ilzolende:

sinesalvatorem:

1z1d0r wiped the sweat from his brow and flipped his elegant, jet-black hair. That was one more multi-trillion dollar MegaCorp down for the count. It may have taken a few hours, but never again would Antagonist Inc get away with its inhuman policies of torching rainforests, murdering Chinese dissidents, and having insufficient African American representation in its video games.

The Greatest Hack In History had only taken him forty minutes – down by six from when he pulled off The Greatest Hack In History Until Then last Tuesday, while bored in his Super Advanced HyperMath class. In fact, he’d finished so quickly that, if he went to sleep now, he could be ready and rested for his Tae Judo Fu class tomorrow morning.

Obviously, 1z1d0r was not the type of person who needed to go to school, but his strict father would be forever disappointed with him if he didn’t finish his PhD before he was 18. That left him just six months. Due to this heavy work load, he had been forced to cut back video game time to a mere five hours a day. He had been chafing under these harsh constraints, and this hack had given him a chance to let out his frustration.

However, just as he was about to shut down his razor-thin, 16-core HyperTech Infinity Premiumware laptop, with its 32GB RAM and its gigapixel display, a text editor opened on his computer screen. He paused, confused. He has never been confused before, because he was too smart for that. Yet, somehow, his machine had done something without his consent. The editor window began to fill with words: “Hi. I'm Alison Morais.” He definitely hadn’t done that. And who else would have? Nobody would dare to claim to be the long-lost relative of the famous revolutionary. As he went to shut down his clearly-compromised computer, text continued to fill the screen: “You probably don't believe me. If you're willing to risk it and find out, meet me at The Black Coffee Hat.” He finally found the correct cable, but the words stayed in his memory even as the sudden loss of power wiped them from the computer’s.

Noting the potentially compromised nature of his electronics, he set a fully analog alarm clock for 23, and wrote a paper note to put near it: “If you’re reading this, I haven’t gotten back from The Black Coffee Hat any time close to when I intended to be back by. This probably means something has gone wrong. Call me, but it’s unlikely that my phone would be working in that event, so if it isn’t, call Taymon and tell him that ‘the monkey drowned in the hamburger’.” He then unplugged his electric skateboard from the wall, put the glove with the controls on his left hand, looked contemplatingly at his usual accelerometer-and-airbag-based helmet, and left it behind in favor of borrowing the extra styrofoam helmet on the hook.

1z1d0r threw open the front door recklessly, to assert his dominance over the outside world. The girl next door was looking out her window when this happened, and her heart swooned with the unrequited love she held for our dashing protagonist. “He’s so alpha.” She sighed, dreamly. “Why won’t he ever notice me?” But what she, like many similar females, failed to realise, is that she was only an 8/10, and a man of his stature had Standards.

He then took off down the street at breakneck speeds, ignoring all the traffic rules that The Man tried to impose upon his independent spirit. He was a Rebel. If at least three people weren’t horribly injured in traffic accidents after he’d passed through, then he just hadn’t done a good enough job. Once he had run five red lights and evaded two police cruisers, he arrived outside The Black-Coffee Hat. He took off his own hat (worn over his helmet), of appropriate colour, and scanned the room. He saw several old friends and older rivals. However, he had left this part of his life behind long ago. He now wore a lighter shade of grey.

He continued his scan. Power strips, all full. A water dispenser, with hot water heated by … something. It wasn’t quite clear what. A 3D-printer, with a tip jar next to it and a sign warning him in 72-point Liberation Serif that “Mugs printed with this printer are not suitable for hot beverages!”. A small tree, some of its branches covered with colorful yarn, and … wait. Was there someone sitting behind the tree? There wasn’t even a table behind the tree the last time he was here.

A hand waved to him from behind the tree. Potentially “Alison”’s! He headed towards it, cautiously. Once he was close enough, the person behind the tree grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled. He almost tripped while heading towards the table. Once he was no longer focused on keeping his footing, a feat nobody without extensive training in Tae Judo Fu would have been able to manage, he took a seat and looked at his mysterious host.

The first thing he noticed was that this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. After that, he noticed a few comparatively-minor details: Dark skin of a tone typical to (among other regions) the Caribbean, matching her claimed identity. Short hair, clearly cut that way to avoid any attempt to grab it. A T-shirt, bearing an image of a 3D-printed car and the caption “Would You Download A CAR???”. A 3D-printed Chai symbol, which he knew was a Jewish symbol meaning “alive” or “living” (he had, as a self-study project, learned about every religion last year) on what appeared to be a purposefully-flimsy necklace chain. “Hello,” she said. It was, in his opinion, one of the most beautiful pieces of poetry ever written, worthy of being decorated illuminated-manuscript-style and framed on a wall.

“Hello,” 1z1d0r returned in commanding yet friendly tone. He was careful to keep his gaze focussed on her luxuriant eyes, rather than letting it wonder over her equally luxuriant figure. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m sure you recognise my name.” Alison began, and 1z1d0r nodded. “In that case, you should know where I’m from. My country’s really obscure. You probably haven’t heard of it … by name, that is. It appears in your textbooks as the country of [Redacted].”

1z1d0r flinched, but immediately chided himself for doing so. Someone as Alpha as him couldn’t be seen to fear The Name. He recovered with an effortless shrug. “Yeah, I know about that place. Had a revolution a few years ago. Pretty threatening one, too. So we dropped a few A-bombs and sunk the rotten commie bast- I mean brave, martyred revolutionaries.”

Alison raised a single, perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Quite. Anyway, I am nothing like my family. I’m a progressive techno-libertarian crypto-anarchist.”

“As am I.” 1z1d0r nodded, realising that this woman’s choice of Perfectly Correct political positions made her not only the most beautiful, but also to smartest woman he’d ever met. She wasn’t one of the sheeple, like that 8/10 who lived next door.

Alison nodded. “Of course. I read your file. That’s how I knew you were the perfect man for the job. I need your help. Agents of RepubliCorp have been trying to track me down and make sure I die just like the rest of my family. My grandfather’s dying wish was for me to be able to live safely and freely in a new land, which is why he had me smuggled out the day before the bombs dropped. RepubliCorp wants to put an end to his legacy and, with it, my life. They are the reason why the history books won’t even mention my country’s name. The only way I can ever be safe again is if we can take it down. In exchange, I can give you access to all the most important secrets my grandfather was hiding which made killing him so important in the first place. Are you with me?”

“Of course I’ll protect you, Alison.” 1z1d0r said warmly, projecting his masculine charm. He was so alpha that Alison managed to blush in spite of her dark skin. “How could I refuse such a mission? From the most beautiful and intelligent woman in the world. And, obviously, as the most handsome and brilliant man in the world, no one could be better suited to the job.”

“Oh, 1z1d0r!” Alison swooned. “I knew I could count on you!”

1z1d0r stood with all the grace that was to be expected of a double-black-belt Tae Judo Fu practitioner. “Let’s blow this joint.”

He took Alison by the hand and led her out the café and into the rain. It was a dark and stormy night. Alison looked up into 1z1d0r’s ferociously loving eyes. She drowned in his limpid pools of mud. Very attractive mud. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on 1z1d0r’s lips, and he kissed back with all the intensity of a freight-train heading for a train-wreck of a sentence. 1z1d0r was filled with excitement at the knowledge that this was a woman who could match his brilliance. Alison was wet. From the rain. They both were, actually. However, that was fine, because 1z1d0r’s FutureTech Astatine skateboard was 100% waterproof while it wasn’t charging. They stood embracing under the silver light of the full moon until the rain petered out. However, the storm of emotions within them would live on.

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And that is the 200% legit, no bullshit, True Story™ of how Ilzo and I started dating.

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Written by @sinesalvatorem and @ilzolende

Can confirm, am now internet-dating an Alison.

(Am not actually male, but we decided it made sense for the genre.)

Tags:

#storytime #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #long post