Simple History 101

Simple History 101
Date of Scene:	12 February 2013
Location:	Datapoint Security - Barracks
Synopsis:	CHIEF gets his mild Q/A with the MCP.
Cast of Characters:	MCP, CHIEF

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MCP has posed:
Co-opted from the original owners, the manager's office has been gutted and has become another workplace with the same rigid program aesthetic as the rest of datapoint security. A short flight of stairs and a closed door lead to a extremely orderly but sparse office.

A datapad lays slightly crooked on the table lining one wall and the corner, but that crooked angle seems to compliment the ordered containers, pixelated cubes and holographic projectors so that even chaos is worked into the overall design of the room. A swarm of grid bugs scuttle and bag underneath another clear container, seemingly to hiss simultaniously in fragments of their original tune pipings. In the static are fragments of the occasional word. Or-- not.

Nothing there now. The Master Control Program sits at a semi circular desk the same flat black as the walls or the floor. He examines the projection of a light map, silver, blue and red threads leaping from node to node. He reaches out and reorients the design, raising an eyebrow very slightly as he regards several burned away sectors. He taps them twice and a video file springs to life of CHIEF. He pulls the video file apart and a sequence of light nodes flash in sequence. The administrator frowns faintly and replays the sequence.

Another video file plays. The failed hotfix and the angry 'mob'-- and the program grits his teeth, murmuring "Users." in a voice of veiled, frustrated contempt. He taps his fingers once on the desk, everything closing to leave the desk completely bare. "You petty fools.."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF has been doing some thinking as they continue to try to find ways to trick his targeting sensors. The visor utility tool was the best they could do for now. It had been a few gigacycles since that little incident out in the market place, followed shortly by a near break into the loops full cycle-- and that was followed by learning a few things he was just going to keep to his personal self; for everyone's sanity. Even his own really.

Though such conversations brought to mind what he realized he /doesn't/ know. Terms he hears, words he has asked about. What is the Games? What is Sark? What is... there was so many What ises..

A few have answered them to the best of their abilities, yet none have given perhaps what he wanted to hear. Maybe he just didn't want to believe what he was hearing either. The concept that they were so /far/ behind was-- hard to conceptually understand. How could /he/ be so far ahead of the curve. So many systems he had been too while jumping were higher then what came of their Grid. So what gave? How come?

He never seeked the answers, maybe because he feared what he find was true. Maybe because he didn't want to believe. Believe that his user could maybe be.. No. He wouldn't not believe such. DB-77 was out there, somewhere. Perhaps when they got this part settled down, he could start to search for him. Find him. Then everything would be ok? Right?

Just this one user. This one, simple fragging user.

..unless he already..

No. He would not thing that either. Focus. Focus.

The military program made his way up the stairs to where the MCP's office was; his room perhaps was the other term. He stared at the door before him. Staring at it a long time as his gold eyes flickered past the red visor band. Third attempt was holding for now, before the testing ended. Some more glitches, he was pretty sure he heard grumble somewhere. He didn't press what the glitches were.

His hand rose up and he paused it there. Still unsure, still unsure how the MCP would take to a program asking such silly question. Wasting resource time asking questions that meant nothing in the grand acceleration of things. Yet. Yet they needed to be asked. He /wanted/ to learn.

So with his hand held there for a moment. He at last gently tapped his knuckles on the door.

MCP has posed:
The MCP drums his fingers on the semi circular desk again, steepling his fingers and leaning back in the chair with his eyes canted up towards the blank black ceiling.

The cane lay up against the desk nearby, letting out a tone almost too faint to hear. "Come in and sit down, CHIEF." the administrator says, his calm voice carrying past the door. "I believe it is time for several matters to be further discussed."

CHIEF has posed:

When the MCP speaks up, CHIEF inhales deeply before entering into the room. They we careful steps, respectful steps. Though CHIEF maybe at first gave the Administrator some hassle, but when you live under the roof of the one who is trying to help you; You learn to behave, play by the rules, and over all things - Respect.

Though in insane moments that CHIEF can have, those three can be hard to do, yet somehow, MCP keeps dealing with him. Yeah, ECHO was right on that. She was very right on many things. Not that he tell her how many she was on. She may never let him live it down!

Those gold eyes peer past the lightly tinted red visor, before glancing around the room. Noting the containers, grid bugs, how the desk was laid out, all the information he could gather at a very quick glance before he walked up toward the desk that the MCP was sitting at. "It would seem so." CHIEF replied back before glancing at some of the pixilated items. Silently wondering what it once was or even is.

"Also, Administrator, if there is time.. I have a few questions for you as well, sir." Administrator.. was that the proper address title? It seemed like it at least. Better sounding then saying what TRON has been heard saying: Master Control. Though really, it probably means the same. Just easier on the verbial code.

MCP has posed:
The Master Control program chuckles very softly. "Time." he purses his lips slightly as if caught by some internal thought. He looks down from the ceiling and then over at CHIEF as they approach. The pixelated 'cube' is now a sphere, the mirrored surface black with a number of small protursions that grow across the surface like spines until the arrangement is more a jagged star.

The star begins to melt back into a sphere again and then settle back into a cube. "Yes. There is still time. Tell me what you wish to ask, although I may make a selected register of assumptions beforehand." he makes a small gesture of faint curiosity. "We will see if it checksums properly."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF raises a brow as the object shifts from one form to another. Curious object. His gold eyes then move over to the MCP, before he gives a faint nod of his head. "Many of the programs who have made it from the Grid.. I have heard at least one, maybe two, bring up The Games. An area I only know whispers on, or what small data I have been able to gather from obscure conversations."

Also why is it when he spoke to the MCP, he always feel right into the wording? Some terms he hadn't used since his early cycles of processes. Guess it never leaves you.

"The other is ENCOM. I've heard it once, maybe twice. It sounded important, important also such as FCon." The Military program cants his head. "Not that I expect any direct answers still, but little tid bits of information can go a long way." He shrugs his shoulders. "Beyond that. Nothing else really.. at least for the current cycle until something else catches my interest when this is explained."

MCP has posed:
The MCP's face twitched, the facial gesture ticking over in stages and the muscle groups not quite interacting at a speed fast enough to make the smile look genuine. The closed lipped smile in fact looked grim and forbidding, smashed almost before forming into a dour contemplation.

Another reedy tone was muffled as the administrator rose from his chair, hand gripped around the cane as he began to pace. Lightly tap. Here. Here- there. The cane makes a long reddish streak across the black walls. Projectors flicker on. "Ah yes. The Games." The administrator frowns slightly, muttering. "panem et circenses quam diligimus.." as he picks up the slowly shifting object. The screens show a number of programs competing in a number of activities requiring both discs and vehicles and those without either one. A program catches a ball of energy clumsily and topples off a series of concentric rings forming a platform, derezzing far before they drop more than a dozen or more feet into the bottomless murk below. "The Games were a neccessary stint on the internal hemorrhaging of the system's stability rating. Programs without active functions who could not be used in the guard would often join into roving, purposeless gangs, stealing what they could not earn. Those who terrorized in the name of a free system were quarantined there but the madness still spread. A free system."

The administrator scoffs quietly. "They would not know what to do with it. They strive towards an ideal that they do not understand, and will tear down anything in their way to get it."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF listened calmly to what the MCP had to say. His eyes gazing over the visual information that came up of what the games were. Sports really. Things like some stuff a few programs he knew did in their free time, yet this was /far/ different. It was like a sport meant to kill.

Function or Derez.

He glanced away from the screens. Programs made to kill other programs, to keep structure? To keep stability in a system that wanted freedom? Yet, programs were not free in a system because they responded to the users. The users were chains and shackles that were the true instruments of what kept programs from /being/ free.

Though he be a fool if he did not once believe such things as well. Freedom. You worked along side the users, not that you were their tool for their gain. You worked along side them in what you /thought/ was freedom, to only watch those you love be--

CHIEF hand tightened without subconscious process of what he was doing. Before he closed his eyes for a moment and flexed it free once more, then moving to pop the joints in his hand. His eyes flickering softly, before he closed them softly. Silence remaining over his features, yet his brows were furrowed for a moment.

Freedom.

'So, enjoying your freedom?' .. wasn't that your words LEXUS?

"Freedom." CHIEF at last spoke up. "Is-- always an interesting phrase. Means so many things, can be phrased in so many ways." And true freedom was orderless, lawless, without purpose. Programs required a purpose. They could not exist without one. If they did, they ceased functions. True Freedom was deresolution.. and the other side of Freedom was the ability to make some choices, yet still remaining within a set bounds.

'..enjoying your freedom..' And what was your reply CHIEF? You always enjoy your freedom? Illusion. Yet. Choice.

CHIEF only simply nods his head to the MCP, he then looks at him. Raising one brow. "I suppose the illusions of freedom to some is better then the knowledge of chains. Some refuse to know its chains, because they rather believe they have freedom. Chaos, disorder, lack of purpose... sounds like a virus." CHIEF says quietly, closing his eyes. "..Choice is a freedom, yet still bound." he shrugs softly, with a mild soft laugh. "I guess they got their 'freedom' in deresolution." Ok. Cruel thing to say, but some truth in it. "..though probably not the /best/ topic of conversation."

MCP has posed:
The Administrator stares at the projected images for a few moments before slowly turning in place to regard CHIEF. He listens with a calm and expressionless demeanor, only the slight flickering glow of his eyes showing his interest as CHIEF continues to divulge himself of his thoughts on choices and the freedom, or illusion of freedom, that other programs strive for.

There is a few moments of weighing and measuring, an eyebrow raised just slightly as MCP turns to put the softly shifting object down by one of it's protruding spines back onto the little circle that served as the 'base' that it floated above. "There are consequences to every decision gate." although if he means that to apply to the beginning of the conversation and the games, to the middle and freedom or to the end with the choice of topics for conversation is not immediately evident. He gestures with the cane, an angry red slash across the wall fading to bleed other video files across the sightline.

"As for ENCOM. They were the system in question, and the only system-- though on further inspection of the data that assumption was about as flawed as the presumption that the users were fickle gods of terrible knowledge and power." The MCP snorts faintly. "Ah, what the naive and the desperate grasp to themselves when the silence of the abandoned server beckons.."

CHIEF has posed:

The Military program was unsure if the angry slash was a mild disagreement with what has been said, or if the MCP just does things with angry fashion anyhow due to the next subject at hand. ENCOM.

"Honestly, many programs believe that. I once probably did as well, but being dumped around in some many systems, with upgrade upon upgrade-- to re-purposing upon re-purposing.." He doesn't have to go into further detail. After all, everyone knows this already. Its old.

CHIEF sighs softly, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a flicker in his eyes, processing data perhaps. Processing deeper thoughts, maybe? Or his constant loop being held back by the /lack/ of data was trying to poke holes again in a code. One never knew!

"So, ENCOM then, thought faulty..?" He continues speaking but holds that as a question on the faulty bit, unsure if that is true or not. "Is your home system.." He tilts his head. "..and maybe sillier query regarding that." There was a long pause. "..do you miss it?"

MCP has posed:
The administrator leans on the cane with both hands as he quietly puts it down on the wooden floor. One by one the panels of stock meetings, grid born cityscapes and solar sailers blink out of existance. The MCP moves slowly and carefully, a hand reaching out to support himself carefully on the arm of the chair as he slowly lowers himself back into the chair.

He rests the cane across the side of the semi-circular desk, considering CHIEF for many long seconds as he steeples his finger. They slowly interweave until only the index fingers continue to press upwards, faintly pressed against eachother. "In regards to FCON, I would appreciate a measure of discretion. They are cannibals whom disgust the delicate constitution of other cannibals." and at this the MCP smiles a very rueful and grimly amused smile.

"A network made monstrous by the knowledge of our existence. It is not also as 'live and let prosper' as it is here in Traverse Town. No.. Users often take a much more.. opportunistic stance towards such things. It is of little consequence however. They have been handed only what they richly deserve." The MCP pauses and then continues slowly, with the calculation of a metronome.

"And we survive.. and we go on... as we must."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF watches as the images of the Grid and so on wink out of existence. He has been to the Grid a few times, he had to hide out there before he got out. Just when you are on the run, you get good at hiding; even if your insanity wants you to go out and do very, very stupid things.

Like what he has already done. Though he can't deny it even to himself - He enjoyed it in some small way. Yet in a larger way, he didn't. But there is always that small part, isn't there?

"The strong survive." CHIEF states out, with his eyes closed. "That is what some users would say back in my later days. The strong survive, the weak perish." He gives a mild shrug before he opens his eyes. There seem like there was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to ask; yet he remained silent. Only his facial expression briefly giving away that slight want to ask more.

The Military program inhaled deeply and gave a nod. "Yep. Sounds like a /great/ group." Hello sarcasm. He then shifts his weight to the other leg. "Thank you for answering the questions, Administrator." He bows his head in respect, before he raises a brow. "Now, sir, what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?"

MCP has posed:
The administrator tilts his head very slightly, considering CHIEF. Observing his patterns of speech and his body language. When he has fallen silent, the MCP draws out the words slightly. "Another time perhaps." The MCP says with firm but polite finality.

"If you require any more information, perhaps you should seek out HEIMDALL. He is the specialist in such matters, after all." he gestures to the door. "You may go, CHIEF." The MCP continues to sit there, fingers steepled and with a faintly abstracted manner as he continues. "After all, I find it is.. not polite to eat in front of your guests."

CHIEF has posed:

CHIEF corks a brow and hrms softly. He inhales deeply and lets out a mild sigh. Probably not exactly what he wanted to hear but, it was what he was getting. Talk about being left out to hang on the data wait.

The Military program gives a nod. "Alright." He then starts to head for the door, before he glances over his shoulder. "..and Administrator," There was a minor pause. A consideration, before his brows soften a little. "... Thank you for doing what you have done thus far." Then CHIEF steps out, and only once the door is closed, does he light his cigar and start to make his way back down.

"War. Freedom. Chaos. Users." CHIEF hrmphs softly. "Where does the line end and the line begin? Kill. Kill. And Kill some more. I guess that really is life, and even if it shackles.." He takes a drag off the cigar as he hits the final step, huffing out some smoke. "..and least I will get the /choice/ of who I kill soon enough... That is enough freedom for me."