Ebony of Nubilia, High Priestess of the Cult of the Shoggoth, had a problem. The Shoggoth, all three of it, was depressed.

This was – of course – not her fault. Oh no. Some stupid entity hatches an equally stupid multi-leveled, multi-faceted plot to take over the world, and the Shoggoth ends up split in two, leaving one half contaminated and living with the Lair Legion (1), and the other three halves in Antarctica with an incredible fit of the sulks.

S’hron and C’thandra were easy to sort out. Being (very approximately (2)) female, they just got on with life. Looking after the Refuge, watching The Clangers and internalising the problem. The Manga Shoggoth, on the other pseudopod, was Brooding in the Fortress of Many Angles (and even more Manga).

Ebony sometimes wondered how a single creature could make life so complicated for itself.

Granted, brooding in the utmost darkness was stock in trade for a vast chthonian entity, but Ebony felt that adding the initial capital was going a little too far. Besides, the last time the Fortress of Many Angles was dark was when the fuse protecting the vast bank of TVs and monitors blew – a mistake it regretted almost immediately.

Thus, Ebony approached the Inner Sanctum of the Shoggoth in a rather apprehensive mood. It was on these occasions she rather regretted being something of an atheist (3). Praying for a miracle was out of the question.

The sanctum was quiet and almost dark. Only a small number of screens were lit and the anime being watched were being viewed in monochrome. The equivalent of a black armband, she thought. The flickering light barely illuminated the vast, blasphemous bulk of the Manga Shoggoth.

Ah, Ebony. Just who I wanted to speak to.

“Yes?”

I have decided upon a course of action. These books– here the Shoggoth indicated a load of Self-Help books that had been abstracted from various places (4) – suggest that a change in interests will help when feeling depressed.

For a brief moment, hope fluttered in Ebony’s breast. “You are giving up on Manga and Anime?” she asked.

Never!

Damn, thought Ebony, very quietly.

I am going to join the Internet. It declared.

With a familiar feeling of impending doom, Ebony tried to explain.

“I understand you need special equipment to do that. A computer, for a start. It’s not as simple as using a Video Player. Perhaps you should wait until Xander gets back from wherever he is hiding this time.” By which time, she mentally added, you might have forgotten the whole idea.

No. I have all the information I need right here. Replied the Shoggoth, indicating a stack of fewer (but much thicker) self-help books that appeared to be about computers. Besides, it is supposed to be more fun if you build it yourself.

“All right,” Ebony sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

Ebony, long used to strange and terrible missions for the Shoggoth, laboured for a week. She investigated computer shops, computer fairs and other retail outlets and ended up with two simple conclusions.

Firstly, people involved with computers were generally in possession of poor dressing skills, poor interpersonal skills and either rampant Acne or Beards (5).

Secondly, everyone involved with computers appeared to speak a different language to everyone else. This language was totally incomprehensible - and this was in the opinion of someone fluent in Great Old One.

She was in her thirty-seventh computer fair considering working on a third conclusion (6) when she decided paranoia was getting the better of her, and decided to visit Sir Mumphrey Wilton.

Some half-an-hour later, following pacification in the inimitable Sir Mumphrey style (Tea, Crumpets and a Sympathetic Ear – three things that she felt that Sir Mumphrey was extremely good at), Ebony was dispatched to the basement stores of Wilton Enterprises, in the company of one of the staff programmers (who was wearing a suit and clean-shaven – Wilton Enterprises had Standards (7)).

After a further half-hour and some frenetic unscrewing, Ebony’s equipment list was filled.

The narrative will mercifully step over the sight of the Shoggoth attempting to build a working computer out of random pieces of hardware. As most hardware types know, building a computer is difficult enough when one knows what they are doing, and knows the difference between ISA and PCI.

Ebony, on the other hand, took the advice given to her by Xander to heart, and stayed in the Refuge for the rest of the week.

After many days of plugging, unplugging and forced plugging (8), the Shoggoth looked upon its creation, and saw that it was good (9). It connected up all the leads, sat back, and pressed the ON switch.

Up came the PC.

Down went every node on the Internet.

Hmmm. mused the Shoggoth, Perhaps Great Old One was not the best choice of Language.

He switched on, listening to the hum of valves warming up. He gazed in anticipation at the old cathode ray tube as the picture began to appear.

Fuzzy at first, but then clearer and clearer...

Glyphs of Great Old One.

He put his head in his hands. He could feel a familiar headache coming on.

Footnotes:

(1) Popular thought aside, the one does not necessarily imply the other.

(2) And we do mean very approximately.

(3) This is unusual for a priest or High Priestess, except in the Church of England.

(4) Leaving some very old (and sea-stained) books in their place, giving both the ignorant and knowledgeable librarians fits, but for different reasons.

(5) The second of these is something to do with Eunuchs, apparently.

(6) Everyone involved in computing has been kidnapped and replaced by aliens.

(7) The language restriction was still in place, however.

(8) By which we may determine that the Shoggoth does not know the difference between ISA and PCI. Well, what can you expect from a creature that plays VHS tapes in a Betamax player because Beta had better quality playback?

(9) Or, at least, too terrified to admit to being bad.

(10) But with old-fashioned parts, naturally.