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thisavrou2017-11-23 07:09 pm
a_perfect_end) wrote in thisavrou2017-11-23 07:09 pm
Entry tags:
003. VIDEO; now this looks like a job for me (late 23 through 24)
Greetings!
[Hello, Avagi. It's a beautiful day in our local greenhouse jungle, isn't it? Here's your host!
Some of you may recognize him from his grandstanding over a year ago, or from any number of disasters. For everybody else, enjoy the glimpse of six feet of literally glowing enthusiasm, pitched somewhere between car salesman and televangelist.
There's something off about it though--something frantic in the gestures, a glint in the eyes, a sheen of teeth.
He moves like a thing in a cage, thrumming its tail on the bars.]
Kaittos is a great planet, huh? Stories are money--and let me tell you, I cleaned up. Crashed and burned at the trials, though. Total wipeout.
But what does this mean for you?
So many new Greenery specimens!
This is Utopia; wave to our friends, babe. I'm told she'll sprout apples in a season or so. Maybe sooner, with the fertilizer I've got...unless those markings stand for deadly poison. Hmm.
See, I'm betting I'm not the only one with a short fuse or a tendency to die in combat, or sucking at whatever it is healers do.
So if you're tired of people telling you the all twists for all the seasons of your favorite thing that you haven't seen yet, or teleporting into your shower, or--that whole, thing--with the feelings--
[Ew. Have an enormous full-body shudder.]
Come grow something with me. Or trim hedges! Or water, or dig, or--basically, bring anything but your newfound extraterrestrially-gifted powers.
See, 'cause, you're all winners, and good for you.
But this? This is not for you. You already have yourselves a party.
This is for the rest of us.
[Hello, Avagi. It's a beautiful day in our local greenhouse jungle, isn't it? Here's your host!
Some of you may recognize him from his grandstanding over a year ago, or from any number of disasters. For everybody else, enjoy the glimpse of six feet of literally glowing enthusiasm, pitched somewhere between car salesman and televangelist.
There's something off about it though--something frantic in the gestures, a glint in the eyes, a sheen of teeth.
He moves like a thing in a cage, thrumming its tail on the bars.]
Kaittos is a great planet, huh? Stories are money--and let me tell you, I cleaned up. Crashed and burned at the trials, though. Total wipeout.
But what does this mean for you?
So many new Greenery specimens!
This is Utopia; wave to our friends, babe. I'm told she'll sprout apples in a season or so. Maybe sooner, with the fertilizer I've got...unless those markings stand for deadly poison. Hmm.
See, I'm betting I'm not the only one with a short fuse or a tendency to die in combat, or sucking at whatever it is healers do.
So if you're tired of people telling you the all twists for all the seasons of your favorite thing that you haven't seen yet, or teleporting into your shower, or--that whole, thing--with the feelings--
[Ew. Have an enormous full-body shudder.]
Come grow something with me. Or trim hedges! Or water, or dig, or--basically, bring anything but your newfound extraterrestrially-gifted powers.
See, 'cause, you're all winners, and good for you.
But this? This is not for you. You already have yourselves a party.
This is for the rest of us.
video;
[Why can't everyone come to the plant party??]
video;
I'm sure it's no one's fault, and it's a beautiful gift, and congratulations.
[Arms crossed.]
I would strongly prefer never to experience it again.
no subject
no subject
But they do agree about the substantive factors, here.]
...They certainly were. Which is kinda my point: admittance is on a party business basis.
[Not that he has the least capacity to enforce that.]
video; placeholder
It ain't a party, bub, believe me.
video;
Isn't it? Then why with the singing?
[Pause.]
...Hey, you okay?
video;
You ever had a bad trip?
video;
Experimentation did not always have desirable outcomes.]
Not...directly? Carved the place up, but that's more [what is green, to them?] like--stimulant psychosis.
[Haltingly:]
What you are experiencing are unreal, and they will pass.
1/2
—insulting half the system—
—and telling him to stay out??
Your enforcer will need a moment to helmet-desk.]
text; encrypted
if neededin event of[There is no good word. He deletes all of them and tries again.]
Available.
[That probably isn't it either, but Rinzler will, at least, send this one off. Please give him some kind of warning if anyone takes you up on that fight-picking, Clu. Or if you're crashing. That is. Not a good face.]
text; encrypted
Was I unclear?
You stay there.
text; encrypted
...aaand spam
Somehow, he ends up in the hall outside instead.
Avoiding notice was a habit well before he ever deviated enough for Clu to see. Rinzler has found himself a very inconspicuous alcove. Still, he needs to be close enough to respond to a disturbance, and the rise and fall of errors isn't difficult to hear.]
action spam is the best kind of spam
Trusting the taskbot for that, even with corrections, had been a mistake...
Not the first he's made, nor even the most recent.
Categorically speaking, 'most recent' would be his failure to account for some very familiar audio.]
You oughta know by now, man--you're louder when you're upset.
[Entirely true and factually accurate. But it lacks, perhaps, the characteristic venom.
Maybe he's just tired.]
Get down out of there.
what about action-adventure spam
He steps out of cover in careful default: frame bent, hands open at each side, helmet bowed in what might pass for an apology. Clu's tone doesn't broadcast any threat, but Rinzler knows better than to rely on audio.
Except—
It's not audio (not just) (not only), and a flicker of uncertainty stalls the enforcer's steps. Before his mask jerks down a little further, sound notching up another step.
He's not trying to look.]
that is truly the spicy spam musubi of spam
If Clu doesn't follow through on that--
Rinzler spins up with a rattle, slinking out of the shade and cresting down into default positions, lower, head bowed...
Strictly speaking, it's not even his fault.]
You just don't quit, do you, not ever.
[It's sour, arch, but not loud. He closes the gap.
...He has his rake.]
Stubborn. [He leans on the stick with a sigh, resisting an urge to reach down. Whatever is happening, it will not be improved by contact.] So glitching dedicated.
spammity spam
Just not today.
Speaking feels like almost as egregious an error. Clu will mull through his deliberations without input. Clu has, a thousand, thousand times. Still, something about this feels closer to a prompt. Or maybe Rinzler's just getting used to being able to speak back.]
...supposed to be.
[Clu made him that way.]
s p a m.
Crew. Technician. Now, tentatively, gardener. If he is lucky, if he is careful, they'll let him grow food, grow ferns, trim the hedges. How long that will remain is uncertain. Each role has seen his progress wiped out by some catastrophe or other.
Admin is a decaying orbit, one that serves just the two of them--and lately, even that is up for grabs, not removed but warped, shifting and changing. He'd reached for power on the barter block only to have it, too, slip away.
It has become increasingly difficult to deny a sensation he'd classified as weakness, though he has hidden it perfectly. He's had so much practice: the Leader is never afraid and does not feel pain.
Despair does not compute.
And as for the rest of it.]
Well, yes. I wanted that, when I made you. [It's small and hot on his tongue, fierce in a way that surprises him.] I never said it was incorrect. You are [Pause.] brave, and obstinate, but that is not wrong.
[Sorry has never yet left his mouth, and would require something orders of magnitude greater than this weight in his chest.]
.m a p s
He isn't wrong. This part of him is wanted, and the praise, however oblique, quiets some of the harsh sound. It's not dismissal of the violation, but it's... closer.
Protocol says to wait for Clu's judgement. A cautious whisper of encouragement suggests he prompt for orders instead. Apology and submission, a reminder that however obstinate, he knows his place. He does.
But—]
Tron was too.
[It's—
It's a question.]
cd. . /maps
...There is a lot of weight to that, so much between them held together with such a small, careful partial string.
Prompt, order, they're the same: specify, clarify. It's not a mockery, soft with surprise:]
Are you asking me, or telling me? Both?
Tron was--a lot of things. [Admiration and envy and constant competition for the vanishing slices of User input, of which there was never enough--] But yes. Yes, in this he was very much like you.
[Can't get something for nothing. That's not how it works. That's not how anything works.]
...Why.
dir > maps.txt
But almost.]
Tron was faulty.
[Not a question, this time. Of course it isn't. Tron was faulty, or Tron wouldn't have needed to be fixed. To be destroyed.
Tron was faulty, or he wouldn't be here.]
<a href="#x">the spot</a>.
Both. Inquiry and declaration, each seeking understanding.
...Clu can't moderate a display he can't detect: there's no reliable way of knowing what Rinzler is experiencing when he speaks.
All the more reason to be precise. Clu has warped and bent and broken and ruined the truth, but it's still the best weapon he has.]
Tron was corrupted. That calling of his drove him to betray our System.
[That still aches, worlds distant, though he can't parse why.]
If I wanted Tron, he'd be here. Haven't I told you before? You are my best work.
kill -9 'the spot'
"Nobody was there to tell us to stop."
Clu misses Tron. But that, Rinzler does know better than to say. He ducks his helmet instead, accepting the rebuke, and pieces together a different output.
Just as true.]
I don't want to— [a beat of lag; end hovering before he substitutes] —be the same.
action;
Lost patience with the Trials, I see.
[ Coming from anyone else, it might sound like a judgement. From Flynn, it's neutral, maybe with a lean into wry understanding. ]
action;
It's still new, hearing his own voice (not his own voice, never his voice) changed by time and softened by preference.
He can do wry.]
Not my best moment. You should've seen the other guy.
[Turning, considering. Carefully smothering a sudden glint of excitement: just because something exists in Flynn's hands does not mean it is his, or that he should take it, or even that he can be entrusted with care of it.
They all know better by now.
It is a tiny living logarithmic spiral series, self-sustaining and almost chartreuse and maybe if he comports himself gently enough, he will get to water it.]
You working on something? I--just needed room to breathe.
[Not that he's ever actually needed to breathe, but the cliche` approximates the sensation and it's downright cute, r= aebθ, repeating.]
action;
Flynn shrugs, the action minute, easy, a smile for the little plant. He turns it, prayer beads clinking soft against one another, so Clu can better see each angle of the spiral pattern that had so caught his own eye. ]
Thought this little lady looked a bit droopy; could use a bit more sun. They said it's edible.
[ What do you think? under the statement, read in the way his brow quirks. ]