another power grid meltdown.

I chuckled, remembering the chaotic aftermath of my previous attempt at technokinesis. 'Don't worry,' I mentally projected 'This time, we're taking it slow.'

I navigated the reader/writer's interface, my fingers flying across the keyboard, my enhanced mind rapidly absorbing the unfamiliar symbols, deciphering the complex code. The device, I realized, was a treasure trove of information, a library of knowledge far more comprehensive and organized than the scattered skill shards.

'First things first,' I thought, projecting the idea into our shared mental space. 'Basic computer use. We need to understand the fundamentals of this system before we can even begin to delve into programming and netrunning.'

'Sounds… tedious,' Ram grumbled, her thoughts laced with boredom.

'But necessary,' Rem countered, her voice a gentle reminder of our shared goals.

I selected the relevant data packages, my enhanced senses registering the subtle hum of energy as the reader/writer accessed the information, converting it into a format our minds could absorb.

'Ready?' I asked, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.

They nodded, their mental agreement a silent chorus.

''We already said so, just do it!' Ram demanded.

With a surge of my amplified technokinesis and telepathy, I guided the data streams, channeling them into our minds, a torrent of information flowing into the depths of our consciousness.

Rem and Ram technokinetic streams grabbed on instinctively.

Well, I know how to use a computer now and know what the end user means. Admin too. Rem thought, her voice filled with wonder. 'symbols, shortcuts, basic command line use, a whole new way of thinking.'

'It's surprisingly intuitive,' Ram admitted, her initial skepticism fading. 'Once you get past the initial shock of having information crammed directly into your brain, that is.'

The basics of computer use, file navigation, internet browsing, and simple commands- it was all there, a foundation upon which we could build our understanding of this digital world. 

For me, it was a refresher course, a reminder of a life I'd left behind. But for Rem and Ram, it was a revelation, a glimpse into a realm they'd never even imagined.

'Next up, programming and netrunning,' I thought, selecting the introductory data packages for those skills. 'Just the basics, for now. We don't want to overload our systems.'

We absorbed the information, the process smoother this time, our minds adapting to the influx of digital knowledge. But even with the basic level data, we felt the strain, a dull ache building behind our eyes, a pressure that threatened to crack our skulls open.

'We need to rest,' Rem urged, her thoughts full of concern. 'My head is pounding.'

'Mine too,' Ram agreed, her voice strained.

We waited, the minutes stretching into hours, our enhanced regeneration slowly mending the damage, soothing the fiery ache in our brains.

After the rest, I picked up where we left off.

'It's medium time, gals!' they just nodded.

The pressure was greater this time, the heat was higher, and the pain actually made me wince.

We looked at each other with a silent, not even telepathic, agreement to take a break again.

After all, our noses were bleeding.

—

'I feel sharper,' I thought, as the pain subsided, my mind buzzing with a newfound clarity. 'Faster. More efficient.'

Me too, Rem agreed. 'It's as if… pushing our minds to the limit, then allowing them to heal, somehow expands our capacity.'

'Like forging steel,' Ram added, her voice laced with a hint of awe.' Heat it, hammer it, quench it, repeat. Each cycle makes it stronger.'

A wave of apprehension washed over me. This brain-frying, regeneration-fueled learning method was effective, but it was also dangerous. We were playing with fire, pushing our bodies and minds to their limits, risking permanent damage.

I brewed a batch of enhanced regeneration potions that were better than the last ones, the ingredients a carefully calibrated blend of herbs, crystals, and a few drops of my own blood for me, and their blood for the others, a risky but necessary addition to boost their potency.

'To the future,' I projected, raising my newly brewed potion, my voice a husky whisper in the silent apartment.

'To knowledge,' Rem added, her mental voice echoing my sentiment.

To power, Ram finished, her thoughts a silent, but no less potent, oath.

We drank the potions, the taste a familiar blend of bitterness and sweetness, the energy coursing through our veins a comforting warmth.

Then, with a shared sense of determination, we plunged back into the digital depths, our minds hungry for knowledge, our souls yearning for understanding.

'High-level programming. High-level netrunning. Direct download.' I projected the thought, the command, the challenge, into our shared mindscape.

The data streams surged, a torrent of information flooding our consciousness, the pressure behind my eyes building, intensifying, a white-hot fire that threatened to consume me.

Then, darkness.

My eyes snapped open, the world swimming back into focus, the taste of blood on my lips. Rem was leaning over me, her face pale, her blue eyes filled with concern, a damp cloth in her hand gently wiping the blood from my cheeks.

Ram, clutching her head, her face contorted in pain, was slumped on the sofa, a rag pressed against her forehead.

'Wait! Tereda, I'm not done wiping your face down! You need to rest!' Rem's thoughts were urgent, laced with a frantic worry.

I ignored her, my own headache a distant throb compared to the concern that surged through me. I retrieved a wet cloth from the bathroom, ignoring the dizziness that threatened to pull me back into the darkness, and gently wiped the blood from Ram's face.

We're in this together, I thought, my mental voice firm, reassuring. You're just as hurt as me.

Rem nodded, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. Sorry, she whispered, her thoughts a soft echo of my own concern.

We'd pushed too far. The high-level data had been too much, too fast, overwhelming our enhanced minds, our fortified bodies.

Blood. It had seeped from our ears, our noses, our mouths, our eyes. A visceral reminder of our limits, of the price of knowledge, of the dangers of playing with forces we barely understood.

Doubling our regeneration speed, even with the enhanced potions, hadn't been enough.

We needed a new approach.

A slower, more measured path.

Before that though, I thought, as I finished wiping Rem's face as she lied down.

I sat next to Ram, who silently allowed me to wipe her face down.

Her scowl gave way to a blush and a calm, yet embarrassed expression.

—

Exhaustion, a heavy weight that even enhanced regeneration couldn't fully erase, pulled at us. I collapsed onto the plush white sofa, while Rem and Ram flopped onto the pull-out bed. 

Our bodies aching, our minds buzzing with a chaotic symphony of newly acquired knowledge, the remnants of the digital overload still lingering at the edges of our consciousness.

Sleep, a deep, dreamless oblivion, claimed us.

—

Fourteen hours later, we awoke, refreshed, our minds clear, the world outside the apartment windows bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.

'Technically, we exist now four days before we even arrived in this world,' I thought, a flicker of amusement in my mental voice. 'Considering all those twenty-eight-hour resets, I mean.'

'Does it matter?' Rem's thoughts were a gentle ripple of skepticism.

'Pointless to ponder,' Ram added, her mental voice a pragmatic counterpoint. 'We're here now. That's all that matters.'

I shrugged, a silent agreement echoing in our shared mindscape. 'Just an interesting thought. The other versions of us, the ones we keep overwriting… do they cease to exist? Or are they shunted into some alternate timeline, living out their lives in blissful ignorance of our meddling?'

The philosophical implications of time travel were a rabbit hole I could easily lose myself in, but we had more pressing matters to attend to.

'Alright, back to business,' I thought, my mental focus shifting. 'We need to find a way to stress test our brains. Push them to the limit, but not to the point of- well, you know, bleeding from every orifice.'

'Charming example, Tereda,' Ram retorted, her mental voice dry.

'I agree, it's rather graphic,' Rem added, a hint of amusement in her thoughts.

'Just trying to be clear since it already happened,' I countered, a mental shrug. 'So, here's the plan: we download the low and medium-level data for unrelated skills. Stuff we don't actually need, but that will still challenge our minds. Fishing, gardening, basket weaving- whatever we can find. We keep pushing, keep expanding our capacity, until we can handle the high-level stuff without turning our brains into scrambled eggs.'

'And then?' Rem asked, her thoughts curious.

'Then, we go for the big prize. The Militech data. The three-part, password-protected, top-secret stuff that's locked away behind layers of digital security.' I projected a mental image of the data package- even if that's definitely not what a data package looks like, its mock code shimmering, its secrets beckoning- as in the word secret had a hand popping out of it making a beckoning motion. 'Programming, netrunning, mundane administrative bypasses– the keys to understanding this world, to manipulating its systems, to wielding its power.'

'That could take weeks,' Rem pointed out, her thoughts projecting concern.

'Weeks? Months? Years?' I chuckled, a sense of liberation echoing in my mind. 'Time is a luxury we have in abundance, Rem. We can reset, rewind, try again, as many times as it takes. Failure is just another stepping stone on the path to success.'

—

The apartment, our stolen sanctuary, was a haven of silence, the only sound the gentle hum of the computer terminal and the rhythmic tapping of our fingers on the keyboard. 

Ten days. Two hundred and forty hours. Or, more accurately, two hundred and forty subjective hours, considering the time accidentally loop resets where we friend our brains.

It had been a grueling, mind-bending marathon of knowledge acquisition.

We'd devoured data packages on everything from advanced calculus to underwater basket weaving, our brains pushed to their limits, our bodies wracked with exhaustion, our souls yearning for a break.

But we persevered.

Now, finally, after all the suffering, we were ready.

'Two high-level downloads, no problem,' Ram announced, her mental voice laced with a triumphant smirk. 'I even managed to squeeze in a third on advanced robotics before my nose started to bleed.'

'Some of that stuff… I wish I could unlearn it,' she added, a flicker of disgust tingling her thoughts. That deep dive into viral marketing was… unpleasant, to say the least.'

I shuddered, remembering the barrage of subliminal messages, the manipulative tactics, the sheer volume of raunchy garbage that had flooded my mind. 'Agreed. Let's just… bury that information in the deepest recesses of our mental palaces and mark it "Do Not Open – For Your Own Damn Good."'

Rem, her thoughts echoing our shared sentiment, nodded. 'I agree wholeheartedly. Some knowledge is best left… undiscovered. Buried in the depths of time and space where the eldritch truths stay a god damned mystery.'

With a shared sense of relief and anticipation, we turned our attention to the prize- the Militech data. The encrypted files, protected by three layers of complex passwords, held the keys to true power in this digital world.

The first file, labeled "Military-Grade Programming Fundamentals," unlocked with a satisfying click. The data stream flowed into our minds, a torrent of information that, surprisingly, felt… easy.

We absorbed it effortlessly, our enhanced minds processing the complex algorithms, the intricate code structures, the elegant logic that underpinned this world's most advanced software.

The second file, "Netwatch Standard Blackwall Interaction #1," yielded just as easily. We delved into the world of digital espionage, of hacking, of manipulating systems, of bending the very fabric of the Net to our will.

We ignored the third file, leaving the cybernetic augmentation data untouched. We had no interest in polluting our bodies with metal and wires, no matter how powerful the enhancements might be.

We downloaded the Netwatch data #2 and #3 along with the corporate and research grade programming with just as much ease.

I'm pretty sure this data wasn't supposed to be in there, even password protected.

But i'm extremely glad for whoever fucked up this badly.

A shared smirk, a silent chorus of triumph, echoed in our mindscape.

'Time to wreak havoc,' Ram thought, her voice laced with a mischievous glee.

First order of business, I declared- my thoughts a cold, focused point, 'disabling the nukes.'

The world, with its petty conflicts, its relentless pursuit of power, its blind faith in technology, had underestimated us.

Even if at this point nobody should even know about us, they still fucking had no idea what was on its way.

It was time to show them what true power looked like.