finite-breakpoints

[finite-breakpoints]

the night we met (Angstpril 2024, alt #4)

[ Previously: frozen // trembling ]

"Relax -- it's gonna be fine." Yori squeezes Siv's hand gently -- and he knows that she's trying to reassure herself just as much as him. "You don't need to be nervous about this."

But he is. And so is she, even if she won't admit it.

"Where's Tron?" Not so much changing the subject as it's legitimate surprise. "I thought he'd want to be here."

"He did, but he's out of town. Trying to settle things down out in Bismuth. It's getting worse. Flynn offered to wait until he got back, but…" She shrugs. "He said we've waited long enough -- and we've had this planned out for long enough as-is. Didn't think it was fair to make you wait with us."

"I wouldn't have minded." He glances over at the screens, feeling a nervous twinge somewhere in the back of his mind. Base code compiled without errors. Just the interfaces left -- anything that could have gone wrong would have by now. "Have you seen their renders?"

"Yeah. Why, haven't you? I thought Flynn would have shown you."

"Nah. I couldn't make it out here in time, remember? Julia's had a lot of things to balance, so… I've had to step it up a little."

"Is she…?" But then Yori thinks about it for a tick, and her expression shifts to something almost like regret. "Sorry. I guess I don't really know where you guys are at right now. It's been a while."

"No, it's fine. I don't really know, either. But she's pretty happy about this. Said she thinks it'll be good for me -- the responsibility and the extra help." He grins sheepishly -- it was almost exactly what Yori had said about it, when she'd told him about Flynn's new idea.

"…So what you're saying is that she agrees with me, and that I'm always right."

"Yes to the first thing. And as for the second… you're usually right. How's that?"

"Guess I'll take it, if that's all I'm gonna get."

"But I didn't tell her everything," he admits. "She, uh… she doesn't know about the whole shared code thing. I wasn't sure how she'd react, so… I left that out. We'll get to it."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm excited to watch you figure out exactly how much of a terror you were to wrangle."

"Don't say that like you were any better. Yours is gonna be just as chaotic, I guarantee it."

"We'll see, but I'd be willing to bet that--" But then she stops, her eyes lighting up as one of the screen outputs pings success. "Looks like you're up first!"

----

"Alright, let's bring you back up for a bit. How are you feeling?"

It takes Cyrus a moment to remember where he is, what's going on. The energy spikes that wouldn't even out. The long drive to Gallium City. The splitting headache that comes and goes as he slips in and out of consciousness, tucked away in this warm little room. Left here with the assurance that he's safe, being taken care of, and that Able will come back for him next cycle.

And Able's friend -- Siv -- with his strange machine, scrolling through Cyrus' code like notes on a datapad.

"Better. Maybe." Cyrus blinks a few times; the room threatens to start spinning again. "I think."

"Good. Don't try to get up yet. You're still a little off-balance from that last spike. --Those are a data processor thing, right? But they don't really happen unless you've been doing it for a long time. Longer than you've been on the Grid… if your metadata's accurate, anyway."

"Yeah." Something tells Cyrus that it is, and that maybe Siv knows a bit more than he's letting on. Lets it slide for now, makes a mental note to think about it more when thinking doesn't hurt. "I think so. It sounds right, anyway. There's a lot of stuff up here that's… fuzzy."

"Some of it should come back on its own, hopefully in a few cycles or so. We can try recovering anything else later, if you want."

"…And you're not a medic, huh?"

"Me? Nah. But code's code, once you get down to it." Siv shrugs -- like that's supposed to make sense -- and taps a few things on the interface. It's not Cyrus' disc; it's something else, some kind of staging device, where he can test changes before making anything permanent. He closes a window; the lines of code turn back into the strands of blue and silver, wrapped in tendrils of red and orange. "Okay, last round. This should fix the spikes. We'll worry about everything else later -- whatever they tried to do to you didn't exactly latch on. From what I saw on your disc, it looks like maybe they were more worried about making sure some things won't come back."

"Like what?" And then Cyrus hears himself, and shakes his head. "Stupid question. Sorry."

"No such thing. --But I wish I had an answer for you."

He's lying.

Cyrus manages to sit upright, finally. Doesn't complain when Siv takes his disc, plugs in that machine, and then adjusts a few things before giving it back.

Watches his circuits change as his disc re-syncs, orange circuits fading to white.

Not a malicious lie, then.

How could it be?

#IT'S MY BIRTHDAY I CAN DO ANGST-LITE IF I WANNA #signal to noise breakpoints #siv #yori #cyrus #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

panicked (Angstpril 2024, #27)

[ Previously: phantom pain ]

// Connected to SIGNAL//NOISE // // phase!0x7F >> noise!0x01 // // Secure message self-destruct timer set to one cycle.

phase: > something happened to Siv last night. Julia took him over to the medical center earlier > nobody will tell me what's going on or whether he's okay > I don't know what I'm supposed to tell Lev and Lisa. I don't even know what Julia's telling everyone in the garage noise: > ...Fuck. Okay. > Well, I'm already on my way over. I'll help you get things settled. > You know the override code for the office? phase: > don't need it > he gave me access once I started helping with the network. noise: > Alright. I'm still ten or twenty millicycles out. > Hang tight.

----

"Dylan. Relax. You're starting to make me nervous."

"…Sorry." They stop spinning in the desk chair, trying to think of something -- anything -- to distract them. Anything to keep from panicking. The others will still be asleep for a while yet, and in any case, Dylan doesn't have much hope of anyone being particularly productive at the moment. "Maybe I should just keep things closed down for now, reopen the lab when Siv gets back."

"I mean… yeah. You could. But that's not gonna do anybody any favors, is it? And you know how he is -- he's gonna come back and feel like everything's fallen behind schedule."

That doesn't make the idea of trying to run the prototyping lab any less daunting -- even if it's only for a few cycles. But still… Cyrus is probably right.

"How are you being so calm about this?"

"Not the first time I've seen it. This happens every couple of macrocycles or so -- this is just… ahead of schedule." Cyrus pulls out his console and plugs in his network chip, perches on the workbench. "Siv said it's all that old data processor hardware, runs hot every once in a while."

"He was a processor?" They think for a tick about the programs who flock together in one corner of the SPARC Club, their data jacks glowing dimly in the low light. The older programs they gather around, most of whom have long since retired. Their silent laughter, entire conversations carried out in pings. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. One of the first. Back before all the restrictions -- it took a long time for anyone to put together the long-term effects." Cyrus doesn't exactly pause there, but Dylan still gets the feeling there's something he's not telling them. "That's why they've all got external hardware now. Prevents things like this from happening in the first place. Sometimes, there's ways to mitigate it… but they haven't found anything that works for Siv yet."

"…Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Might still be a bit scrambled when he gets home, but once he's had a chance to get settled--"

The opening door cuts him off; a shock of fight-flight-freeze in Dylan's circuits -- no one else should be able to enter this room uninvited, unless --

But it's just Julia, thankfully. She offers Dylan a small smile -- Cyrus, not so much. He doesn't look surprised, or even remotely disturbed by her intrusion -- he must have heard her coming, somehow. Sometimes it feels like nothing gets to him.

And if he notices Julia's general coolness toward him, he doesn't seem to mind it. "Don't worry about bringing Dylan up to speed, I already took care of it. --How is he?"

"Um…" Julia sighs, that look Dylan's seen a few times; it's not good news. "They've got him in stasis right now. It's the only way they can keep his energy processing stable. Said they're gonna monitor for the rest of the cycle, and then they'll call me before they try bringing him back up again."

"So he's just…. alone?" Dylan shivers, ice creeping into their circuits. "I mean, even in stasis…"

"I know. I don't like it either, but Siv's repeatedly said he'd rather have me staying busy than worrying about him every time this happens. That's just how he is." She shrugs. "Do you need help getting things opened up?"

"No. I can handle it. Thanks, though."

"No problem. --But hey, come find me if you run into any problems, okay?" Her expression makes it perfectly clear what problems she's talking about -- and all of them have orange circuits. And then she turns to Cyrus, and her voice goes quiet. "And you -- do not get involved."

"Yeah, I know. Siv and I already had that discussion, after last time." He smiles grimly, like maybe discussion isn't really the right word. "Staying out of this one."

"Good." She looks around like she's making sure everything's in place around the office; her gaze lands, for a tick, on the row of sealed vacuum canisters above Siv's desk. "Don't break anything."

"Well… no promises there."

She doesn't look amused, and he doesn't particularly look like he cares. Dylan can't imagine being on the other side of that glare, let alone instigating it. Purposefully.

Cyrus waits until she leaves, then busies himself with feeding the code fragments. Dylan watches as far as they can -- the careful way he pops the cubes out of the freezer trays, each looking far too much like translucent grey voxels. They have to look away as he drops them in; the faint hiss of the fragments bubbling up around them is more than enough.

"You think he'd notice if I switched a couple of them around?" Cyrus drops the last set of cubes in, then sets the tray in the condenser to repopulate. "Like, physically moved them. He's got 'em labeled underneath, but I wonder how long it'd take him to figure it out."

"Probably not long." The initial sounds are quieting now; when Dylan looks up, the fragments are back to their slow shifts, and they can look at them without feeling sick. "Apparently they all act different."

"Hm." He picks up the first one on the left, eyeing it carefully, then swaps it with the one to its right. "We'll see."

"Oh, he's gonna hate this." They go in order, if Dylan remembers correctly. "That doesn't seem fair. Siv said yours and mine were pretty similar."

"Yeah. If I'm not here when he figures it out, I need you to show me what happens. For the sake of scientific inquiry." But Cyrus' grin fades, his mind obviously drifting to less-pleasant things. "Even when he gets home, it'll be a few cycles before he's back up to speed. The network's gonna get restless in the meantime."

"Right. What are you gonna tell them?"

Unlike Dylan, Cyrus doesn't have the option to wait it out. Something like ten thousand programs on the network now, at last count, expecting that start-of-cycle transmission. And about ten percent of them on the chat relay -- whose concern will be far less distant.

"…I don't know."

#signal to noise breakpoints #dylan #cyrus #julia #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

phantom pain (Angstpril 2024, #10)

[ Previously: a little too late ]

::Your shoulder's acting up.:: Julia nudges him a little, trying to get a better look -- Siv can't see it, of course, but he can feel that tiny bit of resistance under her fingertips, resurfacing pin sockets reducing her touch to nothing but faint pressure on his skin. ::Doesn't look good. You need to have someone look at it again.::

::Yeah, I know.:: The medical center's still short-staffed, even with the influx of programs from Advan's… rehabilitation centers. If he can avoid making it worse, he does. ::Give it a couple cycles, it'll calm down.::

::Siv.::

::What?:: He sits up, stretches out -- it's sore. Been a while since that's happened. ::The circuits haven't split off, right? Doesn't feel like it.::

::No. Looks close, though.::

::You know it's not a big deal. As long as the port stays closed, anyway.::

::I know it means you're stressed, and that you're acting like things are fine, and you won't tell me why.::

::Do we really have to do this right now?:: Immediately hates himself for the way it sounds. She isn't wrong, but it's not like he can tell her what's going on. Not without freaking her out, which is the last thing either of them need, lately. Besides, she has a point, and he can't fault her for being worried about him. ::…Sorry. I'll go to the medical center first thing next cycle. Promise.::

::Gonna hold you to it.::

::I know. --But you don't have to. It's not your job anymore.::

::It's not about obligation. Never was. You know that.:: She yawns. ::I mean, you'd still do it for me, wouldn't you?::

::Yeah. Of course I would. No question.:: He leans over -- carefully, just in case she's right -- and kisses her on the cheek. ::Alright, I'll go patch this up. Go back to sleep.::

She hums something like an assent, and he watches her circuits dim to a slow pulse. A little too proud of herself, honestly…

Siv stands up, doing his best not to disturb her. He's a little out of practice, but he manages it. Closes the door behind him before turning on the light. He's missed this. Missed her. When did they start to drift off in separate directions?

The answer, of course, is looking back at him in the mirror. And then in triplicate, as he unfolds the panels. Shifts slightly, trying to get a better look at the dense array of silver scars stretching across his right shoulder, beginning to mirror to the left. Glowing brighter than they should; maybe it's worse than he thought.

Pulls out a set of patches, the wide ones that will cover most of it. Even the damage patches designed for data processors can't always handle it. The pin sockets are too close together, and there's too many of them, for it to adhere properly. And this doesn't quite stick, either.

It'll do for now. A stopgap, just like everything else.

This is a face he's become more comfortable with, over the cycles. Something that has to be settled into, every time his render changes -- and it hadn't come easily, this last time. A bigger change than it usually is, something that almost felt like a rollback. Too much like his sister -- who isn't exactly herself anymore… not really.

"And whose fault is that?"

The figure standing behind his reflection has no circuits to speak of -- but she radiates a faint light nonetheless. Someone both distant and achingly familiar. Not Yori -- no, Advan -- although easily mistaken. The same look Advan had given him, when she'd arrived in Gallium -- surprise, then disappointment, in how much he'd changed.

"Clu did this to her," he says quietly. "I don't know how. She should have been safe from it. It shouldn't have worked."

"You could have stopped her. You could have stopped so much of this -- but you've left behind everything I gave you."

--And then his input regulators wake up, the impossible sensation of all those pins reconnecting. For just a clock-cycle, he wants more than anything to feel the rush of free-flowing information through his circuits. The chance to chase down the root of the corruption spreading through the Grid, hold it up to the light… and pull it apart, line by line.

She's right. He could have, at one time. But the data rig in the Archives, the one Polaris had taken with him when he left Tron City, refuses to wake for him. Siv isn't a processor anymore -- the System's given him another purpose. The prototyping lab; giving his betas a home, untangling them from what the Occupation's done to them. The network; keeping watch over the programs of Gallium, giving them the tools to fight their own battles.

In the mirror, his circuits shiver -- momentarily giving way to those waveform patterns that increasingly feel less alien, the more he shifts into them, interacts with the network in them. And he knows then, beyond any doubt, that his User's wishes are no longer a factor. Not in his render, not in his function, and not in his decisions.

"No. I took what I needed, and left the rest." Siv takes a deep breath, willing himself to look her in the eye -- and then to stay standing, under the crushing weight of her gaze. "And I don't need you anymore."

"Do you really believe that?"

Before he can answer, the regulator circuits branch off, spidering across his shoulders with no input to temper them. Some long-sleeping part of his code reactivates, reaches out in a desperate reflex… and finds nothing in return, as Lora-Prime watches his circuits burn with something that might just be a smile.

"When you change your mind, I'll be here."

And then the whole room spins, and blinks into nothingness.

#signal to noise breakpoints #siv #julia #lora #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

trembling (Angstpril 2024, #19)

Cyrus doesn't know how long he's been plugged in.

This isn't his data rig, or even like the ones the other processors use. Theirs are buffered, with transfer rates tightly controlled. Those neat little data jacks along the base of their necks and down their backs, implanted before their training, to be removed when they move on. Two input, sixteen pins each; single eight-pin output; eight-pin monitoring. It's less risky than letting the regulator circuits form on their own.

Someone's speaking -- to him? -- as the steady hum lowers, the onslaught of information -- no, malicious data, blatant lies -- lessening just slightly. They must be bringing him back up now. A voice he almost recognizes… but it's out of reach. Another cycle down, then. He's lost count.

This train of thought is as much a distraction as it is a reminder. Because he can feel himself slipping, under the weight of all of it.

All he has to do is ignore it. Let it all pass unacknowledged, unfiltered. And if not, then it must be challenged. Remember that every bit of it is false by design.

The ISOs were never the problem.

One program's perfection is another's prison.

There is nothing wrong with me -- with any of us.

He'd rezzed in with the regulator circuits, albeit with that slightly-idiosyncratic bandwidth characteristic of the Encom processors. So they'd given him one of those rigs, pulled from storage somewhere. Two input, one output, forty pins each; eight pin monitoring. Direct access, no external hardware to get in the way of the connection. Not the one he'd asked for. It's a fraction of what it could be. But it's safer that way, apparently.

Not like this, what they're doing to him now. Constantly just under his maximum capacity, something he'd never worked up to. Something Yori had said was too dangerous for him to try -- it was why she hadn't given him the data rig he'd asked for --

"Cyrus. Can you hear me?"

Yori…? No. That's not right.

She'd never do this to him.

Demeter.

"Are you back with us now, little script?" Still blurry, but yes, it's definitely her. A smile in her voice, but there's nothing kind in it. "Your throughput's been dropping. Maybe it's time for a break."

"My throughput's fine." Those bright lights sting as his vision returns. Eyes refocusing slower than they should. "Not my fault it's all garbage data."

"Is it?"

"Sure. Garbage data, propaganda… Same thing."

Her smile turns sharp for just a microcycle, before shifting back into her usual false cheerfulness. "You look exhausted. Poor thing. Let's get you something to drink, hm?"

The sudden voltage drop rips through him -- the sharp silver pain of yet another improper disconnection. He clamps down the scream in his throat as four hundred and eighty pins retract from his back, his whole body trembling.

He knows what to expect from here. The lukewarm energy held to his lips, which he now knows not to refuse. Her quiet, false sympathy as she loosens the restraints just enough that they don't hurt, and tells him that he's only making this harder for himself. That she doesn't want to hurt him -- that it would be completely painless, if he would stop fighting it. That it's his fault, really, that they've left him here alone for cycles at a time in this cold and windowless room beneath the Archives.

"You're just so stubborn," she says -- and this time, the pity in her voice is genuine. "You know who you remind me of, sometimes…"

"This will be good for you, I promise." The memory's dim -- somewhere far away, all the way across the Grid. Maybe he's only been there a few times. Can't remember -- but he should. A sense of safety, a soft voice he can only imagine raised in laughter. "Be careful out there -- and listen to Yori, alright? I'll miss you."

"Yeah. I get that a lot."

Does he? If his memories are starting to slip… it might be working. There's an empty space on the other side of the room, where there used to be a second unit. Sometimes he wonders whose it was. Feels like maybe he should know that.

"He was good at this. I think you could be, too… if you'd just apply yourself a little more."

"Can't spread your lies without an amplifier, can you? And you don't have many of us left, not now."

"You'll come around eventually." Demeter presses the restraints back into place, patting his hand. "But in the meantime… the only program you're hurting is yourself."

"I know." He takes a deep breath -- steeling himself against what he knows is coming. "That's the whole point."

"How much longer do you think you can keep this up?"

"Good question." He looks up at her, meeting her gaze with as sharp of a grin as he can manage. "Let's find out."

And then it takes him down, back into the waiting current of hate and baseless fear.

Cyrus reaches for the half-formed image in his mind, but it's a fuzzy one. A gentle smile with just a bit of mischief in it -- "See you soon, kiddo. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Something tells him that he isn't.

On the bright side… he's finally gotten the data rig he wanted.

#finite states prologue #cyrus #demeter #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

trust issues (Angstpril 2024, #9)

[ Previously: emotionally distant // no way out // never see you again ]

"What is this place?"

Paige hates the unsteadiness in her voice, echoing even at a whisper -- this isn't the time or place for fear, let alone displaying it. Standing here in a long-abandoned building on the edge of a city no longer familiar, where no one will hear if she calls for help, shivering in the cold.

But if not now… when?

"Temporary accommodations. Used to be an off-cycle stopover for the light-rail, before the track got re-routed." For a program who seemingly spends most of their time committing sedition and thinking of new ways to instigate civil unrest, Signal's voice is surprisingly soft. "Might be some network programs around, if we're lucky. Last I knew, there were a few of 'em crashing here, in and out."

They look more like a data processor than a hardened revolutionary. Maybe that's the point. But Paige can see it too clearly for it to be entirely a facade -- cautious in their movements; a fastidiousness about their appearance; sandy hair pinned back with studied precision. Not very tall, kind of spindly. Not exactly built for fighting.

But then again… neither is she.

"If we're lucky, huh?"

"Sure. They're friendly, mostly harmless. Good kids." Signal hands her the heated canister they've just finished preparing. "Here. This should help. Might be a bit strong, though."

"Thanks." She waits a moment first; and they notice, making a point of pouring the rest into their own glass with a playful grin. She wonders what's hiding underneath it -- watching as they skim through the documents on the data cube. Faster than should be possible, but she has no doubt they're taking in every word.

Sips at the concentrated energy idly, feels the warmth of it even out in her circuits. It is strong stuff, the kind you only need in unpowered places like this… or when your energy processing's been altered by constant direct input. Straight into your circuits, for cycles on end, until your body and mind start to give out.

Yeah. Data processor for sure. Or at least they used to be. She'd bet on the presence of those telltale silver scars at the base of their neck and across their shoulders. Not many of them left, not now. She worked with so many of them at the medical center -- sealing re-opened ports, tapering down their energy levels as safely as she could. It's entirely possible that Signal was one of them.

"…Who knows you're here, Paige?"

Oh, there it is. Her hands are shaking, and not from the cold. Keep it together -- but what does she have to hold together, anymore?

"Lie," hisses the sharp voice in the back of her mind. But what's the point? Tesler will be hunting for her soon, once he realizes what she's done. She has no home to welcome her. No sense of purpose, not now. No friends to lean on for support. Nowhere to go, and no one she can trust.

Only one program's offered her a way out of this.

"No one," she says. "I'm a program of my word."

"So I hear." And that smile turns to something a little less reassuring. "But Tesler seems to know -- and that means General Advan does, too. I don't know if she'll cooperate, if he decides he wants to look for you. But I'd rather not take that chance."

"…What do you mean?"

"I mean that you need to hide, and quickly. They'll be tracking your data signature. We need to fix that… and your metadata, too. Let me see your disc."

"No." She steps back, purely out of instinct, as an acute sense of danger grips her. But she can take them in a fight, if it comes to that. "Not happening."

"Won't hurt a bit, promise. I've done it myself enough times." They pull up a tool -- something that takes her a moment to recognize. It's a wrench, and not an entirely unfamiliar one. But this looks heavier than the ones Mara keeps in her garage, or even the one the Renegade would carry with him. Older, maybe.

But Signal holds it differently. Not with the casual nonchalance of the Renegade, or even the curiosity of Argon's mechanics, but with the same careful attention that Paige remembers having for her own tools. The sort of respect -- reverence, even -- that you have when your tools are capable of both wonderful and terrible things.

"You're not touching my disc," she says quietly.

"Alright, fair enough. But if you aren't careful, they will find you. I know you don't trust me -- and maybe you're right not to. But I can help keep you hidden, if you'll let me."

"I'll take my chances." Fights back the creeping panic, feeling that sharp and slithering pain, as if those code worms have returned, burrowing into her database. "I'm not doing that again."

By the time she realizes that it's slipped out, it's too late.

"…Oh." Signal rezzes down the not-a-wrench. For a tick or two, they seem unusually at a loss for words… and not quite sure what to do about it. "I wondered about that. Barbaric of them. I'm sorry."

"…What are you talking about?"

"There's a scar, under your eye. I'd guess your render usually compensates for it, but you're starting to run low on energy. For all I know, you might not even have known it was there." They regard her with something just short of pity, sharp grey eyes clouding over with emotion… or a memory. "You stayed there even after they did that to you -- and then you came all the way out here, you gave everything up. There was a reason, wasn't there?"

It's not really a question. She doesn't answer.

"I think you left because Tesler lied to you." Their tone implies no moral judgement -- although she suspects, given what she's read over the cycles, that Signal might be holding back a little. "I never will."

And for just a clock-cycle, she very nearly believes them.

#finite states breakpoints #paige #siv #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

never see you again (Angstpril 2024, day 28)

[ Previously: emotionally distant // no way out ]

// Connected to SIGNAL//NOISE //

// fairlight!0x5C85 >> aegis!0x10B7 //

// aegis has set her data chip to inactive mode (last seen 38 cycles ago)

// Because aegis is in your trusted keyring, you can still send messages. No confirmation of transmission will be received, but you can use '/notify' to send a visual alert.

fairlight:

> I hope you see this, Mara. I have to leave, and this is the only way to tell you without giving you a chance to talk me out of it. And if you tried, I think it would work. Even though you aren't *yourself* anymore.

> This is my fault. I should have known better to believe Tesler when he said it wasn't like the old reprogramming methods, and that it wouldn't change you.

> They're going to ask you a lot of questions, once they realize I've left. Be honest with them. Tell them whatever they want to know.

> Guess I don't have to work too hard to convince you, not anymore. Used to hate how hard it was, how stubborn you were about it -- because I worried about you.

> And sometimes I wondered why you gave me a chance at all.

> But as much as I hate it, at least you'll be safe for now, until I can figure out how to fix this.

> Because I *will* find a way to fix this, I promise. Even though it means I'll never get to come back. And even if it means I'll never see you again.

> I'm sorry.

> I love you.

=======================================

/notify

/leave

=======================================

#finite states breakpoints #paige #mara #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

bad dreams (Angstpril 2024, #7)

[ Previously: homesick ]

A shattered-glass scream echoes through the lab's living quarters -- Siv bolts upright in the darkness, pinpointing the source. To the left, very nearly parallel, separated by exactly two doors.

--Dylan.

By the time he's made it to the hallway, Lisa and Bodhi are already there, equal parts alarmed and exhausted.

"Go back to bed, guys. I've got 'em."

Unlocks the door to find Dylan curled in on themself. For just a clock-cycle, their circuits shiver and dim.

"Hey. You okay?"

They look up at him for a moment and shrug -- the closest thing to no he's going to get from them.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Just a nightmare." Lying, or at least by omission. They're too shaken for that to be the whole truth -- something cold and haunted in their eyes. "Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be. Do you want to talk about it?"

There's that shrug again -- like it doesn't matter. Like they don't matter.

"Okay." He sits on the edge of the bed, looks them over for a tick or two. Their circuits are coming back to normal now, but they look… shaken. "You don't have to. You can, though."

Dylan nods reluctantly. Seems to think about it for a few ticks. "…What happens if I don't get to stay here?"

"What?"

"Like if they decide that I'm not a good fit here after all. Or if they just decide to move me somewhere else."

"I don't think we have to worry about that. Tally's been pretty happy with how you're doing. And for what it's worth…. I'm glad you're here."

"I know." They take a deep, shaking breath and sit up. "But if they wanted to, even if they let me stay here…. they could reprogram me, couldn't they?"

Oh.

"They can try," he says quietly, "but they won't get far. And even if they could, it wouldn't stick for very long. I won't let them take you, Dylan. Not you, and not anyone else. They'll never touch your code again."

Dylan looks at him like they're not sure whether they believe him. "…Thanks."

And then they lean against him, and he feels the uncertainty, the anxiety. The deep, visceral fear that this is temporary. Pings reassurance and safety as best as he can. Stays there with them until their breathing slows, their circuits dim with sleep.

Maybe the Occupation will try, no matter what Tally's said. But he refuses, in that moment, to believe it's a promise he can't keep.

He'll keep them safe, somehow. He has to.

#signal to noise breakpoints #siv #dylan #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

no way out (Angstpril 2024, #11)

[ Previously: emotionally distant ]

// Connected to SIGNAL//NOISE //

// fairlight!0x5C85 >> signal!0x00 //

// signal is offline (last seen 3 cycles ago)

// Because you have bbs-ops permissions, you can use '/notify' to send an out-of-band alert.

fairlight:

> I don't know if you're still here. My chip says so, but it's been out of sync for a while -- and the only program in my keyring who I could track down said she hasn't heard from you in a long time.

> Argon City's gone... or it will be, soon. About a quarter of the city's been reprogrammed. I don't know when, but I have it on good authority that Bismuth is next, and Gallium won't be far behind.

> They've left me alone, so far. I don't know if it's random or targeted, but there's a force barrier up around the city, and they've been checking the data signatures of everyone who comes in or leaves.

> The worst part is that it's subtle. I've had friends get repurposed, and ran into them later. It's not like that anymore, you can barely tell. My friends' personalities haven't changed much. Their circuits haven't even changed… most of the time. But they're saying and doing things they never would have, before.

> I don't know what to do.

=======================================

/notify

=======================================

// signal is now active.

// signal is typing…

#finite states breakpoints #paige #siv #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

a little too late (Angstpril 2024, #12)

Julia's been dreading this, as much as she hates herself for it.

"It's not like I'm gonna move across town or anything," Siv had said -- as reassuringly as he's capable of, which isn't always saying much. "But this project feels like it should be its own thing."

That was half a macrocycle ago.

He's not moving across town. Not even leaving the garage, really, just over to the new wing they've just finished. It's a well-designed space; bright and colorful and open, with those giant panes of mirror-glass windows along the wall.

About ten cycles ago, he'd finished moving his equipment over. About half of that crowded workshop now fits comfortably in one corner. A set of tools on the workbench, a few half-finished sketches pinned to drafting tables, several still-packed boxes.

"…So what do you think? Too much?"

He sounds like he's been overthinking this -- it's your shop, what I think about it doesn't matter; you were the one who decided you needed a whole separate space and an apartment to yourself--

Nope. Not going there.

"It's beautiful. Absolutely perfect for you, too." Julia cracks a smile. "Not a drawer in sight, huh?"

"Yori's idea. Should help me keep track of everything a little better." He shrugs nonchalantly, self-aware enough at this point to know better. "Should being the operative word there."

"Wouldn't count on it. You'd lose your own disc if it wasn't attached to you."

"Rude. But yeah, y'know what, I guess that's fair."

"She's not wrong! I've seen you lose datapads while they're still in your hand." Yori sets a box down on the nearest workbench, then raises an eyebrow. "Okay, look, this has been bothering me all cycle. Your hair's up off-center."

"Does it matter?"

"If you want to be seen with me in public, yes."

"…Alright, alright." Siv laughs sheepishly, reaching up to re-adjust the clip holding it back. "Better?"

"Slightly. --Do you want your light-sculpture stuff down here, or up in your office?"

"Uh… good question. I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Office, then." Yori grins, clearly up to something -- Julia's seen that look enough from Siv to know it means trouble. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Just leave my tools alone--"

"No promises."

"Yori."

"I'm kidding. Don't burn out any circuits over it -- I know better."

"Sure you do." But he doesn't argue with her -- just rolls his eyes as she walks away. "Sorry. What were we talking about?"

"Nothing, really. It's fine." Julia shrugs -- when was the last time they had talked about anything that actually mattered? "It's been weird, not tripping over each other all the time."

"Yeah. A little bit. But we'll get used to it, and it's not like I'll never be around. I'll walk you back -- I'm pretty sure I forgot a datapad in your apartment."

It's just the other side of the garage, but it might as well be the other side of the Grid.

There are worse things than a stray datapad. The empty spaces, where the shelves used to be, that greet them when they walk through the door. The silence at the start and end of every cycle. The simple reality of this apartment being hers, not theirs.

"Heh. Go figure." And sure enough, there it is, sitting abandoned in the chair by the window. Siv picks it up, frowns at the blinking red charge-level light, and tucks it into his bag. "Thanks for the help. I'll see you later."

"No problem. And hey--"

He's halfway across the room now. Quiet exits, as always. "Hm?"

Julia knows this is a bad idea, but some stupid, impulsive part of her can't help it. You don't have to leave -- but it's a little too late for that, now. He's already gone, has been for half a macro -- on to the next adventure.

"…I love you," she says instead. So much. Enough to let you go. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah." He stops in front of the door -- really stops, not one of those five-tick pauses -- and offers her the smallest of smiles. "Love you, too."

He means it, in his way.

And then the door closes behind him.

#finite states prologue #julia #siv #yori #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

this isn't going to work (Angstpril 2024, #6)

"…This isn't gonna work."

Able looks up from the crystal he's examining, glancing over the microscope's interface. Cyrus looks…. tired. Like it's been a few cycles since he's had a decent amount of sleep, sure, but more than that. Like he's spent every moment of that sleeplessness pacing the length of this still-unfinished workshop, trying to outrun whatever it is that he can't quite shake.

Very well may have -- last night, at least.

"What isn't? These crystals? They might. Structure looks right, so as long as they've got the filtering capacity…"

"No. Not really what I meant." Cyrus swivels back and forth in the drafting chair for a while. Able knows that look; far-off, but focused, trying to pin down thoughts that stay just out of reach. "In the long run. Concentration's just a stopgap, but Tron's energy processing isn't gonna go back to normal, is it? No matter what we do, nothing's gonna be enough to fix him."

He sounds resigned to it. Means he's been thinking about this for a while, sitting with it and trying to process it on his own. Able's accepted that he'll never get the kid to be upfront with him, and maybe it's just as well -- it's not up to him to decide what role he takes on, after all.

But that doesn't mean it hurts any less to watch.

"I don't know," Able says softly. "I guess we'll just have to keep trying."

#signal to noise breakpoints #able #cyrus #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

emotionally distant (Angstpril 2024, alt #9)

"I don't know what they did to her in there," Zed says slowly, careful to keep his voice low, "but I'm telling you, Paige -- something is wrong with Mara. It's like…"

"Like she's not quite herself. Like she's pretending. Yeah." Her gaze sweeps the garage, lands on Mara for a moment. The shift in her expression, something that would be a smile if it wasn't so anxious, isn't lost on him. "I've noticed."

"You said she was gonna be fine."

"Because I thought she was. As far as I knew, it wasn't supposed to change people -- I was told it wasn't like that anymore."

"So Tesler's a liar. That's a surprise." Some part of him is taken aback by his own confidence -- Paige and Mara might be a thing now, but she's still… well… Commander Paige. He should know better. He does know better, but it's too late to back down now. "I know you haven't been around for a long time, but… yeah, Mara in orange is a pretty big change."

"No, I… I know that. --It's weird, how sudden it is. Her, specifically. One tick she's fine, and the next, her quota is the only thing that matters."

"She's always been like that, kinda -- losing Able made it worse, and then all the responsibility, and always being down a few programs when they…" He trails off, shakes his head. "But ever since she… y'know… it's been different. I don't know what it is -- it's not anxiety, it's not even her wanting us to do our best work. There's nothing behind it. Like she's… empty."

"Ever since she was rectified, you mean."

She says it like the word makes sense -- party line and all that, he guesses -- but her expression makes it perfectly clear to him that she hates its implications as much as he does. Sometimes he thinks she might be the only decent Occupation program, out of the whole lot of them.

"…Uh-huh. But why did it hit her differently than everyone else they took? And why did it change her circuits?"

"I wish I knew." Maybe she means it. Mara's said that she used to be a medic, some kind of… behavioral health specialization, whatever that means. "If I did, I could do something to help."

"Paige!" And there's Mara; she smiles like the front windows; not radiant, but reflective, hollow between its panes. "You didn't tell me you were coming by."

"Just checking in -- just got a little sidetracked." The glance she gives Zed probably reads completely different to Mara, but he takes it as "I guess we'll talk about this later". "How's that set of repairs going? Are we still on schedule?"

"Ahead of schedule, actually. I'm really proud of how we've picked up our pace in the last few cycles -- actually, let me show you…"

Zed watches as she drags Paige toward the lifts, suddenly more herself again than he's seen in at least eight cycles.

But it won't last long. It never does.

#finite states breakpoints #zed #paige #mara #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

homesick (Angstpril 2024, #1)

Dylan waits for the creak of the door across the hall before giving themself permission to get up. Thirteen cycles in, and they haven't managed to sleep for more than a quarter-cycle at any given time. Still running on the rehabilitation center's timetable, one much more regimented than the prototyping lab.

They don't sit up so much as roll out of bed, closer to the floor than they've come to expect. Maybe they'll get used to it eventually. But a room this size is supposed to be for nine programs, not one. There's ten other rooms just like it up here. Too much space. It's almost overwhelming.

And, for that matter, so is Siv's idea of a sane early-cycle routine.

"Hey." He doesn't look up at Dylan when they come in, too focused on the boiling energy he's pouring through a filter. "You sleep alright?"

"Uh… Yeah." They blink the sleep from their eyes, squinting at the device on the counter, the steaming energy within -- it looks more like a science experiment than anything that approaches safe to drink. "So is that like… a crystal?"

"Kind of. Better. It's a different reaction when it's heated, more thorough. It almost makes--"

Dylan yelps as the filter overflows, splashing energy across the counter. Siv mutters something under his breath; unfamiliar, but definitely some kind of blasphemy.

"That's it, I give up." He sighs, shaking his head like this was completely unavoidable. "I'm going back to bed. See you tomorrow. Don't break anything."

That's a joke, even if it doesn't sound like one. That's about the only thing Dylan's figured out about him.

It doesn't take him long to get everything cleaned up -- this must happen a lot -- and to carefully pour out two glasses of the stuff. The whole thing seems wasteful, in a way that Dylan can't quite put into words. It takes up time that should be used for something else.

"Here." The glass makes an odd noise as it slides across the counter; the resonance is wrong. It's small, and strangely heavy, energy lighting up the overlapping hexagons etched into it. "Careful, though."

"…Got it."

Siv looks at them curiously as he sits down at the table. Like they've said something wrong… again. Or maybe he's just as unsure of what to make of them as they are of him. "You okay?"

"Yeah." It's automatic, but not even remotely true. They don't like the idea of lying to him; there's a sincerity to his concern that compels something in their code to honesty. "…No. Maybe."

"What's wrong?"

Nothing here makes sense.

Nobody asked me whether I wanted this. I would have said no.

It's not your fault, but I think I hate it here.

"I don't know." Dylan takes a deep breath, hates the way it shakes -- this is why they couldn't find a placement for you, you know. "All of this is just… a lot."

"Yeah. Guess it would be; it's a big change. And Tally said you'd been there the longest, pretty much since they found you without your disc."

It's not quite pity, but it's close. Dylan nods.

"What do you miss most?"

"Oh. Uh…" Dylan does their best to hide behind a sip of energy. It's strong, and surprisingly sweet… but not necessarily unpleasant. "I…"

The other programs? No. Not many of them were there long enough for Dylan to even learn their names. Not the minders, either -- most of them are cold and distant. Tally, maybe? But they still see her; she comes by every few cycles to check in on them.

And they don't hate it here, not really. Siv is… weird, and hard to read, but seems kind enough. More than most of the other programs who've been put in charge of them, anyway.

"I think I was miserable there," they whisper. "So… why do I miss it?"

"Well… Do you want the easy answer, or the one that's hard to hear?"

"…What?"

"Easy answer -- change is hard. Not knowing what you're good at is hard. I say that from a lot of experience. I've had something like four different functions on this Grid alone." Siv offers them a wry smile, and somehow, Dylan finds themself believing him. "Maybe five. Depends on how you count."

"So what's the hard answer?"

"You miss it because you're supposed to miss it. They didn't just give you a new disc, Dylan. They did something to your code, too. It's supposed to erase everything that makes you unique -- to make you a good and loyal soldier, or whatever else they decide you're going to be. That's what's telling you that you miss it. But something about it didn't quite stick, I think -- otherwise, they would have found a use for you by now… and you wouldn't be asking questions like that."

"Is it ever going to go away?"

"With time, maybe. I'm not sure. I've only ever seen this happen once. Well… twice, now. --I want to help you, Dylan. But you're gonna have to trust me."

They shouldn't. Because he shouldn't know that -- how does he know that? And it's bad enough that they've been shuttled off here -- somewhere out-of-the-way and so utterly devoid of order -- because they weren't useful anywhere else.

"…I just want to go home."

But maybe that's just proving the point.

#signal to noise breakpoints #dylan #siv #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

frozen (Angstpril 2024, #2)

"What do you think his render's gonna be like, when he gets here?"

"Not sure. But he didn't seem too worried about it. And he can always change it again, if he's not happy with it." Demeter looks up from her datapad for a tick, a sharp frown creasing her brow. "Relax, Yori. Pacing a track into the floor won't get him here any faster."

"He wasn't worried about it because he didn't think the System was gonna recompile him." It comes out sharper than Yori should really be speaking to her sister -- but right now, she's not sure she can help it… or that she cares. "It's gonna take time to fix again, if it's not right. And Siv deserves better than for the first thing he sees in the mirror to be wrong… again."

"I never said he doesn't."

"I know, I know." You did, though, the first time. And you wonder why he doesn't talk to you. "I just… I'm worried about him. He should be here by now, shouldn't he? It's been almost a whole cycle."

Tron wakes up the status screen, and Yori watches the waves of compiler output scroll past, too fast to read, even if she could understand it. Lots of warnings.

"Still going." He follows her gaze, squeezes her hand. "Remember what Flynn said, before he left? Just because it says there are warnings…"

"Yeah. But a whole cascade of them? That doesn't seem good, does it?"

And no indication of progress, either.

"I don't know," he admits. "His code's fairly complex, isn't it? The automated screener could be taking a while."

"Or it could have flagged him." Demeter already seems resigned to it. Faintly disappointed at most, but even that might be a stretch. She's got just as much code in common with him as Yori does, just about -- but it's never seemed to matter. "Flynn never cleaned up his database, right? Still got all those fragments of malicious code kicking around in there."

"No." The idea of it -- of her brother not being here -- is catastrophic. "Siv wouldn't let him. Said the System deserved a chance to learn from what happened to us, what it took to fix... and then he'd let the System decide what to do with him afterward."

"Figures. Did this to himself, then."

Yori knows, of course, that the System doesn't see intent, or sense of purpose, or kindness… just code. Maybe all it sees is that list of malware signatures -- something meant to teach it, but… does it know that?

"Maybe," Yori says tonelessly. "But that doesn't mean he deserves it."

And as if in reply, the compiler's output stops. Freezes in place, the last message a cryptic error. Critical.

Tron steadies her as something in her code drops, dizzy and vertiginous.

::It's okay. Flynn can override it, or fix whatever isn't working.::

::He doesn't want that.::

::It might not be a major issue, Yori. Let's at least let Flynn take a look, okay?::

But she doesn't have an answer for him.

Demeter turns off the screen.

#finite states prologue #yori #demeter #tron #siv #angstpril 2024 #breakpoints archive

[finite-breakpoints]

Beck: "Hold on. Explain that to me again, slower, and listen to how you sound this time."

Cyrus: "So. The Grid and the System are two separate things -- the Grid is a place, but the System is a consciousness. And the reason the Grid is collapsing is because Clu trapped that consciousness somewhere, which destabilized the Grid."

Beck: "Okay. But seriously..."

Cyrus: "I'm not done."

Beck: "...you do hear yourself, right?"

Cyrus: "Shut the fuck up, Beck. Anyway, like I was saying--"

#incorrect mirror image #beck #cyrus

[finite-breakpoints]

Dylan, looking at Cyrus' multitool: "So what all can this thing do?"

Cyrus: "Read programs' metadata. Skim and clone unencrypted access keys. Pretty low-power, but it can do basic cryptanalysis for picking locks. It also has a knife."

Dylan: "Can I have a knife?"

Siv: "Absolutely not."

#incorrect signal // noise #dylan #cyrus #siv #(the multitool is basically a flipper zero with a knife)

[finite-breakpoints]

Mara: "You're insufferable."

Cyrus: "And?"

Mara: "And an absolute lunatic."

Cyrus: "And?"

Mara: "The bane of my existence."

Cyrus: "...And?"

Mara: (stares in utter frustration)

Cyrus: "Keep going if you want. I'm not gonna stop you."

Mara: "...Hold on. Is this your idea of fun? What is wrong with you???"

Cyrus: "You're gonna have to be more specific than that."

#incorrect mirror image #mara #cyrus

[finite-breakpoints]

Cyrus: "How many times do I need to apologize about the Tesla coil before you finally let it go?"

Beck: "I don't know. Are you ever actually gonna mean it when you do?"

Cyrus: "...define meaning it"

#incorrect mirror image #cyrus #beck