ActiveX 2

Summary: While renovating the Diner, Dot finds a piece of her past she hadn't known was missing…

A/N: Like the original story, adult situations will abound in the future! Expect warnings of mature content as the chapters progress. This story is exploring a path into the darker realms of the psyche and will stretch the bounds of normal characterization (Mwa ha ha).

This story takes place after Gigabyte but will continue as an Alternate Reality (AR). It will not roll into "Trust No One", the Web Wars, the battle with Daemon, or My Two Bobs.

(I highly doubt this will have any connection to the new series apparently coming out in the next few months, either. Wooooow, I had no idea they were SERIOUSLY thinking of doing a live action re-make. I am skeptical… but we'll see what happens…)

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Box

Dot sneezed for the umpteenth time. She growled, swiping at the dust and cobwebs tickling her nose. Had it really been so long since she'd last gone in there? Judging by the thick layer of dust on the box before her, yes. Of course, she'd wanted to go through this stuff hours ago. And life happened.

But not this second. No, this was the hour the Diner would begin renovation. Expansion, to be more accurate. Dot smiled at the thought. Mainframe was becoming a hot port for tourists, and the Diner was booming. It was time for the Diner to grow, too. She'd officially closed the doors last cycle and had been going through all the loose junk second by second.

Eventually landing her there, in the cellar's spare storage closet, and spare was putting it nicely. She'd locked the room so long ago she couldn't remember the last time she'd been in it. And now that she was there, she wished having the forethought to bring a surgical mask.

She could have blown down the room and waited 24 microseconds before pressing forward. But in typical Dot fashion, she persisted. And sneezed again, hard enough to knock her off balance. She pinwheeled back, the plastic shelves breaking her fall.

"Oh, thank the User-ack!" The world went black, an open box landing squarely on her head. Various objects clattered at her feet. Dot winced, hoping nothing broke, and winced harder at the voice through the door.

"Any survivors?"

Dot pulled the box up over her eyes. "At least one," she quipped and gestured around her, "The scene of the crime remains to be determined."

Bob stepped forward, his voice grim. "It appears to be a classic case of hoarding gone so, so wrong, and you hate to see that happen."

Dot glared. "I am not a hoarder." She tossed the box behind her, knocking a second box down on her head. Dust sprayed everywhere.

Bob laughed. "Clearly." He looked around, running a hand across the top of a box and grimacing. "What have you been keeping in here for so long?"

"My exes." Bob's eyes widened, and Dot pressed forward with an evil grin. "I wouldn't breathe too deeply, or you'll be taking them home with you."

"Argh!" Bob shook his hand rapidly. "Dot, you're nasty."

"And joking, you dipswitch." She rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the room. "I'm fine, thanks for checking, now get out."

"Don't you want help?" He eyed the room over his shoulder. "You'll be stuck here all second, and breathing this stuff will get you sick."

"No, I don't want help, and if I get sick, well good, I could use a sick second now and then," she answered, pushing him harder out the door.

"You're a strange one, Dot Matrix."

"You are who you hang with," she muttered.

"Yep-hey!"

"Out!" She gave a final push and closed the door, smiling at the mumbled response. Victory achieved. She turned around triumphantly… and questioned the validity of said victory. With a heavy sigh she pushed forward on her slow rummage into meters of old boxes…

By the end of second, she had successfully created two piles: absolute junk and possible junk. She had just reached the last box when the door creaked open. Dot looked up to see a hovering carton of food, the smell of a double burger from Al's hitting her like a gut punch. Her stomach roared in response. Bob's head poked around the door, his eyes wide.

"Was that you?"

"That was my stomach saying thank you." She leaned back and groaned, her hand pressing into the small of her back. "Oh, User, I can't be as old as I feel right now."

Bob brought the box under her nose. He smirked as she lunged for the food, lifting the box high for good measure. "Nah, I think you're fine."

Dot glared and went on her tiptoes, half mad at his immediate denial of her sustenance and half grateful for the extra stretch. Her fingers grazed the box when he pulled away and bounced toward the door. "Hey, bring that back!"

"No way you're eating in this dust pit. It's time to call it a night. You need to eat," he paused for an exaggerated sniff, "and you need a bath."

"I do not stink!"

Bob had the graciousness to look around the room. "Yes, I'm sure that's just the mildew around here."

Dot's lips pursed. "Fine. I have one more box and I'll meet you upstairs."

"It'll be cold by then. Come back in the morning."

Dot shook her head. "You know that's not how I work Bob. If I start something, I finish it."

"Yes, I've seen how you eat." He ducked the dust pan with nanoseconds to spare. "Seriously, Dot, it's just one box."

She sighed. Looking down, she saw BEDROOM scribbled in her writing. She hummed to herself and picked up the box. It was small enough to fit on her hip comfortably, and was light. Inside she spotted a few digital frames and something fluffy. She smiled. "All right, let's go."

Bob's eyes went up. "You're taking it with you?"

"This isn't stuff from the Diner, it's from my old apartment. Must have gotten mixed up in the move. Might be something valuable in here."

Bob shrugged. "Okay. Let's go, I'm hungry," he said, already out the door and heading up the stairs to the dining area.

Her stomach growled again, and she laughed. "Ditto. Your place or mine?"

"Yours is closer."

"Good call." She paused at the top of the stairs and looked around the dark and empty diner with a twinge of sadness. All the furniture was out, the floors would be torn up tomorrow, and the walls would start coming down on the east side after the cycle-end. Everything would be new, and Dot's first version would be nothing more than a memory.

"It'll look great."

Dot looked up at Bob, holding the front door open for her. She gave a slight smile. "I know, but…" she sighed. "I'm just sorry to see the old girl go."

"She's not old," Bob said with a laugh. "She's growing up. Something we've all had to do every once in a while."

"What are you talking about?" Dot said with her hands on her hips. "You're still processing at, like, 19. And I'm forever 21."

"Riiight."

"Don't go dashing my hopes of eternal youth."

He smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it. But I will eat your fries," he said and stole one out of the box.

"Hey!" she chased him out the door, barely remembering to turn and lock it. "You better not drop those!" she called after him as he zipped away towards her temporary apartment on the edge of Baudway and Kits sectors.


"Where's Enzo?" Bob asked as he set the food on the tiny kitchen nook.

Dot walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. "He and AndrAIa are camping out tonight." She turned to him with big eyes. "A meteor shower is supposed to come around, according to the science teacher. AndrAIa's never seen shooting stars before." She chuckled at his look. "Phong is out there with Frisket. I'm surprised he was okay with sleeping outside, but I've learned my lesson: never turn down a free sitter."

Bob smiled. "That's good."

She nodded and grabbed a fry. She hummed in satisfaction. "Still warm, yum."

"Find anything interesting in your excavations?" Bob asked around a mouthful of food.

Dot made a face. "Not really. But I'm still sorting stuff out, see if I really need it."

"You should just pitch it all."

Dot shook her head. "That's wasteful. There could be perfectly good stuff in there."

"From the DOS ages?" Bob scoffed. "Doubtful."

"You're calling me old again!"

Bob shook his head. "That's not true. I never called you old in the first place." He smiled and bit into a fry. "I'm crazy, not stupid."

"I'll give you that." She sighed. "And you're probably right. If I don't toss it now, it'll end up in the new storage closet."

"Take the leap," Bob stage whispered, "free yourself from the junk of hours past! You'll thank yourself for it!"

"Speaking of taking a leap," Dot leaned forward, grateful for a chance to change the subject, "What was this I heard about a promotion?"

Bob sat up straighter. She smirked, and he shook his head. He grabbed a fry and ripped it in two, stabbing the remaining end in her direction. "You know way too much about everything, Ms. Matrix."

"That's my job, Mr. Guardian," she said casually. She rested her head in her hand and looked at him expectantly.

"Well, you already seem to know, you tell me!"

"I know Turbo wants to promote you for the outstanding work you've been doing in our little system. I didn't know Guardians had ranks, I thought you guys were pretty much all the same. Except Turbo, of course."

Bob shrugged. "It's nothing more than like leveling up in a game. Just opens doors to larger, faster systems."

Dot paused between bites. "You'd have to leave then?"

"No." He looked at her. "Did you want me to?"

"No! I mean," she started to turn pink, "not unless you wanted to. You know, find bigger challenges and such."

"Trust me, Dot," he said, cleaning up his plate. "I have enough challenges here."

She smiled then frowned. "Like what?" When he looked at her, her heart sped up just a beat. In a blink it was gone.

"You know, we still have two viruses running around," Bob carried on as if nothing had happened. "And we still don't know what that creature was with Megabyte."

"It's been cycles since then. Whatever it was is probably dead by now."

Bob shrugged. "Can't take the chance until I know for sure."

"And that's all?"

Bob chuckled. "No. There's you." He took her empty plate and threw away the trash. "Can't let you become a certified hoarder, right?"

"I am NOT a hoarder!"

Glitch beeped, and Bob paused. "There's a dispute down at the software store." His eyebrows shot up. "Guess some of those new Nano-pads are catching fire." He gave her a wry smile. "Sounds like the customers are a little 'heated'."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't quit your day job." She walked him to the door. "Thanks again for dinner."

"You're welcome! I'll catch you in the morning." He hopped on his zipboard and sped off, giving one quick wave.

She watched him for a nano before closing the door.

With Enzo out and Bob on call, the room was empty and quiet. She walked to her MePod and pressed play. Soft jazz filled the room and turned it cozy. She stretched and felt her bones creak, sore muscles protesting the second's abuse. Leaning over all those boxes was clearly not beneficial to one's neck. She considered a shower but opted to simply sit, and gracelessly collapsed onto the couch with a groan. A hand rubbed her eyes and she set her feet up on the coffee table.

Something fell to the floor. Peeking out from under her hand, she saw the small box from the Diner. Interest piqued, she sat up and pulled the box between her knees. She pulled out the photos first, a sad smile breaking through as she saw Dad again; happy and full of life, as he always had been.

As he always would be in her mind.

She flipped quickly through pictures of Enzo growing up, surprised as how much he'd changed. At first, he was the spitting image of their father… but Mom was coming through more and more each second. Beneath the pictures were two tiny stuffed animals, the last gifts from both their parents at the holiday festivals, before the accident… She sighed and quickly set the pictures aside, not wanting to go too far down that memory lane.

At the bottom of the box she found old fashioned cassettes, a player, and colorful thumb drives. She frowned until she read the names on the side. "No way!" The laughter burst from her and her tiredness washed away with excitement. She flipped through ten or so cassettes, all with her elegant handwriting listing the names of her favorite songs as a kid. Inside the thumb drives were some of her favorite movies growing up: The NeverEnding Story, Labryinth… and a video diary from her elementary school days!

She glanced at the chrono on the wall and sighed. It would be a great trip down memory lane… but not right then. She pulled a tape at random and plugged in the player, hoping it would work. The tape wound slowly, a scratchy sound emitting from the speaker, and Tina Turner started belting, "What's Love Got to Do With It." Dot squealed with joy.

She turned the music up and hopped into the shower, rocking out to her childhood favorites, and laughing at some of the songs she couldn't believe she'd liked. Memories started pouring in as well: school dances and sleep overs, junior high crushes and bending Dad's rules.

It brought her joy… and sadness. So many of those memories formed in the Twin City… and it'd been a long time since she'd thought about it. She found it easiest just to press forward and let the painful memories stay in the past.

Listening to the tape, it was a bittersweet journey. One she looked forward to finishing… later. She turned off the lights around the apartment and took another peak outside the window to the camp site below. The lanterns were out and Frisket was sleeping peacefully beside Enzo's tent. Dot blew her brother a kiss good night and walked over to the tape player. Her finger pressed on the stop button and hesitated.

"I feel so unsure,

as I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind the silver screen

And all its sad good-byes

I'm never gonna dance again

Guilty feet have got no rhythm

Though its easy to pretend

I know you're not a fool

Should've known better than to mistreat a friend

And waste the chance that I'd been given

So I'm never gonna dance again

The way I danced with you"

Dot hit the button, silencing "Careless Whisper." She shook her head and entered her room. She settled in bed and tried to think of something else, anything else… but George Michael had spoiled her evening.

And now with those lyrics cycling in her mind, spinning around that look Bob tried to hide, the memory came trickling back. No matter how much she tried to forget, how hard she willed herself to forget, something would trigger it, and she'd long learned to stop fighting it.

If only she had just gone home that night…