[semi-open] computer programs + space lsd = ???

[smellslikejail]

who ; the residents of Tronhaus
what ; TRIPPIN' BALLS also trip-sitting, depending on who you are
where ; Tronhaus
when ; Saturday the 14th
warning(s) ; ... computer programs tripping for the very first time?

Comments

Open

[traceurmonitor]

[Anon is grateful for the fact that he doesn't have to consume food or liquids for energy. Especially liquids right now. He's perfectly fine and - as such - is on babysitting duty for the rest of the house.

Mostly by trying to keep his fellow housemates from doing something they'd regret. He doesn't know how to deal with people in altered states, man. He hardly knows how to deal with people in unaltered states. But he is the official House Guard Dog right now and will make the effort here anyway.

Mostly by making rounds to check on everyone and make sure that nothing has been lost into the pool - and that no one has escaped.]

[survivethesiren]

[Gem is currently just staring into the distance, looking annoyed. Occasionally she makes a sweeping motion to her left side.]

I'm going to turn on the finger if you're not careful, Castor.

And no I don't care that you're not real at this point. It will be worth the try.

[traceurmonitor]

[Oh, Gem. If Zuse was actually there, he'd be interested to see that. He stops, leaning on the doorjamb for a couple moments.]

Still bothering you?

[You know. Just checking.]

[survivethesiren]

Yes.

[Gem sighs and rubs the back of her neck.]

Anon, I want this to stop. Really. This isn't fair.

Open

[popcorngifs]

[ Alan falls into the first couch that finds him, not even bothering to check what room is was in. It was somewhere in the house, and that meant this couch's only requirement was met with great success. Making an indent in the cushions was reward enough for the taxing job of chasing down a houseful of drug-addled Programs, he didn't grudge them for what happened, it literally came out of nowhere and there wasn't anyone at fault, it seemed. Still, he couldn't deny the ache in his bones as he half-lay there, shifting pillows around until he found a position that could be called comfortable. He'd give himself just a few moments before another round.

Worth it. ]

[theshirtlessiso]

[Hi, Alan!

Have a shirtless dude with green circuits and some wicked sweet tattoos staring at you through a pair of sunglasses. (Don't worry, he's on another couch.)]

Don't tell me you've gone crazy, too.

[popcorngifs]

I ask myself that when I looked out a window and saw a planet under my feet.

[ For just a moment, Alan assumes the worst. That in a fit of delusion, someone stole this Program's shirt, and they had come to complain to the one person in this entire house who just sat down. Turns out, they were just badly dressed. Occam's razor, you sharp bitch. ]

I didn't drink the water, if that's what you're asking. Are you alright, Mr...?

[ Do you call people who wear sunglasses indoors, mister? ]

[theshirtlessiso]

[You sure as hell don't call Gibson mister. This is a program who walks around shirtless all the time while being a politician, okay; it's pretty safe to say that "formality" isn't really in his vocabulary.]

It's just Gibson, and yeah, I'm fine. Haven't started seeing the pretty lights yet, so I think I'm safe.

You're... Flynn's friend, right? Tron's User?

[Gibson briefly glanced at the fustercluck that was Alan's first network post, but... well, then he decided that he didn't really care all that much.]

[open]

[smellslikejail]

[Sam caught the messages about the water probably being bad right after getting out of the shower, so his trip is... pretty mild, compared to most of the station's other residents.

... of course, this doesn't mean that he isn't lying shirtless on his floor, one arm thrown over his eyes, listening to the walls play this on infinite loop. It hasn't quite occurred to him yet that the walls might stop playing music at him if he left his room, so he's just silently willing his room to play something that isn't Boston.]

INCOMING FAKE-DAD

[popcorngifs]

[ Last stop. But hardly by choice, Alan hadn't been avoiding this, circumstance had just kept him at bay. His hand curled into a weak fist and hover over the door. Maybe he should wait, just in case Sam wasn't...fully himself. He turned, set to leave, only to find his knuckles rapping against the door as if by their own accord. ]

YOU'RE NOT MY /REAL/ DAD!! ... wait.

[smellslikejail]

[Nah, Sam's good... for a given value of "good" that includes "hallucinating '70s arena rock", anyway.

He pokes one eye out from behind his elbow at the knock--nope, turns out the ceiling is still flashing on and off like a flickering lightbulb--and turns his head to glance at the door.]

Yeah? Come in.

Now let's not /complicate/ things.

[popcorngifs]

[ A hand that was hovering around the door now hung above the door knob. As far as he was concerned, he only spoke to Sam a couple days ago. No way this could breed confusion. The lock clicked, and Alan came in, stopping at the threshold. ]

You never pick up your phone.

We leave you these things, you'll remember our names;

[a_perfect_end]

[Despite Flynn's assurances that whatever was contaminating the water supply was nonlethal, there were transmissions of...questionable lucidity exploding through the network, and he knew from hard experience that many of the station Users had access to ridiculously powerful weaponry.

It was literally impossible to ignore a problem of this size.

And when Clu considered it in terms of all the recent arrivals from in-system--and one new face in particular--it made his jaw clench until his vision whited out, spark-hot.

It would be a tactical error not to appear.

That was the reason he gave Rinzler.

At least he had an reason, this time.]

[double_discs]

[Rinzler couldn't have cared less about the reason. Reasoning was for CLU to process; he was just the muscle. Or, electronic equivalent thereof.

He followed after his leader without a second calculation, eager and patient all in the same moment, movements fluid and languid despite the tension in his form.

At least they entered through the front door this time. The elevator ride was excruciating. Not enough room for CLU to legitimately pace; too long of an endeavor not to try.

Then they were up and out and Rinzler glanced sideways at his administrator. Did he need to track or could CLU feel the User's presence clear now that they were so near?]

[a_perfect_end]

[Perhaps it was extraneous, but the reasoning troubled him, and so he parsed it out, spelled it out, for his program in turn. And had gotten this suggestion for it.

The direct approach. Probably--a nod to his enforcer's capabilities--probably they should have done this before.

Not as awesome as the roof, though. He'd always found elevators to be. The worst. An vertical wait without room for movement and uniformly lousy music.

Rinzler waited, ready-mode, once they hit the floor.

Clu shook his head, just slightly, at that expression--I've got Flynn; you worry about the door. Security was just not Clu's area. He believed strongly in credit where it was due, grinning.

By all means, do your thing.]

[double_discs]

[Rinzler stepped forward.

There wasn't really much to it--the enforcer was becoming increasingly more aware that Flynn wasn't trying to keep them out--it took a simple matter of nanoseconds before the door opened at his touch. He waved CLU through and followed.

The User's presence--Flynn's presence--hung clear in the air. The enforcer wouldn't have even needed to use a tracking routine to find the Creator. CLU knew where he was going and Rinzler followed like a leashed pet, ready to spring on any obstacles the moment they showed themselves.

There...weren't really any. Flynn was just suddenly there, sitting in the middle of the room, and Rinzler stopped in the threshold to allow his leader the illusion of being alone with the User.]