and if you told me I was perfect
Who: Wulf (runsinpacks) and anyone!
Where: a tower ramp in Sector 239
What: It's a time of miracles, but Wulf, deep down, can't convince himself they're here to stay.
Warnings: existentialism? I promise he'll cheer up as soon as I make him more smiley icons soon.~
Wulf leaned on the rail high above the city, his lanky form slumped in a far cry from his usual alert animation. This was the first break he'd gotten since reestablishing the clinic -- the other medical programs had things well in hand -- and if he was honest, he had no idea how to spend it.
Despite itself, his mind turned inward, worrying a series of truncated directives as though prodding at a missing tooth.
He remembered well what Clu had done with him and the other programs who were capable of accessing and altering code. It had been sheer luck that he'd been assigned to the Armory rather than the compilation facility that had later become a center for wholesale rectification. He'd had the upgrade, though, with the rest of them. New functions, new permissions -- it had been like waking up with an extra limb, one that could reach into others and, instead of restoring what they'd been, corrupt them into something else.
When the Portal had opened, when Clu had gone, he'd ripped those scripts out of himself. He'd done a clean, thorough job of it, and resyncing had destroyed the possibility of ever replacing them on his own. But the space was still there, a hollow disquietude that he'd been unable to fill.
Moodily, he kicked his boot at the base of the railing. Could all the miracles happening now wipe out the horrors of the past thousand cycles? If it had happened once, it could happen again, and he would be just as helpless to prevent it. Next to the weight of that hard experience he felt small and alone, and unsure if that could ever change.
Where: a tower ramp in Sector 239
What: It's a time of miracles, but Wulf, deep down, can't convince himself they're here to stay.
Warnings: existentialism? I promise he'll cheer up as soon as I make him more smiley icons soon.~
Wulf leaned on the rail high above the city, his lanky form slumped in a far cry from his usual alert animation. This was the first break he'd gotten since reestablishing the clinic -- the other medical programs had things well in hand -- and if he was honest, he had no idea how to spend it.
Despite itself, his mind turned inward, worrying a series of truncated directives as though prodding at a missing tooth.
He remembered well what Clu had done with him and the other programs who were capable of accessing and altering code. It had been sheer luck that he'd been assigned to the Armory rather than the compilation facility that had later become a center for wholesale rectification. He'd had the upgrade, though, with the rest of them. New functions, new permissions -- it had been like waking up with an extra limb, one that could reach into others and, instead of restoring what they'd been, corrupt them into something else.
When the Portal had opened, when Clu had gone, he'd ripped those scripts out of himself. He'd done a clean, thorough job of it, and resyncing had destroyed the possibility of ever replacing them on his own. But the space was still there, a hollow disquietude that he'd been unable to fill.
Moodily, he kicked his boot at the base of the railing. Could all the miracles happening now wipe out the horrors of the past thousand cycles? If it had happened once, it could happen again, and he would be just as helpless to prevent it. Next to the weight of that hard experience he felt small and alone, and unsure if that could ever change.