#lifesshortpop

[perfectiasiclibertas]

from @lifeshortpop: I'm guessing you aren't one of Flynn's. Am I right?

   “I… suppose it depends on how one          perceives the situation I was in.”

There had been an unnaturally long pause before Dyson responded to the question, during which time he stared into the distance, rage in his eyes and a sense of cold calculation in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were tense, hands clasped behind his back, clenched into fists. Though he made no move to threaten Jet specifically, the strategist’s body language made it clear that the other should enter this territory with caution.

   “Flynn didn’t write me from the ground up, no.          The User that did… discarded me;         replaced me without a second thought          when a newer security program became          available– not even a competent one.

         Flynn saved me from the nothingness of         indefinite storage, and for some time, I         was loyal to him as though he had         written me. That was a mistake– as I         found out, all Users favor the new         over the reliable.”

[user-alan]

A photo of the whiteboard on the wall of the closet I’ve been staying in.

@lifesshortpop

[perfectiasiclibertas]

From @lifesshortpop (memory erasure): "Looks like Pop restored *everyone* from backup." The tone is definitely carrying a "But boy, I wish he hadn't." He sighs. "First things, first. You pulled a lot of nasty stunts working for Administrator Clu. How much do you remember?"

That name sounded like it should have significance– but it didn’t. Dyson had the distinct sense that he was missing or overlooking something; and something of great importance, at that. He didn’t feel the cutting static or onslaught of useless signals that came with glitches and corruption. On the contrary, his mind was clear; focused.

He frowned in confusion and looked around, giving the immediate environment a once-over for threats. Finding none, his attention returned to the program who had addressed him.

   “I– I don’t know, sir. I remember… facing a          threat to this system. I cannot recall the          experience, but I remember the feeling          of it– what happened?”

[ask-alan-one]

From @lifesshortpop : I won't ask you not to worry, Pop. You worry anyway.

(BTW: Greetings!)

Well, I can't really help it. Worrying about you, at least a little bit... that's my job, you know? Parental responsibility and all.

Glad to see you here, though. You probably got the hang of it a lot quicker than I did.

[grid-daisies]

From @lifesshortpop Ouch Beck

Beck doesn’t like to sleep. Sure programs don’t necessarily need it often, but Beck would rather push himself to where he absolutely crashes into a dreamless sleep, rather than willing lay down and make himself prone to circling memories of worse and nostalgic times, or worse: nightmares. He rarely goes to sleep before he absolutely cannot push himself anymore. If he could, he would avoid thinking about the past if it were not part of his job to search the archives. Sometimes, he wishes he could run from it, so at least he wouldn’t have to remember all the deaths or the time in the Occupation’s prison that kept him up for so long.

[grid-daisies]

From @lifesshortpop: Ouch Paige

Because she was an Occupation officer up until near the demise of the Occupation itself, she knows that it seems to other programs that all she had been was a soldier, and that such a sudden change to an ally is…suspicious.

That suspicion bled into their interactions with her as she became head of the medical wing. This in turn caused her to throw herself into her work, doing to the closest to perfection she can reach. She was constantly proving herself, relearning forgotten information and working with what she had to prove she wasn’t a threat, and that she was there to help. She’s been gaining trust out of necessity, but any conversations with anyone besides Beck (and Jet) tend to be short and to the point.

She would like to fight, to be traveling and using her combat to help defend. That’s where she felt most comfortable for so long, and she still hones her skills out of the possibility she will need them again, or the small chance that other programs will trust her enough again, or sometimes to let out the emotions she bottles up in silence.

[grid-daisies]

Greed (Beck)

for @lifesshortpop

It’s a simple memory, one from some of Beck’s earliest cycles.

He had just begun working there, and was set on assisting some of the older mechanics so he could learn. When he wasn’t shadowing, he was taking batons back forth from place to place.

He and Bodhi often worked near each other. It was the start of their friendship, only stimulated so by a bet.

“I bet I’ll have more batons than you by the end of the cycle.” Bodhi smirks at that.

“Huh?”

“At the end of the cycle, whoever is holding onto more batons in their locker than the other...” he thinks about it, then snaps. “If you win, you can have my wrench. But if I win...I get your datapad.”

Beck gasps at that. The datapad was a gift from Able, Bodhi couldn’t possibly have it! He won’t do it! But then again...Bodhi did have a nice wrench...

“You’re on!”

So off they shot, both taking batons to the mechanics. As they sat and watched their respective mentors, it hit both of them. Neither of them had batons yet to show for. How could they beat the other...?

They have to simply gain more of course. So when the mechanics hand them the batons, both sneak off to hide them away. No one seemed to notice. It was going so well...

At the end of the shift, Beck hurries to his hiding place. He pulls out all the batons, holding onto them tight, and making sure none clatter to the floor. Once he’s sure he has them all, he begins to take off.

“And what...” Beck freezes as he hears the firm voice. “...do you think you’re doing?”

He turns to the voice to see Able watching him, arms crossed and demanding an answer.

“Are those the customers’ batons?”

“No...”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “Then where did you get them?”

“Uh...” Beck fumbles for a lie, but Able snatches up the oppritunity before Beck can say any more.

“You’re in big trouble, young man. You can’t be taking batons, that becomes stealing.” He stalks forward, taking them from Beck. “You’re grounded!”

“What?” Beck protests. “That’s not fair! Bodhi was doing it too!”

“What?” Able demands, somehow sounding angrier than before.

And that’s how both of the young programs ended up on cleanup duty under Able’s careful eye, from the bikes and batons until they worked for every single one.

After one particular cycle, Able leads Beck to his office.

“Do you understand why I’m making you do this?”

Beck shrugs. “Because I stole the batons.”

“Yes, but that’s not the entire reason why. Bodhi told me about the bet.”

“Oh.” Beck looks down.

“You can’t let greed blind you, Beck. You are in a position that benefits other programs. It’s important to realize that your programming allows you to give to other programs, not take it away. Not only that, but...greed makes things without life value more than the programs that do live. I never want you to end up in such a position. That is why I’m punishing both of us.” He looks Beck in the eye calmly. “Do you understand?”

He had never thought of it that way. Of course he thought programs were more important. He could never put the bikes above Able, or Zed or Mara, or even Bodhi. He nods. “I understand.”

[grid-daisies]

Sloth (Paige)

for @lifesshortpop

She hasn’t taken a break in ages.

She doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but between balancing the hospital and keeping Beck from dying from the wounds he stumbles in with, she had dug her heels in and pushed on.

Sloth is not just the act of physical laziness. In fact, it seems that it includes the mental inability to feel more than a boredom or apathy for the work that needs to be done. Dangerous in her line, and she falls into it.

It becomes mind-numbing, day in and day out, filing reports on programs, tending to minor wounds, nursing more serious ones to health. It used to all be an intense experience she took each part at a time, but now everything feels...slower. She begins to dread it, dread becoming so bored.

Then comes the cycle when she wakes, and she doesn’t get up. There’s simply not a point. She could sleep for a bit longer, and she wouldn’t face any problems. It would all get done...

What a foolish trap to lay, but Paige sees no problem as she falls into it, and falls back asleep.