(Untitled)

[isolatedthinker]

Who: Alan Bradley and Open
When: Today
Where: Physically? The User world. But um...
What: Alan is really bored in this meeting.
Warnings: Crack. All of it. Walls of text crack. WALLS OF IT.

Comments

[namesram]

Down on the Grid, a messenger program rezzed into existence and dashed off to deliver the User's note. Unfortunately he had been more than slightly disoriented in transport, and a short (but very chaotic) time later, after the poor guy had been taken off to End of Line to try and get his memory back (or at least come fully and gloriously to terms with losing it), Ram found himself standing in an I/O tower that he was sure hadn't existed a millicycle ago, wondering how the miscommunication had taken place and who it was who had finally managed to break through and contact them from the Other World.

"Um, sorry," he called up into the light, "who exactly were you trying to reach again?"

[[Sketch there is ALL isolatedthinker's fault. ALL OF IT. XDDDDDDD~]]

[isolatedthinker]

Bradley stared at his tablet with a soft frown and ignored the discussion going on around him as he tried to figure out what was going on. The program had pinged him back not with Sam's usual Username but with some unknown tag. It didn't really make any sense

[namesram]

Alan-One! Even aside from the identification, the User's voice was unmistakable, though as magnified and resonant as ZackAttack's used to be when they'd met this way rather than in person. (A long time ago, come to think of it, but if the Grid had a working I/O tower now....) Ram, experiencing a thrill of awe at the thought of communicating with the User who'd written Tron, pulled his calculations together and answered smartly.

"Sam Flynn wasn't on the Grid, last we heard. We can run a check for you if you want, though. -- I'm Ram, from Stats and Analysis; it's a pleasure to meet you!"

[isolatedthinker]

It's rather polite for a program, was Alan's first thought as he read the reply message, a small smile tugging at his lips. His second thought was he recognized the name. He looked up and glanced quickly at Roy. The old nickname was suddenly a little clearer.

He would think about that later. For now he debated silently on what to type back in response.

"Confirm that Sam Flynn isn't on the Grid." There was a noticeable pause and suddenly the User's voice sounded much more friendly as Alan actually managed to type as if he were simply talking to another person. "It's nice to talk to you, too, Ram."

OH, YOU TWO!

[creator_man]

Flynn stared at the program who delivered the message. Since Sam wasn't exactly findable at this moment on this Grid. Then he looked through the information and stared more, before heading towards the I/O tower as fast as he could.

"Bradley. I don't think Sam can take your message just now."

^____^

[isolatedthinker]

It was Alan who stared next at the information before him on the screen when he received the reply. To say it was unexpected was certainly an understatement. (Although it was, at least, a perfectly reasonable excuse for Sam's absence from Alan's point of view.)

Alan typed a reply that filtered down through the I/O tower as something along the lines of, "Kevin. Flynn. What in God's good name are you doing answering this message?"

Not that the discovery of Flynn's survival wasn't exceptionally joyous or that Bradley minded talking to him during such a boring time--but. seriously. what the hell was he up to now.

<3!

[creator_man]

No, really, if Sam had been around, his father's presence would have been plenty reason enough for staying inside longer than he'd planned. However, at least Flynn hadn't seen him. Yet. And neither had...

"Apparently, the messenger program couldn't find Sam," he spoke back up. "And I'm obviously the closest match to the search parameters."

This part of the answer was easy. The rest...

God. Alan. "It's possible that this is not exactly the Grid he came down into. The Portal is malfunctioning here. Not fully sure if my appearance is because of that or part of the cause for it, but it's having all sorts of things and people appear here that never expected to. Potentially up to and including your message."

[isolatedthinker]

Alan had to mull over that reply for quite some time. The meeting droned one.

"What are you talking about?"

Came the simple reply finally. Alan had no qualms with the first part because quite frankly he'd kinda figured that. It still didn't explain what Kevin Flynn was doing in the Grid, or even alive, or why Sam wasn't hanging around longer due to finding his father, or even remotely made his longer 'explanation' make any kind of sense. Bradley could only stare and reread the message several times as he waited for a response.

mun is screaming we have an alan! THE TRIO IS NOW COMPLETEEEEEE! 8D

[ourliloperation]

Sure, he should've been equally paying attention, but come on? Roy Kleinberg, paying attention in a board meeting? Pfffffft~ no...just. No. He wasn't and like his co-worker and best friend across the table, Roy was playing with his own tablet, doodling the text 'brb, has died of board meeting boredom' above a graveyard screenshot from the pixelated game of Oregon Trail.

SEND TO TRONSKI.
PRIVATE LINE.
USERNAME: RAMMYKINNS.
PASSWORD: **********
SEND.

.....SENDING.....
.....SENDING.....

MESSAGE SENT.

Roy soon looked to Alan, then to Herbert with a smile and nod before looking back to Alan.

[isolatedthinker]

Alan hid his reaction behind a hand placed on his mouth and a thoughtful frown although as soon as he glanced at Roy it was apparent there was an upwards tug at the corners of his mouth. Managing to suppress it, he frowned as he looked back down at his tablet and shook his head. It took him a moment to reply with something sensible (as he refused to use common internet lingo if at all possible).

Why do I have the feeling you have no idea what this meeting is about, Mr. Kleinberg?
What if this has to do with your division, hmm?

It didn't, and Roy should have known that, but Alan couldn't help himself. It was considerably easier to be easy-going sarcastic when he was this bored.

[ourliloperation]

Oh, Roy caught that millisec smile and he too smiled, only to frown as Alan did. It was clearly evident to the youngest of the 'ENCOM Brat Pack' that he felt he was the only one who moved up technology wise, even as Alan Bradley was good at that tablet from across the room.

The man's eyes fell back down, a few stray curls falling over his eyes as he read Alan's message back, a sarcastic grin appearing on Roy's lips. He wanted to play dirtball AND have his popcorn? So be it.

LAST I CHECKED, OUR CEO IS AWOL.

AGAIN.

AS FOR THIS MTG, *YOU* SAID I COULD OFFER INPUT. WELLLLL~ MR. BRADLEY, I FEEL AS USED AS A COLLECTIBLE BARBIE. NICE TRY ON THE HIDING BIT.

CAUGHT YA SMILING.

-SEND-

Roy then looked back to Alan briefly. Let the Games begin.

W00t, we has an Alan! :D *hacker hi-5!*

[tanks4thememory]

Clu had stumbled upon the very lost-looking messeneger program quite by chance. Not really knowing what else to do (and driven by his hacker's curiosity to get a look at the message the program was carrying), he'd explained things to the program as best he could, then gave him Yori's contact number, figuring she'd be better equipped to help out the new arrival than he, promising the program that his User would be informed of the miscommunication.

Shortly, he'd arrived at the I/O tower. 'When did they put this in?', he wondered, but soon dismissed it as he found himself standing in the bright light of the Communication Beam. He couldn't help but grin; he'd missed this.

Never having contacted any User but Flynn this way before, he thought it best to be polite. Hopefully this User wasn't too angry about his message being undeliverable. "I'm sorry, Sir," he called up into the light, "but I think your message went a little astray." 'Or possibly alot astray...', he thought, but didn't voice it. "Who were you trying to contact?"

:DD o/

[isolatedthinker]

This was a bad joke. And Alan Bradley was not amused.

The programmer glared at his tablet with a mixture of annoyance and vague apprehension. If this was Sam's idea of a joke, Alan wasn't laughing. He knew that name from the story of the Grid and it conjured nothing good even as a set of letters on his handheld computer.

Alan calmed himself down and thought things through, checking to make sure he had opened the right program and sent the message to the right place. He had.

If this was some hacker's idea of a joke then he really wasn't laughing. Even if it were some fan of the old game who had favored the CLU character over the others trying to get his attention, even if this was a harmless prank, Alan simply was not pleased. He did not need this right now.

He began a trace in one window while he distracted with words in the original.

This is not funny, Sam Flynn. And you are late.

Re: :DD o/

[tanks4thememory]

Clu merely blinked up into the light for a moment, baffled at the response he'd gotten. He'd asked politely for clarification; he really had no idea how that could be interpreted as being intended to be funny, much less failing to be so. And did this User think he was Sam Flynn?

'Well, I guess that answers the question of who the message was for,' he thought. But no version of Flynn's son was on the Grid at the moment, so far as he knew.

"It wasn't meant to be funny, Sir," he replied, a bit confused. "And I'm afraid I'm not Sam Flynn, nor any other User. Like I said, Sir, your message was misdirected. I'm Clu, Sir; hacking program." He paused for a moment, considering, then asked, "May I ask your name, Sir?"

[OOC: My Clu is now all like, "Dangit, I can't even get away from my brother's rep in the User world!" XD]

[isolatedthinker]

Now Bradley was just plain irritated as he reread the reply twice. And then stared at the designation for at least a full minute.

He reread the message one last time, this time with a clear head so he could think things through. If this wasn't a prank...

Alan Bradley. And I thought you were the Administration program that Flynn wrote. Whatever happened to that title? Revert back to an older occupation? In translation to verbal words, the message dripped with obvious bitter sarcasm. But the question begged a real answer with the force of a directive. Alan didn't think it likely but he was aware of the older version of the CLU program. Where is Sam Flynn? What have you done?

[[Poor thing. /pets him]]

[alan1_tron]

Tron felt it. The tug of his User trying to contact him. This was important, he had to get to an I/O Tower immediately. He forgot about searching the outer sectors for grid bugs and concentrated on reaching a Tower as soon as possible. He rezzed his light cycle into action and zoomed off towards one of the many bright blue beams piercing the skyline. Tron arrived in no time, rezzing his light cycle and pocketing his baton.

The Guardian nodded as Tron said the prayer and walked up onto the podium. Where was Alan-1? He needed to contact Tron. Was it an emergency? It had been a while since he had last heard from his User. He looked up to the light.

'Alan-1? I am here,' he awaited what his User had to say.

So cute.

[isolatedthinker]

TRON JA 307020: Awaiting orders.

Alan was a little shocked to see the old program designation pop up on his screen but thought of how Flynn used to tell stories of the program as if he were an actual person--combined with Sam's much more recent story he could only surmise that the program had somehow survived or that Sam had found an old copy laying around the Bradley house to reintegrate into the system. He stared thoughtfully at the words on the screen for a moment; the message was simple and precise, and somehow that brought a smile to Alan's lips.

The programmer couldn't help but think of the security program as a dutiful soldier standing at attention as he waited orders from his general.

Alan shook his head clear. He certainly couldn't imagine himself as a general.

"Tron, I am searching for Sam Flynn. Can you confirm whether he is on the Grid?" came the translated reply from Bradley's typed message into spoken words.

Re: Thanks. You're not so bad either ;)

[alan1_tron]

Sam Flynn? Flynn's son. He hadn't seen the User child in a long time. Not since....well, he couldn't exactly remember himself. It seemed many cycles ago now. He wasn't about to let his User down now though. He looked up into the light, disc raised above his head as he spoke.

'No, Alan-1. Sam is not in the Grid at the present moment. I have not seen him for many cycles now. Why is it that you seek him? Perhaps I could assist you in some way?,' he was determined to help his User somehow. He didn't want to fail in his task as his program.

[isolatedthinker]

The negative affirmative brought a furrowing to Alan's brows. He had no idea what Sam was up to if he wasn't on the Grid which only meant the young Flynn didn't have an excuse as far as Bradley was concerned.

Returning to his awaiting program, Alan typed out another inquiry. "Can you confirm the time that he last left the Grid?"