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Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
12 November 2009 @ 09:57 pm
G-Prime is a pretty quiet sector, these days. Megabyte is gone, but his legacy lives on in the form of a populace too terrified to get near his old stomping grounds. (Not everyone is scared of it, of course. Some programs like it there. But they're weird.)

As Annabelle and Enzo approach the Game's projected landing point, they might spot a speck of silver gliding across the sky from the general direction of the Matrix household.

Bob isn't running late yet, but he's cutting it closer than he'd like.
Current Mood: rushedrushed
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
20 August 2009 @ 08:22 am
Pup Q&A meme in my mun journal
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
04 March 2009 @ 03:51 pm
1.) Go here to generate 10 random numbers between 1 and 100.
2.) Then I will answer the corresponding questions from here.
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
28 February 2009 @ 11:30 am
There are a number of surprisingly well-dressed programs waiting outside the Principal Office medbay.

They are well-dressed because they just came from a wedding.

They're waiting because the COMMAND.COM is giving birth in there.

They're waiting outside because when Hack poked his head in earlier he nearly went deaf from the screaming.

(Oh, and Bob's in there for moral support, and because he fears the wrath of his wife if he leaves her alone at a time like this.)
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
04 December 2008 @ 03:54 pm
It's been a relatively calm cycle. No Games, only one Tear, and--miracle of miracles--Dot actually has all her paperwork done before supper. Both she and Bob have a chance to just relax and put their feet up for the evening.

[where's that ominous music coming from?]
Current Mood: cheerfulcheerfully oblivious
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
24 June 2008 @ 09:56 pm
:: Hi, Mairi. ::

This has become a nightly ritual for Bob. Once Dot is drifting off to sleep on the bed beside him, it's time to 'talk' to the little program compiling inside of her. He doesn't expect Mairi to comprehend any of it yet, but that's not the point. The parenting READMEs all say that the more you talk to an infant, the faster he or she will learn to speak themselves. Bob figures it's as true of keytool signals as it is of normal speech.

:: Your mother and I went out shopping today. We went to an open marketplace in the underwater part of the city. You should've seen it--there was a big wide courtyard under a glass dome, and it was full of booths selling just about anything you can think of. And I mean *anything.* Clothes, food, magic potions, furniture, jewelry, live animals... I swear there was one guy selling *real estate* out of a *booth.* At least, I think it was real estate. I couldn't understand what language he was speaking. I'm not even sure 'he' was a he, for that matter.

:: Anyway. Dot and I spent the morning looking through the stalls together. We spent nearly an hour at a stall where they were selling pets. There were dogs and cats and fish and turtles and things, but there were also weirder things. Baby griffins, kappas, little miniature walruses... but my absolute favorites were these creatures called 'octopussies.' They're about the same size as a house cat, but instead of legs they've got eight tentacles, and another tentacle for a tail. Even their *whiskers* are little tentacles. It sounds weird, I know, but they're really cute! They crawl all over you and make these little burbling sounds like they're meowing underwater. There was this one little baby with purple stripes that we both just *adored.* I wish we could've taken her home, but octopussies need water to sleep in and there isn't any real water back in Mainframe.

:: After lunch your mother and I both went shopping separately, so we could surprise each other with gifts at the end of the day. I got Dot a velvet gown, trimmed in gold thread, and a gold necklace with a seahorse pendant. The shopkeeper said it's meant to be good luck for pregnant women; I don't know if that's really true, but it looks gorgeous on your mother. And I got a matching baby dress for you to wear once you're a little older.

:: Your mother got me a custom heraldic shield with my icon emblazoned on it--I don't want to think about how much *that* must have cost--and a charm on a necklace that's supposed to bring good luck to knights in battle. And she also got me... um... a kilt. A blue kilt. With matching leggings. I have no idea when she expects me to wear it, but there you are.

:: The honeymoon's almost over. We'll be going back to Mainframe in a few cycles. We've waited so long for this vacation and now it feels like it's gone by in the blink of an eye. It's been fun while it lasted, though. Maybe someday, after you're born and grown up a little, we can all come back here together. ::

Bob's eyelids flutter closed.

:: I love you, Mairi. I can't wait to meet you. ::
Current Mood: lovedawww
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
19 June 2008 @ 06:15 pm
After a bit more research and a lengthy conversation with the front-desk clerk at their hotel, Bob and Dot have located another beach--not a nude beach this time, but at least it caters to humanoids rather than gastropods. Better still, there's no chance of getting sunburned, because this particular beach has never seen daylight and probably never will. It's an underground lagoon lit by bioluminescent mushrooms in every color of the rainbow, clinging to the walls and pillars of the cavern. ("Don't even think about trying to eat 'em," the desk clerk warned, which just made Bob wonder why anyone would want to.)

Whatever. The lighting is lovely, the water is pleasantly cool, and they've got the entire cave to themselves. For now, anyway.
Current Mood: relaxedrelaxed
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
15 June 2008 @ 08:17 pm
The shores of Marina aren't all cliffs covered with buildings; there are a few beaches here and there. This one is more like a series of beaches separated by spurs of crystalline rock from the cliff face, making semi-secluded little coves in which one can swim or sunbathe in relative privacy.

It's still not quite private enough for Bob's tastes, though.

"Couldn't we have come here in the evening instead? It'd be cooler, less crowded..." Fewer people to ogle my naked wife...
Current Mood: uncomfortableuncomfortable
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
14 May 2008 @ 02:00 pm
Holding the reception indoors is out of the question--there are just too many people attending. Fortunately, one of the perks of marrying the COMMAND.COM is that it's easy to get a public space set aside for whatever reason. Thus, the largest island in Floating Point Park is now decked out with balloons, ribbons, decorated picnic tables, and a low portable stage in front of a large area set aside for dancing.

Party on.
Current Mood: giddygiddy
Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe
07 May 2008 @ 09:13 pm
The wedding is less than a second away, and Bob's been informed that he's expected to write his own vows. He promised Dot that he'd have them written by the end of the week.

Now, two cycles later, he's still got nothing.

Bob gets up from his seat and paces to the far corner of the room and back again. He stares down at the .txt file on the table, willing the speech to write itself. Alas, it's just as unobliging as it was the first fifteen times he tried the same thing.

This is crazy. I'm not even the one doing the planning but the wedding is still driving me nuts. Why does this have to be so complicated?? We should just go to the P.O. together and tell Phong that--

His head snaps up. For a long moment, he stares off into space.

Then he bolts for the door and out of the house.
Current Mood: frustratedwriter's block