Land of the Giants pt 1

1972
…

Leopard wasn't sure what she'd gotten herself into as she timidly approached the large set of double doors which, while normal looking enough, had imprinted themselves in her mind as a symbol of looming destruction. She knew what was behind that door was large, hungry, upset – a terror of the past which she had been foolish enough to seek out, one that she would have to face if she didn't want worse happening.

Picking up one large platter, she disregarded the second – thrown to the ground by a fleeing servant moments before – and the variety of food strewn across the floor and, swallowing her nervousness, stepped over the threshold and past the butler. Hopefully the missing food wouldn't upset her too much…

And there she was.

Damn, Leopard though, a small pang of disappointment momentarily overriding any fear,  So she is shorter in real life.

…

She didn't pretend to know how the device worked; found during a trip to the far future, its technology was beyond even her scope of comprehension. But it did work, and that's all that mattered – she wouldn't have lasted a moment here without the disguisement it offered.

Leopard hated comparing high technology to magic, but in this case it seemed no other comparison was fitting: the device, no larger than a pen and of similar appearance, modified her appearance at will. Under Leopard's command, her feline ears had been shaped into a humanoid form and natural blue hair turned a low-key shade of black. The blue eyes were kept – after all, that was a desirable trait among these people – and the freckles stayed as well, not out of conformation to a common ethnic trait but a matter of personal preference. The conservative grey pinafore and company brassard completed the illusion; she had all she needed to, at least in appearance, pass for an IBM-tan of the peasant class.

No race embodied the mysteries of the past as much as that of the mainframes and no society epitomized mainframes as much as this one. Like many young OS-tans, she had heard tales about the early age when computers were still exotic rarities for good reason –  legend held that they were a race of giants, created larger, stronger and smarter than the humans to accomplish tasks they couldn't. When the mainframes became aware of their masters' dependence on them, their egos became as large as their bodies and, seized with ambition, they became increasingly difficult to control. Realizing its mistake, humanity set to killing off their kind; learning from this error they modeled the next generation upon themselves.

Like any rational person, Leopard considered the fables to be just that: works of fiction. Yet her previous travels into the past had demonstrated that many fictions – at least those concerning her kind –  contained a kernel of truth; giants had been created in the past, the aptly-named Colossus stood as a testament to this fact. Coupled with the fact that historical documents and relics from that era were scant, she had no reason to disbelieve that a society of behemoth OS-tans could have existed.

It might seem that not having much information about a time and place wouldn't be a great hindrance to a traveler of time, but it is – the assumption otherwise has led to a lot of dead ones. So Leopard had scrounged up what information she could in the great libraries of the world – at several points in time – and set off with a rudimentary understanding of their IBMish language (English being, after all, a second language to OSes, who have their own provincial dialects unintelligible to human beings), culture and a brief outline of their great leaders. Watson, who founded the nation long before computers even existed, was their beloved forefather – Leopard made a mental note not to accidentally insult him – while Queen GMOS acted as the matriarch of their OS culture. The contemporary figures of public worship happened to be mostly OS-tan in nature, and although she couldn't find any detailed information about them, Leopard had garnered a thing or two about their personalities. Intelligent, keen and impossibly difficult to get along with, the sisters OS/360 and DOS/360 were two she would have to approach with extreme caution if she approached at all – she was satisfied with the idea of observing them from afar.  

Leopard started her trip browsing their quaint capital, Armonk (colloquially called The Plantation), an ancient town set adjacent to desolate moors and forestland. Small but bustling, the hamlet was filled with businesspeople and computer-tans of all classes; white-and-blue-collar workers mixed with shabby little programs and uppercrust hardware-tans of every variety. Hours passed, people-watching in cafes, libraries and storefronts, yet not a single OS had been spotted yet.

Leopard soon discovered her first mistake: visiting during a time of heightened suspicion. There was talk of some advancing Northern tribe called DEC; everyone was on the lookout for spies and suspicious figures. The IBM army, small but powerful, had largely been dispatched away in an attempt to take out the potentially-invading horde en route and there was talk of drafting even more.

This air of paranoia had scared most of the ruling-class OSes into hiding, and furthermore, was wearing badly on Leopard's nerves. She wasn't going to get dragged into any fight – the minute things started looking sketchy, she planned to find a moment's privacy and escape to another time. That might not be the worse idea, she mused, Come back at another time and see if things have died down. Eyeing her surroundings, Leopard considered potential places to launch from; but an approaching computer threw a wrench into that plan.

"Hasp!" The tall, pinstripe suit-clad hardware cried, "360-sama has been looking for you!" He pulled her up by the arm before she could protest and marched her forward, "I thought you knew your orders – report to OS/360 the moment you arrived! Where have you been all this time?"

"Uh... well actually...."  She tried to formulate an excuse, but the man mercifully cut in.

"It doesn't matter, and it's none of my business either. Don't even know why she sent me on this job – treating a respected scientist like myself as if I were a common errand-boy. Being shut in is eating at her brain if you ask me..." he trailed off, loosening his grip on her arm a bit but keeping up the swift pace. Leopard considered stopping him right there and end the fraud; but her curiosity got the best of her. She was about to meet a mainframe OS-tan and discover if the legend of their size was based in truth.

They approached the capital building, an austere, modernistic-looking structure of concrete and glass construction that starkly juxtaposed the surrounding architecture. Through revolving doors they entered its interior, which was just as contemporary as its outside. "I trust you know the rest of the way," he said, loading her onto an elevator and hitting the button for the fourth floor. "Good day."

"T-thanks," she meekly squeaked through a parched mouth as the doors closed. First, second, third, her eyes followed the arrow as it indicated her ascent; settling on the 4, the doors opened and she stepped off into a hall.  

She was worried she might not find her way, but that wasn't possible – a confrontation ahead of her indicated her correct route like a bizarre beacon. Shouts and rapid footsteps emanated from behind a door; a second later it was thrown open, and three servant-girls came tumbling out. One lost the silver platter she was carrying; hitting the ground with a deafening thunk it spewed food across the smooth marble floor.  After scrambling to their feet the children ran off tearily, while a voice past the threshold shrieked "And don't come back!"

A fourth servant had arrived behind Leopard; terrified by this display, she set her platter down and ran off after the other three.

Frozen by fear, Leopard considered her next route of action. Running away seemed to be a popular and wise choice; she was about to hoof it when a small, flyaway-haired man in a butler's uniform poked his head out the door. "You're finally here, good! Mistress has been looking for you..."  he spoke those words like it was supposed to make her do something and when she didn't he became upset. "Come on now, make haste – and for god's sake, bring that platter with you!"

…


OS/360 wasn't a giant – but the shapely black-haired woman still towered above Leopard's diminutive five-foot-four frame. "Hasp...?" She began, head tilted, intense blue gaze fixed on Leopard's disguise, "call me crazy... but have you grown since last we met?" Unable to speak, she stared dumbstruck, feeling uncomfortably warm under 360's stare; as if those eyes were two small suns beaming deadly radiation upon her.  "Bah – no matter, just give me that food." she lifted the platter from her hands and turned nonchalantly for her desk, where she began slicing the sizable chuck of roast ham with a fork and carving knife. Leopard felt thankful the woman was so hungry – maybe then her attention would be focused on her meal, and not the inconsistencies in her appearance. "Take a seat," she said with a full mouth and the wave of one hand; Leopard obliged and reclined into a couch, the farthest from her malevolent mistress' desk.

"And how was your trip?" 360 asked between bites. Leopard didn't want to speak, her voice might cause suspicion. Putting a sickly look on her face, she shook her head and gestured at her throat. 360's loud, chomping chews ceased. "Lost your voice?"

Leopard nodded her head vigorously.

"Hmph... well I guess you've always been a better listener than talker," 360 said coldly, "It'll be better this way." Leopard didn't know who or what Hasp was, but she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her after 360 spoke those words.

Words that happened to be OS/360's last interaction with Leopard for the next half hour, during which time the tall woman ate almost nonstop, making only the briefest pauses to issue a question, statement or unsettling non-sequitur. Leopard began to suspect that the hardware had been right – 360 really was off her rocker – the realization of which made her increasingly anxious to find a way to leave. When all that was left the ham was a cleanly-picked bone, the butler retrieved the tray and shuffled away; she was alone with a potential crazy-person now.

"I've discovered a most rewarding pastime, Hasp-chan," she began, getting to her feet before walking across the office and picking up a violin case.

"O-oh?" Leopard croaked tensely, hoping sincerely that what she had inside that case was indeed a musical instrument...


Returning to the desk, 360 unlatched the case; to Leopard's relief, she pulled out a violin and bow. "fetch my sheet music, would you?"

Leopard met her with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"Dammit, what DID those engineers in Houston do to you? Top drawer in the armoire, left hand side! I shouldn't have to explain this to you!" Leopard sprang to her feet and trotted over to the huge piece of furniture. With a straining pull on the handle it opened, revealing a drawer-full of papers; she picked up the first set of sheet music she saw, and laid it on the stand beside 360. "That's a good Hasp," she said, lips curling into a strange smirk that did nothing to reassure Leopard.

Pushing her chair away from the desk with a horrible screech, 360 sat upright, rested the violin on one shoulder and closed her eyes; it was a picture of urbane elegance if ever Leopard had seen one. Until she played at least. Running the bow across the strings, the instrument emitted a long, high-pitch note, followed by a choppy series shorter ones; this ear-piercing lead-in set the tone for the rest of the piece, which Leopard considered music only in only the loosest sense of the term. When she finally finished, 360 asked Leopard what she thought of the piece – Leopard returned a forced smile and thumbs-up. Buoyed by the glowing review, 360 started her second act; but the return of the butler stopped her.

"OS/360-sama," he began urgently, "I just received word from Federal Systems Devision – Hasp isn't due to arrive for two days."

Those words hit Leopard like a tidal wave of horror; her jig – if it could be called hers, she was only playing into it – was up. It seemed to effect 360 equally; a grimace broke out on her face as her eyes darted between her servant and the accidental impostor. Cooly she laid the violin aside and picked up the rotary-dial telephone on her desk. "I'm calling DOS-san," she explained to Leopard with a sneering grin, "she'll know how to deal with you."