Ireul
February 16, 2009
The angel Ireul lived in large dark rooms populated almost exclusively by the blinking of power and indicator lights. The walls of her living space were packed to the breaking point with racks upon racks of servers. The heat that would normally be created by such a massive set-up was dissipated by the nature of her Office and the power necessary to run such things was likewise supplied through will over wall.
Ireul sat in the myriad glow of a dozen monitors constantly painting and repainting her toenails.
Ireul was a small thing, barely four feet tall and 80 pounds. She resembled a fairly average 13-year-old girl and the darkness of her skin let her blend into the darkness of the room save for her eyes and the sometimes iridescent quality of certain nail polishes.
Ireul worked without sleep and without food; though she did eat a lot of gummy bears by habit more than necessity.
Ireul spoke in simple curt phrases. Her tone as clipped as her sentences, but she refused to use acronyms of any kind. Perhaps this was to avoid internetese and perhaps it was simply to keep the possibly hundreds of such abbreviations that she dealt with daily straightforward and uncomplicated.
Ireul wore sundresses, indoors in a nearly completely dark room, and had a disposition that sometimes matched the dress and sometimes matched the room. Her attitude was dichotic and swung back and forth from sentence to sentence with no variation between strictly stoic or exuberantly cheery.
Ireul spent her time data mining and blogging and emailing and searching for bits of various information that she carefully and purposefully disseminated where she thought it should be. Her task was to further invention and spur on the inquisitive nature of man to create and build more and more complex devices.
Not that she was always a fan of the results of those labors. And she has more than once gone on staccato tirades against the sour grapes of her labors.
