I fell apart, but got back up again
Who: Tron, OPEN
When: this is such a relative term now
Where: Tron City, outskirts
What: Time for something different.
Warnings: Probably none.
He had been here for some time, fragmented and lost, keeping away from the main portions of the City and farther away from other people. His memory was cracked and broken in ways he couldn't even comprehend and the files corrupted so badly he thought he'd never recover them fully. Alone, he kept to the shadows and underground, broken sectors of the City, wandering aimlessly when awake and staying in unwanted nooks and holes that not even the roughest, lowest programs would occupy as hideouts when offline.
Then one evening he'd been surprised when he'd woken with a start, a stray memory file defragmented and flashed before his vision before he could shake it off. He remembered.
The Sea of Simulation had swallowed him damaged and spit him back out whole onto its shores, refreshed and recompiled if not completely fixed and stabilized. It'd taken the next four hundred millicycles for his systems to defrag the scattered memories and directives that originally made up his defining code. Suddenly, he knew who and what he was once again. It was a debilitating shock to his system. It'd taken another odd amount of millicycles to come to terms with the hard facts.
But he'd managed.
Fixed, whole again, undamaged and uncorrupted, the security program knew it was time to stop hiding. He'd healed, and only unending cycles would right any further wrongs in his files, but he knew there were simply some things that could never be undone. What he was now he could not undo; and in the end, nor would he want to. He'd learned, grown from the experience. Even if it'd been into something harder, having been through the harshest experience a person was capable of going through. He was mended enough now to focus and do what he'd been designed for; that was more than enough reason to return to civilization.
He hadn't been completely idle even while fragmented and lost, some part of him even then working towards directives and functions he hadn't even been aware of at the time. He knew the basics of what was going on in the System, that the Grid was going through some sort of glitch that the Portal was producing. It was mind-boggling but he put the whys and hows out of processor. The important part was to resume his duties.
He knew where he needed to go, who he needed to see, what he needed to do. And that was enough for him.
Somewhere along the millicycles, he'd gathered a bare minimum of supplies. Like the cloak thrown over his head and shoulders, its blue-white circuits dimmed in tune with the unusual time of downcycle in which he'd started his trek. His face, for the most part, was hidden in shadow as he walked along the streets heading towards the populated sectors of the City. It would be a long walk, but he wasn't quite ready to announce his presence with a flashy entrance on his lightcycle.
When: this is such a relative term now
Where: Tron City, outskirts
What: Time for something different.
Warnings: Probably none.
He had been here for some time, fragmented and lost, keeping away from the main portions of the City and farther away from other people. His memory was cracked and broken in ways he couldn't even comprehend and the files corrupted so badly he thought he'd never recover them fully. Alone, he kept to the shadows and underground, broken sectors of the City, wandering aimlessly when awake and staying in unwanted nooks and holes that not even the roughest, lowest programs would occupy as hideouts when offline.
Then one evening he'd been surprised when he'd woken with a start, a stray memory file defragmented and flashed before his vision before he could shake it off. He remembered.
The Sea of Simulation had swallowed him damaged and spit him back out whole onto its shores, refreshed and recompiled if not completely fixed and stabilized. It'd taken the next four hundred millicycles for his systems to defrag the scattered memories and directives that originally made up his defining code. Suddenly, he knew who and what he was once again. It was a debilitating shock to his system. It'd taken another odd amount of millicycles to come to terms with the hard facts.
But he'd managed.
Fixed, whole again, undamaged and uncorrupted, the security program knew it was time to stop hiding. He'd healed, and only unending cycles would right any further wrongs in his files, but he knew there were simply some things that could never be undone. What he was now he could not undo; and in the end, nor would he want to. He'd learned, grown from the experience. Even if it'd been into something harder, having been through the harshest experience a person was capable of going through. He was mended enough now to focus and do what he'd been designed for; that was more than enough reason to return to civilization.
He hadn't been completely idle even while fragmented and lost, some part of him even then working towards directives and functions he hadn't even been aware of at the time. He knew the basics of what was going on in the System, that the Grid was going through some sort of glitch that the Portal was producing. It was mind-boggling but he put the whys and hows out of processor. The important part was to resume his duties.
He knew where he needed to go, who he needed to see, what he needed to do. And that was enough for him.
Somewhere along the millicycles, he'd gathered a bare minimum of supplies. Like the cloak thrown over his head and shoulders, its blue-white circuits dimmed in tune with the unusual time of downcycle in which he'd started his trek. His face, for the most part, was hidden in shadow as he walked along the streets heading towards the populated sectors of the City. It would be a long walk, but he wasn't quite ready to announce his presence with a flashy entrance on his lightcycle.