A Digital Frontier- Chapter Six
He hunched over a data pad, analyzing the lines of coding that filled the screen. All his attention was focused on his work as he readjusted a few digits here and there. It was absolutely essential that everything be perfect before he entered the data. Once it had been completed, there was no taking it back. Not this time.
After a considerable amount of time, he finally nodded, pleased with his work. This time he would not-he could not-fail. What he'd written was free from his previous mistakes. It would work. He'd reviewed the data time and time again, altering and adjusting where it was required. This time, he assured himself, there would be no regrets.
He inhaled deeply, anticipating the moment, and selected enter.
Slowly, bit by bit, data cube by data cube, the outline of a tall imposing figure began to form at his feet. He watched patiently, legs crossed Indian style as he focused on his own slow, even breathing. He was utterly calm, completely unmoving, hands relaxed on his knees. His eyes stayed fixed on the shape steadily forming before him even as he became one with his surroundings. The pulse of the digital world flowed through him, absorbed him, and he allowed his mind to float beyond his own being.
It was important to be prepared when the work was complete. He needed to be relaxed and focused. This was not going to be easy and he needed the extra support and calm that came from meditation. He watched quietly as the digital copy of his 30-year-old self materialized before him, hoping with all his heart that when those darkened circuits lit up, they wouldn't take on the sickly yellow of earlier cycles.
The rewriting process finished, and he gazed down at his creation with eyes saddened with age. After an eternity of stillness, he reached out to touch the other's arm lightly, sending a jolt of energy through his fingertips to waken the still figure.
Indescribable relief washed over him as the circuits lining the black jumpsuit illuminated bluish-white. The Program blinked awake, slowly allowing himself to reboot. His gloved fingers twitched, curling into fists and relaxing again. He breathed, chest rising and falling steadily. And finally, with something of an effort, he sat up.
His dark, intelligent eyes found his Creator almost instantly. “Flynn.”
“Clu,” came the soft reply.
“You brought me back,” Clu stated, his tone almost reverent. His gaze didn't waver in the slightest.
Flynn nodded, keeping eye contact. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“And you rewrote me. I've been altered.”
“Naturally. I have to be able to trust my admin, don't I?” The slightest of smiles crossed the older man's face.
The Program's eyes widened in surprise. “You intend to restore me to my previous designation? I don't understand. I failed you before, Flynn.”
“No, Clu. I failed you,” Flynn replied wearily, suddenly looking older than he ever had before.
Guilt washed over Clu as he thought of all the cycles Flynn had suffered because of his treachery. With the adjustments Flynn had made in his programming, he could finally understand the full implications of what he had done. He opened his mouth to argue, to point out that the fault had been in him the whole time, but Flynn cut him off.
“I was blinded by my ambition when I programmed you. I didn't stop for an instant to think about what I was doing. I wanted the whole world, and I wanted to show them exactly what I could do. I didn't think that perhaps my worst traits would be so strong in you, or that I ought to give you a little more leeway as far aw learning was concerned. I never thought I would change, or that anything could change without my consent, so I didn't bother making sure you could grow too.” The User paused, and Clu was surprised to see beads of moisture glistening in the old man's eyes.
“I'm so sorry, Clu,” Flynn continued softly, his voice slightly choked. “I'm so sorry everything turned out the way it did, and I'm so sorry that it was my faults that destroyed you. You're my Frankenstein's monster. I created you, and if I had just done things differently, we could have accomplished amazing things together.”
A tear slid down his cheek and into his silvered beard, yet still he smiled sadly.
A powerful emotion rose in Clu's chest and he swallowed, nodding tightly. He understood now. He could see what he had to do, what he ought to say. “We did do amazing things together,” he said in a firm yet quiet voice. “We built the Grid.” He paused for a moment, then continued.
“You might have programmed some negative characteristics into me, Flynn, but I still had a choice. I chose to go against your orders because I thought you must not have understood.” He hesitated. “But I was wrong. You understood far better than I. I should have made the choice to follow you and trust in your leadership.”
Flynn sighed. “That wasn't in your nature, or mine. I could have prevented that if I'd only had the foresight...” He trailed off and shook his head, his grizzled mane whipping back and forth. “But it'll be different this time. We both know what we did wrong before, and now we can make up for that and do things even better.” He clapped the Program on the shoulders and smiled the best he could manage. “Right?”
Clu nodded determinedly. “Of course. Together we can bring back the Grid's former glory.”
“That's exactly what I wanna hear, man!” the User exclaimed, his soft smile morphing into a broad grin. “We're gonna change the world.”
“Just like old times,” his double replied proudly, feeling a glimmer of hope. He could redeem himself. He could repair his past mistakes and more. His smile grew to match Flynn's and he nodded again. He'd been given his second chance, and he was not going to waste it.
Tron sat quietly outside of Ram's bedroom door, turning his disc over absently in his hands. Although he was exhausted, he didn't dare sleep. He was on duty, and shutting down on duty was unacceptable. He had Ram to guard and protect while Flynn was busy.
But how did one protect someone from their fears?
Since Flynn had repaired Ram, the actuarial program had been almost as good as new during the day. Some of it was faked. That was clear to Tron, who knew him better than anyone, but for the most part, Ram had been recovering remarkably well. He was all smiles again, despite the fact that the virus had chewed away chunks of his memory that Flynn had not been able to replace. But when he went into sleep mode, or attempted to, that's when the true extent of the damage showed.
Sure enough, the telltale cry of the frightened actuary pierced through the stifling silence like a gunshot. Tron pushed himself to his feet swiftly and swept inside the bedroom. Ram was trapped in twisted bedsheets and struggling violently, letting out little squeaks and whimpers of terror as he fought through a nightmare. Tron pinned him down by his shoulders, holding him still.
“Ram, wake up,” he said firmly, empathy for Ram's pain twisting agonizingly in his gut. “You're okay. Everything is okay.”
Ram's eyes shot open, wide with panic. His hands flew up to grip Tron by the elbows tightly as he breathed in fast and shallow.
“That's it,” Tron soothed gently. “I'm here. Everything is alright. You're safe, I promise.” He lifted a hand to pet Ram's mussed curls affectionately.
The actuary relaxed visibly at his friend's touch, his eyes fluttering closed again. His grip slacked, his breath slowing as he focused in on the familiar voice and tone. Tron was here. He was safe. After a moment he sat up and hugged the monitor tightly, savoring the feel of comfort and protection that seemed to emanate from him. Tron blinked in some surprise and couldn't help but smile faintly as he wrapped his arms around the smaller Program.
“Shhh,” he said quietly, reassuring him. “I'm here, Ram. I'll protect you. Nothing will hurt you while I'm around.”
A moment after he spoke the words, he realized he was making a promise he had already failed to keep. He hadn't been there to save Ram from deresolution. He hadn't protected him from the horrors of infection. And when the time came that he would have to tell his friend what he'd done, he knew he would be hurting Ram.
He breathed unevenly, his arms tightening around Ram. He let his head fall and buried his face in those brown curls, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could take the pain away and be sure Ram never had to hurt again. Tron was strong; he'd always been that way. He could deal with it. But Ram? Despite the facade that he sometimes wore, he was delicate. He was never meant for the life of a fighter, yet he'd been forced into it in the cycles of the old Encom system. Every Program the actuary had had to derezz in favor of his own life, Ram felt it like a disc to his own CPU. It wore on him, changed him, and the monitor worried that even though his days of fighting were over, the ghost of it would destroy him.
“Tron?” Ram's voice was a hesitant, breathless squeak. “You're making it hard to breathe.”
Tron instantly loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he apologized automatically.
The actuarial program shook his head, long nose brushing against Tron's chest. “Are you okay?”
The monitor couldn't help but laugh quietly. “Typical Ram. You have nightmares and ask if I am okay.”
“Well are you?” Ram watched him with his big sad eyes.
Tron chose not to answer, instead releasing his little friend and untangling him gently from the sheets. “You should get more sleep,” he murmured distractedly.
“No.”
The abrupt answer took the security program by surprise and he stared.“What?”
Ram crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and gazed back evenly. “No. Too many nightmares and memories. I can't. And every time I sleep you sacrifice the time you ought to be shut down for...well...I'm not even sure what, but I know you don't sleep, and that you haven't really gotten in a good downcycle since I got infected.”
So Ram had noticed. He thought he'd been getting away with it, but apparently not. He sat down on the bed beside his friend, fighting back the random and inexplicable urge to smile. “I've been working.”
“How foolish do you calculate I am? You haven't been working. You've just been watching me. But I'm not the one that needs taking care of, Tron.”
Tron sighed. “You are not foolish, Ram. I don't think that. Being infected is a traumatic experience and as your friend I wanted to ensure that you would be alright.”
A sarcastic smile quirked the corners of Ram's lips upwards. “Flynn told you many times that I would be fine.”
The monitor had no answer for that. Running on low energy made him a little testy and he was starting to lose patience. Ram seemed to pick up on that and dropped it, sighing a little.
“I can make you a deal,” the actuary suggested hopefully. “I'll shut down if you do.”
Tron considered for a moment. “But then there will be no one keeping guard.”
“Is that really necessary? Flynn said his place was already very reinforced and protected, even if there was any kind of threat to the Grid, which there isn't right now, as far as I know,” Ram pointed out.
The monitor sighed, too tired to keep arguing. “It seems I have no choice,” he said slowly, getting to his feet.
“You can stay in here,” the smaller Program said quickly, catching Tron by the elbow. “I mean...Flynn mentioned once it might keep my nightmares away if...someone was...with me.” He ducked his head in some embarrassment, trying to hide behind his curls.
That was the last response Tron could have possibly anticipated. He blinked a little in surprise, watching his suddenly shy friend blankly.
“I mean...I just thought it...might be nice...for us.” Ram twisted the sheets between his hands nervously. “There's plenty of room and...I think we both sort of...need it. Sleep, I mean.”
Tron really did need some sleep.
“Alright,” he replied agreeably, after a short pause. “Move over.”
After a considerable amount of time, he finally nodded, pleased with his work. This time he would not-he could not-fail. What he'd written was free from his previous mistakes. It would work. He'd reviewed the data time and time again, altering and adjusting where it was required. This time, he assured himself, there would be no regrets.
He inhaled deeply, anticipating the moment, and selected enter.
Slowly, bit by bit, data cube by data cube, the outline of a tall imposing figure began to form at his feet. He watched patiently, legs crossed Indian style as he focused on his own slow, even breathing. He was utterly calm, completely unmoving, hands relaxed on his knees. His eyes stayed fixed on the shape steadily forming before him even as he became one with his surroundings. The pulse of the digital world flowed through him, absorbed him, and he allowed his mind to float beyond his own being.
It was important to be prepared when the work was complete. He needed to be relaxed and focused. This was not going to be easy and he needed the extra support and calm that came from meditation. He watched quietly as the digital copy of his 30-year-old self materialized before him, hoping with all his heart that when those darkened circuits lit up, they wouldn't take on the sickly yellow of earlier cycles.
The rewriting process finished, and he gazed down at his creation with eyes saddened with age. After an eternity of stillness, he reached out to touch the other's arm lightly, sending a jolt of energy through his fingertips to waken the still figure.
Indescribable relief washed over him as the circuits lining the black jumpsuit illuminated bluish-white. The Program blinked awake, slowly allowing himself to reboot. His gloved fingers twitched, curling into fists and relaxing again. He breathed, chest rising and falling steadily. And finally, with something of an effort, he sat up.
His dark, intelligent eyes found his Creator almost instantly. “Flynn.”
“Clu,” came the soft reply.
“You brought me back,” Clu stated, his tone almost reverent. His gaze didn't waver in the slightest.
Flynn nodded, keeping eye contact. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“And you rewrote me. I've been altered.”
“Naturally. I have to be able to trust my admin, don't I?” The slightest of smiles crossed the older man's face.
The Program's eyes widened in surprise. “You intend to restore me to my previous designation? I don't understand. I failed you before, Flynn.”
“No, Clu. I failed you,” Flynn replied wearily, suddenly looking older than he ever had before.
Guilt washed over Clu as he thought of all the cycles Flynn had suffered because of his treachery. With the adjustments Flynn had made in his programming, he could finally understand the full implications of what he had done. He opened his mouth to argue, to point out that the fault had been in him the whole time, but Flynn cut him off.
“I was blinded by my ambition when I programmed you. I didn't stop for an instant to think about what I was doing. I wanted the whole world, and I wanted to show them exactly what I could do. I didn't think that perhaps my worst traits would be so strong in you, or that I ought to give you a little more leeway as far aw learning was concerned. I never thought I would change, or that anything could change without my consent, so I didn't bother making sure you could grow too.” The User paused, and Clu was surprised to see beads of moisture glistening in the old man's eyes.
“I'm so sorry, Clu,” Flynn continued softly, his voice slightly choked. “I'm so sorry everything turned out the way it did, and I'm so sorry that it was my faults that destroyed you. You're my Frankenstein's monster. I created you, and if I had just done things differently, we could have accomplished amazing things together.”
A tear slid down his cheek and into his silvered beard, yet still he smiled sadly.
A powerful emotion rose in Clu's chest and he swallowed, nodding tightly. He understood now. He could see what he had to do, what he ought to say. “We did do amazing things together,” he said in a firm yet quiet voice. “We built the Grid.” He paused for a moment, then continued.
“You might have programmed some negative characteristics into me, Flynn, but I still had a choice. I chose to go against your orders because I thought you must not have understood.” He hesitated. “But I was wrong. You understood far better than I. I should have made the choice to follow you and trust in your leadership.”
Flynn sighed. “That wasn't in your nature, or mine. I could have prevented that if I'd only had the foresight...” He trailed off and shook his head, his grizzled mane whipping back and forth. “But it'll be different this time. We both know what we did wrong before, and now we can make up for that and do things even better.” He clapped the Program on the shoulders and smiled the best he could manage. “Right?”
Clu nodded determinedly. “Of course. Together we can bring back the Grid's former glory.”
“That's exactly what I wanna hear, man!” the User exclaimed, his soft smile morphing into a broad grin. “We're gonna change the world.”
“Just like old times,” his double replied proudly, feeling a glimmer of hope. He could redeem himself. He could repair his past mistakes and more. His smile grew to match Flynn's and he nodded again. He'd been given his second chance, and he was not going to waste it.
Tron sat quietly outside of Ram's bedroom door, turning his disc over absently in his hands. Although he was exhausted, he didn't dare sleep. He was on duty, and shutting down on duty was unacceptable. He had Ram to guard and protect while Flynn was busy.
But how did one protect someone from their fears?
Since Flynn had repaired Ram, the actuarial program had been almost as good as new during the day. Some of it was faked. That was clear to Tron, who knew him better than anyone, but for the most part, Ram had been recovering remarkably well. He was all smiles again, despite the fact that the virus had chewed away chunks of his memory that Flynn had not been able to replace. But when he went into sleep mode, or attempted to, that's when the true extent of the damage showed.
Sure enough, the telltale cry of the frightened actuary pierced through the stifling silence like a gunshot. Tron pushed himself to his feet swiftly and swept inside the bedroom. Ram was trapped in twisted bedsheets and struggling violently, letting out little squeaks and whimpers of terror as he fought through a nightmare. Tron pinned him down by his shoulders, holding him still.
“Ram, wake up,” he said firmly, empathy for Ram's pain twisting agonizingly in his gut. “You're okay. Everything is okay.”
Ram's eyes shot open, wide with panic. His hands flew up to grip Tron by the elbows tightly as he breathed in fast and shallow.
“That's it,” Tron soothed gently. “I'm here. Everything is alright. You're safe, I promise.” He lifted a hand to pet Ram's mussed curls affectionately.
The actuary relaxed visibly at his friend's touch, his eyes fluttering closed again. His grip slacked, his breath slowing as he focused in on the familiar voice and tone. Tron was here. He was safe. After a moment he sat up and hugged the monitor tightly, savoring the feel of comfort and protection that seemed to emanate from him. Tron blinked in some surprise and couldn't help but smile faintly as he wrapped his arms around the smaller Program.
“Shhh,” he said quietly, reassuring him. “I'm here, Ram. I'll protect you. Nothing will hurt you while I'm around.”
A moment after he spoke the words, he realized he was making a promise he had already failed to keep. He hadn't been there to save Ram from deresolution. He hadn't protected him from the horrors of infection. And when the time came that he would have to tell his friend what he'd done, he knew he would be hurting Ram.
He breathed unevenly, his arms tightening around Ram. He let his head fall and buried his face in those brown curls, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could take the pain away and be sure Ram never had to hurt again. Tron was strong; he'd always been that way. He could deal with it. But Ram? Despite the facade that he sometimes wore, he was delicate. He was never meant for the life of a fighter, yet he'd been forced into it in the cycles of the old Encom system. Every Program the actuary had had to derezz in favor of his own life, Ram felt it like a disc to his own CPU. It wore on him, changed him, and the monitor worried that even though his days of fighting were over, the ghost of it would destroy him.
“Tron?” Ram's voice was a hesitant, breathless squeak. “You're making it hard to breathe.”
Tron instantly loosened his grip. “Sorry,” he apologized automatically.
The actuarial program shook his head, long nose brushing against Tron's chest. “Are you okay?”
The monitor couldn't help but laugh quietly. “Typical Ram. You have nightmares and ask if I am okay.”
“Well are you?” Ram watched him with his big sad eyes.
Tron chose not to answer, instead releasing his little friend and untangling him gently from the sheets. “You should get more sleep,” he murmured distractedly.
“No.”
The abrupt answer took the security program by surprise and he stared.“What?”
Ram crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and gazed back evenly. “No. Too many nightmares and memories. I can't. And every time I sleep you sacrifice the time you ought to be shut down for...well...I'm not even sure what, but I know you don't sleep, and that you haven't really gotten in a good downcycle since I got infected.”
So Ram had noticed. He thought he'd been getting away with it, but apparently not. He sat down on the bed beside his friend, fighting back the random and inexplicable urge to smile. “I've been working.”
“How foolish do you calculate I am? You haven't been working. You've just been watching me. But I'm not the one that needs taking care of, Tron.”
Tron sighed. “You are not foolish, Ram. I don't think that. Being infected is a traumatic experience and as your friend I wanted to ensure that you would be alright.”
A sarcastic smile quirked the corners of Ram's lips upwards. “Flynn told you many times that I would be fine.”
The monitor had no answer for that. Running on low energy made him a little testy and he was starting to lose patience. Ram seemed to pick up on that and dropped it, sighing a little.
“I can make you a deal,” the actuary suggested hopefully. “I'll shut down if you do.”
Tron considered for a moment. “But then there will be no one keeping guard.”
“Is that really necessary? Flynn said his place was already very reinforced and protected, even if there was any kind of threat to the Grid, which there isn't right now, as far as I know,” Ram pointed out.
The monitor sighed, too tired to keep arguing. “It seems I have no choice,” he said slowly, getting to his feet.
“You can stay in here,” the smaller Program said quickly, catching Tron by the elbow. “I mean...Flynn mentioned once it might keep my nightmares away if...someone was...with me.” He ducked his head in some embarrassment, trying to hide behind his curls.
That was the last response Tron could have possibly anticipated. He blinked a little in surprise, watching his suddenly shy friend blankly.
“I mean...I just thought it...might be nice...for us.” Ram twisted the sheets between his hands nervously. “There's plenty of room and...I think we both sort of...need it. Sleep, I mean.”
Tron really did need some sleep.
“Alright,” he replied agreeably, after a short pause. “Move over.”