He did not know everything. It would never cross his lips, of course, but the truth was still there: he did not know everything. He had hugely miscalculated today, and so many others had paid for it.
And he had compounded his error in red. Maybe he really was slipping, or maybe everything was too much for him. Maybe he was imperfect. If he was perfect, then everything was his fault, and if he was not perfect, then he was the source of the problem--and so, it was his fault. A neat little circle. Perfect loop.
He was still sort of doing it, flooded in error of another kind, running hot and flustered for what was probably just courteous, polite, necessary touch. Not least because, with one thing and another, it was the most he had been touched in a very long time.
Only, somehow he had messed it up already.
This close, he could--not quite feel--more detect it, notice it, a flash of something hesitant in the core contact, however brief. His code-brother was not sure they should be touching, with or without things like culture norms in their way.
(Flynn had sort of explained, once, over the ceaseless din at the End of Line. Only, Clu had been in Shaddox's lap at the time, and so his exact recall was, vague. But it was a thing, for Users, and kind of a thing for programs, too--it was, a little weird, to want real close to your own fork. More because they tended to share a task set, and so pairs like that were usually built bundled together.)
"Wait," softly, for the careful, awkward pitter-patter on his bare arm. It gathered to a shout, for the goodbye smile, for the way his code-brother's back was turned. "Wait, wait!"
He lurched to his feet, a heavy lunge vertical from the edge of the bed, bodily draping his code-brother tight with both arms before he lost the chance.
"Stay?" It wasn't a command. It wasn't. It was feedback-loud, clarion want bright in his veins, jagged with something too small to be hope. "Stay, here, with, me?"
And with the request finally loose, more words came. "You're a good program; you're too good. I'll--" he made a small noise, sharp and rough, into the side of his code-brother's neck, "I'll ruin you, if you stay, but I don't want you to go."
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And he had compounded his error in red. Maybe he really was slipping, or maybe everything was too much for him. Maybe he was imperfect. If he was perfect, then everything was his fault, and if he was not perfect, then he was the source of the problem--and so, it was his fault. A neat little circle. Perfect loop.
He was still sort of doing it, flooded in error of another kind, running hot and flustered for what was probably just courteous, polite, necessary touch. Not least because, with one thing and another, it was the most he had been touched in a very long time.
Only, somehow he had messed it up already.
This close, he could--not quite feel--more detect it, notice it, a flash of something hesitant in the core contact, however brief. His code-brother was not sure they should be touching, with or without things like culture norms in their way.
(Flynn had sort of explained, once, over the ceaseless din at the End of Line. Only, Clu had been in Shaddox's lap at the time, and so his exact recall was, vague. But it was a thing, for Users, and kind of a thing for programs, too--it was, a little weird, to want real close to your own fork. More because they tended to share a task set, and so pairs like that were usually built bundled together.)
"Wait," softly, for the careful, awkward pitter-patter on his bare arm. It gathered to a shout, for the goodbye smile, for the way his code-brother's back was turned. "Wait, wait!"
He lurched to his feet, a heavy lunge vertical from the edge of the bed, bodily draping his code-brother tight with both arms before he lost the chance.
"Stay?" It wasn't a command. It wasn't. It was feedback-loud, clarion want bright in his veins, jagged with something too small to be hope. "Stay, here, with, me?"
And with the request finally loose, more words came. "You're a good program; you're too good. I'll--" he made a small noise, sharp and rough, into the side of his code-brother's neck, "I'll ruin you, if you stay, but I don't want you to go."