Vivian blinked in surprise and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She hadn't expected the terminal to even power on, given that it looked like someone had reached in and pulled a handful of wires out the back.

Then it did, of its own accord. And it showed a prompt; some nonsense that had probably propagated from a long-forgotten BBS. She found herself entering a name, something that stirred in her memory; 
[i][color=007236]«Virus. Destroyer. Angel. Savior.»[/color][/i]

And then it asked her for [color=ed1c24] SACRIFICE[/color]. That didn't seem right - but her hand moved toward her pocket, the flash drive that held all kinds of reference material, compressed and organized in case something happened to the servers where it all was stored. She plugged it in to the waiting port (next to a 5 1/2" floppy drive, that made no sense). Her fingers tapped out the file path; something that stirred in her memory; 
[i][color=007236]«Library. Host. Central cluster.»[/color][/i]

And then it processed for a terribly long time, the hard drive's clicks and what's the only sound in her apartment. Out of curiosity, she plugged the drive into her normal laptop and checked; and the Library of Congress' collection was gone. 
[i][color=00a651]«Given.[/color] [color=ed1c24]Taken.»[/color][/i]

And now it wanted a name... Along with another? No, there was no way. It couldn't be connected, there was no cord, there was no Wi-Fi, she hadn't hooked [i]anything[/i] up.

What the [color=39b54a]⚝⚝⚝⚝[/color] was going on?