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Powered by a global network of data centres (land-based, floating, hovering and submerged), satellites and a million rodded lamp posts, Shniff Cloud is the world's most super-duper cloud thing, and central to the geminOS experience, even at the "shit tier", syncing everything up, and making you go, "Mmm… this is some really fine sync juice, yum… incredible that it's free… hopefully my genetic code isn't being sucked up into the cloud without my permission to create a slave clone in the caves…"
A data centre is understood, pretty much, though with our servers running the latest Blue Vapour CPUs, with their accompanying Delicious Emissions in place of unappetising heat and fan noise, to stroll along the racks is to be transported to a peaceful grove, to be making the sweetest love with the entity of one's dreams, or to be blissfully alone with an immersive book and some Vanilla Emission ice cream with chocolate stars / mini turds.
Our satellites are as the Orb, to the extent that we understand it. Patterns are released, though not the waves, as that sphere, since the world would be fried, and most likely, we would be sued into non-existence equals not yum. Not mmm, lick… though by then, tbh, we would all non-exist, physically, anyway. Pass the turd?
Thank you, Soran Shniff, for your sacrifice. You can do this! Do this hnghhhh, do this not-yum, your auric shield having held. Having been boosted to superhero dimensions! wow!! granting unfettered, wheelbarrow-free access to Para'meesh IV. Is it possible you were born there? Quite likely. Is it possible the deeper Orb, yet to be unlocked, may contain some sort of filter for the waves, some sort of control – a modulation dial, perhaps – that we may be safe without your shield, and you may leave the Orb chamber and return to the world of the living, as it were? The company prays for this every day.
(Aside: Vanilla Emission is served to Shniffers in Shniff Café at Tuesday breakfast, Friday afternoon snack. FAQ. Everybody loves it. Everybody has a different theory re what those stars / mini turds really are. Zero votes for actual mini turds, interestingly… ;)))
And the rods! The crystal rods, dimensions. A million rodded lamp posts, guarded by invisible Shniff security drones, bots, fields. Do not make the citizenry feel afraid, please, that is our only condition. Plus the funds, of course… both public and… the incentives, shall we say ;))) Defeat three waves to be taken to the stars! Borrow/steal a rod, expose it to your microscope, plant it in your mushroom tub. Quite the trip that would be! to a land where the lattice doesn't make sense??? even less!!! said the professor, with punctuation above his head.
It is said that the gardener known as Unit 47A, discoverer of the Orb, said/gurgled to Cook before his passing, "That's great! Also: if you wouldn't mind grating some of the Orb using the world's hardest grater. Here's a link. Don't worry! It'll grow back, if my calculations are correct. Twenty-two.2… two… if the grater breaks, just use it for cheese, mousse, etc. Sprinkle the Orb dust in the rhubarb patch during next week's full moon. Don't worry! Monstrous alien rhubarb creatures won't come knocking at your door to suck your – beneath the flab – strangely attractive face… lick… every June, there will be crystals. Rods! Harvest them, with the barrow, and your oven mitts. Warning: Do not touch them with bare skin until they have been throughly washed with sparkling water, okay? BTW: What's for lunch? Smells good! Forgive me, Karen… HNGHHH!!"
Thank you, Unit, for your sacrifice. Know that the rods grow bountifully and with great authenticity in the synthetic soil of the labs, and that we take care to wear our mitts. Sparkling water flows freely, making stops at Shniffalicious and Shniff Café, carrying stray turd chunks and fish scales to the labs, to be warmly greeted by the rods and consumed by said. Know that their lattice is integral to Shniff Cloud, integrating with the patterns of the magical network. And yes: the back rooms are indeed fitted with rodded, higher-polyhedral matter-generators.
The yellow dot is there for the licking. It is there to turn green, or red. In the Test, where it's green, on delivering your results. Unless… and it's red. In the Who Am/Was/+++ I? identity enclave, where green = free to proceed, red is veiled, in which case:
The lick-shift is operational wherever the app runs, whether on a NOTperiscope, or something from our "competitors". On a Vodernach Machine, or conventional computer thing. Whether touch, or not. Alien sensors not required. The magic is in the app, in the language known as ORB. In the power of our cloud.
Release me… release…
And the app is transformational, touching [YOU], as you touch it. In the Test, where the world may appear quite different, as if this is all some grand illusion, or you're a visitor from another world. In the Who Am/Was/+++ I? identity enclave, where, red or green, one will hunger for roast beef, carnivore or not. And if not, fear not: it will pass. In the meantime, silken tofu injected with a vegan gravy works just fine.
Is it dangerous to lick one's screen, or the surface of one's Machine? With Shniff tech, not at all. The substrate will protect you. The molecule 9-Vogen presents a shield to native taint. Our surfaces are clean. Elsewhere, this is less so, however, and we advise a fiery mouthwash. Do swallow, if you wish – the taint runs deep – though do not dream of flying a spaceship while you burn, with the [FIRE] [IN] your mind. Should you wish to travel during this time, the app has an [AUTO] mode, and you'll be guided to the first jump point.
Otherwise, what can the app do? One can't be licking it all day! Agreed, that would be strange. Also: One can only consume so much tofu, even of the silken, vegan-gravy variety. So good! So wobbly. Too much fire could ulcer one's tongue, interfering with one's… operations on one's blow-up alien friend with vegan lovemaking rod holster, yum…
And so: there are matters beyond the dot:
Shniffit is a next-next-gen+++ internet browser currently in pre-pre-alpha development, written in the powerful, if nascent, and poorly understood, even by the geniuses at Shniff, even by the alien-inspired AI, native-alien programming language ORB, to which geminOS's codebase is also being converted.
Shniffit will add whole new dimensions to a user's online experience, whether a site is coded in ORB, or a rudimentary native tongue, perhaps even serving as a portal to Para'meesh IV, at least for the subtle body. (v5 Shniff implant with AstralProject attachment recommended.)
Interest in Shniffit is huge, understandably, but so, too, are the dangers for those with less experience in the Higher Realms. And so: we are restricting access to these very early builds to those who have ventured deep inside, and up high, you will find the floating Door to 0.nine-seven-9-three-43 geminOS Road. Knock thrice, whisper the magic phrase. (Hint: it rhymes with shuttered_ghost.)
Access to Shniffit will increase as basic (tetrahedral) familiarity with ORB expands through the wider population. In the meantime, limited, somewhat unstable Shniffit functionality is available to all when shopping through the Shniff app.
Twenty-two.2 years ago (note: due to the aliens' interquantum gate, this number never increases – think about it), an alien Orb was uncovered in the grounds of Shniff Inc CEO Soran Shniff's ancestral home, Manor Shniff (né Shniff Castle), by a beloved, ancient gardener known as Unit 47A, smoking his pipe under a tree in a remote zone he never touched. He couldn't be fucked. There was something weird about the earth there, something unfriendly to the plants, something friendly to his mind. He was escaping the noise of the irritating little pests who were touring the grounds that day (including a certain n-Vogen Barnes). Though their teacher was a charming young thing. Reminds me of Karen as I imagine her in twenty-two.2 years!
While the Unit is, sadly, no longer with us, his heroic effort to wheel the weighty, wave-radiating Orb to the rear entrance of the Manor without the proper protection in that damn squeaky barrow he loved so much! – in which his granddaughter Karen would often ride, the Unit fascinating her with tales of Para'meesh IV, the fictional (?) world he'd created just for her – before handing it off to Cook (who, sensing the thing was "out of this world", and having some experience in such matters, promptly covered her nose and mouth with her apron and whispered an esoteric numerical prayer with polyhedral tints) is remembered for all time in the powerful documentary Shniff vX: The Coming of the Orb, pre-loaded on every Shniff device and computer thing.
. . .
The perks are out of this world. The work is out of this world+++.
You will be asked in your interview for your thoughts on Vanilla Emission, the ice cream served for free at employee boofays. Come prepared with a theory re what those chocolate stars / mini turds really are. Come prepared with documentation showing you have changed your middle name to "Boofay" to impress your interviewer.
Will you decipher your assigned page from the alien First Contact manual? Will you dribble, cry? Or will you fly! to Para'meesh IV.