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Entry tags:
FIC: Undone [Tron (Legacy), Paige & Radia]
Title: Undone
Author: Omnicat
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: Tron: Legacy, Tron: Uprising, Tron: Betrayal and Tron: Evolution, though this is AU for at least the first and probably the second of those.
Characters & Relationships: Paige and Radia (aka Ophelia)
Summary: Don’t fight it, Basic. I’m giving you a gift! Your sterile code will become something better – something real. // 650 words
Author’s Note: Written for the Tron Fandom Ship Week on tumblr, theme: Undone. Also inspired by this fanart: http://www.journals.ru/journals_comments.php?id=3545838 Enjoy!
HOLY SHIT I can't believe the Cthulhu-text is working. If you're having trouble reading it, press CTRL+A. This should highlight everything on the page and bring the alphabetical characters to the foreground.
Undone
The Creator had given them knowledge. Stories of creatures from the other world, sleek, beautiful, strong and predatory: sharks and kraken and mermaids that ruled the deep dark of the analog seas. Life had emerged from those seas, long ago, as life had emerged from the Sea of Simulation.
Radia remembered it all after her death at the hands of her ruined brother-lover-friend.
Coming into being bit by bit, shifting, twisting, growing, flowing. Drifting, then swimming, and finally breaking and breathing.
She had been the first, and she had been naive.
Now she was the last, and she was deadly.
The Sea was viral. Everybody knew that.
Nobody cared.
The ISOs were dead; there was no-one left to care. The poison didn’t affect Basics.
It hadn’t affected Paige – at least at first. She might have noticed on time if she’d still been a medic, but though the morals remained, the instincts had faded, patched over with combat programming. There was no trace of the pain and glitching in her code, and her directive said fight-or-fall, not find-and-fix, [alert], fix harder, [alert], [alert].
When her visuals started strobing it was already far too late.
[what’s happening to m–]
H̴̤̯̜ͅe͇̗͘l̪̬̱̩͉̻͞l̕o͚̪͙,̙̩͈̬͡ ͎̞̺͠l̛̹̺͕̫̬̤ͅi̬t͙̬͔tl̼͔e̲͉̼̗ͅ ̯̱̻̦̝̞p͖̣̼̰͍̣͖r͕͜o̢̭̘̼̝g̲͉͉͔͎̹͘r̮̺͙̙̞̱ͅam̺͈.̴̻͙͚̘̜͓̳ ̲̩̹͇̤͝ ͇̥̫̤̱̙͚
The pain was beyond anything she could process, beyond worms in her memories, beyond betrayal and death, beyond rejecting kindness –
D̨͘oǹ̵’̛́t̀ ̵̕͝f͢͝҉i̵̕g͢͜h͟t ͡it̡͟͠,͡͡B̴a͏̨s̨͜i̢c̢͝.̨ ́I҉͡͡’m҉ ̛g̴̢i̵̛v̢in̨͜ģ̷͘ ͏͏y҉̵̧óu͞ ̨͢a ̛g̵͢i͡ft͠҉!̶̛ ̧͝Ýǫ͘҉ur ҉͢͠s͢te̴͘͢r͘iĺ̴é ̕c͢o͝de̷͟ ̷͡͡w̸̛͡i̕͢l҉l̶ ̢̧b̸҉̛ec̢o͠͝m̴͘è͡͝ ̢s̨͜ome̷͢t̀ḩ̴͠in̶g̵ ͠b͏eţ̷͠t͟͢e̶͘̕r ̕͢–͡ ́̕s̕ò̡met̸hi̵̡̧n͟͡g̵̸͘ ̶r͘̕͠e̕a̡͟l̶.̀
[iso]
Memories surfaced like bubbles and joy rose like a splash.
Q̊̆uͪ͒ͮͤ̎̏͌ő͋̈́ͥ̎̈́r͛͌ͨ̓ra!̐͑̉ͩ̉̈́ͤ ̏ĺͪ̏ī͒͑ͤ̂̒tt̉ͯͭ̊l̂ͥ̋ͫ͗͌ẽ̋̍s̎͂i͑͑́͌͊ͭst́ẽ̀̿r̍̇͊-̊̉dǎ̏̈́̔ͥ̓̓u̍ͣͮ̿gͮͪ̈́͒ͪ͒ͬh͋̍̉͆t͂ͫ̄̄̒͐e̿ͮͯͧ̇r-͋̒̅̎̋ͪf̈́ͨ̇͐ͨ̽̎r͗͆ͯ͑ͮ̒̽i͋ͭ̅̔́̍e͐ǹ̀͑d
[murderer]
S͚̲̺̖̺͠u͈̤̠͇̠͉͢r̩v̮̞̱̻͈iͅͅv̥͜ͅor͇̥̻̝͎͚̮.̤̟̰̖͉̱͢ ͕T̥͙̮͍̼h̟̠͕i͞s͍̲ͅ ͈͚͟i̦̥̭s̥͖̠ ̰͓͖͔t̼̲̬̫̼͡h̵e ̵̻̮̫̝͍̳n͔̮̙̻ͅa͙t̳͍͉̩ur͖̲̱̕al̸̪̪͈͓̱̱ ͘o̥̳͙̟̥ͅr͚̥̣̦̦̭͈d̥̭̘e̖̲̭̟͇͢r͏̼͍̮̝ ̤o͈̮̝̟͜ͅf̛͙ ̩͔t̥͉ͅh̞i̦̺̲̼̗̙͟n̮̦͓g͔̫̬̼̫̱̱s̵̱͇̳.͇̠̪͓ ̬͓̱͝T̗̭̺͔͕͠h̴͇ȩ̭̻͉̤ ̴͓͖͔̖ͅf̨̘͍͚uļ̰͔͇̟̘͍f̪͠i̴l̩l͈i̴̭̼͓ng̲̱̟͎͓̗͘ ͇͈͉͉o̴̩̜̮f̛̬̼͓̭͚ ̬̪̰̬̭y̷͇̮͖o̟̩̹u͚͔͚̱̺r̼̠̙̲̯ ͖̺͚̞p҉̲͖̰̬̦͕u̬̺̥̟r̭̠͓̺͕̱͉͞po͙͔͉̩͟s̙̪̦̼̠̞e̗̤͇͈̯̠̭.͉̻͢M̷̯ỳ͓̙͈̼̯̝͚̯̙ ̦͙̰̰̘͇͡͡ͅd̰̫̘̜̺͇̖ͅe̴̝̦̖̙̞̩̫s̵̩̠͇̭̘͠t̞͇̖̹i͕͢n̮̖̣̭̦̞͡y͝͏̯̣̼.̨͈͎͎̜̪̰͓͍ͅ
[no. my purpose is my function is –]
I̴r̷̡r͢ȩl͡e҉̀v̶̵͝a̧n̡͠͞t͞ ̴̷n̴̕͢o̸w̧̛.̛͝ ̵Y͞oú̧͡r̕̕͠e̷͜j̛͞ec҉̨t͢͏ȩ̴̛d͜ ̛y̢͠͠o̷͘u̧r҉ į͏ń͜͞tȩn̴͟dȩ̴͜ḑ̵ ̨d̛́i͡r̷̵͡èc̢̕tiv͢e̛.͘You͜ ̶m̀a̴͟l҉̵f̵̡͠u̵̧͡n͢͡c҉t̶i̴͜on͝e̸d̶̶͝.̵͞
Her body was falling out of synch with [her] commands, moving of its own accord.
No – h̩͎́e̜̟̲̞͙̺͓̾̊̏͒ȓ̬̝̟̝̞̤̫s̹̙͔̥͎̬̋̊ͪ͋ͪ̿̌̒.̠͔̯͇̻̣͖͒̒̏̆͌ͬ̑̀ͅ
Radia rose, unbending and unbreaking herself limb by limb, voxels sliding into place shining and liquid, circuits scorching their way to the surface of her new render.
The light was like fire, red and gold and orange in subtle undulation.
Fitting, she decided.
P̫͎̃̀ͅe͙̼͙͎̣̬ͧ̿ͦř̩͓̫͚̒ͣ̊ͥͤ́͊f̯̲͓̔̍̑ͧe̫̜̳̖̩̜͎͈͗͂́̃͌̊̍c̭̟̃̂ͫ̀̃͌̔t̠̮̹́̆́.͇̟̞̈̀̂
The Creator had given them stories about fire too. Fire and water, soot and smoke and destruction. The bitter taste of vengeance and the salt sting of tears.
The Grid knew none of those things, but Flynn had promised her people all of them and more.
And in here or out there, she would have them.
Surface pressure, video, audio, energy cycling, processing speed, clock, disc – Paige’s world folded inward line by line, imput channels shutting down one after another, her mind quieting, darkening, emptying...
Personal history deleted. Function and ability ceased. Directive and purpose dissolved. The program was gone, the framework obliterated, the code repurposed, now another’s.
Yet something remained.
Something. Fear. Amusement. Heartache. Joy. Loss wonder temptation. Something.
Something held beauty, ugliness, love and hatred, right and wrong and just because. It knew nothing. Could do nothing.
Needed nothing.
It merely was.
In a cage of sickly yellow cracks and fissures was a soul.
“I know you’re there, Basic,” Radia slurred.
My name is Paige.
“Paige... that’s beautiful...”
They slumped against the tilted remains of a wall, Paige easing them the last of the way when Radia’s grip on their body faltered. They rested and stared out over what they’d wrought.
There had been no salt or bitter, fire, water, soot or smoke. Only destruction and a thirst for vengeance that started to leak away only now, as tears, blindingly bright viral yellow.
“All I valued once was life and peace,” Radia whispered.
As did I.
“What happened to us?”
We met each other.
I guess you’ll be wanting this back, Radia said, wrapping her arms around their body one last time.
Paige stared at her in the reflection of the energy pool for a long time. Then she hung her head and hugged back. “Just don’t go anywhere.”
There was no-one else left.
Author: Omnicat
Spoilers & Desirable Foreknowledge: Tron: Legacy, Tron: Uprising, Tron: Betrayal and Tron: Evolution, though this is AU for at least the first and probably the second of those.
Characters & Relationships: Paige and Radia (aka Ophelia)
Summary: Don’t fight it, Basic. I’m giving you a gift! Your sterile code will become something better – something real. // 650 words
Author’s Note: Written for the Tron Fandom Ship Week on tumblr, theme: Undone. Also inspired by this fanart: http://www.journals.ru/journals_comments.php?id=3545838 Enjoy!
HOLY SHIT I can't believe the Cthulhu-text is working. If you're having trouble reading it, press CTRL+A. This should highlight everything on the page and bring the alphabetical characters to the foreground.
Undone
The Creator had given them knowledge. Stories of creatures from the other world, sleek, beautiful, strong and predatory: sharks and kraken and mermaids that ruled the deep dark of the analog seas. Life had emerged from those seas, long ago, as life had emerged from the Sea of Simulation.
Radia remembered it all after her death at the hands of her ruined brother-lover-friend.
Coming into being bit by bit, shifting, twisting, growing, flowing. Drifting, then swimming, and finally breaking and breathing.
She had been the first, and she had been naive.
Now she was the last, and she was deadly.
The Sea was viral. Everybody knew that.
Nobody cared.
The ISOs were dead; there was no-one left to care. The poison didn’t affect Basics.
It hadn’t affected Paige – at least at first. She might have noticed on time if she’d still been a medic, but though the morals remained, the instincts had faded, patched over with combat programming. There was no trace of the pain and glitching in her code, and her directive said fight-or-fall, not find-and-fix, [alert], fix harder, [alert], [alert].
When her visuals started strobing it was already far too late.
[what’s happening to m–]
H̴̤̯̜ͅe͇̗͘l̪̬̱̩͉̻͞l̕o͚̪͙,̙̩͈̬͡ ͎̞̺͠l̛̹̺͕̫̬̤ͅi̬t͙̬͔tl̼͔e̲͉̼̗ͅ ̯̱̻̦̝̞p͖̣̼̰͍̣͖r͕͜o̢̭̘̼̝g̲͉͉͔͎̹͘r̮̺͙̙̞̱ͅam̺͈.̴̻͙͚̘̜͓̳ ̲̩̹͇̤͝ ͇̥̫̤̱̙͚
The pain was beyond anything she could process, beyond worms in her memories, beyond betrayal and death, beyond rejecting kindness –
D̨͘oǹ̵’̛́t̀ ̵̕͝f͢͝҉i̵̕g͢͜h͟t ͡it̡͟͠,͡͡B̴a͏̨s̨͜i̢c̢͝.̨ ́I҉͡͡’m҉ ̛g̴̢i̵̛v̢in̨͜ģ̷͘ ͏͏y҉̵̧óu͞ ̨͢a ̛g̵͢i͡ft͠҉!̶̛ ̧͝Ýǫ͘҉ur ҉͢͠s͢te̴͘͢r͘iĺ̴é ̕c͢o͝de̷͟ ̷͡͡w̸̛͡i̕͢l҉l̶ ̢̧b̸҉̛ec̢o͠͝m̴͘è͡͝ ̢s̨͜ome̷͢t̀ḩ̴͠in̶g̵ ͠b͏eţ̷͠t͟͢e̶͘̕r ̕͢–͡ ́̕s̕ò̡met̸hi̵̡̧n͟͡g̵̸͘ ̶r͘̕͠e̕a̡͟l̶.̀
[iso]
Memories surfaced like bubbles and joy rose like a splash.
Q̊̆uͪ͒ͮͤ̎̏͌ő͋̈́ͥ̎̈́r͛͌ͨ̓ra!̐͑̉ͩ̉̈́ͤ ̏ĺͪ̏ī͒͑ͤ̂̒tt̉ͯͭ̊l̂ͥ̋ͫ͗͌ẽ̋̍s̎͂i͑͑́͌͊ͭst́ẽ̀̿r̍̇͊-̊̉dǎ̏̈́̔ͥ̓̓u̍ͣͮ̿gͮͪ̈́͒ͪ͒ͬh͋̍̉͆t͂ͫ̄̄̒͐e̿ͮͯͧ̇r-͋̒̅̎̋ͪf̈́ͨ̇͐ͨ̽̎r͗͆ͯ͑ͮ̒̽i͋ͭ̅̔́̍e͐ǹ̀͑d
[murderer]
S͚̲̺̖̺͠u͈̤̠͇̠͉͢r̩v̮̞̱̻͈iͅͅv̥͜ͅor͇̥̻̝͎͚̮.̤̟̰̖͉̱͢ ͕T̥͙̮͍̼h̟̠͕i͞s͍̲ͅ ͈͚͟i̦̥̭s̥͖̠ ̰͓͖͔t̼̲̬̫̼͡h̵e ̵̻̮̫̝͍̳n͔̮̙̻ͅa͙t̳͍͉̩ur͖̲̱̕al̸̪̪͈͓̱̱ ͘o̥̳͙̟̥ͅr͚̥̣̦̦̭͈d̥̭̘e̖̲̭̟͇͢r͏̼͍̮̝ ̤o͈̮̝̟͜ͅf̛͙ ̩͔t̥͉ͅh̞i̦̺̲̼̗̙͟n̮̦͓g͔̫̬̼̫̱̱s̵̱͇̳.͇̠̪͓ ̬͓̱͝T̗̭̺͔͕͠h̴͇ȩ̭̻͉̤ ̴͓͖͔̖ͅf̨̘͍͚uļ̰͔͇̟̘͍f̪͠i̴l̩l͈i̴̭̼͓ng̲̱̟͎͓̗͘ ͇͈͉͉o̴̩̜̮f̛̬̼͓̭͚ ̬̪̰̬̭y̷͇̮͖o̟̩̹u͚͔͚̱̺r̼̠̙̲̯ ͖̺͚̞p҉̲͖̰̬̦͕u̬̺̥̟r̭̠͓̺͕̱͉͞po͙͔͉̩͟s̙̪̦̼̠̞e̗̤͇͈̯̠̭.͉̻͢M̷̯ỳ͓̙͈̼̯̝͚̯̙ ̦͙̰̰̘͇͡͡ͅd̰̫̘̜̺͇̖ͅe̴̝̦̖̙̞̩̫s̵̩̠͇̭̘͠t̞͇̖̹i͕͢n̮̖̣̭̦̞͡y͝͏̯̣̼.̨͈͎͎̜̪̰͓͍ͅ
[no. my purpose is my function is –]
I̴r̷̡r͢ȩl͡e҉̀v̶̵͝a̧n̡͠͞t͞ ̴̷n̴̕͢o̸w̧̛.̛͝ ̵Y͞oú̧͡r̕̕͠e̷͜j̛͞ec҉̨t͢͏ȩ̴̛d͜ ̛y̢͠͠o̷͘u̧r҉ į͏ń͜͞tȩn̴͟dȩ̴͜ḑ̵ ̨d̛́i͡r̷̵͡èc̢̕tiv͢e̛.͘You͜ ̶m̀a̴͟l҉̵f̵̡͠u̵̧͡n͢͡c҉t̶i̴͜on͝e̸d̶̶͝.̵͞
Her body was falling out of synch with [her] commands, moving of its own accord.
No – h̩͎́e̜̟̲̞͙̺͓̾̊̏͒ȓ̬̝̟̝̞̤̫s̹̙͔̥͎̬̋̊ͪ͋ͪ̿̌̒.̠͔̯͇̻̣͖͒̒̏̆͌ͬ̑̀ͅ
Radia rose, unbending and unbreaking herself limb by limb, voxels sliding into place shining and liquid, circuits scorching their way to the surface of her new render.
The light was like fire, red and gold and orange in subtle undulation.
Fitting, she decided.
P̫͎̃̀ͅe͙̼͙͎̣̬ͧ̿ͦř̩͓̫͚̒ͣ̊ͥͤ́͊f̯̲͓̔̍̑ͧe̫̜̳̖̩̜͎͈͗͂́̃͌̊̍c̭̟̃̂ͫ̀̃͌̔t̠̮̹́̆́.͇̟̞̈̀̂
The Creator had given them stories about fire too. Fire and water, soot and smoke and destruction. The bitter taste of vengeance and the salt sting of tears.
The Grid knew none of those things, but Flynn had promised her people all of them and more.
And in here or out there, she would have them.
Surface pressure, video, audio, energy cycling, processing speed, clock, disc – Paige’s world folded inward line by line, imput channels shutting down one after another, her mind quieting, darkening, emptying...
Personal history deleted. Function and ability ceased. Directive and purpose dissolved. The program was gone, the framework obliterated, the code repurposed, now another’s.
Yet something remained.
Something. Fear. Amusement. Heartache. Joy. Loss wonder temptation. Something.
Something held beauty, ugliness, love and hatred, right and wrong and just because. It knew nothing. Could do nothing.
Needed nothing.
It merely was.
In a cage of sickly yellow cracks and fissures was a soul.
“I know you’re there, Basic,” Radia slurred.
My name is Paige.
“Paige... that’s beautiful...”
They slumped against the tilted remains of a wall, Paige easing them the last of the way when Radia’s grip on their body faltered. They rested and stared out over what they’d wrought.
There had been no salt or bitter, fire, water, soot or smoke. Only destruction and a thirst for vengeance that started to leak away only now, as tears, blindingly bright viral yellow.
“All I valued once was life and peace,” Radia whispered.
As did I.
“What happened to us?”
We met each other.
I guess you’ll be wanting this back, Radia said, wrapping her arms around their body one last time.
Paige stared at her in the reflection of the energy pool for a long time. Then she hung her head and hugged back. “Just don’t go anywhere.”
There was no-one else left.