That [Commander] thinks he's something,
But it's ME who runs this town~
Sark hasn't a clue in hell how this little upstart has lasted so long, and it's starting to infuriate him.
"I could take you apart right this second," he growls, sending another pulse through the decompiler as punctuation and grinding his teeth when the actuary refuses to scream. "Reduce you piece by piece to a meaningless jumble of ones and zeroes and then watch those ones and zeroes dissolve into nothing, and will your Users save you?"
Despite the exhaustion and pain clearly visible on his face, the little Program laughs.
"What?" Sark practically shouts. "Are you such a stupid little glitch you don't even understand the situation you're in? What in blazes is so eternally funny?"
"You," Ram replies, sniggering. "Just…imagining you if your User decided to rewrite you into a bit-herder. Or maybe a herd of bits. "YES NO YES NO" all day long…not much different from your regular job, am I right? Also, your helmet is hilarious. How does anyone take you seriously?"
For a moment Sark contemplates turning the decompiler up to its maximum level and derezzing Ram right then and there…but that would be too fast. He wants to break this impudent null-unit, crush his insolence and his faith and his neverending infernal laughter until he's nothing but the mindless number-cruncher he should have been from creation.
Perhaps he'll set him against one of his own, next time. That should do nicely, for a start.
"Take him back to his cell. Next round in thirty microcycles."