#c.headcanons

It should have just been a normal work day. He should have just gone to the computer classroom, but oh, no, bleeding heart fool he's become- he can't help but investigate.

It's odd. intuition was not his strong-suit, being observant, in fact, had always been something he was relatively terrible at, compared to many of his other more present and polished skills- it had taken him months to figure out that Sissy liked him- and it had taken until it was too late to realize that Gia had too. His hand finds the hanging thumb drive among the other jewelry around his neck, still present even dressed more 'academically'- it was a comfort, 'the more things changed the more they might stay the same' the saying goes, and maybe that's the only reason he notices something off, today.

His fondness for routine, yes- that had to be the reason he was observant enough to catch the way the gym seemed. Different. There was usually at least one door open, right? A light on, certainly. It was part of the routine, to cut through the gym for a shortcut to his classroom, the doors in the back closer than weaving hallways, the acoustics nice enough without anyone else present that he could practice some of the melodies the band had been working on.

It's pitch black when he nudges the door to the gym open, though- even the scant emergency lights that he knew should be on turned off- something that was only done on purpose, flipping all the switches off instead of the few the faculty tended to. Then he's met with the smell.

He's more familiar with it now- Rusty's been teaching him to hunt, Sissy's been trying to walk him through prepping meat for meals and storage- through preserving pelts to turn into leather, blankets, clothes- The bitter, coppery smell of blood is something he's able to recognize easily, now- it still makes his stomach turn. "What, some kids break in and play Carrie last night? Jesus." He mutters to himself, using the thin light filtering in from the hallway through the now open gym doors to find his way to the light switches. He makes a distasteful sound, as his foot squelches in something as he's making the short trek, pulling his radio from his belt and flicking to the ranger line.

"Hey, Uncle Rusty? You around?"

"About t' hang it up for the morning and head to Jack's to get a little sleep in, what's up, kid?"

"I'm just wondering if Duck's said anything about any animals at the high school? Something that likes gnawing on wires or something? It's dark in the gym, smells like a slaughterhouse and I think I just stepped in shit." There's a laugh, on the other end of the line, and Cyan's not sure if that's Rusty or another night ranger. He rolls his eyes- finally settling his hand on the light switches and throwing them back on. "yeah, yeah, yuck it up, I'm gonna have to wash my shoe, I've only got the one nice pair and-"

The crumpled body of someone lies on the floor nearby as he turns around, a sticky river of sanguine streaking polished floorboards. He can't recognize who it is- if that's because he didn't know the guy, or because where his head probably should be is now a fleshy amalgam of blood, bone and hair, Silas isn't sure. He does know one thing, suddenly the smell makes sense, and the visual- paired with the realization that what his foot had flattened was a smear of gray-matter now clinging to the toe of his shoe- is enough to send him doubling, his coffee, toast and eggs of the morning coming back up in one sudden blow- his walkie clattering to the floor nearby in the blood.

"...Mallard hasn't said anything about anything getting into the school, but he and Hobbes don't really deal with anything much smaller than a squirrel when it comes down to it, could be mice- Cy? Silas? Kid? you still there? Somethin' pluck ya off the face 'a the earth?" The walkie chatters away at his feet- Cyan's breathing quickens, and panic sets in. His fist balls, striking at his upper chest and shoulder roughly, the stim doing little to help him catch his breath, as he staggers backwards- reaching his unoccupied hand to the mess to retrieve his walkie.

Cold blood sticks to his fingers, stains his palm, as he weakly presses the button. "Still here. Hold on." He turns the knob at the top, the oddly cheery robotic voice listing off the numbers of the walkie channels until he stops on the one for the Police Station.

"Um. This is." between his stomach struggling to empty itself again, and the blooming pain from a desperate, last ditch attempt to self-soothe- it's hard to speak. "This is Cyan Chiyoda- I'm at- I'm at the high school for- for the start of my shift- I- I was cutting through the gym like I always do and- f-fuck they bashed his fucking brains in what the fuck?" There's confusion, on the other side of the line.

"Just- send somebody! Fuck! Anybody who's not me to fucking deal with this and don't let any of the fucking kids leave for school today, alright?"

"Cyan, are you saying there's an attack victim in the gym?"

"No. I'm saying there's a fucking murderer on the loose, and they just knocked off somebody else! Fucking send somebody to do their job what the fuck do they pay you for to ask stupid questions?!" Cyan sighs, realizes, after a moment of pause, that nobody at the station speaks 'frantic, panicked japanese' as a second language. "Someone was killed. it wasn't the ghosts. I know it wasn't."

"... Alright, Cyan, just, sit tight, alright?"

"I'm not staying in here with the body." I'll stand outside the gym- make sure none of the other teachers or s-staff stumble in if they don't catch... whatever announcement." He releases his finger from the radio button- stomach turning, as he notices clinging red against pale skin. he isn't sure if they'll count this as evidence, and so, carefully, he places his walkie, and toes out of his brain-slicked shoe just off to the side of the scene. One he's stumbled into.

It's a clean white mansion that greets the taxi that drops me off, modern and sleek with a family crest emblazoned on the gates. It's one of the many summer homes of Aoi Chiyoda, the owner and figurehead of tech powerhouse Chi-Hyu Technology, but it's not the 48 year old CEO and mastermind that I'm here to meet, and that much is made clear when my interviewee steps out of the house. He is asynchronous to the house that built him, dressed in black from head to toe with long dark hair pulled into a bun, struck through with pins bearing the visages of Japanese fox spirits, matching the dragons and koi swirling across his arms. Where Aoi demanded sleek, clean, chrome lines and white, granite blocks, his son perhaps has embraced the visual context of being a black sheep- something that tabloids have painted his history with since the now 22 year old was little more than a child.

A recluse of few words outside of parties and public appearances, Silas Chiyoda's position as a 'nepotism baby' is one he's acknowledged time and again, his vehement refusal to be someone people look up to often punctuated by lengthy, angry tirades on twitter- and typically- refusal to speak with the press. But today, he motions for me to follow him inside, past perfect marble floors and gold-inlaid furniture, to something that more correctly fits the man himself.

He makes himself at home in a beanbag chair under blacklight and neon, a bay of computers and monitors spread across one wall- a pile of schematics that he quickly hides on an opposite desk. It's only after the mouthpiece of a hookah pipe is hooked into the corner of his mouth that he allows me to speak to him at all, motioning one ring clad, dark-painted set of fingers as if to encourage me to 'get on with it'.

"I'd like to thank you, Mr. Chiyoda for taking the time out of your day to speak with us, from what I understand, you don't tend to like to speak to the press."

"I don't like to talk to tabloids. Given that you're here to talk about my work, I can make exceptions- I'm only 'famous' because of who my mother is, only rich because of my father. This focuses on the things I do that I actually care about."

"Yes, you and your father recently collaborated on an updated chipset for phones and computers that allows for more seamless communication between multiple devices, was this something important for you to achieve within the current space for smart devices?"

"Collaborated is quite the word for it- but yes, the chip I designed and we're seeking production on is intended to be upgradable for several years, eliminating a substantial amount of tech-waste in the industry, and allowing for less incidents with the strangely... quick obsolescence that comes from a lot of companies today- iPhone, Android, Windows- they'll all be using some form of our architecture, which will allow repair shops to work in a more comfortable, less proprietary space. A phone a year isn't sustainable for most people- this slows down the feeling that one has to update the moment a new piece of hardware releases, and simply requires a replacement chip."

"You seem very passionate about this, was it your father who got you invested in technology?"

"My father named me after his first ever operating system, the NEON. It was less that he shared an interest with me, and more that it was the one way to get him to pay any attention to me- now, of course, the eyes on me tend to be pretty set on watching me fuck up, including my father's- but I'm still rich, I'm still a genius, and most of my detractors will die drowning in student loan debt or forgotten by the annuls of time. Bad press is press nonetheless, and in some part I'm thankful for the distraction from my actual work, it's allowed me to kinda, control where my ideas and innovation go without people trying to throw money to me to make it theirs and theirs alone."

"So you want this to be available to as many people as possible?"

"I want my work to bury the bullshit that society's been barreling toward. Planned obsolescence, government surveillance, copyright claims burying hobbyists alive. I want to do one thing that slows the cogs down before the teeth tear themselves off and leave us grinding to a halt. Innovating only for the sake of money is destroying the planet, our rights to privacy, our ability to create- People insist that what my father does is the future, the way he pushes out the next big thing every quarter for another drop in the billion dollar bucket. I want it slowed down. We should perfect what we understand before inviting more ghosts into the system."

"So this isn't about reaching for the future for you, but suspending things in the now a little longer?"

"Think about it this way. Everyone who's ever lined up to kiss my ass on social media thinks I'm some kind of wizard, some cave-dweller with a thousand-point IQ and the ability to grant their wishes, but these assholes don't need an AI girlfriend who can interface with their smart kitchen, they need to get off their asses and learn a fucking skill for once in their lives. We are so hell bent on getting to the 'utopian future' that we've been promised we're ignoring the way we're sliding toward the other option. There are weaknesses in every system, and the more we try to make new systems, the more gaping holes are left behind- this is a bandaid on the hull of a sinking ship, and as soon as it comes crumbling down, the only people who are gonna take the blame are the people who don't deserve it. So let me state this simply: when we hit the point that makes Y2K's fearmongering look pitiful in comparison, it'll be on the head of my contemporaries, my father, and his boardroom of yes men. But not me. And not the people who inevitably work out how to hack your car, when you buy the Night Rider the second she rolls off the lot."

He's harsh and set in his ways, and the way he talks about technology, not like a blessing but a devil deal he's made and is now struggling to understand, is commonplace in his few public speaking appearances- something that's likely led to his father keeping his connection to Chi-Hyu rather hush hush- or his volatile public image, fraught with arrests, addiction, cycles in rehab, and highly publicized feuds with former girlfriends- many of them famous in their own regard, most recently seen paired off with the lead actress of Blood Ties- only to be arrested at her LA apartment after a domestic dispute ended in shots fired- Keeping him behind the scenes of a company reliant on the clinical white image of the mansion he's chosen to take this interview in. His stipulations for agreeing, of course, that I couldn't ask about the cycle of arrests and bail outs, about the girlfriends met in rehab easily twice his age- about his public fight with his father, the purple-gray scar on the side of his neck already covered up with a new tattoo of Eve's hands reaching for the apple of knowledge.

"Many people have stated that your father is going to usher in a golden era, technology pushed to its limits, it sounds a lot like you aren't in agreement."

REQUIREMENTS: A wired home computer or laptop wired into the system Cyan has set up. Phones, tablets, and other mobile devices still do not work, as they cannot be connected to the wired network that makes up the entirety of the computers Cyan was given access to. Game consoles can also make use of this functionality to play 'local' games together but remotely. THERE IS NO WAY TO USE THIS FUNCTIONALITY ON THE GO, YOU ARE REQUIRED TO HAVE A WIRED CONNECTION, PHONES AND TABLETS CAN BE SIDELOADED WITH THE INFORMATION, BUT ARE NOT ON THE NETWORK. Each computer must also load into the secondary OS, iNARIiOS, to access the network as a whole, though this is simple enough, as Cyan has left a desktop shortcut for this- a neon blue and purple fox clutching a scroll in it's mouth.

MESSAGING APPLICATION: YATAGARASU aka "CarrierCrow"

A Chatroom system with usernames, profile images, status messages, and 'group' options, CarrierCrow is the IM service of iNARiOS. stylized with the presence of a 3 legged crow and a sleek black and gold theming, it takes a lot of functionality similarities from discord, just heavily stunted, a basic text display in the center of the screen with messages tagged by usernames. This also contains the email system, allowing users to send messages in real time and into a holding inbox as well. There's cute little emoticons too- themed after the animal gods used in the applications.

DOCUMENT SHARING/CALENDAR WORKSPACES: KOMAINU aka "LionShare"

The workspace app themed after komainu statues, LionShare is where document writing and sharing, calendars, spreadsheets, and other file sharing is carried out, each user has their own specific key, and folders and documents can be set to be accessed by only specific keys, or the entire town, depending on the wants of those making the documents/calendars/sheets/etc. It carries over the usernames from within CarrierCrow, for ease of access, and Cyan has made a handful of public tutorial documents for the applications in iNARiOS, as well as an auto-updating spreadsheet including the screen names and contact information of the people around town, just in case you need to get in touch- but you'll still need their permission to send messages.

GAMES AND ENTERTAINMENT: KIRIN

KIRIN is a small-scale entertainment launcher containing games created by K1TSUN3 CO, a brightly colored, friendly logo of a scaled unicorn greeting users. It currently contains both games for PC, and ones that can be sideloaded onto compatible smart phones.

-Pocket Inari: A virtual pet akin to Tamagotchi featuring the animal characters of the OS itself in many colors, patterns, and pre-programmed personalities, it's simplistic, but with over 60 collectable characters and a charming, plinky set of chiptunes of modern songs, it's a solid distraction.

-K1TSUN3 KHA0S: A slash-em-up dungeon crawler featuring a fox-masked cyberpunk protagonist fighting their way through a neon lit, monster infested future, it features around 40 levels and a in-built progression system and a surprisingly capable story, for something a handful of criminals wrote to steal data, initially. It's known for being quite difficult- at least it's cross-progression between the PC and mobile versions.

-Turnibs: A cute farming sim game akin to stardew valley or story of seasons, once again you take the role of one of the handful of animal gods (a Fox, a Crow, A stone Lion, a moon-rabbit, or a dragon-like Unicorn) in a cutesy pixel style, running a small farm outside of a town populated by similar creatures. it's rather bare bones, but is cozy, peaceful, with lots of customization of the farm, farmhouse, and player character. It's multiplayer too- just have to enter the code on the main screen to become a turnip capitalist together!

-Megalophobia: a text based horror RPG, placing the player in the shoes of a survivor of a zombie apocalypse- Cyan considered not adding this one, but given it's 70+ hours of play time through multiple endings and builds, he included it anyway- The rangers at the stations tend to like it, though.

Used to being used for something less than actually being genuinely liked, he hovers at the hems of friend groups that take him in- canceling plans and rescheduling when he worries that the other shoe might drop, taking his solace in technology and the knowledge that if he isn't there he can't catch people he genuinely likes talking about how he's weird and creepy- That he won't hurt like that again. Frankie had been a solace, the one friend who genuinely cared about him beyond what he could do, and even then, he and Frankie were not in love- close, romantic enough, surely friends- but there was always that lingering reminder.

That he and Frank only got on so well because they met when Cy was arrested- that in some capacity, with his job in the government, Frank was less of a friend and more of a handler.

It didn't matter anymore. Frank was in DC, working some cushy desk job, and Cyan was stuck in Huntsville, constantly worrying over if the people he longs so desperately to know might up and abandon him one day too. It makes him flakey, nervous- he'll stim and tick, rub his neck and look away, as he talks himself out of something he genuinely, really wants to do to just sit in his van. He hates it.

Maybe it's just a flaw in his code, something permanent he'll never shake loose.