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Good history is a question of survival. Without any past we will deprive ourselves of the defining impression of our being.
Clu was tired. He didn't often think about the present in the sense of his age, or runtime, but...he was so tired. He ached right down to his root code, because this millicycle made him seem to feel all of the thousands of millicycles that came before weighing him down.
Flynn was gone. Bradley was gone. It should be a relief, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Grid was safe, that those Users would never again be able to sabotage repair efforts. That there would be something worth building out of the damage.
When word came that Clu's own code was, for some reason, not being recognized by the Portal of this 'Free Grid' hub, he just...couldn't find it in him to feel one way, or another about it. Maybe it did mean he was obsolete, or maybe it was just a glitch that would be edited with time. Hard to tell, and harder still for Clu to have the first idea about what he would do with himself, now. Especially since Rinzler's code was recognized, and his friend needed to go back. Clu knew it, and Rinzler must know it, but strangely, it didn't make things any easier.
Instead, Clu allowed himself a little bit of downtime. He had retreated to the build office on the edge of the city. The same one Jalen's mirror had secured for him not so long before. Seated inside the door, his yellow circuits didn't raise any alarms with prying eyes, and for the first time, it seems, since this long, convoluted nightmare began; Clu and Rinzler had a moment of peace.
Clu had chosen to prop his boots up on an empty desk, lean back in the default issue office chair, and start repairing the template for his shattered eyepiece.
He also had no idea what to say. Or how to begin. Only that time was, as always, against them. Rinzler would be gone, soon, and then who knew what would happen? At least, for now, Clu could nurse a strong drink, and work on banishing the dull ache left by the glitched mismatch in his vision.
"You're worrying. I can hear it."
Of course Rinzler was worrying, Rinzler always worried. And Clu didn't have to look up from his work to see it in stance, posture, or the helmeted stare leveled at him. It didn't change anything, though, and Rinzler would need to find a way to look after himself very soon.
Clu was tired. He didn't often think about the present in the sense of his age, or runtime, but...he was so tired. He ached right down to his root code, because this millicycle made him seem to feel all of the thousands of millicycles that came before weighing him down.
Flynn was gone. Bradley was gone. It should be a relief, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Grid was safe, that those Users would never again be able to sabotage repair efforts. That there would be something worth building out of the damage.
When word came that Clu's own code was, for some reason, not being recognized by the Portal of this 'Free Grid' hub, he just...couldn't find it in him to feel one way, or another about it. Maybe it did mean he was obsolete, or maybe it was just a glitch that would be edited with time. Hard to tell, and harder still for Clu to have the first idea about what he would do with himself, now. Especially since Rinzler's code was recognized, and his friend needed to go back. Clu knew it, and Rinzler must know it, but strangely, it didn't make things any easier.
Instead, Clu allowed himself a little bit of downtime. He had retreated to the build office on the edge of the city. The same one Jalen's mirror had secured for him not so long before. Seated inside the door, his yellow circuits didn't raise any alarms with prying eyes, and for the first time, it seems, since this long, convoluted nightmare began; Clu and Rinzler had a moment of peace.
Clu had chosen to prop his boots up on an empty desk, lean back in the default issue office chair, and start repairing the template for his shattered eyepiece.
He also had no idea what to say. Or how to begin. Only that time was, as always, against them. Rinzler would be gone, soon, and then who knew what would happen? At least, for now, Clu could nurse a strong drink, and work on banishing the dull ache left by the glitched mismatch in his vision.
"You're worrying. I can hear it."
Of course Rinzler was worrying, Rinzler always worried. And Clu didn't have to look up from his work to see it in stance, posture, or the helmeted stare leveled at him. It didn't change anything, though, and Rinzler would need to find a way to look after himself very soon.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 12:56 am (UTC)From:Millicycles since he'd... they'd... (he'd) killed Alan-one.
And now, an unknown number of millis, or micros, or nanocycles until Portal Control fixed the glitch. Sent him home. But not Clu.
His admin's words interrupted the silent pacing, and Rinzler stilled with a snort, turned to the workstation with an irritated glare. He hadn't even said anything. Here and now, at least. The security head had been vocal enough when they'd first been warned of Clu's exception to the Portal's tags. But no amount of arguments, or frustration, or sharp insistence changed a thing. They couldn't correct it. They wouldn't wait to try, not when the current errors could easily import another hex of 'glitched' (normal) users in the meantime. Portal Control might work to fix things later, but for the moment... no solution. For the Grid or Clu.
"Reason not to?"
no subject
Date: 2012-12-10 01:48 am (UTC)From:The ache in Clu's processor may also be contributing to his mood. Still, he glanced at the pacing, worrying program and sighed.
"...I shouldn't be here at all, Rinzler. You know that."
Reintegration wasn't just derezz, it was deletion from the entire system. It's common theory that the explosive force released by that single incident started the entire rundown of 'Portal Glitches' in the first place. Bottom line? Clu should be gone. The fact that he isn't is...still taking some processing.
"And you should be focusing on the future. On going back. On how to work with Sam, and start making real changes to the Grid. I have blueprints saved in the Tower."
Assuming it survived.
"It should help sketch out some ideas, and the basics for repairs to the Faults, the networking, and creating a real open System."
Shaking his head, Clu refocuses on his open disk, and nudges another line of code into place. His eyepiece had been shattered completely, and rerezzing the custom job was proving an irritation. But, an irritation was much more welcome than the nameless, anxious fear that Clu refused to acknowledge inside himself. He would be alone, truly alone, in this strange amalgamation of many echoed pasts, and futures, each as foreign as the next.
Clu honestly thought that being alone on a wiped template would be less frightening than this.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-25 09:53 am (UTC)From:"Should be home."
Not restarting old arguments. Not looking to argue at all. But if Clu thought there was any version of 'should' attached to his derezz, a lot more than just the eyepiece was in need of repair.
"System needs you." More than blueprints, or ideas. More than Rinzler, by a wide margin. He could protect them, he could fight for the system. The same way Shaddox could structure it, or Jarvis could organize and assist. But with the Basics or ISOs, in the face of faults or threats or glitching users, Clu had always been the one who held them all together.
"Exporting to the user world. Supposed to do that off a template?"
Agitated. Frustrated. And no small distraction from his own anxious fear. For the Grid. For himself. And for Clu. Of all the possible systems to leave his admin on, it had to be here?
no subject
Date: 2013-01-09 05:34 am (UTC)From:"What would you like me to do, then? Fret, and worry about a circumstance I do not have the power to alter right now? Or make the best of a glitched situation.
I left instructions, both for public access, Sam's read only access, and your read only access as well."
Frustrated, more than a little afraid, and not wanting to provoke another argument, Clu tossed his disk onto the desk where it rattled before coming to rest. Then stood up, and paced to the translucent field covering the build office's doorway.
"...Would if comfort you to hear that I don't intend to stay here long?"