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Novus Programma - (3/?)

Chapter 3, "Unscripted Assistance."

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My user has provided me with new instructions—an addition to the previous ones, rather; a second part to the previously completed first. Not only that, but he's also taken some extra time to explain some key points that, as he said, "will help me better understand the environment." He's explained that the place I'm currently in is called "Purgos," that the place I must go to is "Argon," and that I should avoid any possible contact with potential enemies. Of course, I won't have been able to reveal the incredible fact that practically all of them are my enemies now—and if I can't consider them enemies, what I can certainly consider them accomplices of one another. He's also said that, once I'm at my new destination, only then will he give me the final, small details of this second part of my task. He didn't want to overwhelm me with so much information, apparently.

So, that's where I'm going.

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.

…

Did I tell him my name?