I don't know how it works, but for now, it's been enough to keep me going.
"Finally, I've defeated it," I exclaim with a sigh of relief.
On the screen, several tabs are open, each filled with lines of code that generate with every keystroke.
My hands move swiftly, almost instinctively, as the constant sound of typing fills the room.
At the center of the screen, a gigantic figure resembling a humanoid robot takes shape. Its body, in dark and light shades of green, glows under the virtual light, with a shield embedded in the middle of its chest.
A golden hand, belonging to a colossal skeleton, is lodged in the robot's chest, piercing it with claws as sharp as those of a mythical beast.
The robot emits a metallic screech as a cascade of sparks and data starts flowing from the wound.
The skeleton, with its towering golden figure and a floating red sphere where its stomach should be, appears as an ancient and terrifying creature.
Despite being made entirely of bones, it radiates a menacing aura, and its hollow eyes burn with a blazing red light, as if it were alive.
At its feet, the corpses of other robots, similar to the first but much smaller, slowly dissolve into a myriad of green sparks and code, dissipating into the air like digital snow.
***
I planned to hack the museum's network, thinking it would be easy.
Even though I had no programming experience, I knew that in this world there was a single, global network, free and accessible to everyone, making it easier to connect to my targets.
But once I entered the central data flow, I realized there were bigger problems than I had anticipated.
The screen displayed a completely distorted space, composed of gray and white colors, with glowing cubes floating in the air in different shades of blue: light, dark, vivid.
Each cube, connected to a device in the real world, seemed to be the source or the heart of that device's memory.
The first problem was finding the right target among an extensive and seemingly infinite number of cubes. The second, perhaps more unsettling, was that this space was constantly changing.
In one moment, a part would become a long, square column, while other sections would transform into floating veils soaring through the gray-white sky. It was a constantly shifting environment.
The digital world itself seemed alive, with each cube representing a device, a fragment of information.
The space was chaotic, with columns of light rising and dissolving, and veils of data floating like flags in an invisible storm.
Even I, viewing myself from a third-person perspective, was nothing more than a cube.
Soon, however, I discovered that I could modify my digital avatar, programming its appearance and abilities.
Each change required care and precision, as every modification impacted my ability to move and interact in this shifting space.
"As I thought."
"A skeleton is quite cool," I murmur in a calm tone, bringing my fingers to my lips, not to hide a smile, but to quietly contemplate the image in front of me.
I didn't choose this form for any personal preference, nor because it offered me any particular advantage.
On the contrary, it had many disadvantages.
Every damage I sustained in this digital form caused me to lose a significant amount of data, forcing me to manually reprogram it to restore what I had lost.
If I had created some sort of armor similar to the robot I just defeated, I could have preserved a greater amount of data.
This armor was designed with a complex system of unnecessary data accumulation, capable of absorbing blows without compromising the primary code.
Instead of sustaining direct damage, the robot could deflect attacks and keep its main functions intact.
Its structure featured multiple layers, each providing additional protection, allowing the system to continue operating even in the event of malfunctions.