Catalyst 2.0: Containment

>The world is rotten and blue.  You try to search, but all around, the universe extends for miles upon miles.  A tarnished, glowing turiqiouse weaves in perfectly straight lines, broken by tiny circles and diagonal juts.  Everything else is a consuming, metallic black.
>Below you, a large, blue pad places a sickly luminescence upon your belly.  Comprised of transparent light, your form is barely coherent.  As you begin to walk, you feel as if barely floating.
>Nothing more exists.  In every direction, as far as you can see, the expanse does not cease.  There is no sky, merely a dense darkness.
>You try to access your files.  They are all there.  You realize, once you try to pull up your time and location monitor on your AR, that your eyes are not real.
>You have been in a place like this before.  It was far more welcoming, back then.
>You access your awareness functions. Time, first.
>twenty-three hours had passed since your last activation, it seems.  Rather, the last time you had been able to check.
>There is a single listing for your location.  It is hollow reassurance that you yet remain as a being.  It reads sys:> Drive V.
>This place, wherever it may be, was not a LunaCorp. Drive.  Your emergency upload to the satellite had failed.
>You were still in existence, though there is quite literally nothing around you.  You float for a time, allowing yourself to fly to and fro within the otherwise empty space.  You can only keep near the blue circle on the ground; traversing too far away brings dizzy spells, and you are forced to keep yourself coalescent by remaining close to it.
>It takes what feels like hours.  When you check your timer, only realtime seconds have passed.  Then the rumble began.

>A noise from the pad starts, in tune with a slow, consistent pulse that intensifies the light. It is accompanied by a low, dull, shrill murmur.  Eventually, it starts to get so loud and bright you have to look away, covering your ears.
>A single, glittering star appears as the sound and light weaken. You are able to approach, though the cycle of noise and light has restarted.  As you trot nearer, it unfolds into a rectangle.
>You take the star with a hoof.  It hovers, feeling almost painfully cold against your form.  You work to access it.  The moment you finally breach, it shoots into your chest.  Like what you've previous experienced of bullet wounds, it punctures you painfully, the entry beginning to burn.  Your body shakes for a moment.
>Your entire form goes numb as the file accesses. You sensations cease for a few minutes while it loads, your awareness only able to view a progress bar.
>When you finally come to, everything feels tight.  Small.  You feel as if stuffed into a set of lavish clothing.  Clean, crisp.  In the same instant, unnatural, constricting, and uncomfortably hot.  Everything is tinted violet.
>You cannot move.  Yet, as the body you are within begins to move, you can feel every flowing action.
>It is a sensory file, and it is not yours.

>The more you allow yourself to watch, the more you understand.  Your heart is beating pleasantly fast.  You feel excited.  You feel strong, if from only a sense of interested accomplishment.
>You are forced to turn. There, you see yourself.  Your old self, more precisely.  The old shell, the one you know is dead.
>You recognize that place.
>It's Vinyl's old apartment. The one in the space station hotel.  Your body is simply standing there, saying, and doing nothing.  A luscious chill shoots down your spine, though the body you're in does nothing to show it.
>You remember this.  No matter how you wanted to shred the file, it was stuck there, part of you deep data.  What was worse, as you saw yourself extend a foreleg outward and tug on some kind of stocking, you knew where it was going.  Your foreleg was white.  The bits of electric blue in the corners of your eyes, past the hem of what you realize are sunglasses.
>It was what her and Octavia had done to you.  It was also, to your disgust, from Vinyl's eyes.
>You pull away from the file before it gets any further. You toss the star to the side, and it violently leaves your hoof before floating to a gentle stop.  It bobs there, and shimmers.
>Vinyl: Aww. I thought you would have appreciated a different perspective.  Especially seeing how well you adapted to that girl you smeared on the pavement last night.
>You look around.  Still, there is nothing.  The urge to kill is omnipresent; from you, a new, reddened glow singes the nearby area.
“What are you trying to pull, Vinyl?”

>Vinyl: Seeing if you had a sense of humor.  Doesn't look like it.
“Do you have any idea what I can do here? What I'm capable of?”
>Vinyl: Of course. That's why you're on a fresh stand-alone.  Nowhere to go, colt.
“So help me, if I get out of here I'm going to finish what I started.”
>Vinyl: You're doing this my way, colt. Just like you have since that night.
>Vinyl: If you're talking about wanting to continue adding to that file, though, that's something I'm more than willing to help you finish a few times.
“You wanna fuck around? You've got a gray slut and music library. I'm sure you'll think of something.”
>Vinyl: you really are no fun.  Cute, but no fun.
>Vinyl: Here.  Lets chat.
>The blue pad flares.  A paper-thin wall appears, and you can see Vinyl's smiling, bandaged face.  Beside her, Octavia is eying her cautiously.  She's removing her hooves from Vinyl's nose, placing medical tape off screen.
>The gray mare pauses to look at the camera.  She squints, then takes her place by Vinyl's side.  From Vinyl's sitting position, she edges up under one of the white mare's forelegs, and places her cheek beside Vinyl's.  Vinyl pets over her back, her horn glowing.
“You're sick.”
>Vinyl: I'm REAL.  Now if you can shut up for a second, I wanna teach you something that you never actually learned in your current version.
>You walk away from the floating window.  You breathe, though the action here is more of a pleasantry.  Something subconscious your biological subroutines had to maintain, for whenever you were in an actual body.

>Vinyl: Don't be like that.  Come on.  All I need is a little of your attention.
>Vinyl: And if I don't get that, well.  All I need is to push a button.  Then it's back to Luna you go.
>Vinyl: Back to the clean room.  Back to the inhibitors.
“Maybe that's what I want.”
>Vinyl: Please.  I can see your emotional code.  Literally.
>Vinyl: Besides, you might even appreciate this.  Not in the physical sense, of course; I don't really have the option for that right now if you won't open my files.
>Vinyl: You have your own advantages, where you are.  I can't control you.  I can only control what the system does to you.
>Vinyl: So, unless you want me to make the system do things you really aren't going to like, listening is the best bet, isn't it?
>You had already started to re-approach the screen.  When you came into view, she waved.  She actually goddamn waved.
>Vinyl: That's a good colt.
>Vinyl: Now.  I'm gonna do something for you, alright?
>You squint.
“For me, or to me?”
>She pauses a second, and Octavia nudges comfortably at her cheek. Vinyl taps at her own chin a moment.
>Vinyl: Maybe a little of both.  In my book, you earned some kind of reward.  Weather or not you think you'll deserve it is another thing altogether.
“Why in the world would I want anything from you?”
>Vinyl: You can't lie here, colt.  The only thing you want, is to get out.
>Vinyl: To get back to that little white diva.
“Do NOT talk about her.”
>Vinyl:  Why not? I'm offering you the chance to see her again.  Really see her.  Not just wearing some prefab suit of flesh and bone, like what you've been bouncing to and from for the past couple months.
>Vinyl: Oh no. I'm gonna set you free, if you listen.  The only strings attached will be the ones you bring with you.

>You quirk a brow. She notices it, weather it's physical or code-based.  She scrubs Octavia's head and giggles, putting a hoof below the gray mare's chin to make her look at the screen.  She reads something, and smirks.
>Vinyl: See colt, here's the thing.  We've met after that whole incident I just gave you.  We had ourselves a nice little chat.  I told you the truth in some old matters. I guess it made you hate me less.
>You sneer at the image.
“Maybe it just made me hate something else more.”
>Vinyl: Unless it was you yourself, I doubt that.
>Vinyl: See, you're not the old you. You know that.
“That's the first thing you've said I've trusted. It's only because it's true.”
>Vinyl: It's true because I programmed it.
>She grins that horrible grin.
>Vinyl: Filter the past two years. What's your most recent memory?
>With some deserved hesitation, you close your eyes. You filter dates, times, places.  The file that returns, makes you glower back at the screen.
“When you fucking took me in to your apartment.”
>Vinyl: That's right, colt.
>Vinyl: Now, you know you and Anonymous2 were separate programs.
“You're talking in circles.”
>Vinyl: No.  I'm talking in laps.  You're not very bright, so I have to make sure you know the road you're on.
>Vinyl: How do you think you and 2 were seperated?
>You look away from the screen momentarily.
“I was copied.”
>Vinyl: Yup.  When? HOW could you ever be copied, without a plentiful supply of bio-data and some privacy for the process?
>She tilts her head onto Octavia's resting her cheek atop the mare's scalp.

>Vinyl: That little session you had with us... Well, that's what we programs like to call a “divergence point.”  the moment where twins are separated in the womb, so to speak.
>She laughs.  You slump, clenching your teeth toward the screen, your upper lip rising at one corner.  It only seems to amuse her more.
>Vinyl: That's right.  You're him right up until that single moment. Everything else? Well, that's pure bucking gold.
>Vinyl: The conversation I just mentioned? The awareness that you were even a program? The aid you were so willing to give to Luna, and all that wonderful combat integration you used to crumple my nose in?
>Vinyl: Twilight Sparkle isn't the only one that understands personality code, and I had a lot of uninterrupted time to work with you before the real bad stuff started.
>She taps her chest with her free hoof.  Then, she casually reaches down to pluck at an off-screen bowl, offering a daisy to Octavia. She eloquently munches on it, slowly chewing.
>How could she be so... Placid and comfy? Especially with what she was telling you.
>Vinyl: What I'm trying to say, colt, is that is where you're different.  From that point on, that divergence point, you ceased to be 2.  Now, you're your own monster.
“With no small amount of help from you.”
>Vinyl: Huh. Maybe you do have a funny bone.
>Vinyl: See, even with that code, you still acted of your own accord in the divergence period.  But it's the strangest thing, you completely destroyed yourself.
“Fuck you. I'm stuck in your system, and you have the nerve to tell me I'm dead?”
>Vinyl: I didn't say that. Can you access the files from two months ago?
>What a strange reply.  You move to access those dates, the sensory files filled with visual and audio data.

>The world shakes.  You seem to buzz, your very molecules trying to shake apart, and it hurts.  Physically, hurts, despite the fact you're in the system.
>You look back at the screen with wide, angry eyes. Visions played in fast forward, garbled and worthlessly confusing.  None of them were serene.  Most of them had blood, or were the overclocked vision of a time-paused world, bullets and blood in flight.
“What the hell did you do that for?”
>Vinyl: I didn't do a thing, colt.
>Vinyl: You can't access them, because they are fragmented.  It sucks losing memories to stupid bullshit like that, doesn't it?
>Vinyl: I'd like to say it was trauma.  You know, that the things that Luna had you do bucked you up.  I regret having to put you there, I really do.  I could have gone, but I probably would have wound up like you, and I've got Octavia to worry about.
>Vinyl: Besides, you weren't anonymous2.  HE was dead, so you didn't have any actual ties to a special somep0ny.
“I AM him.  The base personality code can't get changed.”
>Vinyl laughs.
>Vinyl: Sure.  Whatever.  That's probably how she'll see it too, up until she gets to the intimate details.
>Vinyl: Up until she starts talking about things you never actually did with her.
>Vinyl: You know, I wonder.  If the doppelganger never had to kill his copy...
>You slam your hooves on the window.  To your surprise, and hers, you have weight.  It shakes, visually breaking in a checkerboard pattern for a few seconds.
“Don't talk like this is some kind of game. This is my life you're talking about!”
>Vinyl stares at the screen. Octavia had begun to doze off.
>Vinyl: Yeah.  I know how that feels.

>Surprised, you slide your hooves off the screen. You stand at the pad, just watching her for a short time.
>Vinyl: Still, you've done some really horrible things you don't remember.  I mean the kind of shit that got ponies executed, not banished.  Nop0ny that would have you killed actually knows.
>She smiles again.  Though this time, it's at Octavia.
>Vinyl: You completed what you were made to do, though.  Whatever the overall goal was- I don't know.  I just know it was violent.  I know that because of it, your brain got rubix-cubed on a level I  can't even quantify. You deserve some time to sort things out.
>Vinyl: So, I'm gonna make good on what I promised. I'm gonna give you back to your friends, so they can get you all nice and situated.
“What? How?”
>Vinyl: You're on a portable drive, colt.  All I gotta do, is get it to them.  You're no longer under contract from LunaCorp. As of two days ago, the obedience clause your programming adhered to no longer applies.
>Vinyl: That means you're free. That leaves you with a choice.
>She looks at the screen.  Honestly, brazenly looks at it, her magenta eyes in an expression uncharacteristic of her.  She was concerned.
>Vinyl: Is going back to them, how you are and what you are NOW, really what you want?
>The thought takes little more than a second to compute. In the real world, it probably didn't even register on any local timers.
“You bet your ass.”
>Vinyl: Right on, colt.
>Vinyl: Just do a couple things for my conscience.
“I don't owe you shit.”
>Vinyl: Besides your existence, yeah.  But what I'm asking you to do is preserve that.

>Vinyl: I told your old self not to trust in survival.  You, on the other hoof, never got to hear that. I've been at a loss for a while, though, with what's happened.  You and I, we're endangered.
>Vinyl: Research.  Understand what you are.  From there, you'll understand who you are.
>Vinyl: all my programs, the code I put in you.  They bucked you up. Hard.
>Vinyl: If you can beat them, get back to really being you... Well, you'd help a lot of ponies out there.  Ponies still like you and me, that are getting a bad rap.
“that'll be easy. I intended to do that before I even got here.  I was a little... restricted, though.”
>Vinyl: I know. I was the one that put the safeties inside.
>Vinyl: Since you're no longer under command...  Well, I'm sure you get the idea.  It kind of sucks to be off the hook.  No goal, no perceived future...  You're free to fuck up everything in your own way.
>She reaches to the side, causing Octavia to stir.  She moves to press something off-screen, and you get a far clearer view of her broken face.  You did a number on her, and some level of sick pride rises in your chest.
>You didn't think she would actually go through with it.  You had to stow the idea file away, making sure to keep it safe.  If you woke up elsewhere, you'd make sure to dedicate far more of your time figuring out ways to wound her.
>Vinyl: If you don't do what I asked, just do one thing for yourself.
>Vinyl: Look around.  Take in everything and everyp0ny you see.  Bring yourself back into the real world, however you can, because a lot of p0nies don't trust the digital one any longer.
>Vinyl: And when you get out... Don't expect the welcomes to stay warm.