Ask Kryptor

Kryptor stood still, though his eyes looked away from Tron as the expression on the system monitor’s face changed. He probably shouldn’t have been here; this was meant to be a personal communique between Tron and his User… The least he could do was try not to spy.

When the other program addressed him, he frowned slightly and shuffled back. The analyst had a good deal of respect for Tron, but this was one behavior among security programs in general that he didn’t like… They tended to stand annoyingly close when they talked to someone, and could come across as somewhat aggressive when it was unwarranted. Despite that, he tried to keep his expression politely neutral as he maintained eye contact.

“Fragments of it, yes. The User asked me to point him to your location… As we were on our way here, they became damaged, and I needed to rebuild them. I didn’t pay more attention than was strictly necessary, but…”

Kryptor hoped that Tron would be okay with that. He knew he had a tendency to overstep his bounds, being a civilian… He just hated to leave problems of any kind for others to solve.

But?? Tron didn’t like the sound of that. Things were already delicate enough, if Kryptor gave any indication of the knowledge he possessed, no matter how subtle, well it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. However, Alan-One had trusted him with it, so, by extension, Tron should as well. Still, he felt the need to warn him just the same.

He wasn’t a good liar, but he doubted that anyone would ask him about the information directly... Kryptor kept to himself for the most part, and preferred to work from the background, avoiding unnecessary attention. He certainly didn’t want to get caught in the middle of the Program/ISO conflict.

Made a baseball cap with the TRON logo! It’s available for sale on my Etsy shop… if you’re a mutual, message me for free shipping within the U.S. and Canada, or $2.50 shipping to Europe

He was slightly less wary of his surroundings as he followed Tron away from the construction site - this was a program who was just as dedicated to his function as Kryptor himself, if not more so, and Kryptor trusted him to know that the area was safe.

At the prompt, the analyst nodded, and immediately opened his mouth to speak. “Yes. He wanted me to tell you: ‘Tron, you’ve worked hard to ensure the safety of this system, so now I’m giving you something in return. These round disks are enjoyed by the Users. However, there is a special way to enjoy them, one must be careful to observe. When performed correctly, the result will be rewarding. They are best enjoyed one at a time and a wise user will always start with eating the smallest first.’”

When Kryptor had finished reciting the message, he held out the tray.

Tron was skeptical at first, but then he thought about it. That message was peculiar, much like the baffling way of the Users. Besides, when had Kryptor ever lied to him? The message and the items were strange, yet the data of the situation was logical. If it were not important, why had Kryptor come to him, especially in an area he knew to be restricted from most civilians? The story definitely didn’t sound like something most programs would devise, and then there was the use of his User’s designation.

Very few other programs knew Alan-One’s name as Tron knew it. When Alan-One visited the Grid, he had other programs simply call him “Alan.” Once, he’d even told Tron not to use the old designation for him while he was in the Grid. Using his ENCOM alias would be their special signal, in case something should ever go wrong.

Tron hesitantly took the smallest object first, taking Alan-One’s hint as a command. He hoped he was right. After all, he wasn’t a wise User.

The taste and texture of the round item were somewhat different than he was anticipating, though he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. It was pleasant, somehow soothing although foreign. Suddenly, images flowed into his mind and he heard his User’s voice narrating. Alan-One. It was strange, hearing his User’s voice without Alan or an I/O beam directing it to him. Instead, it was inside his mind, as if Alan-One were whispering directly into his ear. “As you know, tensions with the Isos are only mounting. Rumors have begun to unfold…”

Externally, Tron’s expression darkened as he consumed each disk. Finally, when it was all over, he sighed and looked down. What Alan-One was implying wasn’t something Flynn would like, but he would definitely need to hear. A thought crossed his mind as he looked up.

When the other program addressed him, he frowned slightly and shuffled back. The analyst had a good deal of respect for Tron, but this was one behavior among security programs in general that he didn’t like... They tended to stand annoyingly close when they talked to someone, and could come across as somewhat aggressive when it was unwarranted. Despite that, he tried to keep his expression politely neutral as he maintained eye contact.

“Fragments of it, yes. The User asked me to point him to your location... As we were on our way here, they became damaged, and I needed to rebuild them. I didn’t pay more attention than was strictly necessary, but...”

Kryptor’s head snapped to attention, and he glanced at Ram with a jolt in response to the light touch. He gave a hasty nod. “All right.”

With that, he turned and scrambled away, up the scaffolding to the platform where the sentry had been standing. It was as good a place as any to start looking for something important… Something that might keep the two of them alive for the rest of the cycle. He was uncomfortably reminded of the harsh reality of their situation as he stepped over the voxels where the guard had finally derezzed.

He had screwed up, and he knew it. Being a data management program, Kryptor didn’t have great combat skills… He’d never had a need for them. He had known this when he decided to sneak into CLU’s base to steal data. He knew what was at stake if he got the smallest thing wrong… But he had to try. He couldn’t just ignore a problem.

What the analyst hadn’t planned for was that he might end up dragging someone else into his mess. That hadn’t been his intention at all.

At the top of the scaffolding were the power routing controls for the building’s elevators, equipment transports, and other mechanical conveyors. On impulse more than reasoned thought, he began hurriedly flipping all the switches, shutting them all down… If the guards couldn’t get up to this floor via the elevators, it might give himself and Ram some more time to make it out of there.

Once all the switches had been moved to the off position, Kryptor ran back down the stairs. He moved between pillars and pieces of machinery as fast as he could, looking for a maintenance access into the elevator shafts or through the machinery… That should be able to lead them to a way out of the tower.

     He watched Kryptor as he moved away, a cluster of green light in an otherwise crimson sea. Should’ve thought about circuit concealment, too. The pair of them stood out like sore thumbs with the way their suits contrasted with the natural colors of the base. 

     But there wasn’t time to dwell on past mistakes.

     There was, however, a brief moment where Ram thought to do something he hadn’t done in quiet some time: send a prayer to the Users. His User, to be more specific. It was quick and silent, relegated to his processors instead of spoken aloud, but it was genuine. Cycles ago, when he was just out of beta, it had been customary to save prayers for the I/O towers, as if those specific locations were the only places where the Users would be listening. Time and experience had altered Ram’s view. He believed, wholeheartedly, that the Users were always listening, even when he’d been stuck in the pit cells. He’d never been quite as reverent as some of the others, and meeting a User had showed him that their creators were not deities, but he still had faith in the beings that wrote him. 

     And even if they weren’t all-powerful and omnipotent, then the prayer at least served as a small comfort.

     Once he was finished, he moved quickly, careful to keep eyes on Kryptor even as he scanned for more guards. If they could avoid a fight altogether, it wold be preferable. He planned to fight only if it became necessary.

     Somewhere in the room, a door opened, the faint hiss of machinery just barely audible over the low hum of the rest of the electronic equipment occupying the space. Back pressed against a column, Ram didn’t dare to so much as breathe as a pair of sentries patrolled behind him. It sounded as if they were about to leave when Kryptor’s footfalls hit the stairs above them.

     Ram knew he had to act fast.

     His disc flew before he even had a visual read on the guards, an instinctual and well-practiced reaction that required little conscious input. One sentry was down and derezzed, Ram’s disc having sliced cleanly through his chest, before either had a chance to recognize his presence. His partner whirled around, following the return arc of the blue disc, and made ready to fight. 

Given the circumstances, the best thing Kryptor could do was focus on finding a way out of here.

He turned past a bulky metal structure that housed components of the building’s energy distribution system and ran down the corridor. So far he hadn’t seen any guards... It seemed like the only ones who were in the room were focused on Ram, though he certainly couldn’t count on that keeping him safe for long.

As he reached the end of the walkway, though, Kryptor saw something that just might be useful: a circular shaft which housed a series of large cooling fans. This one was much wider than the vent shaft they’d been crawling through earlier; if he leaned forward a bit and kept his head lowered, he could stand upright inside it. Such a structure might logically be used to expel hot air from the building, which would mean that it led outside... Even if it didn’t, it would lead to another mechanical room. Fewer guards than in the main areas.

He drew his disc and sliced through the wiring that supplied energy to the fan. There was a screeching grind that had his hands flying to the sides of his head to cover his ears, and the machine began to slow down. As soon as it was feasible to do so, Kryptor ducked between the fan blades and into the shaft.

He looked back for Ram.

Kryptor slid behind a large steel pillar that housed a rotating mechanism, like a conveyor belt with metal panels sticking out from it. Probably not the safest hiding place… If he slipped, the machine could probably rip off his arm or leg. It was thick enough to protect him from a disc thrown in his direction, however, which was his biggest concern at the moment.

As he darted for cover, he threw his disc at the sentry he’d seen through the vent grate. He was inexperienced in combat and he knew it - sure enough, the disc flew past the sentry harmlessly before coming back on its return arc. It passed close enough to force the Occupation program to hesitate in raising his arm to draw his own, though, and the analyst took advantage of the delay to throw his once again.

This time, the disc found its target.

It left a long gash across the sentry’s chest. The unfortunate program staggered backwards and fell from the platform he was standing on to the ground maybe twelve feet below, where he lay still. Kryptor silently cringed - he would have preferred a clean derezz over making the program suffer unnecessarily.

He caught his disc once again and slowly, carefully, poked his head around the pillar he stood next to, eyes scanning the room for more guards.

     The sentry’s delayed death didn’t offer much, in terms of their survival chances. A pang of dread went through Ram’s processors at the notion that he might have had the chance to call for help in the time it had taken for him to go derez. CLU’s guard, as mechanically unthinking as they were, often had rather strong subvocal communication links with one another. It helped information to spread among the ranks in a more efficient fashion, and was one of the major reasons why the Admin could assemble and disperse his forces so quickly. Although it hadn’t taken more than a couple of nanos for Krytpor to take a more accurate aim, those precious moments would have been more than enough time for the sentry to send out an emergency ping. Even if he’d been the only one guarding the room, there was a fair chance that backup would be on the way shortly.

     Ram touched Kryptor’s arm.

     “You know the mechanics of this place better than I do,” he whispered urgently. “Focus on looking around for anything useful; I’ll cover you as best I can.” With a seriously sincere expression, he added, “And if you find a way out, don’t worry about me, just run.”

With that, he turned and scrambled away, up the scaffolding to the platform where the sentry had been standing. It was as good a place as any to start looking for something important... Something that might keep the two of them alive for the rest of the cycle. He was uncomfortably reminded of the harsh reality of their situation as he stepped over the voxels where the guard had finally derezzed.

He had screwed up, and he knew it. Being a data management program, Kryptor didn’t have great combat skills... He’d never had a need for them. He had known this when he decided to sneak into CLU’s base to steal data. He knew what was at stake if he got the smallest thing wrong... But he had to try. He couldn’t just ignore a problem.

What the analyst hadn’t planned for was that he might end up dragging someone else into his mess. That hadn’t been his intention at all.

At the top of the scaffolding were the power routing controls for the building’s elevators, equipment transports, and other mechanical conveyors. On impulse more than reasoned thought, he began hurriedly flipping all the switches, shutting them all down... If the guards couldn’t get up to this floor via the elevators, it might give himself and Ram some more time to make it out of there.

[Previous] To be continued View Larger Image Here

If he had to face the consequences of that now… the idea terrified him, particularly if it involved rectification, but he’d live with it. He looked up at Ram to make sure that the other program was ready.

Slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible, the analyst gripped the vent grate and pried it up. As it came free, he wedged the fingers of his other hand between the grate and the surrounding metal of the vent, in an effort not to let the metal pieces clank against each other accidentally. Once he had the grate fully removed from the recess it fit into, he slid it over and, slowly, with great precision, lowered it onto the inner surface of the vent. By his caution and patience he was able to do so without making noise that would alert the sentry - and whoever else may be down there - to their presence.

Then the analyst drew his disc. Doing so quietly, in the vent with barely any room to maneuver, took just as unreasonably long and just as much patience as it had taken him to remove the vent grate. However, he managed it without his arm bumping against the side or top of the metal shaft - there was only a quiet click of his disc leaving its dock.

     He blanched when Kryptor took off at a run, and he froze for a moment like a proverbial deer in the headlights. Surely it would be better to take it slow, try to be stealthy? Ram didn’t even really know what he was looking for – a control panel or mechanics of some sort, he assumed, but he’d never been this deep in an Occupation base before. This was unfamiliar territory, and his only ally was ready to run headlong into it without even pausing to look around.

     It was a dry, sobering thought that ultimately got his feet moving again, got his grip to settle on his disc as he sprinted to catch up. The question churning in his processors was an entirely unpleasant one, but it was a bizarrely effective motivator.

     What does it matter now? We have nothing to lose.

     The anticipation was the worst part. Waiting for an ambush, for the first disc to fly set every line of Ram’s code on edge. He dared to hope that maybe they really had lucked out and found an empty room, but he didn’t let the idea put him at ease. 

As he darted for cover, he threw his disc at the sentry he’d seen through the vent grate. He was inexperienced in combat and he knew it - sure enough, the disc flew past the sentry harmlessly before coming back on its return arc. It passed close enough to force the Occupation program to hesitate in raising his arm to draw his own, though, and the analyst took advantage of the delay to throw his once again.

This time, the disc found its target.

It left a long gash across the sentry’s chest. The unfortunate program staggered backwards and fell from the platform he was standing on to the ground maybe twelve feet below, where he lay still. Kryptor silently cringed - he would have preferred a clean derezz over making the program suffer unnecessarily.

Kryptor cautiously approached the leading security program. He kept a watchful eye open for more falling debris, as well as for gridbugs and anything else that might be around to harm him this cycle. He gripped the plate of cookies, careful not to tilt or drop it, and kept his head lowered in the hope that he wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention walking around a restricted zone with such an odd-looking object.

“Tron,” he called out as he got close. “Alan-One sent me here to deliver a message to you…”

The analyst glanced overhead at the workers on the scaffolding above them.“Would you like to go somewhere to talk privately?”

No, what Tron had thought he’d seen really was there. Kryptor approached him with some sort of…item. Even as the analyst approached, the thing appeared no less peculiar. What was that? It was strange enough to look at, stranger still to see the predictably logical analyst carrying something so unusual.

Tron eyed the object with some apprehension, but his demeanor changed at the mention of his User’s name. He glanced once more at the work crew before nodding. He motioned for one of his deputies to replace him.

“Something’s come up that requires my attention,” he informed the deputy. “Cover for me while I’m gone.”

The program nodded and Tron headed away from the site. Once they were in a secluded area, Tron faced Kryptor.

At the prompt, the analyst nodded, and immediately opened his mouth to speak. “Yes. He wanted me to tell you: ‘Tron, you’ve worked hard to ensure the safety of this system, so now I’m giving you something in return. These round disks are enjoyed by the Users. However, there is a special way to enjoy them, one must be careful to observe. When performed correctly, the result will be rewarding. They are best enjoyed one at a time and a wise user will always start with eating the smallest first.’”

She paused in the doorway, hand hesitating against the doorframe. She hadn’t expected to see him here.

She glanced to Kryptor as he sunk to the floor, but paused only for a second before answering his question.

“It was an accident honestly…” She looked up to the ceiling as she spoke. “I had been working late and heard a commotion down the hall, like someone had been angry. I went to go check if they were alright, and if they needed any help, but this room was empty. I was going to leave when I realized they hadn’t saved their work. Because I didn’t want them to have to deal with the possibility of losing their work, I had sat down to save it, and it…” She shrugged. “There was a problem with one of the inputs that led to the laser behind us, and when I fixed it, it sent me to the Grid.”

She paused as she rethought over what she had said. Someone had been here…why didn’t she realize it before?

“…Maybe I’m not the only user who knows.” She muttered to herself more than to Kryptor.

“Working late? So you have a curfew that you have to obey as well?”

Kryptor misinterpreted her words; to him, there was nothing to life other than his function. Working late could only have meant that he was out past when the sentries said he could be. “And yet somehow, you always manage to be wandering around the Grid past the start of ours. Well, I can’t fault you, I stay out past curfew working quite a bit...”