Timestamp: September 22, 1981

Location: Encom mainframe, Outlands, Decommissioned Recognizer 042

Ram has never been so drained, and is it any wonder why? Running a Self-Diagnostic returns just as many errors as successes. It's a miracle he's lasted as long as he has after the crash.

Or maybe a curse?

To be so close to freedom, and then to have it so cruelly torn from him... At least Tron got away. At least Flynn lives. Ram attempts a string of positive 1s in binary. It does not work. Maybe he is just that selfish. "No, I am that selfish," he says outloud.

"What was that?" he hears Flynn mumble. He is somewhere behind Ram in the broken down Recognizer he hauled them to.

Ram doesn't answer, too preoccupied with his own self-loathing. Too preoccupied with envisioning all the faces of his fellow User-believers that he'd struck down in the games to save his own selfish congregation of worthless bits. No, he deserves this, and yet he still can't accept this. Anger and fear mixes in with self-loathing, even though none of it is conveyed to his face, the voxels seemingly frozen in place. He never processed this level of intensity before. It hurts. Everything hurts.

Ram groans outloud.

"Hang in there, buddy. Just rest. You'll be alright," Flynn attempts to comfort.

Hang in where? Another weird saying, courtesy of Flynn. I'm going to miss those.

Flynn crawls forward and reaches out a hand. He pats Ram on the shoulder while his other hand brushes against a deadened Recognizer circuit-

- and brings it back to life.

Ram stares.

Flynn makes a weird sound with his mouth, similar to that of a prolonged ping but not quite. He stands up, attention turned away from Ram and towards the cracked viewport. Around them the long dead Recognizer boots up. "Now for some real User Power," Flynn murmurs, an obvious flavor of self-satisfaction to the quietly outputted string.

Ram short-circuits.

When he comes to, Flynn is flying the Recognizer. He shouldn't have the permissions for that! An inner voice inside Ram wails in denial. Forget permissions! How did he reconstruct it? How is he fueling it?

"You shouldn't be able to do that." There is a feeling bursting out of his chest, but he barely manages to wheeze the words out his lagging processor thread.

Flynn glances back. "Ram! You're awake!" There is an overjoyed smile on his face. Something inside Ram contracts and contorts. "Like I said, hang in there, bud. I'm going to get you some help!" Flynn chirps reassuringly.

Ram once again stares. It is as though he is seeing Flynn for the first time, truly seeing him. "Come here," he rasps, motioning to Flynn in a come hither way.

Ram marvels when Flynn obeys. Flynn knells next to Ram and Ram reaches out to grasp his hands tightly. Ram's eyes spark blue and he manages a quirky smile. He tries to sit up, but the pain hits him full force. "Oh my User," he says through gritted teeth as he waits out the tremors. Then, he stills, hardly daring to move besides the faint mantra passing his lips. "Users, Users, Users…"

"Ram?" Flynn bites his lower lip and fidgets.

Ram sucks in an unnecessary breath. "You always seemed so lost, so strange," he admits. "I had to show you everything, from the proper use of our discs to drinking from the energy pool. I had to explain so much to you."

Flynn chuckles in this incredibly bashful and self-conscious and program-like way. "Yeah, sorry about that. Transportation really disoriented me, huh?"

Ram squeezes his hands. "Was it all a test?" Flynn jolts, but Ram holds firm.

"What?"

The next words pour unbidden from the program's mouth, his filtering subroutine failing him terribly. "I n-never doubted the existence of Users, you know. I just doubted if they cared. I am programmed to plan for the future and judge the cost. After 200 microcycles of waiting, I calculated-" A sob wrenches its way out from something deeper than Ram's throat. "Do you care, Flynn?"

His eyebrows slowly crease together as Ram speaks. Flynn squeezes his hands. "Of course I do, pal. You know I do."

"Are you a User?"

Flynn nods mutely. Ram searches his eyes. He can find no lie. The Users sent one of their own, down to our system… The implications are staggering. Ram laughs, even while his circuits flash from blue to red. His energy pulses in a heightened cocktail of raw joy and terror. A fatal error countdown appears on his internal clock.

He only has a few more nanos, enough to plead, "Please, help Tron."

Ram's awareness fades. "I will, Ram, I will."

END OF LINE