#novus programma

I check my identity disk before setting off. If I have to get from one place to another, then I'll have to find a means of transportation: I can't rely on public transportation; that would only make things much worse and put me in danger I'd rather avoid; I've already wasted too much time fooling around. Maybe I can get one of those light-cycles again, although I doubt chance will be on my side again to get what I want at such an opportune moment as it could be now... or later. For now, I can only walk until I find something, or someone, that will be useful to me on my way to Argon. After what I've been through in the past few cycles, it's strange to be surrounded by such calm, but that may just be an effect of being surrounded by situations and events that stir my adrenaline, one after the other, and the next. I activate my helmet, and not because it's of any use to try to remain anonymous at this point, when even the "wanted" posters have been updated to show not only my uncovered face, but now also have a reference to the design of my helmet.

If not, to make sure there isn't a stray program that finds me as a potential victim or reward, and can finish me off without me even realizing it. Maybe I should have killed that other program instead of letting it go as if nothing had happened. I don't know why I let it go after all; I knew it was going to cause me some trouble—in this case, revealing what I look like with a helmet and all—but I let it go anyway. I sigh, and find myself in the middle of one of the many dimly lit streets of Purgos. Looking to my left, a large window reflects my appearance. White circuits are present along my body; abstract in design and glowing in an almost whitish hue, different from the circuits of the rest of the programs that live on The Grid. I stand out, and at the same time, they overshadow me.

Additional lights approach from behind me, of which I can spot about... one... two? Yes. Two programs. Their identity discs chime in unison as they pick them up and activate them, as if ready to attack me.

“Your disc, program,” one of them says, to which the other quickly adds, “Hurry!”

While I'm busy trying to keep them from seeing the file I'm carrying, I use my other hand to reach for my identity disc, which I hold out to the side to show I wouldn't try to make any kind of move that might alert their defenses. Lie. Of course I would, but this moment, when both of them are still out of my reach, isn't the best. Therefore, I wait for them to approach, and as soon as I hear footsteps approaching behind me, I spin around while extending my leg so I can kick my enemy in the side, thus causing him to have a moment of weakness. I take advantage of it, activating my disc in a flash and thus slicing through the program's shoulder and neck, who then dissolves into glowing cubes between me and the program who is, or was, his partner. As the air leaves his lungs in what I believe to be shock or surprise, a large flying object passes above us. Dark, with details that light up in a color... orange? Reddish? It's hard to distinguish from such a great distance. Footsteps are moving away from my position. I quickly turn around at the sound of the receding footsteps and throw my disc, which hits the program that was trying to escape. Fortunately, it doesn't manage to do so.

I've seen a couple more of those giant machines that float around these parts, but I still can't figure out what they are, or if they could be of any use to me on this journey I must take. I haven't even discovered how to reach them—if it's even possible at all.

A quarter of a cycle must have passed while I've been walking toward Argon, without a satisfactory outcome, of course. No programs I could borrow their vehicle from, no shortcuts...

“You cross my territory, kill my people, and just carry on like nothing happened?” The voice makes me stop where I am, turning my head toward the source of the voice. “You must be the gutsiest program I've ever met…”

As I brace myself for any imminent danger, figures emerge from the shadows, and this time, it seems they aren't just two programs I have to face... but four... five?

"Or the stupidest" six.

Finally, I'm cornered. In the middle of, once again, a street in Purgos. However, while they advance as if they had all the time possible on The Grid, the roar of an engine is heard in the distance, rapidly approaching in this direction. Turning to my right, I still can't see the shape of the vehicle, but knowing it's coming from this side, I act quickly, finding one of those climbing objects that hang from the tallest and most difficult-to-climb buildings. Using an indefinite object near one of the enemy programs as support, I jump to grab hold of the hanging tool, which I use to elevate my body with a little more force and thus avoid the light-cycle that devastates everything on the street, dividing the group of six programs that tried to threaten me into equal halves. None of them are hurt, but they all flee the scene, as if escaping a greater danger. I haven't let go of the set of metallic steps yet, nor have I climbed it completely. I just stand there waiting for what's happening a few meters below me: the trail of reddish-orange light that slowly disappears along with the sudden disappearance of the engine, which has apparently stopped just a couple of blocks ahead.

With a little more confidence that this group of programs won't bother me again, I let go so I can land on my feet and see the cycle that had interfered with something that was going to become a serious problem for me. The circuit is unexpectedly similar to that of the other air vehicles I'd seen passing over Purgos. Before I could think about who the possible driver could be—something that would be impossible for me to decipher given my limited knowledge of authority programs—the engine roars again and the motorcycle approaches at high speed once more. I immediately jump out of the driver's way to find protection between the narrow walls of an alley, thus beginning to run toward a more remote location, or at least one where that other program could forget about me—but no. A figure falls a few steps in front of me, so much so that I stop dead in my tracks to avoid collapsing against this new addition to the script.

“You have something that doesn't belong to you, program,” the anonymous figure extends their hand in my direction, as if waiting for me to hand them something… the file. “Give back what you stole; this doesn't have to end badly.”

“Over my cold cubes.”

“So be it, then.”

The program lunges at me, forcing me to step back to avoid the disc that's clanging very close to my neck. An unexpected move, no doubt, considering the number of inexperienced opponents I'd faced in past cycles. Suddenly, the alleyway becomes a dance floor where I'm tasked with dodging attacks that could have potentially killed me had I not reacted at the right moment. If only I had a second to grab my disc...

"You only know how to dodge?"

Finally, I manage to make a difference by causing the two discs to collide, creating a series of small sparks against their edges.

"Not really."

Seeing a gap in the brief pause, I set out to counterattack my opponent, this time forcing the other program to retreat to avoid my attack. I can finally get some air, which I take advantage of to quickly analyze my surroundings: there aren't many static objects I could use as support to ascend to the rooftops as usual. I only have the option of walking the rest of this alley toward my enemy, or retreating and risking running into the vehicle from before, which is surely eagerly awaiting my return. As much as it's hard for me to admit it, and as much as I'd like to generate another option, one that's safer or more reliable, the latter seems to be the only one that gives me a better chance of survival before continuing to try to defend myself against this program. I turn on my heels to charge toward the street I was previously fleeing from, this time to use it as my only apparent escape route. Since I can't spot the light cycle, I take advantage of every bit of time I have to get away from the danger; confronting it is a mistake, knowing that this time they're outnumbering me in both quantity and advantages at their disposal. I run. I run and I keep running. It seems to be the only thing I can do.

There it is again, the hungry roar of the engine that would have been hunting me down just moments ago. As I turn my head, something different approaches my vision: the familiar shape of a disc, having been flung toward me. Instead of racing to see who was the fastest, I turn my gaze forward and throw myself to the ground. It was the only way I had to dodge the unexpected attack from behind. As I turn around to lean on my elbows, I see the cycle speeding toward me. I guess it's the end.

“Hold on tight, program!”

The driver's arm extends, and suddenly I'm swept away by the wind. Or, well, this other program that forced me into the vehicle… wait—

“I know what you're trying to do. I'm not going to give you away.”

He knows? I don't think it's my user: his clothes, lack of accent, and different tone of voice betray that, not to mention that this other one also covers his face under the safety of a helmet. Despite being gnawed by curiosity to try to find out who this mysterious program is, it doesn't do me any good to know his name or find out why he came to my rescue, and why he shows no interest in handing me over to certain authorities.

"Are you mute?"

“My apologies. I'm… in shock.”

I lied. I looked back, and the silhouette of the previous program was distorting in the distance. For a moment, it revealed the face behind the anonymity, this way showing feminine features and a dark fringe that covered part of her right side. I'd have to be careful when I come across those red circuits.

Not long after, we exit onto what appears to be a highway. I scan the signs, trying to find some clue as to where we're going. One of the many signs announces in neon blue "Toward Argon," though I fail to read the distance we are from this new destination. Moving side by side on both the right and left, two cycles with the striking red light I said I'd be wary of before entering the highway, appear. They soon overtake us and activate a trail the same color as the circuit imprinted on their vehicles. It doesn't take me long to discover the exact purpose of that light, since as soon as these walls close in, the rear of the motorcycle begins to suffer damage.

“Damn...” I spit out under my breath before extending my identity disc and, activating it, I throw it towards the rear of the vehicle that is trying to block us from the right, severely damaging the same place from which the lethal wall of light spreads, “I’ll take that one.”

Without further ado, I take advantage of the driver's attempt to control the light motorcycle to jump on top of it, not only stabilizing its wobble but also retrieving the disc that had been stuck behind the motorcycle and thus derezzing the program. It was another red-circuit program. Perhaps they are part of the authority, after all. Fellows of the sentinels who had pursued me the first cycle in which I entered The Grid. My almost imperceptible circuit ally approaches, and behind him I can see how he had disposed of the second potential threat, given that the second light-cycle was rolling down the highway before returning to its portable state. Turning my gaze to the program who now appears to be my ally, he greets me with a nod before returning to the road and overtaking me, to which I accelerate slightly so as not to lose sight of him and thus, likewise, be driving alongside him. I know the dangers aren't over yet, but I also know things could be worse than they are right now. The cycle I'm keeping up with slows down, moving alongside me for a while, until the driver's voice echoes.

“We'll get off at the next ramp!” His tone was close to a shout, as the noise of the other vehicles made it impossible to speak normally.

After nodding, we both looked ahead. As we focused on the next drop-off, we both headed for it, and the other driver overtook me again, as if leading me down a new path. I didn't refuse, but instead joined in, following behind his vehicle. We drove past a few blocks before stopping on a quieter street, where the programs didn't seem to show very often. The program stopped, and so did I, both of us getting off the machines before I could undo “mine” in a baton. I shouldn't have to, but, overwhelmed by the stress of being locked inside a helmet, I deactivated it to reveal my face, now familiar to several programs, and I fixed my hair a bit so it wouldn't obstruct my view.

“You're causing some problems to The Occupation, that's obvious. They'll most likely start performing disc checks at the stations, hoping to find you there.” He muttered with his arms crossed, but his tone betrayed no hint of anger. Or pride.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” he was in front of me in two steps, his index finger resting on my chest in a justifiable way, “that 'being careful' won't be enough for you. Your destiny is in Argon, that's known. But you won't get far if you keep this up.”

He moves forward again, and this time he circles me. This whole thing is rather strange; I haven't asked for backup—help? My user hadn't mentioned introducing a second program to The Grid, or even said anything about sending me a partner, of any kind. A strange 'click' brings me back to my senses, and I turn around to find the other program holding my identity disc. A grunt escapes my throat, and I raise my left leg to kick my disc back. Something that would have worked… if the other program hadn't held my leg at just the right moment to stop me.

“Are you done?” as if nothing had happened, “I'm just going to make a simple modification. I assure you it will help.”

Although deeply suspicious, I finally step down and move my leg away from him, my eyes fixed on his actions on my disc. The way he flips from one page of information to the next, the way he pauses to read for longer than necessary on one, the small “hmm” he lets out under his breath, and finally, how he begins his “simple change.” It's not long before he finishes his work and returns the disk to me, which I place behind my back. It doesn't feel like any change has occurred... perhaps it's more of an aesthetic modification?

“Your helmet design is different now. At least you'll be able to be a little more anonymous again.” He answered my question as if he'd been able to read my thoughts, “Try not to be exposed all the time, though. Some programs are too observant.”

I nodded without moving my lips, trusting what the other program—or user—was saying. The other sighed, and that apparently marked the end of our encounter, so the program mounted his light-cycle once more, revving the engine to a wild roar and about to leave the scene.

“Your programming… is interesting. Be careful out here, Novus.” Without anything else being addded, he disappeared into the neon streets of The Grid.

…

I can't be crazy, right?

I know there is someone wandering around, I see this program or not... either way, I keep walking just a bit more, now trying to figure out where I find myself in; no signs around that could help me identify the place, and the screens... they are just full of vivid colors. I frown at the thought of the alley from earlier, though "earlier" feels like long ago now. I hear another buzzing noise, this time coming from one of the screens I was walking past. As I turn to look at it out of curiosity, I am surprised with a familiar look: my face is being projected in the screen along with a sign, "wanted".

"Of course..." I quickly activate my helmet in order to hide my identity and look down at the file I still have in my hands. Is there truly no way I could turn this thing into something smaller? That'd make it much easier to carry than this whole rectangle...

I finally reach an open space. It seems programs walk these parts more often than the streets I've been going through. The conversations collapse, and it's all resumed in one big whatever they're saying.

Even here I can find those wanted signs with my face in them... it'll only make it more difficult for me to escape and go back to my user with this ... file? Damn it. I feel desperation growing directly from my chest to the rest of my body as I look around, even down to the floor - the item is no longer in my authority, and that is obvious. How can I be so... dumb? If that word makes any sense. Finally, I can notice one of the many programs subtly making its way through the small crowd into the opposite direction to where I stand, and so I come to realize: this one is holding what was in my hands. I try to maintain a good composure, not simply rush towards them since I recognize it could make myself the center of attention once more, and I have had a fair amount of that attention already. Mimicking the other program's steps, I swiftly move towards who is now my enemy, trying to pass through the other programs until I get to find myself in a slightly less crowded space, but now I can't really seem to find the one I'm looking for.

"Move, program!" Jackpot.

I focus on where the voice came from, spotting my objective, and so now I take advantage of the lesser amount of programs around to run towards it, beginning my chase.

"You! Stop right there!" My voice is slightly changed under the influence of my helmet, something that is actually useful due to my current state of wanted.

This specific program seems to be slightly quicker than the others that had been trying to go after me... I won't let that get to my nerves. But there is something that bothers me, though. It's the fact that I don't know about this place at all; they do. The turn from one street to another makes me dizzy for a second until I find myself... alone. All. Alone. I can't even hear footsteps anymore. It's like I've been chasing nothing this whole time. A small buzz caught me by surprise, making my head turn towards the noise.

I frown, and I can't really move right now as I'm trying to think of all the possibilities, all the possible routes.

Above.

I look up and find just in time what seems to be the program that I was trying to spot once again. This time, I don't call for it in order to not alarm their senses, but simply go after the objective once again. Now it's simpler to climb with two free hands, huh? Once I'm on top of one of the ceilings, I look from a fair distance how this program was exchanging words with another... but I don't care about that now. It's not impossible, but certainly difficult, to go jumping as I approach. I will make sure it doesn't escape now. I take the identity disk from my back and, once I activate it, I throw it in the enemy's direction, creating a whole new hole right in it's chest before it all crumbles in cubes in front of the second program who seems to be left in a state of pure shock. Was it that surprising? With no more time to waste, I take the file from the pile of cubes, not really worrying about the other program.

"Taking what's mine." I say, and the program finally reacts... it seemed furious.

"How dare you?!" It spitted and lunged towards me as their disk was activated and trying to be used as a weapon... but this program didn't seem to actually be able to fight. No. It must not be in its programming at all.

It was all entertaining - a waste of time. The program missed each of the blows it tried to provide. No slash could affect me. But I was getting tired of it. It'll be better if I just end this right here and now before I save myself someone else against me. I take my disk once again, and— ...

I fall backward, the back of my helmet hitting the floor that receives me almost as a reward. How could I act so confidently to not really have my eyes in the opponent's movements? I try to get up as quickly as it is possible before I let the program attack me twice in a row... but the sooner I tried, the later it was for me to accomplish it as a kick on the side of the helmet makes everything confusing, a heavy dizziness hitting right in the spot for what felt like an eternity. I feel something grabbing me, but I can't focus my vision past the damaged dark visor, now divided in two sections: the broken side which allowed the program to see the face behind the mask, and the intact one, that allowed me to maintain half of my identity anonymous. Voices in the back of my head try to talk, but I can't make sense of their words, I am only able to hear a strong buzz and a faint light come closer. Buzzing? With a strong gasp, I snap out of whatever got into me, using my remaining reflexes to kick away the program that was threatening to end my life just a moment ago.

It is useless to use the helmet at this point given the damages it had obtained, so I deactivate it and approach towards the file on the floor to take it once again, securing it against me as I hold a slightly hunched position, the identity disk activating and humming with a death threat to it as I point it towards the opposite program. Why can't I seem to focus yet? My body shivers slightly, and my breath is heavy and unsteady, coming out of me as forced gasps. I suppose it's because of what happened early.

"Don't risk it, program. You know It's not worth it." I suggest with a small change in my tone. I can recognize this time what caused it; doubt, at least. Control, at most.

It seems to hesitate this time... and finally, it leaves. It... left. They left. I can rest. I feel my body failing, as if about to shut down. This can't be happening, not right now. Not after going through such a dangerous event...

The screen in front of me is like a comforting figure. After placing back my identity disk where it originally belongs as I let out a heavy sigh filled with stress, I dismiss the message, whispering under my breath, which seems to start to regulate.

"Yes... yes, I am."

I know that, somehow, my user seems to be able to know where I find myself in and, most curiously, what I say. I wonder if he has the same power to know what the other programs talk about.

A few cycles have passed. Maybe three or four... perhaps five, even. I have lost the count the moment I had to pay more attention to my surroundings not to get caught by the black guards that have started to appear more often on these parts. Not only that, I have tried to repair the helmet on my own for it to recover its missing piece. There was no way that i could walk around this city with my face revealed when everyone, for sure, was looking for me. Surprisingly, I was able to fix it... with a few failed attempts behind, yes, but fixed it nonetheless. During these past cycles, I haven't received any news or messages from my user, not even instructions, guides; no. Nothing at all. It was a total silence for me, as I, too, had to hide away from the programs while trying to figure out the specific code that could regenerate the state of my helmet and turn it back into its complete version. I know he hasn't forgotten about me. He must be thinking about something; he knows my situation, he surely does, and he must be planning how to get me out of this problem that I accidentally put myself into. As something bright illuminates my head from above, I look up.

"I'm sorry," he said shortly against his teeth while his gaze went to a side. "Your purpose here... it is to find a specific archive for me."

He takes one and two steps back from me, leaving my square of personal space for no one but myself.

"I will send you information about it from the outside. That should be useful for you."

I look towards what seems to be the city of The Grid, the place I find myself in. A screen appears floating beside me, brighting in a white light with a message in it. I can imagine it's the sector where I'll be able to find this archive my user wants me to get for him... getting up from the rough territory, I stretch a little bit before walking my way towards the big buildings.

Once I reach the entrance of the city, I take a small look around - my user wasn't really able to explain or, at the very least, tell me the important things of this place. I heard a few items coming out from his mouth; stuff like games, like security, like C.L.U. I can only do so much with the extra information he provided me. I don't blame him. Not only because he's my creator, the one I owe my life to, but because he seemed to be in a hurry... I wonder why.

I find a small group of programs chatting about whatever their interest was, and I put my eye on something that'd help me: a baton that's being held next to one of the program's hip. I approach, careful but confident on my movements only to fake a bump of shoulders in which I am quick to apologize before continuing my way to the core of the city, now with the baton that I was able to take from this innocent program. Of course, I could only get away with it for a short while before I heard a shout.

"It was him! he took it!" It was obvious I did, anyway.

I sprint before putting the baton to action and deploy a bike to get me out of the situation. I wanted to be sneaky with all of this... as much as possible, that is. Either way, it should be easier to get to the place I have to go now that I have a vehicle with me. And as expected, it was. However, I do recognize the speed of such a machine was near-deadly. Or maybe it wasn't the speed, but the way I was driving it... no matter the reason, I could not be using the same vehicle again after attracting such amount of attention to myself. That's why, once I reached a spot near the building where my destination actually was, I got down of the light-cycle and turned it off. Instead of keeping it, I walked around just for a little bit until I found a lonely program, seemingly enjoying the last few drops of a blue and shiny drink. My user didn't tell me a thing about something similar.

"Hey," I started, extending the hand that was holding the baton to offer it to the other program. "Wanna take a ride?" I know it'd be something my user would say... probably.

Luckily for me, this other program accepted the gift almost immediately, and with a curiously big smile, she replied: "What? is it for me? or you just don't know how to drive?" and for some reason, that made me smirk - just a little bit. Maybe that... offended me. It's no good when you feel someone reads you that easily.

"It is for you, yes," and once I said that, she just took the baton and went away with it. I never would've guessed they liked these vehicles so much... point for Novus, then? as soon as the thought goes away, a similar bright screen like the one from earlier appeared next to me.

I looked around, finding the way back to the main building I was supposed to go to. During my short walk towards this place, something caught my attention, making me stop abruptly. A giant, yellowish screen reflected the image of someone dressed in dark, additionaly using a helmet of the same tone as well. This program had the stance of a leader... maybe he is the one in charge of all this place. Of The Grid. But that's not what I'm here for, anyway.

After dismissing the big projection, I focused on my mission once again and finally reached the door of the big building. If an archive is what I'm looking for, then this should be the storage of information my user is so interested in. I take one last look at my surroundings and not only because the lights and flashy messages of the other walls caught my attention, but because I was also trying to search for two important things: the lack of programs around the scene, and a better way to get myself inside without having to fight my way in. The first point was checked and done, now I just have to work on the second one. This is how I decided to climb up a different and not-so-tall building to make it to the taller and bigger one. It was difficult for me to go jumping from one ceiling to the other, but it was not impossible. Once I find myself where I'm interested in being in, I activate my helmet just in case I need the anonymity to go deeper inside. I opened the door and started going down, trying to find the specific room that i was looking for. Curiously enough, there seemed to be not enough programs guarding the halls of the establishment, making it easier for me to sneak my way through and, after needing to knock only one program out of the way, find what I was looking for.

The door opens before me, letting me inside the storage where I turn off my helmet once I hear the door shut itself behind me. I let out a heavy sigh.

"That's a lot of information..." I say to myself in what was almost a whisper, looking up and down through the shelves that seemed to hold the files in place. I wonder if they're as organized as I need them to be to simply find the one I need and run away to safety once more.

The task I was given to accomplish is actually easier than I expected it to be. Get in, take the file, and get out. Even a kid could do it ... What is that anyway?

A third message popped up beside me, and I turned my head to look at it and be able to read what it said this time.

The soldiers'? that is everything but specific. It may mean my user wants me to get a file that contains The Grid's soldiers' information... reminds me of the big screen with the powerful-looking program I saw on my way here. Maybe he has something to do with this as well. Better keep searching before anyone comes in. And so, I keep searching... and searching... and searching. There is no archive that shows such a big amount of information like the one that my user is looking for, reason why I take two pieces and analize them at the same time - maybe one has something the other one doesn't, or maybe the other one has even more important information than the first one and so on. I click my tongue as I don't seem to be able to finish checking on all archives at once... of course, it won't be a simple task now due to the poor specification of my user...

I keep occupying my eyes in the text and images from the screens of the archives I read and see, trying to find something of major importance. Until I seem to find something.

There is a fight; the approximate number of five soldiers that run after one special program with a white suit. The point of view of the image is confusing due to all the movement, but I am able to understand the scene despite this - the description of other functions collide one with another as the imagery barely shows a glimpse of a yellow circuit. There he is again. The video suddenly stops with a crash and a pained groan. I gasp shortly, eyebrows furrowing. This has to say something by itself, right? I held the piece with my left hand while I tried to find anything that could provide more information about such an interesting event with the hand I have free, when all of a sudden, the motion of the door opening on my left side makes me stop on my tracks to turn and see who was at the door. A program. One of ... short height. My mind can't stop thinking about what to do in this situation; I was caught, I can either delete the program from existence or apologize all the way down to my knees. I looked the other side without really turning my head, catching a glimpse of what seemed to be a window. Or escape. Without getting to ponder more about it, I let go of the less informative archive and took the identity disk from my back, activating it as well as the helmet just before rushing to the glass window and crash against it, breaking a backdoor for me to escape the problem that was originating above. As I'm falling, I pierce the disk against the wall as a form to slow down the fall and don't go flat against the floor when I get to land.

When my feet finally reach the safety the floor provides, I'm left with a quickened breath and a dangerous situation I accidentally put myself in. I can't believe this. I save the disk on my back where it belongs but keep the helmet on, giving a quick glance around before deciding it'd be best to make myself look smaller for now... maybe just walk through the alleys. I am not certain about what that program that spotted me on the archive storage is able to do. No matter if that was just a little bit ago, I can sense the eyes of the soldiers on my back, watching my every move. I have to get back to my user, somehow. Someway. I need to.

I am not able to recognize my surroundings. The structures here are equally interesting as the last ones, but they lack the amount of light the others had. These also seemed to have fewer screens and promotional projections... maybe these alleys aren't as important to the head of The Grid. Doesn't matter. I shake the thought away and focus on my task once again... or, well, the last part of it. As I try to turn to a different section of the street, I hear some talking behind my back - the voices sound desperate. Anxious, even. I slightly turn my head while I hide the stolen file by pressing it against my chest, spotting two of what seemed to be guards... soldiers? Sentinels. Maybe that little program has alerted them to take me and give what I took back. That is not going to happen. I take advantage of them not noticing me yet and rush away from the new danger, escaping to what seemed to be a more isolated area of the sector. Soon enough, I hear them grow alert because of my quick and noisy steps against the cold floor...

How will I get out of this one if fighting is not an option? I'm afraid they'll chase me to the end, or even worse; call for backup. The resolve of the last option could end with me falling on a trap they set with other of their kind...

I have to think of something.

I look around, see if I can spot anything that could help me before the sentinels get any closer to me. For my luck, I see some... thing hanging from one of the structures, seemingly helping enough for me to climb up before they walk past this corridor. I climb it up, but they seem to notice something is off, as I can hear quick steps coming my way. And it's not easy to climb up with only one hand free. How frustrating. I go up the fastest I can until I finally jump up, laying on the ceiling not because of tiredness, but to lower the chances of the security curiously looking up.

"It's got to be from here, come on!"

I wait a little while... then a bit longer...

...

I take advantage of the last glimmers of functionality from the cycle I borrowed from the authorities to continue on my way to Argon. My little adventure in the city of Purgos will be something I'll make sure not to forget in case I can use anything I learned here, should I ever get into another chase or fight from numerous programs, as had happened in the heart of the aforementioned city. It's not long after that the vehicle's engine begins to fail, its light constantly turning on and off as a warning, letting me know it won't be able to stay functional much longer until it manages to become obsolete. Rather than risk the motorcycle suddenly stopping working and ending up rolling on the ground like a fool, I decide to pull over to the side of the road so I can save the code in its portable form and continue the rest of the way on foot. Luckily, I'm not that far from the toll station. Security booths? I don't know the correct term to define the border between the two cities, but I do know one thing.

"Disc."

Just as the program had warned me, it seems the guards are running checks on other programs' discs, looking for memories, playing them back like videotapes. There weren't just a couple of programs, but lines of programs waiting for their discs to be approved by the authorities in order to gain entry to the next city. Perhaps for those programs this is security, but not for me; since for me and my mission, this qualifies as just another problem. A threat, an attempt against—

“Hey, watch your step!”

“Apologies—excuse me.” I hastily apologize, trying not to draw too much attention to myself.

Focused on the actions of the sentries, guards of various ranks, and trying to find a way out that didn't include having to offer my disc for inspection, I bumped into a shorter male program. He was accompanied by another program; short, colorful hair, almost the same hue as The Grid's energy. What a curious duo. No longer wanting to dwell on that minor accident, I continue my search, this time without moving too far from my spot so as not to stumble upon someone else. A familiar sound instantly captures my senses: a purr, something more mechanical. Something like a buzz. I try to find the birth point of this sound and, in doing so, I notice two major points of focus, since it is not only one of my user's recognized messages that catches my attention, but its location which coincidentally serves as a clue to give me direction on where I should continue with this mission.

Just below the point where the message appears, a dispute begins. The perpetrators are a total of three programs: two of them are guards, and one that appears to be a worker. Or perhaps something more than that, given the topic of the argument between them.

“And why should I show you my disc?! I have nothing to hide!”

If so, you should be able to show the disc without any problem. The words were precise enough to predict the future outcome of that interaction. My gaze shoots toward the perpetrator and, therefore, the person who started that argument. The reason behind his refusal isn't what interests me at this moment, but rather the door that had been opened for me thanks to this unrelated situation. It's well known by now how little the authorities like it when their orders aren't followed immediately and without a second thought, implying that this program wouldn't have much longer to live if it continued to refuse to cooperate with them and their protocol. That's where I come in. In an act that would once have been considered heroic, I advance away from the crowd and somewhat closer to the problematic event, close enough to be able to throw my previously activated disc and thus hit one of the two guards approaching the one I could call the "victim" of this whole incident. While the first guard crumbles into cubes that lose their light upon reaching the ground, the second loses his balance almost instantly as his torso separates from the rest of his body, a clean cut that had started from his abdomen. Regardless of the details of the process, the result is the same: derezolution. The innocent takes cover meters away while, for my part, I replace the damaged vehicle with a newer, flawless one. That will guarantee my success later on. I notice the way the other program keeps his distance, but neither advances nor retreats. Does he expect me to speak to him?

"That wasn't because of you." Having made my clarification regarding the program I was supposed to have 'saved' from being stopped, I head off to the next point to await further instructions on how to continue with my true purpose.

Before activating the baton to use it, I pass through the supposedlysafety barrier of the orange circuit programs and, once I manage to reach a slightly clearer and more open area towards the Argon City Highway, I hold the baton until it transmutes into its two-wheeled form so I can continue on my way. Of course, it was clear that the authorities wouldn't stay still for long until they set their sights on me again. But this time I have a slight advantage; they must think it's someone else, right? Regardless of the first part, the focus is on another of those enormous, geometrically shaped machines that had flown over the surface of Purgos a few microcycles ago. The powerful light emanating from the gigantic flying object focuses on me, dazzling my figure and making it stand out against the darker highway. Thanks to the small number of vehicles on this highway, maneuvering to lose sight of me is easier, so I slow down the light-cycle to let my pursuer's gigantic and annoying flashlight continue forward, where I was supposed to go; but no. On the contrary, once I see that it's ahead, I spin around on the rear wheel and take the nearest slope before continuing, now towards the left path to make sure they can't read my next move. I feel a great relief at having escaped so easily this time. Waiting for future information, I drive calmly and at a slower pace through the streets of Argon. Occasionally, I look to one side or the other, always encountering small groups of programs, seemingly friendly with one another. They laugh, share, talk. How curious.

Finally, I stop. Still standing on the light-cycle, with only one foot on the ground to keep the vehicle in good condition, I see what appears to be an open entrance to an unknown place. On the other side of the door lie programs, lights of various colors, and a vibrant melody accompanied by the aforementioned, joyfully dancing. The place is familiar; perhaps I've encountered it before.

Great. My user's ability to transfer coordinates to me directly is something I can't quite wrap my head around, but the fact that it's something he can actually do makes it simply stupendous. Soon, a flash occurs before my eyes: numbers and letters appear and disappear in an instant on the inner surface of my helmet's crystal, as if analyzing or trying to prove something while processing new information. Not long after, a detailed map appears. Not only does it indicate how to get to my new destination, but it also offers clues and a three-dimensional model of the buildings near it, as if to help me avoid getting lost along the way. However, in the first few seconds of the map's transmission, it's easy for me to recognize that place... yes, I remember it exactly; I had seen a projection of a large yellow screen cycles ago, when I had barely logged into The Grid. The destination is only a few blocks away from that memory.

“Roger that. I’m on my way.”

I could appreciate the thoughtfulness, but I'm doing this for my user, after all. I don't know how much it would help to hear your program thank you for something he needs to follow. Starting the vehicle again, I head to the new address provided by my user; it's not far from my current location, but that doesn't mean I should waste any time. However, not everything could go perfectly. Drops begin to fall from above, wetting and moistening everything around me, as well as my vehicle. I stop a few blocks ahead, deactivating the light-cycle's protection so I can adjust my posture and extend one of my hands outward, taking a small sample of these drops that unify in the curve of my palm, forming a small puddle in the center of it through which I can see my reflection.

It doesn't take long for the fall of liquid to intensify, going from light to a gust in a matter of microcycles. A weather anomaly, perhaps? I'm not entirely sure. Whatever the case, despite being in a hurry to complete my mission, riding at high speeds in weather like this is a death sentence. I settle back on the motorcycle before continuing, this time maintaining a moderate speed, though I still take care to avoid the occasional vehicle that crosses my path. While I was previously grateful for the small number of pedestrians and other vehicles on the streets, they now seem to have increased in number, causing a small percentage of traffic jams as everyone shares the same mentality: drive carefully due to the change in weather. I stop the cycle a few blocks ahead, as the various vehicles from other programs have gathered on the street, moving slower than usual. Perhaps something had happened beyond my visibility, which could explain the reason for all this.

While I wait, I take the opportunity to familiarize myself with the surroundings once again; the streets are somewhat wider, giving a slightly more pleasant and free feeling, unlike the streets of Purgos, which were narrower and one could constantly feel paranoid, as if you were being watched. Or even held back, due to the limited space I felt I had to maneuver in my escape from the authority programs. While my eyes scan the rest of the details of this specific street, I find a point of interest: an accessories shop and, displayed in the window, a coat. It might come in handy in this unstable weather. I separate myself from the rest of the vehicles, maneuvering calmly while steering the cycle in the direction of said shop. Once in front of it, I return it to its portable form. I hold the memory file in my left hand, my gaze returning to the content playing on the small screen. Paying a little more attention, I manage to notice a small detail that had escaped me from the beginning: a kind of button on one side of the screen. Pressing it compresses the file into a smaller state. The screen had disappeared, with no way to play the video and its content; everything had shrunk to a cylinder just smaller than the size of my hand. Now it should be easier to carry around, without having to worry too much about whether other programs can see it or not.

I take my first steps inside the store, greeted by a warm light that creates an almost friendly atmosphere. A pair of programs talking on one side also seem to be checking and examining some accessories, seemingly trying to see which one best matches each other's clothing, or their circuits... or perhaps seeing which one reminds them most of each other. Although that neutral gray belt seems difficult to match considering the long, braided hair of her companion. And that orange stripe. For a moment, her head had turned to meet mine. The expression that had initially been happy or even amused slowly changes as the eye contact between us grows longer.

“How can I help you, buddy?” My head turns almost instantly when the words of a fourth program are present.

Assuming this program is about no one else but the owner, and most likely the one who runs the store as well, I take my time answering, as I'm already scanning the window for the coat. Once I find it, I use my right hand to point my index finger at it, indicating what had caught my attention in the first place.

“Ah, I see. It's a new model, a little more... sophisticated. Less heavy, but still good quality.” The program talks and talks. And he doesn't stop talking. I'll wear the coat anyway; why do you keep bothering to promote it?

I cross my arms as I wait for the program. The two females from earlier had already left at this point, leaving only me and the vendor in this cozy place.

“You’re not one of many words, are you? It makes you a mysterious program. Anyone would think you’re someone undercover for The Occupation, making sure everything in Argon is under control.” He turns to me, so I do the same. “Though that would be too much of a coincidence. They’re probably more preoccupied trying to find the Fugitive. Why do you think he’s on the run? He doesn’t look like he’s of bad code.”

For the love of my user, hold your tongue already, program. I sigh. Seeing the salesman signal with his available hand while using the other to hold the coat that will soon be my property, I approach until I'm standing in front of him, at which point the other program adjusts my position enough so that I'm face to face with the mirror. In the reflection, I can see how the salesman tries to arrange the coat on me, to which I offer my cooperation by adjusting some details like the shape of my shoulder and the asymmetrical closure that reaches almost to my throat.

“Wow, this makes you look even more mysterious. I can already imagine how good you'll look with the hood up.”

“The hood?”

In a careful movement, a long piece of fabric attached to the cape portion of said coat is arranged over my head, hiding almost my entire helmet under the so-called 'hood'. I nod slightly in approval. As if it were the cue the program needed to close its precious sale, he lightly pats me on the back.