Callie
Level 39
I wrote a little short story for how Moon Tech was made, if you don't like me or my stuff (or my apps for that matter) then don't open the spoiler. Otherwise you are good to read. Criticism accepted,
An original story inspired by events that transpired within SchoolRP.
All characters; Hiragana, Callie, and Rachel Speedwagon were used
with permission from their creator/s.
Callie Luna Speedwagon was a well-pampered woman. She had an interest in tech ever since the beginning of her time. She would only play with flashing, noisy toys and never building blocks, or toy dinosaurs. At this age where Callie could choose a career for the rest of her life and learn as much as she could, she easily became a personal software developer. Callie was a technician at her local RadioShack, and frequently ran errands for money as a side-job. Her mother, Rachel Speedwagon was a very successful woman; she owned the Speedwagon Foundation, made rich from striking oil in a dryer area of the world. Eventually, Callie had become a technical manager and sort-of janitor for her mother’s company, and would easily help her mom with her work.
One day, after a hard week of working maintenance on the continuously annoying broken camera system, a young man unnamed who she would learn later to be “Hiragana”, the leader of the gang Red Sector came into the building, a blue tie wrung around his neck and courted by several other teens of his height and age group. He immediately asked where the C.E.O.’s room was; Callie answered him quickly and courteously, only to be met with beration and insulting from his crew. He shushed them, continuing on alone as they sat down.
Callie quickly became uneasy with the group’s glare of anger, boredom and evident awkwardness setting in. She played poker on her computer and kept working on the cameras until the man would return. He didn’t. Two hours later and the man comes back down the stairs, adjusting his sleeve cuffs and fixing his hair. He seemed slightly messier than when he came in, but that may not have been the stairs’ work. Callie thought that something may have been wrong with the fact that he was so messy, and that evening she was working maintenance on the cameras. She headed upstairs as soon as they all left.
To her horror, she found a clean-cut crime scene. The cameras in the room were broken, her mother’s desk smashed and sliced, and the bodies of Callie’s mother and her guards d****d along the marbled floors. She whipped her head in the opposite direction and flew down the stairwell and out the doors, only to find a vacant, late-night parking lot.
She went berserk. She shuffled through the halls owned by her older brother, mopping away and seemingly calmed, but at home she was writing herself to death. Every day she’d spend her nights researching this man, the teen who killed her mother so cleanly, so easily. Research ended up with nothing except for her mother’s death. This man had only been referenced in the document, Callie having already researched him. In her research, she found a small startup of a project on Augmented Reality, which she had invested in prior to her mother’s death. It had sunken, the main benefactor leaving the project and letting it die due to lack of funding. They had left their site and it was “FOR SALE”, the decently sized building easily able to be sacked or looted for it’s contents.
Callie took a walk. She walked, and walked until she reached the building from the article. It was made of molding and mossy brick, the vines from weeds and other plants creeping up the walls and the webbing of spiders creating a fearful atmosphere. Entering the building equipped with a shining yellow vest, she cast aside the spider webs with a stick she found outside. Inside, was a beautiful display of machinery and comradery; she wondered why it would have been abandoned like this. There were cranes which controlled large cases in the warehouse, a table with a mechanical arm protruding from it, what she assumed to be a workbench. At this point she was done with looking for the man, she was almost out of house and home.
She would stay in that building for three hours, looking for spare parts and abandoned machinations to experiment with at home. She scrounged up some blueprints from another worktable she found, the lamp that would light the bench flickering. The prints looked futuristic, almost unrealistic, but they had sense within the design and wiring. After filling her old high-school bag with mechanical parts, she exited the abandoned workshop and pulled away the bits and bobs.
For weeks afterward she would attempt to follow the blueprint’s instructions, slowly constructing this.. Machine of lore. She had her personal computer, which she would scan and remake the blueprints with to update them slightly, but the files were saved as EXE as a default for some reason. She decided to call the future designs something along the lines of EXE. Imbued with the tired but determined mind of a software and design developer, she continued work on the EXE-’Visor’, as she called it. After three months of working and avoiding gang issues she had a basic version of it finished, the software needing development but for now it worked as a display of the eyes and text upon it’s screen.
She had to work with others if she wanted to develop this visor quickly, so she thought of an idea.
“I’ll create a startup project! If I use some of my funds from my mother’s inheritance, I can buy that building and continue what those people never had finished!” she says enthusiastically. She had to go through multiple building management papers, but she had ownership of the abandoned warehouse in vivo. Now all she had to do was find a benefactor and get to building.
All characters; Hiragana, Callie, and Rachel Speedwagon were used
with permission from their creator/s.
Callie Luna Speedwagon was a well-pampered woman. She had an interest in tech ever since the beginning of her time. She would only play with flashing, noisy toys and never building blocks, or toy dinosaurs. At this age where Callie could choose a career for the rest of her life and learn as much as she could, she easily became a personal software developer. Callie was a technician at her local RadioShack, and frequently ran errands for money as a side-job. Her mother, Rachel Speedwagon was a very successful woman; she owned the Speedwagon Foundation, made rich from striking oil in a dryer area of the world. Eventually, Callie had become a technical manager and sort-of janitor for her mother’s company, and would easily help her mom with her work.
One day, after a hard week of working maintenance on the continuously annoying broken camera system, a young man unnamed who she would learn later to be “Hiragana”, the leader of the gang Red Sector came into the building, a blue tie wrung around his neck and courted by several other teens of his height and age group. He immediately asked where the C.E.O.’s room was; Callie answered him quickly and courteously, only to be met with beration and insulting from his crew. He shushed them, continuing on alone as they sat down.
Callie quickly became uneasy with the group’s glare of anger, boredom and evident awkwardness setting in. She played poker on her computer and kept working on the cameras until the man would return. He didn’t. Two hours later and the man comes back down the stairs, adjusting his sleeve cuffs and fixing his hair. He seemed slightly messier than when he came in, but that may not have been the stairs’ work. Callie thought that something may have been wrong with the fact that he was so messy, and that evening she was working maintenance on the cameras. She headed upstairs as soon as they all left.
To her horror, she found a clean-cut crime scene. The cameras in the room were broken, her mother’s desk smashed and sliced, and the bodies of Callie’s mother and her guards d****d along the marbled floors. She whipped her head in the opposite direction and flew down the stairwell and out the doors, only to find a vacant, late-night parking lot.
She went berserk. She shuffled through the halls owned by her older brother, mopping away and seemingly calmed, but at home she was writing herself to death. Every day she’d spend her nights researching this man, the teen who killed her mother so cleanly, so easily. Research ended up with nothing except for her mother’s death. This man had only been referenced in the document, Callie having already researched him. In her research, she found a small startup of a project on Augmented Reality, which she had invested in prior to her mother’s death. It had sunken, the main benefactor leaving the project and letting it die due to lack of funding. They had left their site and it was “FOR SALE”, the decently sized building easily able to be sacked or looted for it’s contents.
Callie took a walk. She walked, and walked until she reached the building from the article. It was made of molding and mossy brick, the vines from weeds and other plants creeping up the walls and the webbing of spiders creating a fearful atmosphere. Entering the building equipped with a shining yellow vest, she cast aside the spider webs with a stick she found outside. Inside, was a beautiful display of machinery and comradery; she wondered why it would have been abandoned like this. There were cranes which controlled large cases in the warehouse, a table with a mechanical arm protruding from it, what she assumed to be a workbench. At this point she was done with looking for the man, she was almost out of house and home.
She would stay in that building for three hours, looking for spare parts and abandoned machinations to experiment with at home. She scrounged up some blueprints from another worktable she found, the lamp that would light the bench flickering. The prints looked futuristic, almost unrealistic, but they had sense within the design and wiring. After filling her old high-school bag with mechanical parts, she exited the abandoned workshop and pulled away the bits and bobs.
For weeks afterward she would attempt to follow the blueprint’s instructions, slowly constructing this.. Machine of lore. She had her personal computer, which she would scan and remake the blueprints with to update them slightly, but the files were saved as EXE as a default for some reason. She decided to call the future designs something along the lines of EXE. Imbued with the tired but determined mind of a software and design developer, she continued work on the EXE-’Visor’, as she called it. After three months of working and avoiding gang issues she had a basic version of it finished, the software needing development but for now it worked as a display of the eyes and text upon it’s screen.
She had to work with others if she wanted to develop this visor quickly, so she thought of an idea.
“I’ll create a startup project! If I use some of my funds from my mother’s inheritance, I can buy that building and continue what those people never had finished!” she says enthusiastically. She had to go through multiple building management papers, but she had ownership of the abandoned warehouse in vivo. Now all she had to do was find a benefactor and get to building.
