The acknowledgement is marginal, but still, apparently, enough. Rinzler tries not to show his relief as the teasing pressure of potential fades to the more accustomed nudge and slide of code. Rinzler tries not to run calculations on exactly what values might be changing. Clu promised not to reset him. Clu doesn't have the time (the resources) to spare on creative punishment right now.

Rinzler doesn't move. Clu doesn't stretch the process out—not further, not now. Rinzler can feel when the tug of lines ceases, directories pulling out to leave his code complete and whole in its new form. He can't feel what. He can't feel how.

At least, not until the disk slides back in dock.

Rewrite. Changes fix and code warps, functions self-correcting as he runs and no he doesn't want to be shut down. He locks in place, aggressively rigid against the pain as the lines that make him up pull apart and back together, finding their new shape. Data rezzes in the gap, flitting up in voxels from raw wireframe to a cohesive shell. Less than a micro, and his arm is whole. Half that again, and Rinzler unlocks motor functions, tension bleeding down his spine as his head ducks and rises to default.

Not thanks. Just confirmation.

He'll do better next time.