His code-brother returned his grip with a comforting squeeze. That, more than anything else, eased a strain in Clu's own harmonics and pulled him back into something more regular. Only when the area lighting dimmed did he realize it had been him bathing the room in harvest gold backscatter.
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when his code-brother relaxed into the gentle waves of treatment with a sigh. They were taking good care of him. He held on to his code-brother's hand, careful, beaming softly for status ok clean as a hug.
Gana brightened for her due, and that was good. Clu's code-brother had been teaching him--or had reminded him, really--about the value of delegation. A perfectly run system ran perfectly when its experts were trusted to do their job.
She did not melt at all for The Smile, the overtly innocent charm that was too, too often his own kryptonite. Clu was entirely grateful for that, if a touch sheepish for her knowing grin. He'd rushed here in a panic, and other programs might've used that--pushed for leverage, stored it for a threat, or cringed at him to curry favor. She simply took it in stride.
That warmth faded with her explanation, her factual, crisp tone overlaying the grim display before them with soothing logic. There was so much red, great sizzling blocks of orange punched through it like the windows of a burning house. Only his core was intact, the rational heart of him bright and steady. He was well now, but the damage itself was dire. Gana took the time to explain to them both, regarding each one in turn with a level stare. They'd both better be on their best behavior--her patient to take his medicine, and Clu to see that he did.
She smiled at him in recognition and broke the tension: his code-brother would, in fact, live to fight another day.
Questions? He had about 1024 of them, but most he dismissed as emotional or irrelevant. Finally:
"Yes. A few: are there any special instructions beyond the treatment plan itself? How long should it be before I let him jump out of any more windows, for instance, or take a 'cycle anywhere?" Clu hummed thoughtfully and schooled his face into absolute neutrality. "And--may I have your contact information?"
no subject
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when his code-brother relaxed into the gentle waves of treatment with a sigh. They were taking good care of him. He held on to his code-brother's hand, careful, beaming softly for status ok clean as a hug.
Gana brightened for her due, and that was good. Clu's code-brother had been teaching him--or had reminded him, really--about the value of delegation. A perfectly run system ran perfectly when its experts were trusted to do their job.
She did not melt at all for The Smile, the overtly innocent charm that was too, too often his own kryptonite. Clu was entirely grateful for that, if a touch sheepish for her knowing grin. He'd rushed here in a panic, and other programs might've used that--pushed for leverage, stored it for a threat, or cringed at him to curry favor. She simply took it in stride.
That warmth faded with her explanation, her factual, crisp tone overlaying the grim display before them with soothing logic. There was so much red, great sizzling blocks of orange punched through it like the windows of a burning house. Only his core was intact, the rational heart of him bright and steady. He was well now, but the damage itself was dire. Gana took the time to explain to them both, regarding each one in turn with a level stare. They'd both better be on their best behavior--her patient to take his medicine, and Clu to see that he did.
She smiled at him in recognition and broke the tension: his code-brother would, in fact, live to fight another day.
Questions? He had about 1024 of them, but most he dismissed as emotional or irrelevant. Finally:
"Yes. A few: are there any special instructions beyond the treatment plan itself? How long should it be before I let him jump out of any more windows, for instance, or take a 'cycle anywhere?" Clu hummed thoughtfully and schooled his face into absolute neutrality. "And--may I have your contact information?"