Post by anon on Mar 10, 2011 23:55:00 GMT -6
Home? Was this really it? The tall luminescent buildings against the familiar black sky seemed as if they had always been there. Still, something was... different. Indeed the last time Anon had laid eyes on the city chaos had been raining down on it. Tanks had fired relentlessly at anyone not deemed a Basic, not caring the slightest bit about collateral damage. Recognizers were dropping security programs and bombs wherever they were necessary. Basics and Isos alike fled in terror as walkways and buildings collapsed. The last thing Anon remembered of the city was of highways collapsing in front of him as he made a final run for the outlands on his lightcycle. And the last thing he remembered of the outlands was pushing Quorra out of the way only mere hundredths of a nanocycle before their crashed Recognizer could crush both of them.
Then everything had gone black.
Anon sat upright instantly, inhaling deeply. His hands clutched his chest as if to suppress pain that wasn't there. His head snapped recklessly in all directions, up, down, left, right, over the shoulder. Everything that had been there only moments ago was now gone. Not even the broken remains of the Recognizer remained. Not even... Quorra!
Pebbles scattered as Anon bound to his feet in worry. He ran all over the top of the cliff side, feverishly scanning every foot of the cliff top. Where did she go? What had happened? Why was he still here and she wasn't? He had to find her. She was too important to lose. The creator had said that she was, and he was given the task of finding her and rescuing her because of it. She might very well be the last Iso in existence. That alone meant she was too important to lose. She was too important to Anon...
Anon ran to the cliff side and nearly fell off as he skidded on his knees, peering over the edge for any sign of her. Slowly his fear began to set in as he realized that she might actually be gone. Then he did something that he had never done. He yelled. "Quorra!" His voice carried for miles, but no one responded. "Quorra!" Again, no one responded. His voice echoed even as his left his mouth, laced with the dull tones of midi style accents. After the third time Anon sank back onto his heels, head sagging in defeat. He had failed. Not only had he failed the Creator, but more importantly he had failed Quorra. He had never been programmed to feel failure. He had been programmed to be relentless in his duties. Yet it still hurt, even more than the Recognizer crushing him. Thunder rumbled above him as if to sooth his pain.
After what seemed like gigacycles, Anon finally looked up. He had to continue his duties, to serve the creator. Unfortunately he was unsure of where to find Flynn, especially in the Outlands. He scanned the horizon with the futile hope that it may show him the way; and that it did. Tron city lay far in the distance, glowing brightly. A ways away from him, Anon could make out the grid lines of a highway that would take him straight to the city. For any normal Basic or User it looked like it would take at least a quarter of a milicycle to cover the distance to the highway on foot. Anon knew he could do it in about an eighth of a milicycle. He gripped the edge of the cliff and flung himself over it, down to the next ledge. And then again, and again...
A third of a milicycle had passed since Anon had awakened on the cliff. Now he drove through the city on the elevated highway, looking confused as he passed by completely unharmed buildings on a completely intact road surface. The city had been in ruin mere milicycles ago, and now it was all repaired? Was this Clu's doing? People were walking around as if completely unaware of what had just happened. How could they? It had been horrifying for everyone. It was all so strange.
Anon decided to make his way to the only place he really knew, the End of the Line Club. He hadn't really been anywhere in the grid at all. Tron had found him at an insertion node in the Outlands when he was uploaded to the grid and had taken him right to Radias promotion to Co administrator ceremony. From there everything had gone to hell. The only other place that Anon had experienced was the game grid. Maybe he would try there next. After all, everyone knew how much Tron enjoyed the grid. Maybe, just maybe he had survived somehow. It wouldn't be completely absurd considering how the city was still intact.
The elevator ride up to the club was somewhat uncomfortable. Anon stood at ease with his neck straight, feet apart, and hands clasped together behind his back, standing directly in the center of the floor. The programs around him were probably more uncomfortable than he was though, judging from the way they looked sideways at him. He expected that it was because of the same reason as before, which was because Monitors weren't very liked around the club. They were the ones that had been causing most of the problems between Basic's and Iso's. Zuse often spoke of his Iso friendly club, and he hadn't seemed too pleased the first time he had met Anon. Fortunately Quorra had been there to calm him down last time, ensuring him that Anon was no threat. Hopefully he would remember that this time.
When the doors of the elevator opened Anon was the first to exit, walking purposefully past the security guards, who did little to stop the monitor. He past them until he reached the stairs in front of the dance floor and stopped. Anon carefully scanned the crowd in a hopeless effort to find Quorra, or Tron, or even Flynn. His initial attempt proved pointless however, which he had completely expected. Feeling defeated, Anon walked around the dance floor and took a seat at the bar. He completely lost form, crossing his arms on the bar top and hanging his head in defeat. Even if he had seen Quorra, what would he do? It didn't look like things were out of hand anymore. Did she even really know him? She had never seen his face. She probably didn't even know his name. As a matter of fact, he had no name. People just called him Monitor. He was basically anonymous.
... Anon...
Then everything had gone black.
Anon sat upright instantly, inhaling deeply. His hands clutched his chest as if to suppress pain that wasn't there. His head snapped recklessly in all directions, up, down, left, right, over the shoulder. Everything that had been there only moments ago was now gone. Not even the broken remains of the Recognizer remained. Not even... Quorra!
Pebbles scattered as Anon bound to his feet in worry. He ran all over the top of the cliff side, feverishly scanning every foot of the cliff top. Where did she go? What had happened? Why was he still here and she wasn't? He had to find her. She was too important to lose. The creator had said that she was, and he was given the task of finding her and rescuing her because of it. She might very well be the last Iso in existence. That alone meant she was too important to lose. She was too important to Anon...
Anon ran to the cliff side and nearly fell off as he skidded on his knees, peering over the edge for any sign of her. Slowly his fear began to set in as he realized that she might actually be gone. Then he did something that he had never done. He yelled. "Quorra!" His voice carried for miles, but no one responded. "Quorra!" Again, no one responded. His voice echoed even as his left his mouth, laced with the dull tones of midi style accents. After the third time Anon sank back onto his heels, head sagging in defeat. He had failed. Not only had he failed the Creator, but more importantly he had failed Quorra. He had never been programmed to feel failure. He had been programmed to be relentless in his duties. Yet it still hurt, even more than the Recognizer crushing him. Thunder rumbled above him as if to sooth his pain.
After what seemed like gigacycles, Anon finally looked up. He had to continue his duties, to serve the creator. Unfortunately he was unsure of where to find Flynn, especially in the Outlands. He scanned the horizon with the futile hope that it may show him the way; and that it did. Tron city lay far in the distance, glowing brightly. A ways away from him, Anon could make out the grid lines of a highway that would take him straight to the city. For any normal Basic or User it looked like it would take at least a quarter of a milicycle to cover the distance to the highway on foot. Anon knew he could do it in about an eighth of a milicycle. He gripped the edge of the cliff and flung himself over it, down to the next ledge. And then again, and again...
A third of a milicycle had passed since Anon had awakened on the cliff. Now he drove through the city on the elevated highway, looking confused as he passed by completely unharmed buildings on a completely intact road surface. The city had been in ruin mere milicycles ago, and now it was all repaired? Was this Clu's doing? People were walking around as if completely unaware of what had just happened. How could they? It had been horrifying for everyone. It was all so strange.
Anon decided to make his way to the only place he really knew, the End of the Line Club. He hadn't really been anywhere in the grid at all. Tron had found him at an insertion node in the Outlands when he was uploaded to the grid and had taken him right to Radias promotion to Co administrator ceremony. From there everything had gone to hell. The only other place that Anon had experienced was the game grid. Maybe he would try there next. After all, everyone knew how much Tron enjoyed the grid. Maybe, just maybe he had survived somehow. It wouldn't be completely absurd considering how the city was still intact.
The elevator ride up to the club was somewhat uncomfortable. Anon stood at ease with his neck straight, feet apart, and hands clasped together behind his back, standing directly in the center of the floor. The programs around him were probably more uncomfortable than he was though, judging from the way they looked sideways at him. He expected that it was because of the same reason as before, which was because Monitors weren't very liked around the club. They were the ones that had been causing most of the problems between Basic's and Iso's. Zuse often spoke of his Iso friendly club, and he hadn't seemed too pleased the first time he had met Anon. Fortunately Quorra had been there to calm him down last time, ensuring him that Anon was no threat. Hopefully he would remember that this time.
When the doors of the elevator opened Anon was the first to exit, walking purposefully past the security guards, who did little to stop the monitor. He past them until he reached the stairs in front of the dance floor and stopped. Anon carefully scanned the crowd in a hopeless effort to find Quorra, or Tron, or even Flynn. His initial attempt proved pointless however, which he had completely expected. Feeling defeated, Anon walked around the dance floor and took a seat at the bar. He completely lost form, crossing his arms on the bar top and hanging his head in defeat. Even if he had seen Quorra, what would he do? It didn't look like things were out of hand anymore. Did she even really know him? She had never seen his face. She probably didn't even know his name. As a matter of fact, he had no name. People just called him Monitor. He was basically anonymous.
... Anon...
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