002. that's classified

[a_perfect_end]

Greetings!

Listen, I know it's like three a.m. ship's time, so it's perpetually Thursday on this planet. And Thursday is the worst, because it just sits there, when it could be a perfectly good Friday instead.

But I digress.

Most of us have been through a lot together, whether aboard the good ship Moira or here in the utopic gardens of Thisavrou.

And I know we're in for nasty weather, and there's lava beasts cutting swathes through upper Kauto midtown, but.

But, all that aside, I have a desperate and serious conundrum. I mean, like, I've got a real problem.

Right now.

And I need your help.

Which of these looks most like an apology to you?

...Bonus points if you can rationalize why.

Comments

text;

[alan_1]

[Cue a lot of confused squinting from the aggrieved in question. Alan does, for a split second, wonder if this has anything to do with the time Clu ripped off the door to his room on the Moira with his bare hands. And then, he considers both that the Moira is gone and Alan’s ruined door frame along with it and that he would expect a repeat offense from Clu far more than an apology-anything.

Which means this must be about someone else. Obviously.]

Should I even ask whose door it was this time?

text;

[a_perfect_end]

No, no you should not.

However, if you had a [Ridiculously long pause] p r e f e r e n c e, now's the time.

text;

[alan_1]

[...Interesting. Alan assumes a Clu-proof door would be ideal, but...] Am I correct in assuming you could destroy any of these doors if you were determined to do so?

text;

[a_perfect_end]

Statistics suggested this was the broadest range of possible aesthetics known to suit the basic rectangular form.

Subsidiary analyses suggested...how do I put this. Less nonsense? Nothing round, ditch the irising models, no outre` handles or bells or doodads.

[In other words, not an answer.]

text;

[alan_1]

[Alan is just going to take that as a “yes.” He takes another look at the selection of doors Clu has chosen, feeling just slightly discombobulated that he’s at a state where he’s helping the program make decisions about exterior design. Maybe the fact that Clu is actually apologizing for something just feels like something Alan shouldn’t discourage.]

The third door is probably your safest bet if you don’t know anything about their tastes. The other ones might be too particular.

text;

[a_perfect_end]

[He has the distinct and uncomfortable perception that of course Alan-1 knows better--and that Clu, himself, should do better when trying to redirect him like that.

Are they...is this? Well, they're not arguing.

It's not a miracle. Miracles don't exist anymore.

...Still.]

...Everyone likes the third door.

[He'll never ask a User for anything, least of all whether they really like it.]

If you're sure, I think the ayes have it.

[There. Give the guy one last chance to pick something else, without actually creating the potentiality of no, Clu.]

text;

[alan_1]

[...This is the moment when Alan begins to wonder in earnest whether this door actually is for him. This would be an awful lot of consideration for his opinion if the door was for someone else.

But… Alan already has a door. Clu knows Alan already has a door.

...If this is Clu’s idea of an apology, it’s remarkably inconvenient.]

I’m sure.

Re: text;

[a_perfect_end]

[This is easily the most civil and civilized exchange they've ever even had.

And it ends in yes!

Score.

The rest is details, all but the smallest already dealt with.

They're in the future, or something like it--a great deal of junk data, some of it black-and-white; Jane, stop this crazy thing!--and they live on a binary extraplanetary system in space.

Little things like why and how are semantic, entirely automated for their convenience! With the correct currency exchanged, service drones were only too happy to deliver and install on a while-you-wait basis.

It's cutting into his nonrenewable allowance, a little, but that's all.]

Oh, good. That's very fortunate.

...Your new key should be under the flowerpot, by the way.