There were reports, and then there were reports. Sometimes Clu felt he lived in stacks of reports, and that the real reason for his existence was to crunch all the data Flynn hadn't bothered to read. Sometimes you just had to leave the fine print on the desk.
He'd bypassed any kind of status information and no few safety controls to arrive this quickly. He'd acted with, not no forethought, but almost none, and certainly out of desperation.
To pop in facing the drywall hadn't been great for his ego. Still. His temper wouldn't exactly help, and anyway the sight of his code-brother trussed up like that, in literal pieces, had short-circuited it entirely.
Of course the hacker had wanted to help. He was built for chance analysis and fine-tuned for narrow escapes, and he had a certain warmth, besides. He had a strong collaborative bent, and people liked him--a thing Clu himself struggled with and almost envied--except, he liked it, too.
It was one of the things that was perfect about his code-brother.
His code-brother who was trying to insist it wasn't so bad, offering up a wan, sheepish grin and some null strings about his function set that made Clu snort, just softly, even as he filed away a flag to talk about that later. Much later. When all this was over, and both the project and his code-brother were more stable.
Users granting that he got better. Certainly Clu would do everything he could to help that happen.
He leaned into the hug, trying to get hold of the way his queue raced a little for the thin patter of his right hand (his only--) It wasn't until things came back status ok, brisk enough to sting, that Clu relaxed at all.
Only, maybe he was gripping too tight? His code-brother winced with a low, pained noise.
"Oh! Yeah, I'm, sorry, I--" Clu let go instantly, pulled himself upright with a bit of a jolt. "Yeah, man. Sorry."
His title certainly snapped him to attention. If the head recompiler wanted him to keep his hands strictly to himself, it must be serious. And what she said was entirely sensible: he did not want to injure his code-brother further. He still wanted to be near him, though, to be here in a raw, literal way that ended in an awkward sort of pat to his code-brother's good hand.
She was crisp and no-nonsense, making brisk work of a data readout that crossed his eyes a little, and there was a decided square set to her shoulders that suggested he'd better not get between her and her patient.
He needed neither scans nor pings to know that making her angry would be. Counterproductive.
"Greetings," he managed, his usual--scripted, entirely rote, a touch too chipper; he could probably cough out that particular polite bit in the midst of his own deresolution. "Head Compiler Gana."
And he stepped to the side with the same sort of nod. After all, authority recognized authority.
"Highly efficient," with an approving rumble. "Please do."
no subject
He'd bypassed any kind of status information and no few safety controls to arrive this quickly. He'd acted with, not no forethought, but almost none, and certainly out of desperation.
To pop in facing the drywall hadn't been great for his ego. Still. His temper wouldn't exactly help, and anyway the sight of his code-brother trussed up like that, in literal pieces, had short-circuited it entirely.
Of course the hacker had wanted to help. He was built for chance analysis and fine-tuned for narrow escapes, and he had a certain warmth, besides. He had a strong collaborative bent, and people liked him--a thing Clu himself struggled with and almost envied--except, he liked it, too.
It was one of the things that was perfect about his code-brother.
His code-brother who was trying to insist it wasn't so bad, offering up a wan, sheepish grin and some null strings about his function set that made Clu snort, just softly, even as he filed away a flag to talk about that later. Much later. When all this was over, and both the project and his code-brother were more stable.
Users granting that he got better. Certainly Clu would do everything he could to help that happen.
He leaned into the hug, trying to get hold of the way his queue raced a little for the thin patter of his right hand (his
only--) It wasn't until things came back status ok, brisk enough to sting, that Clu relaxed at all.Only, maybe he was gripping too tight? His code-brother winced with a low, pained noise.
"Oh! Yeah, I'm, sorry, I--" Clu let go instantly, pulled himself upright with a bit of a jolt. "Yeah, man. Sorry."
His title certainly snapped him to attention. If the head recompiler wanted him to keep his hands strictly to himself, it must be serious. And what she said was entirely sensible: he did not want to injure his code-brother further. He still wanted to be near him, though, to be here in a raw, literal way that ended in an awkward sort of pat to his code-brother's good hand.
She was crisp and no-nonsense, making brisk work of a data readout that crossed his eyes a little, and there was a decided square set to her shoulders that suggested he'd better not get between her and her patient.
He needed neither scans nor pings to know that making her angry would be. Counterproductive.
"Greetings," he managed, his usual--scripted, entirely rote, a touch too chipper; he could probably cough out that particular polite bit in the midst of his own deresolution. "Head Compiler Gana."
And he stepped to the side with the same sort of nod. After all, authority recognized authority.
"Highly efficient," with an approving rumble. "Please do."