[closed] now all our demons are screaming their wages aren't fair

[alan_1]

Who: Alan (and !Alan) and Rinzler (and !Rinzler)
When: Backdated to late July
Where: Alan’s apartment
What: Alan and Rinzler’s shadows think it’s high time the real Alan and Rinzler got their shit together. Which means it’s time for a learning experience \o/
Warnings: Violence, mindfuckery, shadows being awful, a whole load of self-loathing in one room.



[Alan has heard about the shadows. Impossible not to, watching the news. He’s heard about the harassment, the elaborate games of impersonation and violence, and of course, the murders. But knowing of what’s happened is very different from seeing it. It certainly does little to dampen the shock when he returns to his apartment and sees himself already there, looking almost commonplace as it watches Alan from the sofa.]



I was starting to wonder when you’d show up. [There’s no menace to the thing’s voice. If Alan didn’t already know what to look for, he doesn’t even know if he’d recognize anything physically wrong with his reflection. The black of its eyes is not glossy or in the least bit striking. Instead, there is only shadow beneath its brows, soft enough that you could almost make yourself believe that you could see eyes behind it if you looked deeper.

It stands and Alan wonders if there’s any point in slamming the door and running in the opposite direction.]

Please don’t run. I’m not here to hurt you, [the thing says, slowly raising both hands in a placating gesture.] Killing you wouldn’t help either of us. And I’d hate for you to break your promise.

[Alan finally manages to find his voice. He hasn’t closed the door yet.] What do you want?

[It smiles, the image of benevolent reassurance.] I just want to help. Isn’t that what we always want to do? [It’s smile grows wry.] It doesn’t always end well, of course, but I’ll try not to repeat your mistakes.

[Alan watches the thing wearing his face for another moment—and then moves to step back and slam the door before it can reach him. He’s already turning, not yet processing the silence where there should be the sound of the door hitting the frame, when an iron grip closes around his arm, nearly yanking Alan off his feet as it pulls him back.]

There wasn’t any need for that, [the creature says amiably. I really am here to help. Besides, it wouldn’t be very fair to Rinzler if you weren’t here for this next part.

[Alan yanks at the trapped arm. This time, the creature lets him go.]

What do you mean? [Alan demands, fear joined by anger in his voice. He knows about the M.O of this creatures by now—family and friends are their targets more often than not.] Have you hurt him?

[The creature at least does a good impression of looking aghast.] Of course not. [A beat of indignant silence.] Well, I haven’t. anyway. But this isn’t about hurting him, either.

You’ll excuse me if I don’t expect your kind to have a conscience about these things.

[The creature shrugs.] Maybe that’s for the best. Your conscience hasn’t done you any favors—or anyone else.

If you’re here to kill me or Rinzler—


Listen, [the creature says, the amiability in its voice evaporating in an instant.] I’m not the one with a body count in this conversation and I intend to keep it that way. So save your self-righteous moralizing for someone who doesn’t know you.

[The sudden fury in the other’s voice is enough to make Alan reconsider his decision not to run. But before he can change his mind, a noise at the door causes both him and his shadow to look up.]

That didn’t take long at all.

Comments

i want you to know that i accidentally c/p'ed from plurk and thus almost tried posting elmo_fire.gif

[alan_1]

[Alan holds the disk close, eyes darting between the two shadows as if he’s afraid one of them might take it if he loosens his grip. His mind races with his own double’s words. ’Fix him. Or I’ll do it for you.’ It had already specified what it expected him to fix as well: not just the physical damage, but the “glitch” Alan had sought to correct when he first laid hands on his program’s code. It wants him to “fix” Rinzler’s free will.

He tells himself he can’t do it. Rinzler has stayed himself past Alan’s first attempt, past Clu, past Nihlus—he’s come too far. Alan has, too. He can’t just let it end like this. But if Alan doesn’t make the edits… His eyes settle on his double, who watches him just as intently. Alan had heard the hatred in its voice. Whatever Alan might do to Rinzler, he’s sure the creature would find some way to make worse.]

We’re waiting, [the creature says, as if it can read Alan’s thoughts. Maybe it can.] None of us have all day—least of all him. [It casts an indifferent glance at Rinzler.] Though if his current state isn’t alarming enough, I’m sure our friend wouldn’t mind increasing the urgency—

No, [Alan says, panic in his voice where there had once been defiance.] I’ll do it. Just— [He looks at Rinzler’s own double, almost pleading.] Just don’t hurt him anymore. [He doesn’t even know what he’s promising, only that it might be able to buy Rinzler time—to buy them both of them time.]

You’re the one who gets to decide that, aren’t you? [The creature is smiling now.] Don’t let us keep you.

[Alan looks down at the disk in his hand and takes a shaky breath to steady himself. There’s at least one thing he knows he can do for Rinzler. What he’ll do after, he’s still desperately trying to figure out.

It takes him several moments to gather the intent to open the disk. He doesn’t want to do this. He has to. He forces himself to focus and red-orange light finally rises from the disk’s center. It still recognizes him as an authorized programmer. Navigating to Rinzler’s base code is the work of seconds.

He glances up at the crumpled form of his program, words crowding in his throat. He wants to tell Rinzler that all he’s doing is repairing the physical damage, that he isn’t playing the shadows’ game. But the creatures are listening. And Alan doesn’t know for how much longer those words will be true.

Without saying anything at all, Alan begins to repair the damage.]

well, as thread summaries go....

[notglitching]

[The disk opens. The code responds. This user is authorized to edit what he wants, and this process is streamlined for ease by every line that makes up Rinzler. Still, Alan may find himself challenged by more than just the ethics of the situation.

His program is in terrible shape.

Fragmented values. Terms disconnected... or just wiped. An entire branch of execution has been shattered. That's not the first missing limb Alan has repaired, and as extensive as the damage is, the raw, recent gaps carved through sensory connections are at least similarly easy to pick out. But some of the damage goes well beyond disk wounds. Layered protections have been battered out of place, and strange cracks and errors flag all through Rinzler's core functions. At the center of the misalignments is a massive, jagged fault: as if something reached into his program's root code to pull him apart from the inside.

"Not most", the shadow had said. Even with the additional "incentive", it might not have been lying. Malicious data clutters stray processes, power cycles drained and drawn. For all that Rinzler's disk shows no other logs of access, it's not hard to tell that something—or some things—have been tampering with Alan's work. Wherever Alan starts, there's plenty to set right.

Wherever Alan starts, and whatever Alan changes, Rinzler's noise will rise, and his mask won't lift again.

It's the other one that watches the procedure, eyes sharp as they flit from one gesture to the next. Rinzler's head dips, mouth hovering beside his predecessor's ear as he speaks quietly: words not meant for either user, though Alan might catch a phrase or few. "—know why, don't you?" "A failure, a waste, leeching off—" "You wanted to be perfect."

It's not a conversation. Rinzler can no sooner speak back than he can overcome the whole version of him. Than he can look at his own code. Rinzler's gaze will meet Alan's readily, if the user looks their way, smirk daring him to object. He can find other ways to spend the time—time the user was so desperate to buy. Still, he won't speak to Alan directly unless the user pauses in his work.]

Don't stop now.

You're just getting to the good part.

APOLOGIES FOR THIS HIDEOUS BEHEMOTH

[alan_1]

[The damage is horrifying. Not just the extent of it, but the intricacy, permeating into the deepest recesses of core code like a malignant root. What had done this? What could do this? How can he even begin to fix it all?

There’s no time to dwell on the questions any further. The only way to stop the panic from growing into terror is to start, to do something before it’s too late. Alan seizes onto a cluster of broken lines in Rinzler’s core code, raising a hand to isolate and delete the damage from the strands.

Alan has experience with repairs now, but he’s never seen damage like this and there’s so much of it. Minutes tick by as he works, each one tenser than the last. Alan doesn’t even know how Rinzler has held together this long, much less how much longer he can endure. His attention is too strained to even notice his own shadow stepping closer to observe his progress, satisfaction settling onto its features as Alan works.

By the time he finally repairs the worst of the damage, he feels almost sick with dread. He finally tears his eyes away from the disk in front of him and looks between the two creatures.]

You have to let me sync what I’ve done so far, [Alan says in a rush.] If he derezzes, then none of us get what we want.

[His own shadow raises an eyebrow at the sudden interruption, frowning.] I’ve already told you the rules. I finish what you don’t.

I’m not asking you to change those rules, [Alan persists.] I’m just asking to divide my own part. Let me stabilize him first—

No, [his double says, firmer this time.] You stop now, you end your turn. That’s how the game works.

These are necessary repairs—

And maybe this test is about what exactly you find “necessary,” [the creature shoots back.] You want to save him so badly? Fine. [It inclines its head towards Rinzler in mocking invitation.] Show us what that means.

[Alan feels a flash of anger, but he doesn’t dwell on it for more than an instant. Any longer would be futile. The shadow won’t bend to reason. Alan has to make a decision and he has to make it now. Heart racing, Alan thinks through his options. If he syncs Rinzler’s disk with what he has now, his shadow will take the invitation to recode Rinzler itself. The only way to prevent that outcome is for Alan to recode Rinzler instead—to do what he had failed to do all those months ago.

It wouldn’t have to be cruel. He could spare Rinzler from a true lobotomy as much as he could. Would it be kinder to remove Rinzler’s capacity for violence while leaving his personality intact? Or were the two so intertwined that it would only be a worse form of torture than starting over entirely?

The question alone draws Alan’s breath short. Would he have time to explain what he was doing to Rinzler? Would he be able to explain at all?

But it could still save him, couldn’t it? It would stop the shadows from harming him. It would be kinder, safer, more controlled, if Alan just—

Hurt Rinzler himself.

There’s a moment of complete stillness as Alan stands with the disk in hand as if stunned, staring through the motes of red-orange light. Then, he blinks, and that light flickers before darkening completely.

He says nothing at first. He’s too much of a coward to speak his choice into reality. But his shadow is still staring at him and Rinzler doesn’t have much time.]

I can’t do it. [The admission is small and anguished, but resolute.] I… I end my turn.

[His shadow only responds with a stony silence. Finally, it speaks.] You do understand how this works, don’t you? You end your turn, you give his disk to me. [Its lip curls in disgust.] And I do what you apparently don’t have the courage to do.

I end my turn, [Alan says again, still quiet, still grief-stricken, but no less steadfast. And then:] I’m sorry, Rinzler.

[It’s the only choice he could’ve made. That doesn’t make it any less terrible.]

/EMBRACES AND LOVES IT FOREVER

[notglitching]

[Pain. Immobility. The distant tickle of changes to his code. And a voice: reminding him what he deserves. Every value is accustomed. Well-known, well-used constants, adding up to an expected sum. Usually, the edits come from a different programmer. Usually, the paralysis comes from inside. Usually, but not always—and it's just as constant, just as known, that every struggle he expends will make the process worse.

He owes his user better. He always has, and he doesn't need (the warm/sharp words) (the grip, still sapping at his power) to remind him. "The least you could do is make it easy to set right." Rinzler knows the words are true; Rinzler knows what's coming... but habit doesn't make the panic any less. It's closer, messier, a wound rubbed raw and selfish. A fault, just like the rest.

He doesn't know why Alan-one still wants him.

Impossible to argue that his user does. Impossible to argue that he shouldn't. Rinzler listens, dizzy and confused, to the words reflected back and forth above. Something his user doesn't want to change. That he hadn't before? Rinzler doesn't know; Rinzler can't see, but when his user speaks again, to him... a slight scrape answers. A broken helmet, scratching sideways on the ground. An oscillation to his sound, too damaged to be clear. But maybe Alan-one can hear the words inside.

Don't be.

He's glad there's some part of him worth keeping. He's grateful, that this edit hasn't been approved. His user tried to fight it, and Rinzler will try too. That much, he hopes he'll still remember.


Rinzler says nothing at all.]