ArchivedLogs:Steve Finds the Internet

Steve Finds the Internet
Dramatis Personae B, Steve	2015-11-21 "{So I can...search. Anything?}"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Media Room - Lower East Side
Though this sound-proofed room comes equipped with the same complement of bright airy windows as most of the rest of the rooms around here, it /also/ comes with thick heavy blackout curtains for them, easily drawn to reduce the glare on the myriad screens around the place. The place of honor in the room goes to an enormous flatscreen television mounted on one wall; beneath there are a number of video game consoles hooked up to it and shelving to either side of the television holds an assortment of DVDs on the right and an assortment of video games on the left. There's plentiful seating with views of the television, in the form of wide microsuede couches and enormous squishy beanbags (plenty big enough to share) scattered around the floor. A mini-fridge up here stands beside one cabinet, both often kept stocked with snacks and (generally highly caffeinated) drinks. Across to the other side of the room there are comfortable armchairs and smaller tables, with plenty of outlets available for those who want to plug their computers in and work or play. Four common-use desktops sit on desks against the wall, accessible to any resident with a login. Steve has not been here for long, but the look of perplexity on his face has already started edging toward frustration and anger. Dressed in a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt (which has acquired many small rips and tears) and dark indigo jeans, he's sitting at one of the common desktop workstations, hunt-and-peck typing and squinting at the monitor. He has at least made it past the login screen, but the desktop has him stumped. Finally he slumps back to drink his coffee, defeated. The mug is glossy black with the image of his shield emblazoned across the side. The tiny sharkpup entering the media room right now is in red and black as well -- tights red on one leg and black on the other, pleated black skirt with red plaid between the pleats, tall stompy black boots, black armwarmers with silver-buckled straps crisscrossed over them, a black tee crossed with red straps. There's a tiny black metal dragonfly humming along at hir shoulder, a single wakizashi strapped to hir back, a pair of black cuffs at hir wrists. Ze /was/ heading for the television but stops, head tilting as ze looks at Steve. Ze heads towards the back of the room instead, stopping a short distance from the computers. "{... problem?}" Hir Spanish is a little stiff. Steve looks up over the edge his mug when B enters. Waves with his free hand. Looks at the computer balefully. Looks back at B. "{I cannot find the Internet,}" he admits at last in somewhat unwieldy and very, very Italian-sounding Spanish. The ridge of B's brows lifts; one hand rises to touch fingertips to her lips. Her mouth opens, head lifting and then lowering again in a slooow nod. "Ahhh --" She continues the rest of the way over, drawing a chair from the next station over to pull it next to Steve's. "{What -- exactly -- are you trying to /do/?}" Setting his coffee back down, Steve tosses his hands into the air. "{So many things. People keep telling me: 'look it up in the Internet.' They say, you can find real news from real people in the Internet.}" He glares at the computer again. "{But none of these little pictures say 'Internet.' I type it...}" He does so again, each letter he types moving the highlight to a different icon. He throws his hands up in the air and lets out a low growl. "{Alright alright alright.}" B lifts her hands, patting placatingly at the air between them. "{No growling. You're going to want a web browser, for that. You can use Firefox. It's that blue and orange picture there --}" One of her claws flicks towards the screen. "{Click that one. It,}" her lips twitch slightly, "{has the Internet.}" "{Web browser. Firefox.}" Steve repeats these words with a look of severe concentration on his face. He looks at the monitor, looks down at the keyboard, then stretches out a finger to poke the icon that B indicated. "{I can't get anything to 'click', either.}" "{Do you see the small arrow?}" B points to the arrow on the screen. "{You need to move that over the picture and then click. Use this.}" She moves her hand to the mouse, wiggling it to move the cursor. "{This button clicks.}" She taps a finger lightly against the left mouse button. "{I can get you a small computer of your own that you can touch directly, but most computers still use these --}" She gestures towards the keyboard and mouse, "{to control the box.}" Her tone is just a little bit disgruntled at this. Steve blinks at the suddenly animated cursor. "{Oh! That's what that means.}" He frowns deeply, nudging the mouse with his index and middle fingers. The cursor skids across the screen. "{So I move this thing,}" settling his hand over the mouse now, "{to move /that/ thing...}" he tries to steer the cursor toward Firefox only to have it zip alll the way to one side of the screen. "{...to 'click' the Firefox.}" He tries again, and the cursor vanishes into the lower right corner altogether. "{Which has the Internet in it?}" Not that he's actually succeded in even opening the browser yet, but, gritting his teeth, he tries yet again. B leans forward in the chair, propping hir elbows on the edge of the desk. Hir eyes scrunch up as the cursor darts around the screen, gills flapping open and then back closed. "Um." Hir nose wrinkles, lips pressing together. "{Okay. Um.}" Ze gestures to the dragonfly at hir shoulder, which hums down to light on the desk in front of them. Ze speaks to it in brief Vietnamese, typing hir own login swiftly on the holographic keyboard that pops up soon afterwards. A moment later the desktop shimmers to life in front of them, cloned into holographic 3-D. "OK. {Just tap it with your hand, this time. That will be easier.}" Ze reaches out, poking towards the now-holographic Firefox icon. He looks at the dragonfly, then up at the display it projects. "{So your bugs are...radios as well as computers?}" He seems, at least for the moment, impressed enough to forget his frustration. As well, he successfully activates Firefox this time, and looks not a little surprised that it actually worked. "{Is /that/ the Internet?}" Indicating the Commons's landing page on the browser window that pops up. "{My bugs are many things. My eyes. My brain. Also computers. Very good ones.}" B leans back in hir seat once Steve successfully /opens/ the browser, a small closed-lipped smile briefly touching hir face. Very briefly. "{That is -- one way to access the Internet. The page here,}" she nods towards the splash page, "{is a place our community uses to organize. Events. Chores. Let people know if visitors will be in the guest rooms. Things like that. But from here you can do many things. Was there something you were looking for?}" "{Your eyes and your brain.}" Not a question, but Steve does glance sideway at B's head. "{Technology is /very/ different now than it was.}" This with an amazed shake of his head. "{I wanted to volunteer for the zombie...patrols? They say there is a form. But I also wanted to do. This.}" He pokes at the 'Chores' tab of the Commons page. "{Also important. How do you get from here to...other Internets?}" "{... I guess we do have. Some openings. In chores now.}" B's shoulders slump, a rapid flutter in hir gills. Hir tongue presses up beneath hir lower lip, eyes studying the browser for a moment. "{/Don't/ say any English, please.}" She points a claw up at the navigation bar at the top of the browser. "This bar up here? If you click here you can tell the browser where to go. If you /know/ an address you can just type it, but if you don't you can search -- type what you're looking for, like, if you want to find zombie patrols --" She taps on the navigation bar; a holographic keyboard appears in front of them, upon which she types: new york city zombie defense patrol. Hitting enter brings them to a list of google results, the first of which is the city web site for just that. Steve presses his lips together, nods. "{Oh, good. Typing /does/ work, sometimes.}" He sounds just a bit self-conscious of his relief. "{And then I 'click' those words?}" He does so then tilts his head at the search bar, eyes narrowing, as the browswer navigates to the information page for zombie defense volunteers. "{So I can...search. Anything?}" "Yes. In certain circumstances. Like when you're in the navigation bar. Or a search bar. Any text field." B points out the text boxes within the browser as she mentions them. "See how some of these words are blue? You can click those. And yes, you can search --" She looks juuust a little wary, here, before she answers. "... anything, pretty much. There's. A lot of stuff. Online." Steve nods, eyes flicking from here to there on the busy display. Even figures out, after a couple of false starts, how scroll down to the volunteer signup form. "{Thank you. You help a lot. Now I can find out things myself. Not bother people with as many questions.}" Though he is frowning again. "{It says here I need an...e-mail?"}" B's eyes skim down to the clock in the corner of the display. She just dips her head in a nod, though. "... sadly, 'Captain America' is probably taken. Alright. We can find you something -- that fits."