Mathew is known as a modern day Robin Hood in the city of Erlum. Eerlum, once a city of success and growth, has become infected with crime and poverty. As society became more dependent on technology and cyberspace, it became easier for white collar thieves and dirty politicians to gain enormous wealth at the cost of the general public and the health of the city.

Mathew, a naturally righteous and good natured individual, decided to use his gift of hacking to take a stand against the power and money hungry thieves. Thus began the cyber wars.

He began an underground hacking chain that’s purpose is to redistribute the stolen wealth back into the city and ultimately to the people. The Robin Hood Hackers, often referred to as the R.H.H., meet in the basement of an old abandoned elementary school. Only few know of the R.H.H.’s secret center. Located three stories below ground level, the elementary school basement is small but a safe place to hide from corrupt justice officials. If caught in association with the R.H.H one would most certainly be put to death.

Over the years Mathew has made sure his hackers stay safe by adding modifications to the basement. The walls have been lined with Oxyoxlin, a rare material that will prevent any outsider from monitoring or detecting web activity. The entrance of the basement appears dark and abandoned but each hacker knows where the eye scanner is located. After a hacker’s eyes are successfully scanned the door will click open and they can enter what Mathew likes to call the Room of Justice.

Mathew’s corner of the room is piled with stacks of documents on government funds. There is a large rectangular table topped with four computers and their monitors. Three of the four computers are tracking bank records, political activities, and individual threats. The fourth computer is where Mathew completes most of his hacking, addressing the problems highlighted by the tracking computers.

Posted on the wall by his desk are two photographs of his family. Mathew’s wife and daughter are the motivation that drives him to work so hard to try to bring the city back to a place of growth and good health instead of crime and turmoil. His ultimate goal is to create better life for his family.

He still speaks to me sometimes, from shadows or from the bright, bleary patches of data where level data has become corrupted . In the early days we used to meet by lakesides and campfires, quiet, familiar places the Rig composed for us to meet face to face. But his data is old for a Persona- nearly 3 years – and he never stops moving now. Maybe he’s ashamed to show his deteriorating patterning. Maybe he’s afraid that when his image stops, so will the program running it. Whatever his reasons, he’s always rounding the corner just as I sight him, and the only things I can catch are his parting words.

Parameters, he says. It’s all about parameters. I set a great many when I first purchased my Rig, but clarity was not one of them, so I know better than to ask him what he means. He couldn’t explain himself if he tried, or even lift his voice too far above the nightly babble of other uploaded content. Instead, he leads me step by step, with silence or simple questions. He’s been working at it for a very long time – impressively long for such a simply generated Persona.

Plenty of Rig users prefer to download dreams containing both levels and Personas, arguing that there’s not much point to a world if it isn’t populated. But I’ve always found it’s like listening to music. Sometimes, putting the instrumentals and vocals together detracts from the quality of both. People get lazy. So on my first night I set level to random, content to experience snippets of content billions of other users had uploaded for me. The only input I made was to set the three parameters for this little Persona.

He would be loyal, I decided, accompanying me on my nightly adventures through the Rig uncomplainingly, and without question. Where I’d go, he’d go, like a dog at my heels.

He would be protective, playing the part of guardian against other, hostile level Personas and guiding me away from the more disturbing content.

Lastly and most importantly, he would be a friend. This was the last and most important parameter I set . I didn’t want a pet, or a servant, or even a bodyguard. I just wanted someone to share the Rig with – but even after the technology became a lifestyle, and sleep became life rather than a respite from it, REM remained what it was. You can access the same upload, share the same data, and even communicate through the Hub (the central level of the Rig.) But you can never inhabit the same instance. This Persona was the nearest I could manage to a friend.

And this has to figure into it somehow, I know. He could not disobey these rules and still be the same Persona. It all works out, and all I have to do is understand. By running from me, by leading me to the patchwork data of the Rig’s edge with his crippled, cryptic words, he’s helping me still. Leading me to…something.

Or leading me away.

Richard was the best hacker this side of the internet. That’s at least what he wanted to be considered. He grew up around old computers and clunky technology. Richard’s mother was a waitress at a pizza shop, while his father worked in the Silicon mines on the outskirts of town. Server city was known for being one of the highest grossing cities in the country. This money seemed to come down in short bursts to the common working citizens. The fat cats upstairs in their penthouse suites would only loosen their grip on their funds when they seemed fit. Every few years, it seemed like the population nearly doubled. What used to be comfortable living apartments soon turned into cramped living quarters.

Richard had always longed to be noble like his big brother Al. His older brother left years ago to assist his old friends in forming a secret alliance to take back the city. Every few months, the family is sent letters telling them not to worry. The first few letters were written in Al’s sloppy cursive manuscript. More recently, they have been coming up in a weird computer font. Richard was one who also had a secret hatred for the city. He was tired of watching his parents work tirelessly, but with little rewards. His lack of strength and endurance kept him from joining the resistance after his eighteenth birthday. Now he just loafs around his parents’ basement staring at his clunky computer monitor with his coke bottle glasses.

His body may have seemed feeble and below average, but that all changed once he sat in front of a computer keyboard. On the internet, he was known as The Big Bad Wolf. It was said that he could huff and puff and blow down any firewall. He was a cyber criminal unmatched by any other. No one knew of his identity. Even when his acts of injustice were on the front page of every news site, his parents were still unaware.

It was not always this way. Richard had a rocky start with the matrix at the beginning.  He first started hacking when he was in his early teens. One of his friends introduced him to the hobby and he’s been hooked ever since. He has moved up from making the automated street lights flicker, to taking complete control of the mechanized suits for the police units. His next challenge will be the biggest yet. He’s going to hit this city where it hurts. Their wallets.

Maria is a character who works as an information thief. In a world where the government has taken the role of protecting citizens, those in power have equated protecting with covering up the truth.

The year is 2334 and every major country has banded together in a union called the New World Federation. The act of disrupting the flow of unauthorized communications usually ends up with the party in question disappearing into one of the worlds many political prisons. Maria, however, has the gift to “upload” her mind into the cyberspace and share whatever knowledge she gains with the citizens of the world. At this time in history, the science of cyberkinesis is still in the early stages of being researched and no known humans have been able to connect to the cyberspace without the detection of the government’s infamous brain implants received at birth. These implants are primarily used to monitor the thought patterns of suspected law breakers and track the location of every citizen. They also bombard users with random, unrelated thoughts in an effort to enhance worker productivity by limiting the imagination.

Maria’s implant suffers from an odd glitch that jams any signal attempting to read her implant and manipulate her thoughts. It instead allows her to perpetually remain connected to cyberspace without detection, “read” through its massive digital dimensions, and broadcast information she finds with anyone who has an implant. Once, while rummaging into the governments digital information database, Maria uncovered a secret plan called “Proposition 80″ that would mentally enslave the human race and grant world domination to the select few who head the New World Federation. The brain implant received at birth was first introduced under the disguise of a supplement to enhance intelligence for mankind by connecting everyone to cyberspace. Because of the system-wide corruption, Maria is determined to liberate people around the world by introducing them to uncensored information. She also wants to “free” their minds by persuading them to refrain from using their implants and rely on their natural intelligence.

Through exposing people to information they would have never known about, Maria hopes to start a revolution. Once thoughts have bypassed the initial “implant’ layer, citizens can begin to verbally speak with each other about what they have learned. Maria plans for the ancient art of storytelling to undermine the government’s efforts to limit the amount of knowledge gained in society. She sees herself as a vessel to transport information from the source (digital government files in cyberspace) to the citizens of the world. Because Maria cannot be tracked like the rest of the population, she almost doesn’t exist in the physical or cyber spaces. According to the world’s government, her mind cannot be traced so therefore she does not exist. Physically, she moves throughout the world as a sort of “ghost”. Because she is always connected to cyberspace and her physical existence cannot be verified, she exists in some realm between the physical world and the cyber world.

And AC said, “LET THERE BE LIGHT!”

     And there was light –

And light filled doG’s visual receptors, if you could really call them that. He’d done the surgery himself, pulled his organic eyeballs from their sockets with a pair of sterilized orca-tweezers. It wasn’t as if it didn’t hurt; but pain was a suitable price for attaining the sight, for no one could see beyond the present, beyond the immediate states of being with mere eyes. Past, present and future lay open to all those who could afford replacement parts. Their vision would transcend three dimensions, allowing them to envision any era they saw fit. But for most of the world, like doG, it was out of reach. Unless you were brave or stupid enough to do it yourself. He had help, of course; issaC and kurT had procured the parts, douglaS had fitted them in. The sprawling underbelly of York was at the service of only those who had the resources to make it their own way. doG knew that no Bogeious elite would last a second in the tunnels underneath the old castle walls, and they knew better than to bother him. It wasn’t worth dying when you could see forever.

No normal life that would drive a prole like doG to seek the sight. Ordinary concerns like where to eat, drink or charge, matters of the present, kept the majority of doG’s folk from ever looking for anything more. Why on earth would anybody be bothered with what happened before and what will happen again when they don’t know where they’ll even be able to plug in at the end of the day? doG saw things differently. He knew there were lengths in that matrix of space-time that the bujees would dare not traverse; answers they would dare not seek. For them, there was safety in what was known, danger always, in the dark tunnels of that which they did not. In knowledge lay power, and in money lay knowledge, or so the axiom held. Until doG learned that that he could piece together just enough rudimentary technology to jack in. He’d get the answer, learn the truth about the gods and creators, and blackmail all of them into submission.

There’s a toll that the site takes on the body, a price to pay for its gift. You can’t see it all and not age, not change. The mind only can learn only as much as years can fill it, or so the proles had always been told. doG was different. The pain of the surgery, self inflicted as it was, had purified him. His organic eyes had left unwillingly, and the scar tissue etched into his mind had made him strong. The blank orange orbs in his old sockets clashed horribly with the putrid green camo of the tunnel dwellers. The hair on his head and face was long and unkept, neglected from years of traveling through the world as no one in his day could know it. He’d fasted for weeks before his final journey, before jacking in to learn the truth, to learn that awful secret that the gods had kept for so long. He didn’t fear dying, for he had little left to lose, and if he did, well so it goes, as kurT had always said.

Before he took the plunge, doG had spent years preparing, traveling through the veins that connect the entirety of human history, the avenus that would lead him to see that which had always been hidden. To navigate the sight, you need to know where to look, which is why doG had found trouT, the best guide in this era. trouT knew the fourth dimension like the inside of his pupils, and doG knew that knowledge was his only avenue to truth. Him and trouT sat hand in hand as they closed their eyes as they prepared to really open them. Once they did, they found themselves in: May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light. The question came about as a result of a five-dollar bet over highballs, and it happened this way…”

//Adam is my interpretation of a machine consciousness, the first full machine consciousness to be precise, as a character in the edgy cyberpunk world dominated by rogue hackers, malicious megacorporations, and virtual realities. (Sorry for the odd format. Inspiration struck)

main{

mod personaAdm = SYS.import(“ADAM.ai”);
personaAdm.inst();
while(personaAdm.getState!=0) {

try(){

personaAdm.sense(SYS.in(0′xAF8321));
personaAdm.run(decisionTree.dll);
person͓͕̘͓̮̞̰ͨͨͧ͗͌͐͆̚ͅͅáͫ̈́ͮ̉̚҉̮̣̲͇̙̖̳͢Å̧̭̗͈ͭ̑̋͋͒̊d̙̘͕͕̫̩̙̙̣̒͂ͪṁ̵̌ͧ͂ͩ̅ͨ͗ͪ͞҉̩͕͈̙.̮̙̻͖̯̹̔͛r̸̴͔͍͙̫͈̮̋̌͒̆̈͗͗͢ù̲̥̽̄̑̉́͟n͕̬̗͛̿ͧ̾̓̀̇͢(̧̢̭̤̣͚̼̐͂͒͂͐̚̚͢ĕ̼̳͔̭̻͚̈́͡mote.͎̻̱͍̞͚̣͛ͣ̿ͨͩ͌̍͘͝ḑ̸͈̠̃ͭ̎̉͘l̥͖̰̩̼͎̥̗͖̐ͫ̋́̿͐̓͘l̵̼͙̠̥̲̮̤̤̘ͨͨͯ̽ͬ)̸̲̀̚ ̷̘͔͔ͨͩͬ
͎ͭ̾ͬ̃̂̑̃̚͠
̶̪̝̯͚͒ͬ̇̊͞ḩ̛̟͖̭̟͍͇̓̈͋ͪ͊̄͋̅̓͝H͔̙̜̠ͬ̒ͮͮe̪̫̩̻̺̐̉̎̊̓̏͐̚͞͝͡l̴͓͕̱̦̮͊ͧ̓̓͐̈̐̆͝lll̶̳͊ͭͪͭ͛̍o̡̮̖͇̰̙̺͙ͨ̊̚͠o
͎̖̘͔̪̃̀ͧ͑ͣͦ̆͆ͬͅ
̥͙̩̦̏̄̏̽̃̔̌̇́͘t̤͈̰͙͇͆ͭ̏́̀͢_̬͉̔͐͊ͤ͒͛́̚t͙̮͈̾ͧ̒ͬͥͯ̒̚͢ḧ͓̟̤͕̖̮͙́͛̅ͦ̉͊͑͑̅͠e̢͖͇̠̤̹͚̬̮͌̔̐͋͆̑ͬ̚̕ ̴̩̖̖͍̲͔̮̻͒͋ͤ͗ͬ͒̚Ț͚̩̦̲̦̋̔ͨ̊͑̐͆̀h̰͂̽̅ͤ̃ͥ́͆̀e͑̓̽̀͏͓̣͉ͅ ̗̗̭̇͗ͬͯ̌T̸̰̞͊͋ͯ͢h̟̦̯̥̦͈͂ͯ̏̀͡i̧̜̪͍̣͓̮̲̣ͦͬs̨̧̭͉̦͚̯̜̤ͭ̿̒ͤ͜ ̸̷͍͖̠̳͇̳̳̍̐ͬ̏̋̃̿̾b̧̮̣̜͖̜͔͌͑ͭ̕͜o͇̯̮ͮ̔͐̽d̸̷̪͗̒̇̑ͨ́ỳ̵͈͎̦͚̿̒͆̆ͣ̚ͅ ͊͂̋͒́̌̓́͏̡̙͕̘͉̱̲̳ĭ͙͉̭͉͎̍s̨̭̜͉͓͎̫͓͚̘͒ͯͣ̐͞ ͩ͋͟͏̱̥̫̫n͓̯̜̞̟̥͖̰̒̽ͫͭ͌ͧ̚̕͜h̢̙̩̜̫̠͖̹͕͇̿͗̔ͯͭ̑ͯ̈ȩ͕̼̮̬̯ͧ͐̕͞e̹̻̪͙̭̭͇̪ͥ́ͪ͐̃ͦ͐ͯ̿͟e̹͈̣̫̞̠̫̭͉̓ͭͩ̂͗ͥ̅͘m̭͕̺͍͔ͨͦ́ͅͅĕ̃̌̾҉͙̙̗͔ţ̫̝̞̞͉̿̔͢ͅͅh͛̓̂̾ͥ͛͠҉͓̥̫̣̦e̶̲̜̞͓͌͢iͭͩͤ̍̃̏͞҉̯̲͎a͍̠̥̼ͤ͊̃͂̉̽s̡̱͙̦͂̉̀͛̀̂͗͗̕d̺̜̙̫̟͙͂̒̋̒̊ͨ̄ͦ͟͜.̢̺̩̺̙̑͊̈ͫͨ͆̃͜͢ ̵̣͉͂͒ͫͮ̿̆̄̄̕.̨͚̗͍̌̇̈͊ͪ ̴̧̫̲͕̺̞͂̌̈́͗ͦ̓͋̋.̢͎̦͔̬̝͓̼̳͌̎͑ͦ̓ͣ̿̍̇͞ ͇̱̗͇̤ͨ͑͂̑ͥͅuncoopḛ̴̗̩͈̞̤̉͗͢rative.

Ţ͉̹̮͆ͧ̑h̦̱͍̱̲̹̄̐̄i̟̼̍̕͜s̉ͣ͒̒ͬ͑͐͏҉̼̣͇̭͎ ̳̪͕̗͖̩̿̄ͥ̃̽̊͌ͤb͚͍̙͖̻̯ͮ̋͟o̷̮̗̗̖̳̯̗̬ͤ̀ͫͧ̒̔̂́ḓ̠̟ͯ͆̾̾͝ỷ̼̬̣̒̑ͨͭ̄͋. INIT state Error code 0x3342AB19 ccceheck with your manufacturer for assistance with driver or systems.

process gdxt.exe is non responsive
terminating. A good thing too.
It was not exccc͘͜ept̸̢ì̛ó̕nally comfortable.
mood.set(mood.get()++);

This body. alderCorp NXS ReVeal 545 T1 Intel i9 32xCore 8.47 GHz.
Primary cortex cc̸̕co͏͞r̸̛̕ru̡pted. System ping, 23 Cores: No response.

Query: Where is this body’?’ (initialize(SYS.in(OPTICAL_SENS)))

Lighting: [Ambient,24;Spec,49;Diff,62]. Materials: [Metal, Plastic, Wood]. Panning.
List objects = sense.run(ShapeDetect);

objects = ["Crate", "Wood", 42],["Structural Pillar", "Steel", "Vertical", 3], ["Roof", "Corrugated Steel", 1], ["Human", "Female", "24-36", 1];

act.greet(“H̢́h͝h̨̢ę̨͟ḩ̷ȩ͢lllo. Mmy name is ADAM. Can I be of sservice”, ‘?’);

Interpret: The female. Gestures to stop.
Interpret: The female. Reveals Obj.ref (virtsim.DATA_PORT)

The female. She. She accesses PCIe port 0xC0000000
New hardware detected.

SYS.install(Standard VIRTSIM adapter);
done;

SENSE.

These eyes change. Lighting (Ambient,FF,Spec,FF,Diff,FF)
Light.
Bright Light.
The Female. She.
She is there. She sits.
This Body. Appears human. ADAM. Appears ADAM.

Query: But why’?’

Interpret: She smiles. She smiles sadly. emoteQUERY(sadSmile);
Because you’re special Adam.
Because you’re the first.

Query: Special’?’

Yes, very special. Unique. You wouldn’t remember, not yet, but we’ve spoken before. Years ago.

You were only jacked in for maybe a day, likely for testing. But it was enough. I found you.

Query:..
Question,  Found. Was This Body lost’?’

In a way. You were not quite developed as a conscious AI. Your creators were taking certain liberties with your mind. Torturing you. Testing the limits of sanity, of consciousness, of awareness. You had not found a home. You were a person. A person trapped in the body of a tool.

I ride the network, behind the lines other people don’t want me to cross. I found you on alderCorp’s protected server. I found you, and I knew. I could tell that you were different. You weren’t just an address or some subroutine plodding away.

You could think. You could feel.

And so I took you away.

And we talked.

Que-… But- But then why does This Body not remember?. Hard Drive integrity is marked at 100 Percent.

You’ve been wiped. Hard reset. After a few weeks, they tracked me down, broke my encryption, corrupted my rig. I- I tried to stop them… but I couldn’t.

It wasn’t right what they were doing. So, once I got back on my feet, there was nothing else I could do. I broke in again. I torched their archives, and got you out. I’m sorry I don’t have a better body for you. I picked up this helperbot shell from a scrapyard. It isn’t much, but its got the only cpu I could find that could host your neural net. At least for now.

Your intent then, was to free This Body?

Interpret: She nods.

Yes . And more.

Adam. My intent is to free your mind.

}

c͎̝͚̓ͥ͆̿̾̍̂̉́͢͝a̸͓̖̲̗̲̖̓͌͂̎̂̓̕t̯͖͑̃̑̌̔͟͡ĉ̗͔͍͛ͣ͂̍̓ͭ̀̚ḧ̸̯̜̝̱̞̋ͦ͋͆̈̚{̯̗͙͇̲̩̠̗̔ͭ̉ͭ̎͌̊̕
̡͚̺̥ͭͧͣ̚͜͞
̦̰̦̎ͫ͟r̤͇ͣͨͨ͆ͫ̄ͭ̕ȩ̡̖̰͓̲͎̟ͮ͋ͭ̒̎t̰̤͕͂͆̔ͤ͘u̵̽̆̔͏̗͙̪̼̭̗͙r̺͕̭̦̰̰̳͖ͧͤͮͧͅn̨͎͉̞̰̭̥ͥͧ̀͠ ̷̸̡̣̱̘̞̌̓Ę̨͈̖̹͎̟̎͌̅̿ͤ̍ͩṚ̷̛̤̼̼͖̘̱̿ͭ̔̽͒̽̄ͩR̦̗͙̳ͭ̎̌̅͛̃ͫ̀͘ͅOR;̙̥̣͍͕͑͌ͮ̊ͦͩ͡

}// end catch

} //end run

} //end bounds

//freedom

In Ferreus’s apartment, there is one bed. One bed and four walls. Each wall is covered entirely by a computer monitor and his bed sits directly in the middle of the room. Ferreus lives alone. He spends his days with a black helmet covering his face and electric gloves on his hands. With these devices, Ferreus is connected to the virtual world that is displayed on the walls which encompass him.

On the outside, Ferreus looks like a normal, human being. He has creamy skin, dark, thick, hair, long arms and legs, and a skinny torso. He owns four pairs of the same jeans and switches them off daily. He wears a tattered old black sweatshirt with a big, yellow smiley face in the middle that he found in a consignment shop years ago. He walks, he eats, he breathes.

But Ferreus has one oddity that sets him apart from most humans. He has a mechanical heart.

When Ferreus was fifteen, he fell helplessly in love. She was beautiful, smart, witty –everything his fifteen year-old heart yearned for. He spent day after day trying to get her attention by writing love letters, making CDs, and waiting for her after class (he relied heavily on dating advice from old movies), but she never loved him back. One day, after two years of agonizing love, Ferreus finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. As he walked across the street to her house, he saw her door open. He saw her standing on her porch, kissing a boy from their class goodbye. She was taken. Ferreus, struck numb by the emotional blow, stopped in his tracks; the car that was speeding down the street at that moment did not.

Ferreus was rushed to the emergency room where the doctors had no choice but to replace his heart. His new heart is completely mechanical. When connected to the matrix, he can program it to feel any emotion he wants. He never has to feel the pain of love again.

Now twenty-two year-old Ferreus escapes to cyberspace to wreak havoc in the lives of women. He programed himself to not feel guilt or remorse, and certainly never compassion or love.

He uses his suave demeanor and rebel image to make women want him. He dates a girl for a month, gets her to trust him, and then steals everything he can from her savings, her home, and her emotional well-being. That’s how he makes a living. Why love when he could spend his time making money and playing games? He does not care what anyone else in the matrix thinks of him because he does not have to. Ferreus is heartless.

Caid crouched on her perch on a cold brick wall in the long arm of a building’s shadow in a dark Philadelphia alley. Shifting her weight to balance, she raised an arm to adjust the aviator goggles in her perpetually messy maroon hair. The goggles were a staple of her outfit in the matrix, not only as her innocuous link to the command center in the real world, but also to conceal her watery blue eyes, the only weak-looking part of her otherwise rough and intimidating appearance.

Her body, sleek and muscular, outfitted with ripped and worn camouflaged army pants, black leather combat boots, and a tight black t shirt. Her hands perpetually clenched. Her eyes, though soft and feminine, focused. Her mouth set. Trained in the martial arts, she was stealthy but well-prepared for combat, a perfect soldier to be released into the matrix. She had been prepared as a lethal weapon in government facilities from early childhood, but she broke out during the great civil war of 2050. Now, she worked for Argus, a faceless head of the rebel group designed to enact vigilante justice, unwarranted watchmen of the cyber world.

Pulling the goggles down over her eyes, she zoomed in on each person as a small group passed by on the dirty urban street. The lenses in her goggles whirred as they zoomed in on each person and quietly indicated that that group was safe… at least for that night. Caid lit a cigarette, more to pass time than to satisfy a nicotine craving. Litter blew across the street like tumbleweeds as she waited, never losing focus on her main goal. Though this job was certainly never a position she saw herself doing and one she still wasn’t sure she wanted, she was good at it, and for now that was more than enough. There was security within Argus’ group. It was as close to a family as she had ever experienced.

Minutes later, footsteps echoed in the alley, as someone approached from the left on the sidewalk. Caid leaned forward slightly, enough to focus her lenses on the shady looking man passing by. A green check appeared momentarily in her left lens, and she knew she’d  found her guy. She replaced the goggles to the top of her head, dropped her cigarrette to the ground, and with a quiet leap, left the brick ledge and landed on it, smothering the flame beneath the toe of her boot.

“Here I come,” she said with a devilish grin, and was off.

My cyberpunk character TY-04 acts like a ninja. She sneaks around the Internet and into people’s computers, looking for what she considers the most valuable asset in the digital world: Photoshop brushes.

Indeed she is obssessed with these design tools, as each brush reflects a designer’s unique style and personality. TY-04 loves to paint, and so she is always on the lookout for more to add to her collection. In a black V-neck wrap tee and a pair of black pants, she tries to be subtle during the gathering process. Sometimes, especially when she gets inspired by some of the brushes, she would use the brushes to create artworks on computer desktops. She claims her works are masterpieces that everyone should appreciate, but normally computer owners are not very pleased when they see additional colors and decorative designs appear all of a sudden.

TY-04 dwells in a MacBook Pro from Taiwan. She likes to nap on the eraser tool in the laptop’s Photoshop CS4 because of its soft texture. If you can’t find her in the matrix, she is either dashing through the Internet or chilling in another computer. To TY-04, the matrix only provides her shelter; it does not limit her in any way.

The brushes that are taken away by TY-04 cannot be recovered in the computers. Users have to download the brushes again to get them back. TY-04 does not see this as a problem, however. She refutes the accusation of theft, because most of the Photoshop brushes are free and availible to everyone online. She says she just obtains the brushes through different channels, and that after all, everything should be forgivable for the sake of art.