Multiversal travel can be disorienting, but there’s no need to worry! All side effects are temporary and lessen with each trip. Your body may experience several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You may have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer dizziness while others are perfectly fine. You notice that the area you are in is filled with a soft cerulean light and feels slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you. Regardless of your current state, however, the stress of transit forces your body into unconsciousness.
Waking up is another story. Or maybe it isn’t.
You find yourself in a nondescript room; sometimes with others who have found themselves in the same situation, sometimes alone. Welcome to Avagi Station, your new home.
Avagi
That First Step, it is a Doozy:
There are always risks to exploring new environments and Avagi is rich with new nooks and crannies to explore. You’re checking out a new corridor that’s been opened, though there have been signs warning that there are areas where structural stability has been weakened by neglect and the passage of time. But maybe things have been going well, you’ve found a few interesting things of note and you’re ready to head back to your bunk for the day.
Except when you turn to leave, the floor is giving way without a screech of metal. Hopefully you’ve got some good reflexes and can catch yourself before you topple down a shaft that seems to go down at least thirty or forty feet. Do you call for help or struggle to handle it on your own? And more importantly, how are you getting around this giant hole in the floor now that it’s there?
The Buddy System:
In order to help new arrivals find their bearings the more experienced residents on board have decided to try out the buddy system in order until the new arrivals get their space legs. The guide is responsible for answering any questions, showing them all the important facilities and making sure their new friend doesn’t wander anywhere too dangerous. And what better way to get to know your buddy than to try and help them find all the supplies they need to be comfortable in their new home? Hopefully the barter blocks have some clothes in your size or else it could get a little bit awkward come laundry day.
Shining Bright:
The Observation Station is the best place on Avagi to get a look at the storm that rages all around. However today when you stop by there’s something strange and new to look upon. It’s not clear if it’s a change in the environment or perhaps an effect of the living energy that opens the portals but the entire room is filled with softly glowing floating lights. If you venture into the room and dare to touch one of the lights you’ll find that you find a song playing in your mind that fills you with a deep and abiding sense of peace. What you do with that feeling is up to you but it seems that these lights aren’t going to cause any harm then why not let yourself relax in a beautiful space for a little while?
Kaittos
This month there is a portal to the planet Kaittos, a peaceful world containing one large land mass and a scattering of lived-on islands across a clear blue ocean. On the mainland, a large city-state occupies the central region and southern coast and resembles what some travelers from some versions of Earth might know of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Bustling and lively, the city is clean and well provided-for due to the temperate climate and the bountiful natural resources found on its northern side; orchards, farms and forests extend into the distance, butting up against a small mountain range. The technology level is low compared to Avagi, with carriages and candles in place rather than cars and electric lights, but the craftsmen of the world have managed some very impressive mechanical feats.
Kaittans, the local residents of the world appear somewhat humanoid, but the bipedal race has hooves rather than feet, silvery skin and three eyes with vertical pupils. Although there is no sign of any other sentient species in the world, the locals are nonetheless excited to meet their guests, rather than suspicious or afraid; for some reason, they are not surprised that aliens exist, merely that they are here.
Visitors are encouraged to explore the city and partake in an exchange of goods and ideas, to share their culture and stories with the locals. Perhaps there’s a merchant willing to trade a bauble for a story or you want to try something entirely unknown to your palette in the culinary quarter. The possibilities, while not quite limitless, are enough to keep the curious busy for quite a while.
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.
Ever since the new sections opened, Yori's been keeping an ear out for warning noises. This clang and crash is especially loud--it's a big one, or else close by.
She didn't hear a scream, but if there's a new patch of floor out they definitely have to mark it and warn everyone. She heads toward the sound, cautious of any sign more flooring might break.
Finding a lost stranger isn't exactly uncommon around the Ingress, but finding anyone in Encom-style glowing blue circuitry and bright disk gives her a shock. She has to spare a swift glance down to ground herself--she's wearing pieces of old uniforms that cover up her own tendency to glow and a useful backpack.
Not back in Encom. Not in a system at all.
This program's badly in need of help. Yori banishes other worries for the moment and calls, "Hold on, I'll help you out of there."
She studies the floor. If they both fall it won't do either of them any good, but as far as she can tell the remaining pieces look stable enough.
Users delete it, now what? He's more stable on his little section now, at least, so as long as that holds, he's not going down. Which... he's not scared of heights, but a quick glance and calculation lets him know that falling would mean instant deresolution on impact. If he even can be derezzed again, he's still not sure where this is. But though he's not going down for now, he can't go forward or back either.
Footsteps have him looking up sharply to the end of the corridor. Please be blue, please be blue. Or even yellow. But when they appear around the corner, his grip tightens around his disk in shock, because they don't seem to have any circuits at all. How is that possible?
/Order priorities- get safely off this island, inquire as to lack of circuits.
'Hello!' he calls, grinning across the gap at her. 'That would be great, thanks.' While she looks down, he completes the search and looks up. There are a number of cables of varying thickness running along the ceiling.
'What are the function of those cables, and can this area afford to have any of them severed?' he asks, pointing up. He might at least be able to use one as a safety line.
Yori studies the cables. Life support doesn't run through here, so at least no oxygen explosions that would put the Users at risk. But the power cables are all dangerous, especially to programs like herself with minimal shielding, and they tend to wind everywhere, supporting lights and computers and energy outlets. Beyond the personal risk, she'd hate to cause a power outage.
On the other hand, there is a structural cable meant to help hold up the floor that's already torn off its mooring.
"Don't cut the ones marked in red even a little," she warns, "they're live energy, too strong for us to tolerate." They're also far more vulnerable to a disk than safety would require, for better or worse. "Wait a moment."
She pulls out her shock staff, a stun weapon courtesy of that week when they were all raising dinosaurs. A twist locks it in place at a long fraction of its full telescoping length, taller than she is.
It's so convenient to have a weapon that isn't her only code and memory backup. She turns the shock end toward herself for this, though, careful to shut it down. The loose structural cable is sagging already, so she can pull a long loop down into something like reaching distance.
"This one's just the floor support, and it's past repair. You can walk on my staff and use that to keep your balance," she suggests. The staff is long enough to rest between the safe floor and his isolated patch. She can hold it steady, but it's not exactly designed as a bridge.
'Live energy, huh? I'll make sure to avoid those.' The last thing he needs is to be that close to an energy surge. And the strangely non-circuited woman... would she survive? She's definitely close enough for it to be a danger, even if she isn't a program. Do users naturally havery circuits?
He runs a new set of calculations, factoring in the placement of the red marked cables. Severing another cable without hitting one would still be possible.
A slight clang makes him look down, and he finds a thin pole stretching across the gap. The woman is loosening an old cable, but it's still just out of his reach.
Hmm.
He looks up, finding a rivet that attaches the be able to the ceiling. With a tug, he pulls his disk out of the wall, careful to counter the action so he doesn't topple over.
/Calculating distance, rebound angle and necessary energy use.
He lets the disk fly. It cuts neatly through the rivet and the cable drops to well in his reach. Catching his disk and docking it, he flashes a grin at the woman and starts to carefully inch his way across the pole.
She's glad to see evidence of good sense; he actually does manage to avoid the power lines. "Nice aim!" she calls in approval.
Yori anchors her staff with all her weight, crouching to press her foot down hard. She can't prevent a little rotation, but with a secure handhold it shouldn't be a difficult path.
Not impossible even for a non-combatant function, which the blue-lined program may well be despite his impressive aim. She'll have to ask once neither of them are at risk of falling to their sudden derez.
Now that he's not clinging to his disk, she can confirm that everything about his design is remarkably Encom-style. That can't be a coincidence. But she doesn't recognize his face or his broad friendly grin.
Regardless, she smiles back to encourage his cautious progress.
'Thanks!' he calls back, grin widening. He stays focused on the crossing though. This pole is only just wide enough and only half semi-fixed. It's a tenuous trip and he very resolutely does not look down.
The cable is slack and probably won't do much to catch him if he falls, but it's something to hold onto.
As he reaches the centre, the rod bends under his weight and he pauses, chancing a glance down to gauge it. He's not quite in the middle, but the rod seems sturdy and as he inches further, it remains intact.
With a whistle of relief, he passes the centre point, but he's not on solid ground yet. At the pace he's going, it will take another thirty six picocycles to reach the end, but he doesn't dare speed up.
His patience and caution finally pay off and at last he steps onto the other side, safe. At least from the drop.
'Thank the Users,' he says, huffing a short breath of relief. He turns to the woman. 'And thank you.'
That's a phrase she hasn't heard in...how long since the MCP forbade it? And then years counted in User-time, during which it's never felt appropriate; the actual Users seem to prefer being addressed by name. There's also the awkward fact that out here she's acting as a User to any number of programs in computers.
Yori retrieves her staff safely to give herself another moment for calculation. "You're welcome," she replies. "I'm glad it worked."
If he'd fallen, she doesn't have Rinzler's strength to rescue him.
"Let's get to safer footing," she suggests. The remainder of the corridor doesn't look like it will fall anytime soon, but she'd rather not trust that without a full inspection from people who don't need to worry about floors. Up past the new openings, the halls are well-tested and help is closer.
But eventually she has to open the complicated subject. "Are you from the Encom system?" She can't imagine any Encom program accepting where they are now without considerable confusion, no matter which side they were on or what they believed.
'Me too,' he chuckles, risking a glance down the hole now he's no longer precariously balanced above it. It's... Yeah, he's glad he didn't fall.
He moves back from the edge at her suggestion and falls into step with her. The corridors become cleaner and lighter, though the lights seem to be attached rather than coming from system circuits, which seems an inefficient use of energy.
'I am!' He looks back over at his companion, feeling no shortage of relief at the familiarity. 'Do you know it? I'm afraid I got disoriented in transport, I don't know which system this is, or how I got here. Or why.' There wasn't supposed to be anything after deresolution.
The circuits on his helmet dim as he takes it off and runs his fingers though his hair. 'I must admit the lack of circuits is strange. And worrying. I heard that some sectors of the Encom were going dark from the MCP's power drain, but I hadn't realised it had extended beyond Encom.'
The level of sheer bafflement reminds Yori of her own first arrival. There's worse to come. "No one's worked out a why yet," she tells the blue program, voice rueful, "but which system and how I can tell you a little about." Very little. There's never enough data for her own satisfaction, despite all the masses of facts to learn.
"It's going to take a lot of explanation, I'm afraid." By way of apology, she offers a sympathetic smile first. "I know how strange all this will sound. I'm from Encom, too. It's good to see someone who remembers it." Rinzler's memories are complicated at best and Flynn was only a visitor.
She might actually have a fragment of good news from the future to offer, if he hates the MCP as much as she does. That would be a refreshing change.
How can she tell any of this without overwhelming her new acquaintance? It might be an impossible task. Yori starts simple. "Most of us arrived like you did, picked up at random by a light they call the Ingress."
So this is another system. 'Why's are always the most complicated,' he chuckles, more at ease now there are close answers. 'Is there a way to get back? Or is this where we come after deresolution.' If he can get back... From his calculations, though he's frustratingly uncertain about the time frame he spent unaware, it's been approximately 0.738 microcycles since he derezzed. There's still a chance to go back and help Flynn and Tron.
'You're Encom?' There's relief and confusion in his tone. 'Good to meet a neighbour! What's your name? Though... I'm sorry, what happened to your circuits?' She seems functioning well enough, and yet the lack speaks of serious energy shortage. He can't even see where dim circuits would be on her, and at that level, she should be pixels.
'Ingress?'
/Searching lexisdatafiles /"Ingress" engaged-requesting definition /Definition not found//
'I haven't heard of it. Does it just bring us here? How?'
That's a revealing question. "Some of us do remember something that should have been the end," she agrees. "I don't, but I've seen enough confusion." Network posts by the presumed-dead had been a regular occurrence. "As for going back, if anyone does, at this point it's as random as the way we all arrive. No way to hurry."
His concern over her circuits makes her smile. "They stand out a little too much around here, but they're fine." She pushes back two layers of clinging cloth from her wrist, revealing the blue glow of standard Encom patterns underneath. "My name is Yori."
She's not sure how to explain more about the Ingress without explaining the entire structure of worlds, and hesitates.
That answers some questions, but raises new ones in their place. 'So it just grabs programs from any which where and when? Why?' No way to hurry. 'So I can't just go back the way I came.' Helmet still dangling from his fingers, he tugs his curls with a frown. With the knowledge that Flynn is a User, the likelihood of success had increased dramatically, but Ram still wishes he could be there to help.
The sight of her circuits, a strong, healthy glow and firmly blue makes him smile. He makes to ask if circuits are not the norm in this system, and if so how that's possible, but upon hearing her name, the next sound out he makes can only be classified as a squeak.
'You're Yori?!' he gasps, helmet dropping from his fingers. He stares at her as his memory banks open to all the times Tron had spoken of his partner, all the times she'd been factored into their escape plans. This is the program who brought such happiness to his friend, just by speaking about her. 'Oh my User, it's great to finally meet you! I've heard so much!'
The last collapse in this system had unleashed a swarm of sharp-jawed, fluffy bugs. When Rinzler hears the crash of metal, he wastes no time heading for this one. The enforcer rounds the corner, disk in hand—only to still at the unexpected sight: the same weapon, in the hands of a small shape still scrambling up from the chasm.
Not quite the same. The disk is lit in concentric pulses, forming a complete circle with no central hole. It's joined to intricate blue circuits, pale armor, and a strange helmet, less encasing than even the weak templates patched onto the conscripts in the Games. Something about the sight sends a stutter through assessment—a search, data flagged for comparison. [File not found]. The error rolls out through audio, adding a skipping catch to the harsh rattle of corrupted code.
...Yori's circuits. Encom. That comparison isn't difficult to make, and if it doesn't completely settle the uneasy pressure in his core, it's answer enough to at least put it aside. Rinzler resumes his approach, disk flaring and dimming in brief warning. If the [unknown] ahead decides to throw that weapon, it's going to find itself thoroughly outmatched.
Leaning forward so his weight is over the floor piece, Ram carefully lifts his dangling leg up and onto it, gripping his disk tight. Once he's all on, he slowly stands up, pulling his disk out of the wall and jamming it in higher up.
A strange clicking sound reaches his oral input and he looks over to the edge of the intact floor to find a dark figure with very limited circuits staring back at him. Orange circuits.
Oh frag.
The program has a disk in hand, actived, of a design different to his own. A different system design? Whatever the reason, it's there and Ram is a sitting gridbug.
Right. Decision gate. He'd rather not derezz again so soon, by fall or disk. So.
'Hello!' he calls. 'Help a program out? I'm not much use as pixels.'
The request is meaningless. No—the request is stupid. Whatever the program's (name) origin, its garb marks it as a potential combatant, and its colors as not Clu's. This might not be entirely his admin's system, but Rinzler has no reason at all to give up his advantage unused.
But the words aren't why he stiffens. It's the voice. The face. The shocked, small uncertainty crawling through his code. Rinzler doesn't know this program, but he... hadn't expected him. Rinzler doesn't know this program, but—
he did—
[WARNING: unauthorized access—]
Processing smashes headlong into the jagged edges of his filters, and Rinzler freezes rigid. It's reflex more than reprimand, just like the grating snarl that rises through his sound stems from frustration and mismatch in equal part. Automation hasn't had its accustomed hold for cycles, but he should still know better than to test. Better than to want anything that had been Tron's.
He doesn't.
What matters is the program's use. What matters is its affiliations, and who they might fall to here. Rinzler glowers back across the gap before responding: not with words, but with a focused scan. Security-grade, aimed to pick out its ID and function.
Ram is watching the other program very carefully, waiting for any movement that he'll need to duck out of the way of. There's a very unfair field advantage to the orange program and Ram needs to be very careful.
What he's not expecting is for the program to do nothing. Are they frozen? That clicking sound certainly doesn't sound healthy. Ram briefly calculates the likelihood of being able to derezz them before they unfreeze, but they might not be frozen, they might unfreeze and then he'd be a sitting gridbug, disklessand have pissed them off.
Too much uncertainty. His disk stays in the wall, his grip on it tight enough that it digs into his palms.
'Uh, are you still in there? I can hang out for a bit, but--'
He breaks off as a tingle sweeps through him, strong enough to make him shudder. He swallows, quickly reminded of similar, but more gentle scans, accompanied by that intense stare and "Are you sure you didn't strain anything?". Frag, he could really do with Tron being here.
Right. Right, okay. So he's dealing with security. Wonderful.
'You know, you could've just asked,' he says once the tingle fades.
He's expecting it this time. The flux of old data; the nauseating pressure in return. He's braced, so he doesn't flinch—doesn't chase the bright/locked files in the least. The current values are what matters, and if these errors aren't enough to stall him, they aren't anything he needs to flag at all. ID: Ram. Function: actuary.
...
Joy is an unaccustomed modifier.
Rinzler compensates accordingly, helmet tilting with a sharp, sarcastic twitch. He could have asked, and the other program (Ram) could have lied. Or been so faulty as to try to hide the information. Simpler for everyone his way.
"Last timestamp."
The word is harsh and flat, distorted both by the electronic flanging of his mask and a strange, lagged cadence. A thousand-odd cycles without vocal permissions wasn't quite so easily overcome by the few months since Clu gave them back. Still, Rinzler's tone (such that it is) leaves one aspect of the phrase quite clear.
Ram readjusts himself on his little platform, since it looks like he might be here for a while at this rate. The scan fades and Ram watches the security program twitch in response.
He braces, ready to tug his disk out of the wall and defend or attack at a picocycle's notice. It wouldn't surprise him at all if Sark had distributed his ID along with Tron's and Flynn's after they escaped. The MCP may have even broadcast it to other systems. With Tron after him, it would have been smart.
That thought makes him smirk, but he quickly drops it.
No attack comes, but what does come makes him flinch nonetheless. That is not just distortion, that is damage. He almost feels sorry for the guy. But there are more pressing issues. That's not the inquiry he was expecting, but the tone leaves no room for argument.
82. The slant to Rinzler's helmet lingers: predatory and considering, but... curious, too. This actuary (Ram) entirely predates him.
Encom patterns. A timestamp prior to the inception of the Grid. Code not designed for combat, despite the appearance of that shell. In Clu's system, finding such a mismatch outside of the Arena's cage might be a sign of malware, a dissident overreaching its place in a futile bid at sowing conflict. Here? Rinzler rather suspects the adaptability will help.
Whatever the explanation, the assessment seems clear. Rinzler re-runs the data, not entirely trusting the flicker of relief. But... threat level: low. To Clu or his allies.
The enforcer dips his helmet in acknowledgement. Then he splits his disks and throws.
User systems are prone to a number of oddities. Among them, the persisting obsession with obtaining air. The ventilation shafts connected to this hallway are the interior sort, a half-meter span of box-shaped metal usually suspended against the ceiling.
The thrown disk shears neatly through the supports past Ram's position. The weapon still in Rinzler's hand flares bright with overcharge as he steps up the wall and twists: a backwards arc to slice through the duct on his end of the hall. His free hand snags the detached structure, a quick jerk pulling it with him as he drops. The end result? A shriek of warping metal, as the vent structure collapses to a diagonal... just to the side of where Ram's standing.
Rinzler hits the ground in a neat crouch, reaching up to snag his returning weapon. Enjoy your bridge.
Speaking of timestamps, Ram's going to need to recalibrate his internal chronometer because wherever this is, it clearly doesn't match Encom's system timewise. Which is... strange. But his clock is going a bit haywire so he shuts it off for now and goes back to wondering why this program would need his last timestamp.
That line of thought shuts down fast as he watches the security program split his disk into two. His mouth drops open and he's so caught up in /how is that possible?! that he ducks the disk heading his way even though it's flight path clearly misses him by a good fourteen inches.
The two disks cut through one of the overhead pipes and Ram tracks their trajectory back to the program, flinching closer to the wall when the pipe lands heavily next to him. Silently, he updates the numbers to his calculations and adds the variable of a second fragging disk. He will not be getting away from this program easily.
It takes him a moment to collect himself, and then, carefully keeping his eyes on the program, he pulls his disk out of the wall and very deliberately docks it on his back. He knows exactly how long it takes him to get it back out again and he'd rather not give this guy any excuse to attack, especially while he's balanced on a makeshift bridge. Speaking of which. He tests its stability with one foot before stepping up onto it. It's decently wide, and once he's established that it's secure enough on either side, he begins to his way across, cautious of the fall and the program the whole time. Midway, the pipe creaks under his weight and Ram wobbles a little, but he quickly rebalances and is soon on solid ground again. He swiftly moves away from the edge, while maintaining the distance with the two-disked program.
The reflexive dodge is entertaining. The careful docking of that weapon, wise. Rinzler's sound quickens in approval, letting his own blades merge in his left hand and darken. He won't dock the weapon quite yet, but he steps aside from the makeshift walkway, eying Ram's wobble with no move to interfere.
The distance kept by the smaller program is also a sign of uncommonly good sense.
"State method of import."
Harsh, cutting, and again atonal. Almost certainly, Rinzler already knows this answer. Probably better than Ram does. But if there is a different system breach, he wants to learn about it.
Despite being in close quarters with the security program now, Ram feels more secure knowing he's got more room to dodge and move if need be. That the program's disks are rejoined and dark doesn't make him relax, though it at least means he'll have a little more warning if things go south, and he's not to be immediately derezzed. Probably.
Up close, the voice doesn't sound quite as bad, though it's certainly still not good. A little more prepared for it, Ram doesn't flinch this time.
Method of import. Good question. 'Ah... Bright white light.' This guy's guess is as good as his. 'I ended up in a small room some corridors back. Where is this anyway?'
White light. That's as close to confirmation as he's likely to get. Ram will be subjected to one more scan before the enforcer reaches back, disk slotting into dock with a slight click. If he needs it, he has no doubts in the least of his ability to retrieve the weapon. Or his ability to handle the other program without one, if it comes to that.
"Avagi. User system."
A jerk of the helmet indicates the command: follow. Rinzler will wait to be sure the other program is complying before starting off down the hall.
His answer seems to satisfy the security program, thank the Users. Not knowing the system and what is likely to be a right other wrong answer is putting him on edge.
Disks docked, that's a relief and a good sign. He adjusts the numbers he has for calculating required reaction time and combat likelihood.
'User system?' His circuits brighten momentarily in his surprise. 'That's... new.' Though it might explain the lack of circuits and strange construct materials.
Follow? Ram glances back at the collapsed floor. There's not really anywhere else to go. It's a slim chance he'll be able to slip away, but if he doesn't go willingly, there's away high probability he'll be forced along and then there's next to no chance of escape.
He heads after the security program, continuing the mapping of the area he'd started. 'So how am I in a User system? How are we in a User system?'
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_ooc2017-11-17 07:40 pm
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.'
no subject
She didn't hear a scream, but if there's a new patch of floor out they definitely have to mark it and warn everyone. She heads toward the sound, cautious of any sign more flooring might break.
Finding a lost stranger isn't exactly uncommon around the Ingress, but finding anyone in Encom-style glowing blue circuitry and bright disk gives her a shock. She has to spare a swift glance down to ground herself--she's wearing pieces of old uniforms that cover up her own tendency to glow and a useful backpack.
Not back in Encom. Not in a system at all.
This program's badly in need of help. Yori banishes other worries for the moment and calls, "Hold on, I'll help you out of there."
She studies the floor. If they both fall it won't do either of them any good, but as far as she can tell the remaining pieces look stable enough.
no subject
Footsteps have him looking up sharply to the end of the corridor. Please be blue, please be blue. Or even yellow. But when they appear around the corner, his grip tightens around his disk in shock, because they don't seem to have any circuits at all. How is that possible?
/Order priorities- get safely off this island, inquire as to lack of circuits.
'Hello!' he calls, grinning across the gap at her. 'That would be great, thanks.' While she looks down, he completes the search and looks up. There are a number of cables of varying thickness running along the ceiling.
'What are the function of those cables, and can this area afford to have any of them severed?' he asks, pointing up. He might at least be able to use one as a safety line.
no subject
On the other hand, there is a structural cable meant to help hold up the floor that's already torn off its mooring.
"Don't cut the ones marked in red even a little," she warns, "they're live energy, too strong for us to tolerate." They're also far more vulnerable to a disk than safety would require, for better or worse. "Wait a moment."
She pulls out her shock staff, a stun weapon courtesy of that week when they were all raising dinosaurs. A twist locks it in place at a long fraction of its full telescoping length, taller than she is.
It's so convenient to have a weapon that isn't her only code and memory backup. She turns the shock end toward herself for this, though, careful to shut it down. The loose structural cable is sagging already, so she can pull a long loop down into something like reaching distance.
"This one's just the floor support, and it's past repair. You can walk on my staff and use that to keep your balance," she suggests. The staff is long enough to rest between the safe floor and his isolated patch. She can hold it steady, but it's not exactly designed as a bridge.
no subject
He runs a new set of calculations, factoring in the placement of the red marked cables. Severing another cable without hitting one would still be possible.
A slight clang makes him look down, and he finds a thin pole stretching across the gap. The woman is loosening an old cable, but it's still just out of his reach.
Hmm.
He looks up, finding a rivet that attaches the be able to the ceiling. With a tug, he pulls his disk out of the wall, careful to counter the action so he doesn't topple over.
/Calculating distance, rebound angle and necessary energy use.
He lets the disk fly. It cuts neatly through the rivet and the cable drops to well in his reach. Catching his disk and docking it, he flashes a grin at the woman and starts to carefully inch his way across the pole.
no subject
Yori anchors her staff with all her weight, crouching to press her foot down hard. She can't prevent a little rotation, but with a secure handhold it shouldn't be a difficult path.
Not impossible even for a non-combatant function, which the blue-lined program may well be despite his impressive aim. She'll have to ask once neither of them are at risk of falling to their sudden derez.
Now that he's not clinging to his disk, she can confirm that everything about his design is remarkably Encom-style. That can't be a coincidence. But she doesn't recognize his face or his broad friendly grin.
Regardless, she smiles back to encourage his cautious progress.
no subject
The cable is slack and probably won't do much to catch him if he falls, but it's something to hold onto.
As he reaches the centre, the rod bends under his weight and he pauses, chancing a glance down to gauge it. He's not quite in the middle, but the rod seems sturdy and as he inches further, it remains intact.
With a whistle of relief, he passes the centre point, but he's not on solid ground yet. At the pace he's going, it will take another thirty six picocycles to reach the end, but he doesn't dare speed up.
His patience and caution finally pay off and at last he steps onto the other side, safe. At least from the drop.
'Thank the Users,' he says, huffing a short breath of relief. He turns to the woman. 'And thank you.'
no subject
Yori retrieves her staff safely to give herself another moment for calculation. "You're welcome," she replies. "I'm glad it worked."
If he'd fallen, she doesn't have Rinzler's strength to rescue him.
"Let's get to safer footing," she suggests. The remainder of the corridor doesn't look like it will fall anytime soon, but she'd rather not trust that without a full inspection from people who don't need to worry about floors. Up past the new openings, the halls are well-tested and help is closer.
But eventually she has to open the complicated subject. "Are you from the Encom system?" She can't imagine any Encom program accepting where they are now without considerable confusion, no matter which side they were on or what they believed.
no subject
He moves back from the edge at her suggestion and falls into step with her. The corridors become cleaner and lighter, though the lights seem to be attached rather than coming from system circuits, which seems an inefficient use of energy.
'I am!' He looks back over at his companion, feeling no shortage of relief at the familiarity. 'Do you know it? I'm afraid I got disoriented in transport, I don't know which system this is, or how I got here. Or why.' There wasn't supposed to be anything after deresolution.
The circuits on his helmet dim as he takes it off and runs his fingers though his hair. 'I must admit the lack of circuits is strange. And worrying. I heard that some sectors of the Encom were going dark from the MCP's power drain, but I hadn't realised it had extended beyond Encom.'
no subject
"It's going to take a lot of explanation, I'm afraid." By way of apology, she offers a sympathetic smile first. "I know how strange all this will sound. I'm from Encom, too. It's good to see someone who remembers it." Rinzler's memories are complicated at best and Flynn was only a visitor.
She might actually have a fragment of good news from the future to offer, if he hates the MCP as much as she does. That would be a refreshing change.
How can she tell any of this without overwhelming her new acquaintance? It might be an impossible task. Yori starts simple. "Most of us arrived like you did, picked up at random by a light they call the Ingress."
no subject
'You're Encom?' There's relief and confusion in his tone. 'Good to meet a neighbour! What's your name? Though... I'm sorry, what happened to your circuits?' She seems functioning well enough, and yet the lack speaks of serious energy shortage. He can't even see where dim circuits would be on her, and at that level, she should be pixels.
'Ingress?'
/Searching lexisdatafiles
/"Ingress" engaged-requesting definition
/Definition not found//
'I haven't heard of it. Does it just bring us here? How?'
no subject
His concern over her circuits makes her smile. "They stand out a little too much around here, but they're fine." She pushes back two layers of clinging cloth from her wrist, revealing the blue glow of standard Encom patterns underneath. "My name is Yori."
She's not sure how to explain more about the Ingress without explaining the entire structure of worlds, and hesitates.
no subject
The sight of her circuits, a strong, healthy glow and firmly blue makes him smile. He makes to ask if circuits are not the norm in this system, and if so how that's possible, but upon hearing her name, the next sound out he makes can only be classified as a squeak.
'You're Yori?!' he gasps, helmet dropping from his fingers. He stares at her as his memory banks open to all the times Tron had spoken of his partner, all the times she'd been factored into their escape plans. This is the program who brought such happiness to his friend, just by speaking about her. 'Oh my User, it's great to finally meet you! I've heard so much!'
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
CREEPING INTENSIFIES;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Not quite the same. The disk is lit in concentric pulses, forming a complete circle with no central hole. It's joined to intricate blue circuits, pale armor, and a strange helmet, less encasing than even the weak templates patched onto the conscripts in the Games. Something about the sight sends a stutter through assessment—a search, data flagged for comparison. [File not found]. The error rolls out through audio, adding a skipping catch to the harsh rattle of corrupted code.
...Yori's circuits. Encom. That comparison isn't difficult to make, and if it doesn't completely settle the uneasy pressure in his core, it's answer enough to at least put it aside. Rinzler resumes his approach, disk flaring and dimming in brief warning. If the [unknown] ahead decides to throw that weapon, it's going to find itself thoroughly outmatched.
no subject
A strange clicking sound reaches his oral input and he looks over to the edge of the intact floor to find a dark figure with very limited circuits staring back at him. Orange circuits.
Oh frag.
The program has a disk in hand, actived, of a design different to his own. A different system design? Whatever the reason, it's there and Ram is a sitting gridbug.
Right. Decision gate. He'd rather not derezz again so soon, by fall or disk. So.
'Hello!' he calls. 'Help a program out? I'm not much use as pixels.'
no subject
name) origin, its garb marks it as a potential combatant, and its colors as not Clu's. This might not be entirely his admin's system, but Rinzler has no reason at all to give up his advantage unused.But the words aren't why he stiffens. It's the voice. The face. The shocked, small uncertainty crawling through his code. Rinzler doesn't know this program, but he... hadn't expected him. Rinzler doesn't know this program, but—
he did—
[WARNING: unauthorized access—]
Processing smashes headlong into the jagged edges of his filters, and Rinzler freezes rigid. It's reflex more than reprimand, just like the grating snarl that rises through his sound stems from frustration and mismatch in equal part. Automation hasn't had its accustomed hold for cycles, but he should still know better than to test. Better than to want anything that had been Tron's.
He doesn't.
What matters is the program's use. What matters is its affiliations, and who they might fall to here. Rinzler glowers back across the gap before responding: not with words, but with a focused scan. Security-grade, aimed to pick out its ID and function.
no subject
What he's not expecting is for the program to do nothing. Are they frozen? That clicking sound certainly doesn't sound healthy. Ram briefly calculates the likelihood of being able to derezz them before they unfreeze, but they might not be frozen, they might unfreeze and then he'd be a sitting gridbug, disklessand have pissed them off.
Too much uncertainty. His disk stays in the wall, his grip on it tight enough that it digs into his palms.
'Uh, are you still in there? I can hang out for a bit, but--'
He breaks off as a tingle sweeps through him, strong enough to make him shudder. He swallows, quickly reminded of similar, but more gentle scans, accompanied by that intense stare and "Are you sure you didn't strain anything?". Frag, he could really do with Tron being here.
Right. Right, okay. So he's dealing with security. Wonderful.
'You know, you could've just asked,' he says once the tingle fades.
no subject
...
Joy is an unaccustomed modifier.
Rinzler compensates accordingly, helmet tilting with a sharp, sarcastic twitch. He could have asked, and the other program (Ram) could have lied. Or been so faulty as to try to hide the information. Simpler for everyone his way.
"Last timestamp."
The word is harsh and flat, distorted both by the electronic flanging of his mask and a strange, lagged cadence. A thousand-odd cycles without vocal permissions wasn't quite so easily overcome by the few months since Clu gave them back. Still, Rinzler's tone (such that it is) leaves one aspect of the phrase quite clear.
Demand, not request.
no subject
He braces, ready to tug his disk out of the wall and defend or attack at a picocycle's notice. It wouldn't surprise him at all if Sark had distributed his ID along with Tron's and Flynn's after they escaped. The MCP may have even broadcast it to other systems. With Tron after him, it would have been smart.
That thought makes him smirk, but he quickly drops it.
No attack comes, but what does come makes him flinch nonetheless. That is not just distortion, that is damage. He almost feels sorry for the guy. But there are more pressing issues. That's not the inquiry he was expecting, but the tone leaves no room for argument.
'Last timestamp: 23570907-82.'
no subject
Encom patterns. A timestamp prior to the inception of the Grid. Code not designed for combat, despite the appearance of that shell. In Clu's system, finding such a mismatch outside of the Arena's cage might be a sign of malware, a dissident overreaching its place in a futile bid at sowing conflict. Here? Rinzler rather suspects the adaptability will help.
Whatever the explanation, the assessment seems clear. Rinzler re-runs the data, not entirely trusting the flicker of relief. But... threat level: low. To Clu or his allies.
The enforcer dips his helmet in acknowledgement. Then he splits his disks and throws.
User systems are prone to a number of oddities. Among them, the persisting obsession with obtaining air. The ventilation shafts connected to this hallway are the interior sort, a half-meter span of box-shaped metal usually suspended against the ceiling.
The thrown disk shears neatly through the supports past Ram's position. The weapon still in Rinzler's hand flares bright with overcharge as he steps up the wall and twists: a backwards arc to slice through the duct on his end of the hall. His free hand snags the detached structure, a quick jerk pulling it with him as he drops. The end result? A shriek of warping metal, as the vent structure collapses to a diagonal... just to the side of where Ram's standing.
Rinzler hits the ground in a neat crouch, reaching up to snag his returning weapon. Enjoy your bridge.
no subject
That line of thought shuts down fast as he watches the security program split his disk into two. His mouth drops open and he's so caught up in /how is that possible?! that he ducks the disk heading his way even though it's flight path clearly misses him by a good fourteen inches.
The two disks cut through one of the overhead pipes and Ram tracks their trajectory back to the program, flinching closer to the wall when the pipe lands heavily next to him. Silently, he updates the numbers to his calculations and adds the variable of a second fragging disk. He will not be getting away from this program easily.
It takes him a moment to collect himself, and then, carefully keeping his eyes on the program, he pulls his disk out of the wall and very deliberately docks it on his back. He knows exactly how long it takes him to get it back out again and he'd rather not give this guy any excuse to attack, especially while he's balanced on a makeshift bridge. Speaking of which. He tests its stability with one foot before stepping up onto it. It's decently wide, and once he's established that it's secure enough on either side, he begins to his way across, cautious of the fall and the program the whole time. Midway, the pipe creaks under his weight and Ram wobbles a little, but he quickly rebalances and is soon on solid ground again. He swiftly moves away from the edge, while maintaining the distance with the two-disked program.
no subject
The distance kept by the smaller program is also a sign of uncommonly good sense.
"State method of import."
Harsh, cutting, and again atonal. Almost certainly, Rinzler already knows this answer. Probably better than Ram does. But if there is a different system breach, he wants to learn about it.
no subject
Up close, the voice doesn't sound quite as bad, though it's certainly still not good. A little more prepared for it, Ram doesn't flinch this time.
Method of import. Good question. 'Ah... Bright white light.' This guy's guess is as good as his. 'I ended up in a small room some corridors back. Where is this anyway?'
no subject
"Avagi. User system."
A jerk of the helmet indicates the command: follow. Rinzler will wait to be sure the other program is complying before starting off down the hall.
no subject
Disks docked, that's a relief and a good sign. He adjusts the numbers he has for calculating required reaction time and combat likelihood.
'User system?' His circuits brighten momentarily in his surprise. 'That's... new.' Though it might explain the lack of circuits and strange construct materials.
Follow? Ram glances back at the collapsed floor. There's not really anywhere else to go. It's a slim chance he'll be able to slip away, but if he doesn't go willingly, there's away high probability he'll be forced along and then there's next to no chance of escape.
He heads after the security program, continuing the mapping of the area he'd started. 'So how am I in a User system? How are we in a User system?'
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)