For a single picocycle after he shatters, he is everywhere. As his form and energy are absorbed back into the system, for that single moment, so is he. For that moment, he is part of the vast expanse, drained of energy and eager for the scant amount provided by the fallen program. He is the system.
Then nothing.
...
Then blinding light and a great tug, the like of which he has only felt once before. There's no form to blink or shield his sight with, not until the light begins to fade. His arms come up against the light, and he squints even in the cast shadow until it becomes bearable and gradually reveals a room. It doesn't look like much, it's made of a material he doesn't recognise, and he is-- He is--
Well, he is for starters.
Ram looks down at himself, opens and closes his hands, runs a system diagnostic. Everything seems fine, some functions even running smoother than they had in several microcycles.
'This isn't what I expected,' he mutters, partly to fill the space because the familiar hum of the system isn't there.
He looks around. The shape is vaguely similar to the collection rooms programs first come to the Game Grid through. But there are no red guards emerging to take him back to his cell. There are also no other blue programs besides himself. No Tron or Flynn. For a moment, relief and disappointment war before relief wins out. If they're not here, that means they're still running. But where is "here"?
There's a door right there.
In all honesty, he's surprised when it's unlocked, but wastes no time opening it a crack and peeking out. Empty corridors. He slips out, easing the door shut behind him. The corridor is of the same material as the room. When he touches it, it's cold and hard, and when he raps his knuckles on it, it makes a louder noise than he'd expected.
'Shh!' He puts his hand on it, feeling the vibrations fade quickly as it quietens. This place is just stranger and stranger. And interesting. He starts wandering down the halls, mapping out the twists and turns of the corridors and running ever changing calculations of the probability of this all being a trap. It's becoming increasingly unlikely the longer he goes with nothing happening, and after it drops to 6.25%, he stops inching around the corners and staying so close to the wall.
And then the floor drops out from under him.
There's a slight give to the floor as he steps on it, just enough to kick Jai Ali honed instinct in. A flash scan identifies a stable section of ground and he leaps for it, unhooking his disk as he goes and jamming it into the adjacent wall to help catch himself, one knee on, the other leg dangling into the new empty space. The floor on both sides of him crumbles, leaving him scrambling to get more securely onto his little island, still holding onto his disk in the wall.
New program on Avagi
Then nothing.
...
Then blinding light and a great tug, the like of which he has only felt once before. There's no form to blink or shield his sight with, not until the light begins to fade. His arms come up against the light, and he squints even in the cast shadow until it becomes bearable and gradually reveals a room. It doesn't look like much, it's made of a material he doesn't recognise, and he is-- He is--
Well, he is for starters.
Ram looks down at himself, opens and closes his hands, runs a system diagnostic. Everything seems fine, some functions even running smoother than they had in several microcycles.
'This isn't what I expected,' he mutters, partly to fill the space because the familiar hum of the system isn't there.
He looks around. The shape is vaguely similar to the collection rooms programs first come to the Game Grid through. But there are no red guards emerging to take him back to his cell. There are also no other blue programs besides himself. No Tron or Flynn. For a moment, relief and disappointment war before relief wins out. If they're not here, that means they're still running. But where is "here"?
There's a door right there.
In all honesty, he's surprised when it's unlocked, but wastes no time opening it a crack and peeking out. Empty corridors. He slips out, easing the door shut behind him. The corridor is of the same material as the room. When he touches it, it's cold and hard, and when he raps his knuckles on it, it makes a louder noise than he'd expected.
'Shh!' He puts his hand on it, feeling the vibrations fade quickly as it quietens. This place is just stranger and stranger. And interesting. He starts wandering down the halls, mapping out the twists and turns of the corridors and running ever changing calculations of the probability of this all being a trap. It's becoming increasingly unlikely the longer he goes with nothing happening, and after it drops to 6.25%, he stops inching around the corners and staying so close to the wall.
And then the floor drops out from under him.
There's a slight give to the floor as he steps on it, just enough to kick Jai Ali honed instinct in. A flash scan identifies a stable section of ground and he leaps for it, unhooking his disk as he goes and jamming it into the adjacent wall to help catch himself, one knee on, the other leg dangling into the new empty space. The floor on both sides of him crumbles, leaving him scrambling to get more securely onto his little island, still holding onto his disk in the wall.
'Well at least that was slightly more expected.'