Chapter 9: History Lesson

The ReBoot Timeline used in this series is as follows: Day = decade/ Hour= year/ Minute=month/ Cycle=week/ Second=day/ Microsecond=hour/ Nano=minute/ Nanosecond=second

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"Radical. He used the word radical and you think-"

A ping cut her off. Metal ruptured. The room echoed with a roar.

The virus was free. Bob ran at him, his mind screaming to stop, but he didn't. Kilobyte raised his arm to swing, instead catching Bob's throat in his large cold hand. The cadet's feet swung wildly as he struggled to get free, to no avail.

"Look what you did, Bob," Kilobyte growled at him through a fanged smiled. He stomped across the room, his golden claws extending as he advanced on the pink haired sprite.

"Dixon, run!" Bob choked out.

She stared at him, her blue eyes wide and afraid, her body frozen.

Kilobyte raised his arm, the claws glinted in the reflection of the deletion chamber's tear then they thrust down into the soft tissue of the young Guardian.

"Dixon! NO!"

Her body was thrown against the wall, broken and bleeding from the deep gouges in her chest. She continued to stare at Bob while she flickered.

"Who's to blame, Bob?" Kilobyte laughed before he threw the silver haired cadet down next to her.

Ignoring the cackling virus, Bob crawled over to Dixon, cradling her head while pressing his hand against her wounds. "Hang on, Dixon," he begged.

Kilobyte's mocking voice reached Bob's ears. "Too late, Bob. You failed."

"No!" Bob shouted, glaring up at the virus. "I can still save her!"

"Then why didn't you?" a harsh voice demanded.

Bob turned his head back down, and stared at the accusing eyes of Backup, the blood pumping through the gunshot wound in his chest with each dying beat of his heart. The white sprite was coughing, blood splattering across his face as his lungs filled with the blue fluid.

"I tried," Bob whispered. "I tried!"

"And failed," the baritone voice mocked in glee from behind him. "Over and over…"

Bob raised his eyes above him, staring up into the grinning face of Megabyte, one arm possessively around Dot's waist, his other hand clamped over her mouth. He stared into her terror filled eyes, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against the virus.

"And over." In one swift movement, Megabyte snapped Dot's neck. He let go, and she collapsed lifeless before Bob.

"DOT! NO!"

Bob shot up from the sweat covered sheets, his eyes wildly searching the darkness before him for Megabyte and the body of his love. As his surroundings became familiar, Bob's head fell forward into his hands, the racing of his heart pounding the blood past his ears while his throat burned from the strains of his cry.

"Dot," he whispered hoarsely. He pulled the sheet from his body, turning on the bed to sit on the edge. He leaned forward, one arm across his leg and the other running the long silver strands back behind his head. It had only been a dream but the reality that Megabyte could be so ruthless if he chose….

Bob's hand clenched in his hair. Megabyte, his mind hissed. Deep in his chest, the anger simmered, lit by Backup's senseless death and fueled by Megabyte's betrayal. And the Warden's.

His heart constricted. He trusted her… why? Why was he always so trusting, risking the lives of those he was supposed to protect? His shoulders slumped in defeat when he could not find the answer. "Some Guardian," he berated himself.

"I've always thought so."

Bob's eyes lifted and met the even gaze of his cellmate, Patch. He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall, smiling gently. "You've got the heart for it, my friend, and that's more than can be said for many."

"And how would you know?" Bob snapped, in no mood for encouragement from the medic.

"How do you think?" he answered lightly.

For a moment, Bob said nothing. He stared at the aged sprite, his mind so engulfed in his own morbid thoughts that he couldn't piece the puzzle together. Then it slapped him in the face, and his expression showed it. "You?"

"Guardian 87, at your service," Patch bowed his head, his arm sweeping out beside him in mock regality. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out sooner."

"But… but you aren't guarding a system or teaching at the academy… you don't have the icon… where's your keytool?" Bob sat up straighter. "Wait, your keytool! Is it here? We can break out…" his voice trailed off at the medic's head shake.

"I gave up my code a long time ago."

"Gave it up?" Bob asked, incredulous. "What does that mean? I know Guardians retire or delete, but I've never heard of anyone giving up their code."

Patch sighed and pulled both knees up to rest his arms upon, his head leaning back against the wall. "I was the Guardian of a system called Ianal. We were a small, closed system, with few problems besides tears and the occasional binome infraction. We didn't see many games, either. Things were running so smooth that for hours nothing major happened."

"Not even a virus?"

Patch looked at Bob for a moment. "There was a woman," he continued, looking down at the floor. "Her name was Pixel." He smiled gently. "She was the most beautiful sprite I had ever seen. Smart, ambitious, and stubborn to a fault. Her format was an analyzer, focusing primarily on the digital make up of nulls to find a cure.

"We were engaged when she found an archive on previous studies conducted days before. She was so excited… but some of the files showed signs of corruption." Patch took a breath. "She brought them to me to run a file patch, to see if we could realign the data to access the studies. I... I refused to help her with them.

"We had been engaged for over an hour, but she was so caught up in her work. 'I'm almost there,' she told me, 'I can bring our loved ones back, I can do it!' She was so driven to find the cure, it became her whole life. It was a life that had no room for me in it."

"What happened?" Bob asked after a pause.

"She hounded me about those files constantly, getting angrier ever time we talked. She threw a dish at me once." Patch chuckled. "I actually thought it funny at the time." He became serious. "Then she threatened to call of the wedding. So I caved… but not completely. I gave her access to the archive recovery center in the Principal Office… and then left her to figure out the program."

Bob's eyes widened. "You left her?" He shook his head in disbelief. Recovering corrupt programs was a delicate process, not only because of the sensitivity of the software… but because many times corrupt files housed hidden entryways for viral infections. While the recovery center was not off limits to sprites in a system, all Guardians understood the high level of risk in allowing a corrupt file to be corrected unsupervised.

Patch winced. "I know," he replied softly. "I was wrong… but I was angry at her, too, and I was being spiteful." He sighed. "I can still see the hurt in her eyes when I walked out. She knew the risks of working with a corrupt file; that was why she came to me in the first place. But she refused to give up. She started the software."

"What happened?"

Patch was silent for a moment. "Michelangelo."

Bob rocked back on the bed. "That was your system?" he whispered.

"So you heard."

The young Guardian nodded his head slowly. "They talked about it at the academy… but they only speculated about what happened."

Patch looked up. "What did they say?"

"That the resident Guardian crashed the system on purpose to stop a virus. They taught it as a last resort, an effective but highly destructive way to prevent a spreading infection." Bob looked kindly at Patch. "Many thought of you as a hero."

"And the rest as a failure?"

"Some felt," Bob allowed, "that a Guardian should never let a problem get that bad. That's why the Guardian Collective exists. We should be able to ask for help."

The medic shook his head. "It wasn't that simple… and that wasn't the way it went down." Patch stood up and stretched his legs before moving over to sit next to Bob on the rumpled bed. "Michelangelo was a dormant virus that woke when Pixel tried to activate one of the corrupted files. She was the first to be infected. Then he spread through the Principal Office, using her to access the labs to reach the security system. From there, he spread his disease like wildfire.

"I received a message from the Commander that was cut off before I could understand what happened. But I already knew that it had to do with Pixel. I raced back to the recovery room to find her gone, and all of the other binomes working in the area missing as well. My keytool, Zip, did a mass scanner and located a growing number of infected Ianalians converging in an open sector.

"As I approached, I watched the infection spread before my eyes, like a cloud of contamination that swept across the system. It moved so fast… but I was confused. I had never seen infected sprites and binomes act the way they did, like they were mass controlled. When I reached the sector, I watched as they just stood there, waiting, their eyes all looking up. I searched for the virus, but could not find him among the Ianalians. Zip could not detect him either, he was too far disseminated among the remaining citizens.

"I returned to the Principal Office to get as much information as I could. It was there I noticed a building power surge."

Bob's eyes widened. "An incoming game?"

"Yes, right where the Ianalians were gathering. But how the virus knew that, or the place where it would land, is beyond me. Before I could do anything more, he sent me a message, requesting I meet with him at the same sector."

"Why?"

"He wanted to make a deal."

Bob's eyes narrowed.

"My thoughts exactly. But what else could I do? I went immediately." Patch shook his head. "He was an ugly son of a null, short fat, and reeking of insidious plans. I knew from the start I couldn't trust him. And then I saw Pixel. She was right there with him, under his control. He'd found my weakness before we'd even spoke a word."

"What did he want?"

"For me to win the incoming game."

"What?" Bob asked. "Why?"

"Because," Patch answered evenly, "all of the Ianalians were going into the game with me."

"To spread infection to the other systems," Bob realized slowly, horror dawning on his face.

"Michelangelo knew he could not just infect the game as system safety measures would cause it to crash to prevent spreading the infection."

"But if the binomes infected and merged with the game sprites, they would be able to travel with the game when it left," Bob finished.

"Or be nullified if the game was lost. That's why he needed me."

"By the User," Bob whispered. "What did you do?"

"I choose the third path. Before I had left the Principal Office, I began the download of a mass anti-virus program, fresh from the Guardian Collective."

"McAfee?"

"Version one."

"Whoa."

"The system went into game mode when the game appeared, and the download finished. I gave Zip the go ahead, and the program was uploaded into every PID and to search and destroy all viral trace elements." Patch looked down at the floor, his voice softening. "You know, after five hours of guarding that system with no mishaps, I didn't consider the possibility that it wouldn't work. I was so sure, I never believed there could be any other result.

"He resisted the anti-virus?"

Patch shook his head. "No. He was the strongest source, so he was treated first. He erased right before me, his format eradicated… but not before he initiated a self-destruct code."

"What? But if the anti-virus deleted him, then why… oh, no."

"Yeah. The Ianalians shared his code through the infection…"

"All of them?"

Patch swallowed. "Pixel erased in my arms. I don't even know if she knew it was me." The medic became quiet, his hands tightening around the bed sheets. "It happened in a matter of nanoseconds. They were all there… and then they were all gone."

Bob stared at his cellmate. He didn't know what to say, his own failures seeming contrite to the disaster that befell Patch's system.

Softly, Patch spoke again. "The system began falling apart with no one to maintain it… and I didn't even bother with the games. I knew I needed to return to the Collective, to report what had happened… and to face my punishment. But I couldn't do it. So I gave up my code and ran."

Bob's body stiffened. "You ran?" he asked, his voice tight. He bit his tongue on any further words, to surprised and angry by the cowardly actions of the sprite he had come to look up to during his capture.

Patch looked at him carefully. "What is her name?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Is it Dot?"

Bob leaned back slightly, his eyes confused. "She's… a good friend."

"So was Pixel, at first. But the Collective wouldn't understand that." Patch turned away and stood, pacing slowly across the cell. "I failed as a Guardian because I let personal feelings get in the way of my format. If Pixel had never been working in the recovery room alone…" He turned to look at Bob. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but the Collective has long had troubles with personal relationships. They've been known to cause problems."

"But the Collective cannot tell Guardians how to live their lives."

"Not unless they had a reason. Pixel may have been that reason."

"That seems a little severe," Bob remarked dryly.

"An entire system was wiped out, nearly a thousand sprites and binomes, because of a petty disagreement with a sprite I loved. How much worse does it need to get?"

Bob said nothing.

"And what about you? If you had to choose between saving a system and Dot… what would you do?"

The blue sprite looked at the floor, unable to handle the penetrating stare of his companion.

"I already know you would do what is right. The point is the Collective does not want Guardians to have to make that choice. This… incident would have given them the fuel they needed to set a policy in place, to prevent relationships that could detriment a Guardian's purpose. I didn't want to ruin that for others." He moved to the cell door and looked out. "But I didn't avoid bearing the responsibility for my actions, either. I did a manual override on Zip, reclaimed my code, and created a portal back to the SuperComputer. Then I tossed him through.

"I initiated a system shut down, but too much equipment was damaged from the games and no repairs. The system began to crash. I used some of the remaining energy from the core to open a portal to the web, I boarded a reinforced shuttle, and I left Ianal forever."

Bob stared in shock. "You condemned yourself to the Web?"

"I'd heard the stories of the horrible things in the Web… and figured it a fitting place to go. The guilt I felt, Bob… when I first saw a Web creature, I experienced fear, real fear, and suddenly realized a life of shame in the Collective would be much more bearable. I never got the chance. Like you, my vessel was captured… by Villanova guards."

Bob sat up straighter. "Wait… you?"

Patch couldn't help but give a sardonic smile. "And you thought it was Blackadder."

The blue Guardian couldn't argue.

"No, I was here for many hours," he continued quietly, his eyes roaming around their cell. "I had accepted my life and considered it my penance for my failure. The Web Sprites thought differently. They knew I was a decent sprite, well, decent enough considering Ianal. They became interested in me because of my Guardian uniform, which placed me at the top of Warden's popularity list. Even in the Web, it was recognized."

Bob frowned. "This warden?"

"No," Patch shook his head. "Her father. She was still a young girl, growing up in a world of criminals, thieves… and innocent men condemned for fun. I think… I think she enjoyed the suffering she saw here, the power her father had over the inmates… she was not right from the start.

"So they helped you escape?"

Patch nodded. "We managed to break out, the first sprites to do so, even though I saw it more as an opportunity to be deleted because I was too scared to do it myself. But we made it, and from there we met Blackadder."

"And you told him all of the secrets about Villanova."

"In exchange for a place on his crew. Once I had a taste of life again, I found I couldn't go back to being an advocate for self-punishment."

"But," Bob argued, "I thought Blackadder hated Guardians."

Patch chuckled. "Well, I didn't tell him about that… at first. I changed my clothes to avoid any further unwanted attention. But, yes, Blackadder does not care for our kind much. His system crashed because the appointed Guardian went rouge, started working for the resident virus, and let the system fall into ruins in exchange for shared ownership of the system. It wasn't long before the virus betrayed her, deleted her, and began making plans to infiltrate the system core to grow stronger.

"Luckily, an internal defense system alerted the Collective to the danger, and the virus was deleted… but not before hundreds of binomes and sprites were affected. Blackadder lost his family and ran away when the system began to repair itself, stowing away on a pirate vessel. He aged, he grew, he learned, and then he led. Despite his outward appearances, he has a good heart, and he wants to help others. But don't tell him I told you that."

"And then you became a member of the crew."

"Yes," Patch agreed, "and I became the medic."

"And now you're back here."

"Sadly, yes."

"And you decided to start telling me all of this because?"

Patch turned and leaned against the wall. "Because I've had those nightmares, too. Because we both made mistakes, mine likely more grave than yours. But its never easy dealing with the death of another, especially when you feel responsible."

Bob's head dipped to stare at the floor. "It was my fault."

Patch quietly walked over to Bob and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are still young, Bob, despite what you say. And you're still learning. You did what you thought was right, you truly did. It just didn't turn out in your favor."

"So I'm going to feel better now? Guilt be gone?" Bob responded patiently, though his tone revealed a touch of irritation.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. But your life will be based on your thoughts and decisions from this moment. Choose wisely."

"How did you do it?"

"Through friends. I was in a bad place here, Bob. I wanted deletion. The Web Sprites helped me through. As I will do for you."

Bob sighed. "Well, they helped you escape. How are going to get us out of here?"

Patch stilled, a sigh leaving him. "That… is a good question. We'll have to figure out where her new security measure is to get out."

"How do we do that?" Bob questioned. "How did you do it before?"

"Well," Patch answered. "I got the information from the Warden."

"He just gave it to you?"

Footfalls in the hall cut their conversation short. Patch moved quickly away from the door, hiding his face in the shadows as a guard unlocked their cell. Three stepped in, and the lead guard pointed at Bob.

"You. On your feet."

"At this microsecond?" Bob remained motionless until the two other guards dragged him to his feet.

"You have a private meeting with the Warden."

Bob and Patch shared a look before the blue sprite was hauled away, Patch's eyes silently pleading to him, Be careful.

/

Author's note 1: System Ianal is taken from IANAL, which is apparently internet jargon for I am Not a Lawyer. Never seen that before, but maybe you guys have.

Author's note 2: Hi all! Been really busy lately, passed my exams (Yeah!) but am finishing up my final papers for my last two courses. I had more planned for this chapter, but the background took up a lot more pages than I expected. Stay tuned, the next chapter will be out much sooner than the last, and the action will pick up shortly.

Thanks for reading!