You can never say that I didn't try

[notglitching]

Who: Rinzler and OPEN
When: April 14th through the 24th
Where: the Hold
What: Rinzler killed some people and copes poorly. Set after this log.
Warnings: references to character death and mindscrew, glowy injuries, unfortunate assumptions. (See also: Rinzler.)


The first place Rinzler woke up in this system was a cell. He'd been locked in after a fight with his duplicate—with Tron. Not that the enforcer had been capable then of even hearing the older version's name. Rinzler had attacked because he had to, because the overrides built in his mind detected conflict and demanded he delete the source. Since then, he's shattered that if/then chain. Chipped away at the filters on his memories, even managed, once or twice, to speak.

But he's back where he started, and he knows better than to expect things to end the same way.

For the most part, visitors will find Rinzler seated on the low bench back against the wall. Circuits burn dimly in the shadows, almost outshone by the dull glint of fractured code that covers a full half of the enforcer's core. He's turned slightly to conceal the injured side, but the spiderwebbing cracks through code and armor are obvious to see, and he doesn't have the power to refresh his shell and cover up the damage.

The low rattle of corrupted code echoes through the cell and down the corridor, though it does nothing to compete with the invectives from the user locked in one door down. Rinzler approaches shutdown just once, curled up against the wall, and if the flickering lights and twitch of limbs is any sign, it's anything but restful. The program won't notice anyone approaching then, but he probably wouldn't mind being woken.

Once or twice, Rinzler rises, pacing, frustration and the need to move boiling up through the despair. There's nowhere to go, though, nothing to do, and even that much risks opening his damage further. Maybe he should. Fracture, break, rip himself apart and leave them voxels on the floor to claim and punish. Rinzler wonders if he ever tried before. If he does, he can't remember. He wonders what they'll make him into. Alan-one had told him what would happen, told him he'd correct the fault if Rinzler fought again. Now two users are dead, and if there's any hope at all, it's that they'll decide he's too worthless to salvage.


[[ooc: the duration during which Rinzler can be visited depends largely on the results of his trial, so there may be some time-wobbling. In particular, if he ends up with solitary confinement... no longer applicable; Rinzler will be visitable for both the trial period and his sentence. ETA 2: As of the 20th, temperature conditions will be improved thanks to Vision + co.

Prose and spam both welcome!]]

Comments

[realitywarped]

Loki can't very well condemn Rinzler for murder, attempted or not, not with the blood of so many on hands that weren't his to begin with. At least, not witout a little more information.

And, perhaps, a little sideways sympathy. If Rinzler is a program, is it fair to judge him for what his programming forces him to do? Does he know what he does, does he have an opinion on it? Or can he see the trap, but with no way out, the way Loki

He stands by the bars, watching for a moment, before he clears his throat.

"Are you actually allowed to speak in your own defence? And if you are, do you have anything to say?"

[notglitching]

Rinzler watches right back. The grinding rattle of mismatched code is the only noise the program will answer with—the only noise Rinzler ever makes, even if it's usually a little smoother. There's an almost deliberate skip at Loki's questions—derision or offense, it's hard to say.

Rinzler isn't allowed to speak at all. He reaches for the MID, red-orange letters scrolling out into the air in short reply.

No purpose.

[realitywarped]

Well, at least there's a response, which is actually more than he expected. Still, he reads the message with a frown, because it honestly makes very little sense to Loki. There's always a reason for everything Loki does, and there's always a reason to defend himself, at the very least in the hopes of not being hit by a hammer.

"No purpose to defending yourself? That seems rather fatalistic, I must say. Why not?"

He folds his arms, head tilted, expression mostly curious.

[notglitching]

The curiosity itself isn't offensive, but the answer is so obvious to Rinzler that it takes several moments for him to return anything more useful than a stare. Finally:

Users.

Shoulders shift in a shrug—a little more carefully on one side than the other.

Doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter to them what he says. And it doesn't matter to him what they vote, not really. The jury system is for their satisfaction, nothing more. None of the corrections on offer there are the ones Rinzler's afraid of.

[realitywarped]

"I'm afraid you've lost me. What are users, and what do they have to do with anything?"

Because Loki's mind jumps more towards manipulation than it does computers, and the lack of immediate context does make things harder to parse, a little.

It doesn't help that Rinzler is, on the whole, frustratingly confusing. As if there's no-one home but dubious logic and the occasional murderous impulse. It's like talking to Ultron, but without the personality.

"No urge to justify yourself at all? Nothing that concerns you about having no reasons?"

[notglitching]

If Rinzler weren't quite so drained (or quite so apathetic) at the moment, the question would get some much clearer exasperation. Rinzler's had to explain users to users often enough as it is, but having to do so in this circumstance feels patently ridiculous.

Programmers. Humans. Organics.

It's a fairly catch-all term. He adds one last descriptor.

Not code.

So, most of the Moira... as opposed to him. To the repeated question, Rinzler's helmet only tilts. The expression behind it isn't visible, but the ticking rumble rises briefly, irritated. Of course he has reasons. That doesn't mean there's any point. The users don't care, and what they think of him won't make a difference. It doesn't matter, and he doesn't bother recycling the words.

[realitywarped]

"Some people would say we're all coded, in the end. If not in the ones and zeros you prefer, in genes or stories or thoughts."

Which has precisely nothing to do with much right now, but Loki does quite like giving people things to think about and has a bad habit of occasionally thinking out loud, which can be confusing when he has about five trains of thought all running crossways.

It's also probably almost as irritating for anything based on logic as being stonewalled is for Loki, frankly. The answer isn't giving him anything to work with, and he pulls a moderately frustrated face.

"You should know I'm almost impossible to get to leave without my curiosity satisfied, by the way. So- from the beginning, then. You're a program, given solid form. What are you programmed for?"

[notglitching]

There's a faint rise in the ticking rumble. Rinzler's heard that excuse before, and it definitely irritates. Users bleed. They grow and change with no input at all. They aren't designed to serve a function. And what purpose they choose can't—shouldn't—be recoded.

They're nothing alike.

The warning, Rinzler accepts with resignation. Still, the question it starts with is simple enough, and discounting the heat-lag, there's no delay in response.

Threat deletion.

[realitywarped]

He's getting used to the way the ticking changes when he ventures to close to something irritating, and he smiles slightly. Well, he supposes it probably doesn't look that way from where Rinzler's standing, but- Loki isn't human. Isn't even strictly speaking real, not completely. He's a creation of story and myth, he doesn't and can't change like humans do, and he recoded himself, once.

Mostly by dying, but he supposes that's not a terribly fun option if it can be avoided.

He leans against the wall, settling in for what seems like a long game, possibly with very little reward. He is getting answers, though.

"Threats to who, exactly? And how do you codify 'threat'?"

[notglitching]

System threats.

To the Grid. Or to Clu, of course, but that went without saying. The admin was the center of the system, the one who made it what it was.

(Who made Rinzler what he was.)

Assigned threats: malware, imperfections. ISOs. System disruptions. Sources of instability.