Chapter Four
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green...
The Principle Office was almost deserted when Bob arrived there. Only the skeleton crew of the night shift remained. The two binomes on the main control area smiled tiredly at him when he stepped through the door.
"Phong's waiting for you in his office, Bob," The zero binome closest to him murmured respectfully.
"Thanks, Len," Bob returned politely, heading quickly towards Phong's private office. Usually he would have lingered and exchanged pleasantries with the night crew, but the cold knot of worry and dread coiled around his processor wouldn't let him relax that much until he discovered what it was Phong wanted to discuss with him.
"Phong?" He called, tapping lightly on the door, which slid smoothly open.
"Ah, Bob," The old sprite greeted him, "Please come in and sit down," Phong gestured to a comfortable chair and took up a position behind his desk, a cup of steaming cocoa in front of him, and his spindly fingers steepled in a misleadingly serene posture.
Bob obediently sat, worried eyes fixed on Phong's golden face.
"Phong," Bob began uneasily, "What's all this about? You said you found something in my medical scan?"
Phong sighed fingers dropping out of their meditative pose and picking up some print-out sheets.
"Yes, my son," Phong replied softly, "But first of all let me assure you that you appear to be in no danger,"
Bob let out an almost explosive breath, "In no danger from what, Phong?" He demanded.
"Allow me to show you," Phong replied, laying out the three print-outs on the desk in front of Bob, he pointed to the one on Bob's left, "This is a copy of the last scan you had before the web creature invaded," Bob looked it over carefully, but couldn't see anything particularly amiss. Phong continued, gesturing to another print-out,
"This was taken when you were still merged with Glitch," Again, Bob looked it over carefully, but all he could see wrong were the various power stability problems that had since been patched. Phong finally pointed to the last print out,
"And this is your most recent scan. Can you spot the anomaly in these readings?" Phong asked intently.
Bob sighed as again focussed his attention on the print-outs in front of him. It was difficult; he was tired and had little training in medicine beyond basic first aid, but as his eyes wandered over the print outs, something came to his attention.
"Phong," He croaked, "The run-time increment on these last two scans..." it was almost difficult to speak, and he felt as though he'd just gone through a power drain, "...they're exactly the same."
Phong closed his eyes for a moment, "Yes, my son," He replied very softly.
"But...how is that possible?" His processor stalled, his gaze was frozen on the print-out before him, on the single damning image he couldn't deny or dismiss, "What does it mean?"
"Bob," Phong spoke as gently as possible, trying not to disturb the Guardian's precarious equilibrium, "You are no longer aging,"
Bob's stare shifted from the print-outs up to Phong's wise, compassionate eyes, "But how?" he almost whispered.
"From the time the increment is frozen at, I would guess that it happened when you first merged with Glitch,"
That pronouncement drew a definite response - but not from Bob. A sudden, high-pitched sound like a despairing moan echoed through the small room, emanating from the keytool resting on Bob's forearm.
Bob looked down with surprise, "Glitch?"
The sound repeated, but this time ended with a pained warble. Phong didn't know keytool language, and to his untrained ears Glitch sounded much like an injured, broken-heated animal keening for its master.
"Of course you didn't know, Glitch," Bob was saying, "How could you? It had never been done before,"
The shift in Bob's posture then brought something to Phong's attention that he had previously not noticed,
"Bob," he said in some alarm, "Your scars..."
Bob's hand flew up automatically to touch his forehead in an almost defensive gesture,
"I know," Bob said, holding up his other hand to forestall Phong's next words, "Don't, please," He said somewhat sharply, "Not right now. I...need time to think,"
Phong bowed his head, defeated, "As you wish, my son,"
"I'll speak to you in the morning, I promise," Bob said in a more conciliatory fashion, "But I need some time to clear my head,"
"Very well," Phong sighed, "Good night, Guardian,"
"Good night, Phong."
And Bob was gone.
Phong picked up the now cold cup of cocoa and slowly trundled to pour it down the sink before retiring to his private rooms to meditate, feeling the weight of every single one of his great many minutes.
--
Bob hadn't felt able to return home, the thought of being inside four walls right now gave him an unaccustomed sense of claustrophobia, so he had landed his zip board in Floating Point Park. He settled himself down on a hill overlooking the city feeling the fresh breeze against his skin, trying to draw a little bit of that peace and tranquillity into himself.
He didn't need to say it, and barely had chance to think it before Glitch materialised his guitar into his hands.
"Thank you, partner," He whispered even as his fingers began to dance over the strings.
The sound of confusion, helplessness, anger and despair washed over the empty park as he let everything he'd been holding back bubble to the surface and pour into his music.
He wasn't aging. He had just stopped, his compilation frozen.
He still didn't know what he felt about that, his processor overloaded with too many thoughts and images. Did it mean he was now immortal? Would he carry on forever, or would he simply...stop...when his allotted run-time had expired? Would he have to sit and watch while all his friends compiled and aged and eventually deleted while he remained forever the same?
Oh User, would he have to watch that happen to Dot?
Something warm and wet splashed onto his hands. It was only then he realised he was crying, tears coursing soundlessly down his face to drip onto the ground, his hands, his guitar.
"I'm sorry," Glitch keened mournfully, "I'm so sorry."
To Be Continued...