Something brushes against the underside of the Net.
The broad tip of a very long arm scrapes along the backs of the panels, tasting the topography. It feels where the concentrations of data are flat and empty, good for opening windows; so too can it taste the rivers of traffic notched into the city, enriched into beings ripe for growth. As always, the potential is promising enough for it to consider opening a window right underfoot.
It does not do this. The white has some capacity for thought, and it knows those that watch from the tower. It knows not to pick this battle.
Something shines like a star to its senses. A small dome, rife with foot-traffic, impossibly rich with stored data, even familiar somehow. This was rare, for there was much Hex knew but could not remember. It chooses to investigate, and gnaws open a window.
A glistening patch of sludge grew in the corner of the shop. Veiny cilia reached up from its off-white depths, spreading out clusters of branches. The atmosphere of the Net caught against the surface. In tasting the Net, Hex caught that note of familiarity again, somewhere amongst the signatures. Here, a large, angry displacement of
[sparking/abrasive/altered]; there, distant snatches of
[rippling/reactive/divergent]. It's so close...but its interest is diverted.
The taste of resources, ripe for the taking, was rich in here - one might say heady, if the greasy pool had anything resembling one. It crept towards it - and stopped upon sensing the other presence. This, too, was a battle it would not pick. Acquisition by force would not be possible - other avenues had to be explored, avenues that required thought.
Hex prepared its Administrator: from its depths rose what looked like shards of a broken china doll. The child, for arms so small could belong to nothing else, lay on the floor in a pile; somewhere in its head, Hex thought of replication. Its directives called for it, and yet nothing was written on improving further reiterations. New directives would need to be written; for now, it processed until it understood the rules to the swift Navi's data. To acquire resources itself required resources - this, Hex knew.
A thick tentacle slithered out of Egomorph's head. A cluster of veins ferried a glittering chunk of data from out the pool's depths, through her body and spat it out on TempoMan's spotless countertop. The tentacle spoke in a wreck of a voice,
[Resources required: HP Memory; NaviCust Expansion; PowerUP; PowerUP; Process Upgrade; Process Upgrade; Process Upgrade; FastArmour; FirstArmour; FirstArmour; FirstArmour; FirstArmour]It stopped moving, and waited.
<(Buying:
HP Memory - 1750
zNC Expansion - 2000
zPowerUP x2 - 3000
zProcess Upgrades v10-12 - 3300
zFastArmour - 5000
zFirstArmour x4 - 10000
zTotal: 25050
zRemaining: 305
z)>