Chapter Text
*2015*
Brendon stumbled into his studio, slightly drunk, a little high, whatever. That didn’t matter. What mattered, to him at least, was that he was alone for the night and he was bored and he wanted to play with some beats he’d been working on earlier in the day, when he was still sober. Not that they usually came out better when he wasn’t, but sometimes they did. He turned the monitor on and looked around his desk for the USB drive on which he kept his unfinished work. As his eyes glanced over the weed, he thought briefly about rolling another joint, but his vision settled on the USB and the thought was pushed to the back of his head. It was a little bit routine, at this point, plug in the USB, open the file, click on a tune, and see if he can make it work better.
So that’s what he did. He went to open the file, though, only to find it wasn’t there. He furrowed his brows as he looked over what was on the USB drive, mostly tech jargon, it looked like, until his eyes found a folder labelled “control.” He decided to click on that, hoping to get an answer as to whose USB this was, because it definitely wasn’t his. There were some more tech-y folders in here, containing file types he couldn’t open on his computer, or at least didn’t know how. There was, however, an .exe file, labelled “Ryan.” He raised a quizzical brow at the file name. He’d known plenty of Ryans over the years, worked with more than a couple, but none too recently. None had yet been in his little studio.
He wondered silently to himself what the .exe would do, and maybe it was because he was a little drunk, or a little high, or both, that it didn’t occur to him that it could be a virus.
So he clicked on it.
Nothing happened for a minute, and he thought it was unfinished or something, but eventually, after he started looking for his real USB drive, a small window sprang up on his computer. His eyes flicked to the screen as the movement occurred, and he stared at the little chat box that had appeared.
Someone opened my file? The white on black text stood there, almost accusatory. Brendon stared, unsure how to respond. He knew the file hadn’t been meant for him, it couldn’t have been. The first thing he wanted to do was close the window, but then he thought maybe he could find out who this belonged to, so he could give it back. So, he typed.
I did, who does this belong to? He waited for a reply.
Me.
Brendon furrowed his brow. How helpful.
And who are you? I just want to give this back. I found it.
My name is Ryan.
No shit. Brendon rolled his eyes. If this guy didn’t want his file opened or whatever, he probably shouldn’t have lost it or whatever-the-fuck happened to make it get in here.
Fuck, sorry, my name is Ryan. I’m the program.
Oh. Oh. Wait, did a computer program just swear at him? He stared at the screen for a minute or two, coming to terms with a semi-sentient computer program existing on his desktop. Before he typed a response, another message from Ryan popped up.
Hello?
I’m still here. You’re a computer program?
Yes. Kind of. That is to say, I have a body, just not.. not quite all flesh and blood. Like yours would be, I presume.
Uh...
What? Brendon stared, gawking almost, at the screen. Was this guy, no, thing, telling the truth? Wasn’t that kind of technology like, decades away?
I’ve been around for a long time.
I have a life, and emotions.
You connected to me through the internet.
I’m sitting on my couch, playing with my dog.
Brendon sat in silence, the USB he was looking for all but forgotten, wondering what to do about this situation. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he’d had a bad hit of something, if he was hallucinating, but he could tell he was only getting more and more sober, albeit slowly. After a few minutes of not responding, another message from Ryan flashed on the screen.
Please be kind to me.
This shook Brendon out of his haze, at least.
How could I not be? He asked, genuinely wondering how on earth he could harm a sentient computer program that had a fucking body of all things. He was pretty sure, at this point, that the files on the USB weren’t Ryan himself, but the means by which he could chat with him. There were too few for it to be, well, this.
If.. If you’ve got the program I think you found..
Pause
You can command me to do things.
Another pause.
You have the master controls.
Brendon was wide eyed at the screen. Master controls?
Why would you tell me?
It’s better for me to tell you than to wait until you find out. Statistically speaking.
Brendon shook his head. He doesn’t even know where this guy- assuming the program’s telling the truth- lives, and he has a fucking dog, he can’t just tell him to stop everything and follow orders. Well, Brendon supposed, he could, but that went against his moral code.
Look, Ryan, I need like, 20 more beers. What happens if I close out of this program?
Our line of communication shuts off until you open it again.
I’m gonna go get drunk. I’ll message you like, tomorrow or some shit. Alright?
Why was he asking permission to message a computer program? Why did he want to?
Be safe.
:-)
Brendon hit the “X” at the top of the window and went to drink away the situation for the night. It was too weird. But he found himself wanting to learn more about the strange computer program that had a body and a life and a dog.