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Title: What Newton Forgot
Word Count: 576
Notes: I can't be the first to think up this pairing, right? Right...? Be aware that I'm taking liberties with writing Tron.
He made her laugh. He made her laugh, so much, that her back bent, involuntarily, and she thought her hand would slide out of his grasp. It was silvery, it glowed, and it was that visual factor more than anything else that made her suppose the slipperiness, elusiveness, of their contact.
“Sora’s right. You do know how to tell a good joke.”
But he was immaterial – in some sense – pixel built upon pixel… and yet, so was she, too. For now.
"But can you tell a lie?”
“A lie,” Tron said. His eyes were warm enough, human enough. There was real bemusement in them.
“Do you know what a lie is?”
“Technically, yes.”
If our hearts run on a separate system from that of flesh and blood, cogs and gears, microcycles and digits –
“But you can’t tell one. Technically.”
- then you’re as real as I am.
“No.” He looked almost apologetic. They had reached the portal, and under that callous red beam they danced, again.
You’re the mind of a machine. Does that make you a machine too? He was, after all, as linear an operation as the periodic, regular, mechanical drumming of their heels and toes against the cold, hard floors.
Tron grinned at her and she grinned back. She wondered if her cheeks were flushed, could flush, here. Perhaps the red light would add to that effect.
And if the laws are broken, then so is the system.
They stopped. Their steps echoed down the bare corridors, but dissipated soon enough within the sterility of their surroundings. He let go of her hand. She fought disappointment. Silly. But he continued holding his out, all lambent grays and blues –
It took form like magic in his palm – cream paper, curling reds, petals, the long, slender neck of a bouquet.
“It’s for you.” Tron was shy.
She accepted it wordlessly and backed into the portal, drenched in red light. “Thank you,” regretfully.
“The flowers are at least fifty-seven kilobytes apiece. And the bouquet another thirty-two...”
She laughed. “Should you even be telling me the cost of a gift?”
He looked puzzled, and his gaze seemed to ask, What’s wrong with that, out there? But he never spoke the questions. He knew. He knew that without the User-world he would cease to exist.
And so for you there remains nothing else but to exist in opposition to flesh-and-blood.
“Tomorrow night,” she promised.
“I don’t know when that is… Why don’t you upload day and night here? The way you programmed the garden.”
“You’ll be asking for a farm next, you!”
Reluctantly, her fingers located the correct button on the panel. She sunk it in, and the last she saw of Tron was his mirroring wave. The beams pulled her out of herself and into -
---
- herself.
Back to reality in the lab, in her long soft dress, and growling stomach, and in her hand -
Displaced data.
…there was a… bouquet?
Her gaze was wondering, incredulous. Her mind spun with a real, heady, familiar scent. She grew flowers just like this. She traced the petals lightly, then idly grabbed hold of one. Pulled.
Footsteps pervaded the area, and, by some questionable, childish instinct, she whipped the bouquet guiltily behind her back. Leon entered, stopped at the sight of her and stifled his monstrous yawn. “You’re here again,” he said. “Taken to technology, have you?”
She gave a small smile. “Not particularly,” she said, quietly.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 01:09 pm (UTC)I think you may have invented this pairing. xD
That's great. :3
xD; I have to wonder what all the Restoration Committee looks like when they're in Space Paranoids now though...
no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 01:23 pm (UTC)I wonder about that, too - I would have added certain details regarding her appearance in, if it wasn't for the word limit. XD
no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-16 08:46 pm (UTC)And if the laws are broken, then so is the system.
I loved that line too. Really striking.
Beautiful
Date: 2009-06-23 01:16 pm (UTC)