Never Gonna Give You Up
Prefaced by this and this
Continued over here
Characters in this log: Zuse (creepyguitar) and Ram (religiousnut).
Zuse had gotten very good over his many cycles at recognizing a Program in need. While most of them had different ways of dealing with it, there were really only several ways a Program would react, and to the practiced eye, it was easy to spot.
He had no trouble at all identifying this one. He fell into that category of Programs that were just obvious. That shy, hesitant demeanor, like he'd rather be anywhere than here, gave him the look of one that had lost a great deal in a short time.
Too many Programs were coming to him looking like that nowadays. Zuse was no miracle worker. He was far from it. He was simply very well informed.
Sliding easily into his guise of Castor, the End of Line host assumed his position behind the bar and smiled brightly at the lost Program.
Ram glanced around the lighted club nervously. He could hardly believe he was doing this. Crowds tended to make him shy and uncomfortable, but there were more important things to worry about aside from focusing on his own anxiety. It was his job as a friend and simply as Program that cared to do this for Tron. He just had to remember that getting Tron back was what was important right now. Ram took in a deep breath, his eyes eventually coming to rest on the bartender. He seemed friendly enough, and Quorra had told him that this was the best place to go for help. With a little more confidence, he approached the bar.
The poor Program didn't belong here at all, Castor thought with some amusement. With a smile that didn't quite meet his pale eyes, he greeted the newcomer.
“Welcome, welcome! How can I serve you?” he exclaimed warmly.
Ram returned the smile hesitantly. “Uh, actually, I'm looking for someone.” He faltered for a moment before continuing. “I was told that I could find Zuse here.”
“Mmm, yes, most cycles you can,” came the ambiguous reply. The barkeep smiled wryly. “I'm afraid no one can see Zuse without going through me first. You understand, of cousre, that he is an incredibly busy Program. In rather high demand as of late.”
The Actuarial Program nodded slowly, biting his lip. “What do I need to do?” he asked resignedly. He was willing to sacrifice just about anything to get the help that Tron so desperately needed.
Castor beamed. “Ah, humility. What a rare character flaw. Care to identify yourself?”
“Ram,” the other replied with a bite of impatience. “Actuarial Program.”
“Really? How fascinating! Your kind are so uncommon these days. I'm Castor, at your service. Your host,” he made a sweeping, flamboyant bow before stepping out from behind the bar and clasping both hands around a decorative cane. “Why don't you come with me and I'll see what I can do for you?”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode off carelessly through the club. Programs parted to allow him to pass and he smiled brightly in thanks. He seemed to know everyone there individually, calling them all by name and chatting briefly with a few of them here and there.
Castor caught one particularly attractive Program under the elbow and beamed at her. “Ah, Gem, darling, do keep an eye on things for me, won't you? I have some business to attend to.”
Gem nodded and smiled coyly at him from under her thick lashes. “Of course,” she purred, a robot-like undertone to her voice. She eyed Ram with interest, running her hands down her slim and curvy frame. If he could have blushed, he would have, instead giving her a small embarrassed smile.
A flight of illuminated stairs descended from the roof and Ram blinked, watching with some fascination. Even before the MCP trapped him in the Games, he'd stayed away from the city and large numbers of other Programs. He'd been a little more sheltered, which was why he'd stayed so innocent for so long. Not to mention the Grid had been an entirely different place when he'd known it. It had been much smaller then, and Programs had been kinder, for the most part.
Ram was interrupted from his thoughts by the tapping of Castor's cane on the stairs and he followed quickly. It seemed he was all sorts of awkward this microcycle.
“This is my personal lounge,” Castor explained, twirling his cane absently. He was very interested to hear what Ram requested. Clearly he must want it badly if he had brought himself to a place that he was noticeably unfamiliar with. “It's where I have my more private conferences with individual Programs.”
At a gesture from Castor's cane, Ram sat down on the cushy couch and looked around, taking in the tasteful surroundings with wide eyes. “It's very nice,” he murmured, struck by the richness of it all.
“Yes it is, isn't it? I pride myself on my designing,” Castor replied loftily. “And my drinks,” he added as an afterthought, already mixing up two of them.
Ram was starting to get rather frustrated. “Can you help me or not? This is really kinda important and I need to speak to Zuse.”
The barkeep chuckled good-naturedly. “All good things come to those who wait,” he said in a sing-song voice. He offered the Actuary a drink before sitting down across from him with his own. “Now, what can I do for you?” He crossed one leg over the other and smirked in a self-satisfied way, waiting.
Ram was confused at first. Castor knew exactly what Ram had been asking for. He'd repeated it several times now. He opened his mouth to tell him so, and how he had half a mind to just leave and look somewhere else for help. The words were almost out when it hit him and he blinked.
“You're Zuse?” he asked in some surprise.
This was Zuse's favorite part, watching their faces when they figured it out. He grinned and raised his glass. This mask of Castor really did wonders for his ego.
“The one and only,” came the smug reply. “I had to reinvent myself after the Purge, for the mutual benefit of everyone. I'm sure you understand.”
Ram's nod was rather hesitant. Was this really the wise and clever Zuse Quorra had told him to look for? He just seemed incredibly spoiled and narcissistic. Ram had his doubts of how much help he could gain from this eccentric Program.
“Guess so,” he replied with a shrug. There was another moment's pause before he launched into his reason for coming. “I need help. For my friend, I mean. He needs help.”
“How noble of you,” Zuse commented dryly. “Do continue.”
Zuse's dryness was only serving to discourage the Actuary further. He took a sip of his drink and felt the energy course through his circuits. A faint smile crossed his lips as the sensation took him back momentarily to a happier time. The recollection of being with his best friends encouraged him to continue. He had to do this, no matter how foolish or painful it seemed. He had to do something, and this was his best shot.
“He's been repurposed,” Ram stared to explain, his voice stronger than before, though the words caused him pain. “It's been really hard on him, to say the least. Is there anything I can do to help him?”
“Ooooooh! I knew this was going to be something exciting!” the other Program gushed enthusiastically. “I could practically taste it! Mmmm, yes, this is just the sort of challenge I've been needing!”
Zuse continued on in this vein or some time. Ram let him go for a few nanocycles until his impatience started to bubble up again. Tron didn't have the time for these insignificant delays and Ram was itching to get his best friend back as quickly as possible.
“Can you help or not?!” he interrupted loudly, cutting off the exciteable Program.
Zuse blinked, temporarily taken aback. No one had ever yelled at him like that. Well, maybe Quorra had, but that was cycles and cycles ago and she'd been playful about it. He recovered quickly, his smile reappearing.
“Oh, certainly,” he replied smoothly, spinning the little decorative umbrella in his drink. “But not right away. I can sort through the system's files and attempt to dig something up for you, but as I am unfamilliar with the subject, I can't guarantee that there even is something in Flynn's files that will help.”
Ram made a soft despairing sound and choked down half of his drink moodily.
“Oh, don't you fret,” Zuse chuckled. “Doubtless I can do something. I am rather clever, after all.”
“You think you can come up with a solution on your own?” Ram asked doubtfully. Was Zuse actually suggesting he knew more than the Users, because that's what it sounded like to him.
The barkeep stood, easily putting away his drink in one dainty swig and setting the glass down on the counter. He smirked, positively oozing with confidence.
“Creativity is in my programming,” he assured Ram. “Come back in a cycle or two. I'll be sure to have some ideas for your friend.”
The Actuarial Program stood as well, the beginnings of hope curving his lips upwards. His conference with Zuse was obviously over and the horrible desperation that had been suffocating him since learning the full extent of Tron's condition had lessened somewhat.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Of course,” Zuse replied, draping an arm loosely around the other Program's shoulders and guiding him out of the lounge. He stopped suddenly and glanced sideways at Ram. “Oh, and I shall most likely need to know...What exactly has your friend's programming changed into?”
Ram's smile faded. “He's a Black Guard now,” he murmured softly.
“Oooh, bad luck!” commented Zuse brightly.
They stepped back out into the main area of the club, the noise almost deafening after the silence of Zuse's private lounge.
“Until next time,” the barkeep said loudly, releasing him. Without waiting for an answer, he strode off into the mass of Programs and melted from view, leaving a considerably more cheerful Ram alone. He couldn't wait to tell Tron the good news.
Continued over here
Characters in this log: Zuse (creepyguitar) and Ram (religiousnut).
Click to viewZuse had gotten very good over his many cycles at recognizing a Program in need. While most of them had different ways of dealing with it, there were really only several ways a Program would react, and to the practiced eye, it was easy to spot.
He had no trouble at all identifying this one. He fell into that category of Programs that were just obvious. That shy, hesitant demeanor, like he'd rather be anywhere than here, gave him the look of one that had lost a great deal in a short time.
Too many Programs were coming to him looking like that nowadays. Zuse was no miracle worker. He was far from it. He was simply very well informed.
Sliding easily into his guise of Castor, the End of Line host assumed his position behind the bar and smiled brightly at the lost Program.
Ram glanced around the lighted club nervously. He could hardly believe he was doing this. Crowds tended to make him shy and uncomfortable, but there were more important things to worry about aside from focusing on his own anxiety. It was his job as a friend and simply as Program that cared to do this for Tron. He just had to remember that getting Tron back was what was important right now. Ram took in a deep breath, his eyes eventually coming to rest on the bartender. He seemed friendly enough, and Quorra had told him that this was the best place to go for help. With a little more confidence, he approached the bar.
The poor Program didn't belong here at all, Castor thought with some amusement. With a smile that didn't quite meet his pale eyes, he greeted the newcomer.
“Welcome, welcome! How can I serve you?” he exclaimed warmly.
Ram returned the smile hesitantly. “Uh, actually, I'm looking for someone.” He faltered for a moment before continuing. “I was told that I could find Zuse here.”
“Mmm, yes, most cycles you can,” came the ambiguous reply. The barkeep smiled wryly. “I'm afraid no one can see Zuse without going through me first. You understand, of cousre, that he is an incredibly busy Program. In rather high demand as of late.”
The Actuarial Program nodded slowly, biting his lip. “What do I need to do?” he asked resignedly. He was willing to sacrifice just about anything to get the help that Tron so desperately needed.
Castor beamed. “Ah, humility. What a rare character flaw. Care to identify yourself?”
“Ram,” the other replied with a bite of impatience. “Actuarial Program.”
“Really? How fascinating! Your kind are so uncommon these days. I'm Castor, at your service. Your host,” he made a sweeping, flamboyant bow before stepping out from behind the bar and clasping both hands around a decorative cane. “Why don't you come with me and I'll see what I can do for you?”
Without waiting for a reply, he strode off carelessly through the club. Programs parted to allow him to pass and he smiled brightly in thanks. He seemed to know everyone there individually, calling them all by name and chatting briefly with a few of them here and there.
Castor caught one particularly attractive Program under the elbow and beamed at her. “Ah, Gem, darling, do keep an eye on things for me, won't you? I have some business to attend to.”
Gem nodded and smiled coyly at him from under her thick lashes. “Of course,” she purred, a robot-like undertone to her voice. She eyed Ram with interest, running her hands down her slim and curvy frame. If he could have blushed, he would have, instead giving her a small embarrassed smile.
A flight of illuminated stairs descended from the roof and Ram blinked, watching with some fascination. Even before the MCP trapped him in the Games, he'd stayed away from the city and large numbers of other Programs. He'd been a little more sheltered, which was why he'd stayed so innocent for so long. Not to mention the Grid had been an entirely different place when he'd known it. It had been much smaller then, and Programs had been kinder, for the most part.
Ram was interrupted from his thoughts by the tapping of Castor's cane on the stairs and he followed quickly. It seemed he was all sorts of awkward this microcycle.
“This is my personal lounge,” Castor explained, twirling his cane absently. He was very interested to hear what Ram requested. Clearly he must want it badly if he had brought himself to a place that he was noticeably unfamiliar with. “It's where I have my more private conferences with individual Programs.”
At a gesture from Castor's cane, Ram sat down on the cushy couch and looked around, taking in the tasteful surroundings with wide eyes. “It's very nice,” he murmured, struck by the richness of it all.
“Yes it is, isn't it? I pride myself on my designing,” Castor replied loftily. “And my drinks,” he added as an afterthought, already mixing up two of them.
Ram was starting to get rather frustrated. “Can you help me or not? This is really kinda important and I need to speak to Zuse.”
The barkeep chuckled good-naturedly. “All good things come to those who wait,” he said in a sing-song voice. He offered the Actuary a drink before sitting down across from him with his own. “Now, what can I do for you?” He crossed one leg over the other and smirked in a self-satisfied way, waiting.
Ram was confused at first. Castor knew exactly what Ram had been asking for. He'd repeated it several times now. He opened his mouth to tell him so, and how he had half a mind to just leave and look somewhere else for help. The words were almost out when it hit him and he blinked.
“You're Zuse?” he asked in some surprise.
This was Zuse's favorite part, watching their faces when they figured it out. He grinned and raised his glass. This mask of Castor really did wonders for his ego.
“The one and only,” came the smug reply. “I had to reinvent myself after the Purge, for the mutual benefit of everyone. I'm sure you understand.”
Ram's nod was rather hesitant. Was this really the wise and clever Zuse Quorra had told him to look for? He just seemed incredibly spoiled and narcissistic. Ram had his doubts of how much help he could gain from this eccentric Program.
“Guess so,” he replied with a shrug. There was another moment's pause before he launched into his reason for coming. “I need help. For my friend, I mean. He needs help.”
“How noble of you,” Zuse commented dryly. “Do continue.”
Zuse's dryness was only serving to discourage the Actuary further. He took a sip of his drink and felt the energy course through his circuits. A faint smile crossed his lips as the sensation took him back momentarily to a happier time. The recollection of being with his best friends encouraged him to continue. He had to do this, no matter how foolish or painful it seemed. He had to do something, and this was his best shot.
“He's been repurposed,” Ram stared to explain, his voice stronger than before, though the words caused him pain. “It's been really hard on him, to say the least. Is there anything I can do to help him?”
“Ooooooh! I knew this was going to be something exciting!” the other Program gushed enthusiastically. “I could practically taste it! Mmmm, yes, this is just the sort of challenge I've been needing!”
Zuse continued on in this vein or some time. Ram let him go for a few nanocycles until his impatience started to bubble up again. Tron didn't have the time for these insignificant delays and Ram was itching to get his best friend back as quickly as possible.
“Can you help or not?!” he interrupted loudly, cutting off the exciteable Program.
Zuse blinked, temporarily taken aback. No one had ever yelled at him like that. Well, maybe Quorra had, but that was cycles and cycles ago and she'd been playful about it. He recovered quickly, his smile reappearing.
“Oh, certainly,” he replied smoothly, spinning the little decorative umbrella in his drink. “But not right away. I can sort through the system's files and attempt to dig something up for you, but as I am unfamilliar with the subject, I can't guarantee that there even is something in Flynn's files that will help.”
Ram made a soft despairing sound and choked down half of his drink moodily.
“Oh, don't you fret,” Zuse chuckled. “Doubtless I can do something. I am rather clever, after all.”
“You think you can come up with a solution on your own?” Ram asked doubtfully. Was Zuse actually suggesting he knew more than the Users, because that's what it sounded like to him.
The barkeep stood, easily putting away his drink in one dainty swig and setting the glass down on the counter. He smirked, positively oozing with confidence.
“Creativity is in my programming,” he assured Ram. “Come back in a cycle or two. I'll be sure to have some ideas for your friend.”
The Actuarial Program stood as well, the beginnings of hope curving his lips upwards. His conference with Zuse was obviously over and the horrible desperation that had been suffocating him since learning the full extent of Tron's condition had lessened somewhat.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Of course,” Zuse replied, draping an arm loosely around the other Program's shoulders and guiding him out of the lounge. He stopped suddenly and glanced sideways at Ram. “Oh, and I shall most likely need to know...What exactly has your friend's programming changed into?”
Ram's smile faded. “He's a Black Guard now,” he murmured softly.
“Oooh, bad luck!” commented Zuse brightly.
They stepped back out into the main area of the club, the noise almost deafening after the silence of Zuse's private lounge.
“Until next time,” the barkeep said loudly, releasing him. Without waiting for an answer, he strode off into the mass of Programs and melted from view, leaving a considerably more cheerful Ram alone. He couldn't wait to tell Tron the good news.