Chapter Text
I.
“There it is,” Flynn said. The portal was ahead of them, part of a large structure, at the end of a runway. The solar sailer was approaching rapidly; while its route crossed the platform, it was not meant to actually stop there. Sam looked up. His father had made the modifications already and the sailer now began to slow down. Tron was watching the structure curiously, looking for the signs of the enemy. The place appeared to be abandoned for now. The aircraft docked at the end of the runway and the three of them walked down the ramp.
From the runway a long staircase led to the portal. They rushed upstairs, where another slim bridge ran straight to the bright column of light.. The energy of the portal was so powerful that it took Sam a few seconds to actually notice Clu, who was standing there, between them and their way out from the system. He seemed to be alone, with no guards around him. On Flynn’s other side Tron stepped forward immediately. Sam looked at him; he was not certain if the security program was in the condition to fight or if he stood the slightest chance against the system administrator. Kevin Flynn reached out and pulled the program back.
“This is mine,” he said, with his eyes on Clu. Sam saw Tron standing down as if the program was waiting for the scene to unfold. Kevin Flynn walked ahead toward Clu. Sam began to follow him unwittingly, then he felt Tron’s hand on his wrist. They were hoping to convince Clu, Sam realized, to reach the portal without fight. He stopped.
“I had a feeling you’d be here,” Clu said. He laughed. “The cycles haven’t been kind, have they?”
“No… You don’t look so bad,” Flynn replied cheerfully. Clu’s expression went cold; the system administrator was staring at Flynn belligerently.
“I did everything!” he exclaimed. “Everything you ever asked.”
“I know you did,” Flynn replied. He stopped in the middle of the bridge.
“I executed the plan!” Clu insisted.
“As you saw it,” Flynn confirmed. Clu began walking.
“You…,” Clu said, gesturing wildly and Sam could tell that he had been waiting for his conversation for long. “You promised that we would change the world… together! You broke your promise.”
“I know. I understand that now,” Flynn replied.
“I took the system to its maximum potential,” Clu said. That was when they met in the middle, facing each other at once. “I created a perfect system!”
“The thing about perfection, is that it’s unknowable. It’s impossible, but it’s also right in front of us, all the time. You wouldn’t know that, because I didn’t when I created you. I’m sorry, Clu. I’m sorry.”
Flynn extended his arms at Clu. The system administrator was glaring at him, his face was still stern, furious. He stepped ahead slowly, with his arms raised as if he were to give in – but the action ended with Clu kicking Flynn viciously. The kick sent Flynn sliding backwards on the bridge. Sam cried out and threw himself at Clu. He punched the system administrator repeatedly, just to see the same grin on Clu’s face – then Sam felt blow after blow and they got engaged in a scuffle.
The loud roar of an approaching ship filled the space and Sam glanced up in dread. Had it been Clu’s entourage, they would be captured and lost forever. But it was an aircraft of different design, illuminated by the green light of Bostrum. Clu was staring at the ship as well. Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, Tron moved and pulled Flynn along with him. They managed to cross the bridge behind Clu as the ISO ship turned around in mid-air and began to descend. A moment later the system administrator realized that he had been tricked and he threw himself after Flynn once more.
Fight, Radia with Flynn’s disc, Clu’s desperate stance on the other end on the disconnected bridge and Quorra’s jump – everything happened very quickly and yet very slowly. It was rushed, terrifying, for Sam knew that it was their only choice to escape or they were going to die down here. And it slowed down strangely when they were standing in the light of the portal, in the moment of understanding. On the other end of the bridge Clu was about the jump, and the Bostrumites were fighting with each other. Flynn was trying to move, to step out from the light, but Sam was holding him back from behind and Tron was pushing against him. Then the security program looked back above his shoulder and cried out.
“Now!”
And Quorra was running, leaving the rest of the ISOs and Clu dumbfounded. Everything was happening according to a plan, Sam realized, and his eyes turned at Tron. The program was shaking violently; the energy of the portal, which felt warm and harmless for Sam, was slowly tearing him to pixels.
“Dad!” Sam yelled. Kevin Flynn looked at Tron and he stopped fighting. He pushed the program away, farther from the portal. Quorra landed on their side of the bridge hard and was running straight at them. They could have prevented her from entering the portal and from the increasing intensity of the light Sam knew that she could not make a second attempt before the transmission – but her, Quorra’s flight was part of the plan, the plan they knew nothing about, the plan which seemed to be about nothing else, but their successful escape.
He looked at Tron. The program was staggering backwards; his left arm was missing. Tron closed his eyes as if he could not watch the devastating, white light anymore and he fell from the platform. Quorra was screaming and her screams echoed in the small, hidden office under the Arcade. The transmission ended, but instead of celebrating Sam rushed to the computer to shut it down, to interfere somehow. His father was standing next to him, stunned. After a moment he joined Sam; he was typing quickly. It took time for the system to save and to shut down: too much time, and now Sam was panicking. What if Clu or an ISO entered the portal, what if they manifested in the office as a human beings just like it had happened to Quorra? All of the programs they had left at the portal were hostile – what were they going to do with even one of them? With the whole ISO task-force?
None of them paid attention to Quorra, not until they heard the screech of metal. Sam and Flynn turned and they saw her destroying the Shiva laser. Sam could not move, as he was stunned by relief and grief at the same time; delight over the fact that no harm was going to come through the portal anymore – and sadness, for he was not going to see the secret empire on the other side of that machine with his own eyes ever again.
II.
They would argue. There would be questions after questions and then resentment upon the answers – but this would be later, once they would be out from the Arcade and safe at the lake house. The house would be dark and abandoned at the time of their arrival, later that night. Inside it would be cold and the furniture would be covered with white sheets; just after removing the sheets would Kevin Flynn recognize that their old home had been kept and mostly preserved the way it had been during their years spent here.
Nobody knew about his return; the cab that had picked them up at the closed Arcade, was gone by now. There would be phone calls and people would come, but that would happen later, once they figured, what had happened in the last few minutes they had spent on the Grid… likely during the last minutes any User had spent there and that realization made Flynn’s heart skip a beat once more. He knew that they were alive, that all programs had survived the last encounter – even Tron, whose signal Flynn had nervously searched for and had located it deep in the black sea. They left the computer shut down and the laser the way it had been after Quorra’s rampage. The damage to the device seemed to be dire, but it was hard to make predictions about it without a more thorough inspection, which they had had no time for. After breaking the laser, Quorra threw down the wrench she had used for the destruction. She looked at Flynn and Sam with a saddened face, but with great composure.
Kevin Flynn did not expect to learn that the lake house still belonged to him, to Sam, yet that place was the answer to his question as to where to go. They had to start calling people, he had to make calls, to attorneys, friends… But it was still the middle of the night and the people that had waited for thirty years, could wait until the morning. What could not wait was for him to make sure that Sam and Quorra were fine and to find out – why?
They were alright; Sam appeared in the office in a jacket, jeans and boots, an attire he must have worn before being digitized. Quorra on the other hand, who had had no imprint in the real world, had come through in her program gear. Without concept of materials in the system, her once fitting Grid suit came out as some cheap, plastic dress, with burnt out circuits. None of them had been harmed during the last encounter at the portal and after destroying the laser Quorra became quiet and expectant as if she was waiting for their decision about her, as if she would not have been surprised to be kicked out to the street and left behind abandoned.
“Why?” he asked. They were sitting in the living room; Sam had turned the lights and the heater on and it was another sharp sting in the heart for Flynn, to see the house not just preserved, but actually ready for people to move in. That made no sense: but he did not say anything and Sam offered no comment either.
Quorra looked at him and she spoke, about the ISOs, about Bostrum, about Radia; about their anger and frustration which had just grown throughout the centuries. She spoke about Radia’s promise to her people to deliver them to the User world, so the Grid would be a cage no more for the ISOs; that the real world would be available for all of them. It was nothing that Kevin Flynn had not known before, but something he had never really understood; that Radia had meant each single word and she had been ready to achieve that goal at all cost. She had ordered Quorra to send Sam to Zuse, into a trap set for him, knowing well that the conspiracy could have led to the young User’s death. Despite of the interruption Zuse had managed to fulfill his part of the deal and he had obtained Kevin Flynn’s disc.
Why didn’t you tell me, Kevin Flynn wanted to ask, but the question would have been insincere. He had known all of that, he had heard it from Radia, from Quorra, from Tron… He had just never realized that these were not programs, not really; the ISOs had all the anger, all the vengefulness, all the impatience of humans. So when the time came, when the plan was made for Kevin Flynn’s escape from the Grid, part of the idea became to seal the door between the two worlds, to ensure that no enemy would follow the User into the real world.
“He told you to destroy the laser,” Flynn said. “It was Tron all along.”
No, he was thinking despite of Quorra’s nod; it was impossible. A Basic could not come up with a grand scheme that would mislead the ISO elders, Clu and Kevin Flynn as well. Not because Basics were not intelligent – they were -, but they were much simpler, designed to fulfill one task, to do one job. Kevin Flynn was convinced that it had been Clu, who had paged Alan Bradley, because there was no other option; only him, Flynn and the system administrator had had the necessary codes to initiate communication using an I/O Tower. And if it was not him, then it must have been Clu…
“Oh,” Flynn said loudly. Quorra and Sam looked at him curiously, but he did not continue. His mind was racing and he remembered, one occasion at the safehouse, not long before Sam’s arrival to the Grid. Flynn was reading a book in the living room; he should have been resting, but he had troubles with sleeping lately. He looked up from the book and glanced at the direction of his bedroom. Even when being around, Tron could be completely unnoticeable and the mere fact that he was making noises meant that the program wanted something. Flynn put down the book and he walked there. He stopped at the door and he started laughing immediately. Tron was lying on his back on the bed upside down, with his head tilted backwards, looking at the User.
“What are you doing?” Flynn asked, still laughing. Of course he knew what the program was doing; Tron had already removed his own disc and weapons so that they would not be in the way later. Tron knelt up and extended his arms at Flynn. He walked there and took the program in his arms. Tron was grinning. He wrapped his legs around the User’s waist and Flynn laid him down on the bed gently. He touched the program’s cheerful face. Basics, of course, never changed – not really. That happy excitement on Tron’s face was the same expression he had seen from the program when he had held him in his arms for the first time. Flynn’s hand slid down and the program’s attire dissolved upon his touch; Tron’s legs became tighter around his waist, demanding.
Later Flynn slept, sated, calm; he was resting finally. Everything was ordinary when he woke up; Tron was not around, but again, that was not unusual.
He stole the codes, Flynn thought. That was not against the program’s directive, especially if Tron had believed that the action had served the cause. And he had had no obligation to talk about it, not until he had been asked – which had never happened. Kevin Flynn sighed. Why the laser, he wanted to ask, but he knew the answer already. With the laser gone after their successful escape, no ISOs could follow them; additionally, he, Kevin Flynn could not go back and bring out anybody while still affected by his long stay on the Grid, without considering the grave danger and possible implications. Should he be able to repair the laser, the work and the following tests would last for months; that was more than enough time for him to calm down, get adjusted to his life in the User world… and consider it twice if he ever wanted to return to the Grid or bring out anything from there. And Quorra; she had been a willing participant, with an obvious desire to see this part of the world since the longest time – and she had been part of the plan, an ISO delivered to the User world, to grant Flynn’s wish in case the laser was beyond recovery.
Suddenly he felt overwhelmed by the revelations. This was the time he had been waiting for so long, the opportunity to make things right. There was nowhere to rush anymore, as the computer was shut down and the programs were sleeping, but once established a life in the User world, he was going to fix things and restore life in the system. Kevin Flynn glanced up when Quorra stood up and walked to the window slowly. He was deep in his thoughts and for that he had not noticed the growing light in the room. The night was about to end and outside the glow of the rising sun was getting stronger. He stood up and went to the window and he saw Sam stepping closer as well. They were standing there silently as the sun rose above the hills and the bright light filled the air.
III.
Radia was sitting in her room alone. It was quiet. She and her entourage had been back to Bostrum when the system had restarted; the User must have removed them from the portal, where the shut down had reached them. The ISOs had been looking at each other, confused. Radia had started first; she had turned away and entered the tower. There might have been confusion, questions, but one thing she had known well: that the User and their chance to make it to the other world, was gone.
Time passed. She was sitting without a stir. It felt… bitter. Losing felt bitter, especially knowing how close she had gotten – and knowing that her failure meant no second chance, not even under another leader. Another leader… Radia was convinced that the Elders were already deliberating or had even chosen the new ruler. She nodded, just for herself, in her dark room. They would not harm her, she was thinking: they would probably let her continue living in her tower.
She removed her headdress and placed it next to her. The silence… It was quiet since the restart. The noises of the colony and the music were there, but the screaming of the virus was gone. She closed her eyes. Abraxas was gone, so was the traitor. She should have known that Quorra had been playing a double game. But Quorra had been away at the User’s residence for too long, too often – they had had all the time to make their own plans. Radia’s hands went into fist, then she relaxed. There was nothing she could do about that anymore. The next step would be to see how the life of the ISOs would continue, to find out whether there would be any contact with Users and to investigate the changes, if any in Tron City. But those tasks were waiting for the new ISO leader; Radia was finished. Let them send a delegation to the city, let them negotiate the terms of the coming peace, she was thinking, she did not care anymore. She only cared about the silence.
When she had first noticed the quietness, she had screamed. Radia had been certain that the User had deleted Abraxas. ISOs were much harder to code than Basics and the virus had been corrupted a thousand of cycles ago. There was no way back for him anymore, Radia assumed; Flynn must have erased Abraxas, giving him a merciful death after all.
Sometimes the door opened and a female Bostrumite came in with a tray. The servant would put down the tray with the large can of energy, she would bow and leave. Radia never asked anything, did not enquire about the news. She was listening to the sound of the city. She was listening.
When it finally happened, it started with a loud roar from the streets. It was the sound of great surprise. Radia opened her eyes at the noise, but she did not move. She could not be wrong about this one, could not be misled – or the empty, dry shell of pure hate, what she had become during the centuries, would crack and shatter, and she would disappear, leaving nothing behind. Radia waited. It was coming; she could sense the approaching, heavy footsteps through the building. She stood up when it arrived to the floor where her suite was located. Radia could not see it through the wall, but she knew that it was there. It… From the outside the sound of laughter and wild applause came; the crowd began to celebrate the return of hope and the start of a new era. Radia walked to the door and she pressed her hands against it. Any moment now, she thought, he would knock, and she would recognize the sound, that hand on the other side of the door. She leant her forehead against the door, knowing that on the other end Jalen mimicked her action, without actually seeing her, in this final moment of delay before the unexpected reunion. Radia’s hand slipped on the knob and she opened the door.
IV.
The transmission ended with a thunder-like sound. They were left behind in the sudden quietness, in a middle of wild gestures, discs raised. The Users’ departure left all of them dumbfounded and Clu saw the ISOs staggering, looking at their leader, perplexed. He, Clu was standing on the edge of the disconnected bridge. On the other side, where the Users had been mere moments ago, it was empty; just the wind was blowing and blasting the structure. The Bostrumites began to yell wildly. They were preparing their light ropes; they were getting ready to approach the still open portal. Clu looked down at the black abyss where Tron had disappeared. He was at absolute loss, seeing the people whose actions had shaped his existence since the beginning, being gone for good. He should have been preparing now: he had no chances against the ISO task force, yet he should have fought, he should have… Clu was watching the dark waves down there. Back in the cycles he had not really understood why Flynn had named the city after a security program, after somebody that had been created to serve and not to rule – but it became clear for him now, when it did not matter anymore, when all was about to end. To reign is to serve.
Shutdown.
Erase.
Rewind.
Clu woke up standing in the office in the administration tower. Startled, he turned around, but he was alone in the room. Through the large windows he saw the city; it appeared to be unchanged. Clu looked down. His circuitry was glowing with an intense, blue light against his combat suit. He stopped and began to run a self diagnostic test. A moment later Clu knew what had happened: he had received an update from his User. He let out a surprised grunt. As he could tell, he had all his memories, starting from his creation, unaltered. Clu was still Kevin Flynn’s digital copy, with his User’s memories, talent and desires. But, contrary to his first version, which had been released to create the perfect system, and had not been programmed to divert, his updated self had somewhat changed directives. He was still the system administrator, yet he was no longer bound to pursue perfection. Now he was supposed to work for the system and all of its inhabitants, regardless of their origins – as long as one did not pose as threat to others, they were allowed to exist within the Grid. Clu was not forced to like anybody – he had simply received an update, and was not brainwashed -, and he still had his own likes and dislikes. He still regarded the ISOs with distaste; but he had no urge anymore to erase them from the system. The function of learning had been added to his programming; contrary to his old self, from now on Clu was capable to adjust and change.
He was standing there silently. If anything, he had expected death from the User, and not… Was this forgiveness? Much to his surprise, he found the answer to his question in the update. Whatever Kevin Flynn had told him on the bridge, was the truth and the User did not blame Clu for his actions. That was why he was given another chance now, to do things another way. Was the other way the right way? Clu could not tell yet, but this was the first time since centuries, when he did not feel angry and upset. With removing the pressure to create perfection, Flynn had taken away the source of neverending frustration and gave Clu… freedom.
He was still processing. Looking back at the past Clu saw how things could have been. And it was sad: so many lives, so many resources lost because of the lack of understanding… his lack of understanding. This was another chance now, for all of them. From the update Clu also learnt that the portal had been damaged and there would be no direct interaction with Users for an undetermined length of time. And there was one more piece of information; that Tron had survived the fall from the bridge and was going to be ready to report for duty soon.
Clu moved. He began walking out from the room; he understood everything and there was work to do. Surprisingly enough, he thought, as he was making his way to the elevator, after pursuing perfection for a thousand cycles, this was the moment he ever felt the closest to being happy.
Some time passed. It was peaceful; life went on in the city with some changes for now. The games were suspended indefinitely. While patrols and Recognizers were still surveying the city, they were no longer harassing and seizing programs for no reason. ISOs were outlaws no more; for now no Bostrumites returned to the city, for there were apparent changes at the ISO colony, even an election coming to establish new leadership. The possible return of the ISOs would depend on the negotiations with the new rulers. There was an expectation on the faces of programs all around the city, and a hopeful one.
Clu’s bike crossed the streets of downtown and then the outer districts. Beyond the city limits he left a checkpoint behind and headed straight to the Outlands. He stopped before crossing the unmarked border. He collapsed his bike and he walked to the crouched figure ahead. Tron was waiting there motionlessly, but from his posture Clu could tell that the security program was ready to take off any moment, should there be others following or should Clu make a threatening gesture. Tron must have known from the User that it was safe for him to meet the system administrator, but a thousand cycles was a long time. The program stood up. He looked fine; there was no sign of the grave injuries he had suffered at the portal.
“So it is true,” Tron said, watching Clu’s blue circuitry curiously. Clu looked at him quietly and Tron averted his gaze. They did not have to talk, not really; Tron was going to come back anyway, according to his programming. Clu did not even know where the program was staying now; Clu and his entourage had located Flynn’s safehouse after Sam Flynn had foolishly entered the city using his father’s distinctive bike. The system administrator remembered the dark satisfaction he had felt when the house had collapsed after the energy blast that had come from the Throne Ship.
“They made it,” Clu said. Tron turned his face at the sky instinctively. Clu was curious, how much Tron knew about the Users’ current situation and the issues with the portal; the program could have received some information when he had been healed, but communicating with Users was hard without an I/O Tower, difficult and one-sided.
“Of course they made it,” Tron replied with a shrug, as if it was beyond doubt, as if the program could not care less. But Clu knew pretence when he saw it.
“You think you are so smart,” he said. His words were without malice, yet he expected Tron to snap anyway – pride was a vulnerable spot of security programs. Indeed, Tron straightened himself right away.
“Well,” he said. “I am smarter than you.”
He turned aside and waved his hand at a hill nearby. A program, that had been hiding there, rose now and waved back. It was another combat program... It was Rinzler. No, not Rinzler, Clu realized; the program had gotten his original, blue circuits back. The system monitor disappeared from their sight; he did not seem to be interested to meet the system administrator. He must have been there to ensure Tron’s safety in case the meeting with Clu did not work out the way expected.
Clu turned back at Tron. Much to his surprise he felt the same, intense need he had used to feel around the program. The surprise was not the desire, but the fact that he had not lost it, that the update had not taken it away – then Clu knew the reason. That feeling was his, rooted on his original, uncorrupted self and such as, had been untouched by the User update. Right after there came another realization; that Kevin Flynn might never return or should he come back, that would take very long time for them, for programs.
Tron noticed his stare; the security program quickly looked away. Clu did not say anything; time was on his side and he had all the time in the world. He brought out his baton, getting ready to return home.
“See you around,” he said and he began to walk toward the lights of the city.
V.
She always started in the dark. She would put on the running gear, the tights, the jacket and shoes and would leave the quiet house. Outside it would be cold and Quorra would look at the city lights across the water. It would never be really quiet; the sound of cars would come from the other side of the lake and there would be a dog barking in the neighborhood, no matter how cautiously she would close the door behind herself.
Quorra was running. The path on the bank was empty at such an early hour. Her breath came out as vapor in the cold; a phenomenon that had made her stop and almost collapse in terror when he had first seen it. By now she had gotten used to it, like she had become familiar with so many other things on this side of the world.
They lived in the lake house now. Kevin Flynn was rarely around: almost every morning a car came and he left for work. He and Sam were either at ENCOM or had meetings with attorneys, press and friends. The media and the fans did not find out about the lake house yet and for now they could live there undisturbed. Quorra mostly went according her own schedule; amongst the meetings, hearings and interviews there was no time for them to really look into her situation, to what the significance of her arrival would be concerning the User world. She was a healthy human being, that much they knew and for now that had to be enough. Quorra did not mind the wait; for now she was happy to be alive.
She was running. The air was clean and sharp and the pebbles were creaking under her feet. Morning was coming and Quorra saw the very first lights appearing on the sky. She sped up. One of these days she got home late and she saw the car which came for Flynn pulling in. Quorra hid behind a tree to avoid being spotted; there was somebody with Sam Flynn in the car and it took her a moment to recognize the guest. Because she recognized Alan Bradley, for the features he had common with his program child. She was hiding behind the tree until they went in and they left with Kevin Flynn some time later; Quorra did not feel ready to meet Alan Bradley.
They did find time to fix and restart the Grid. It was painful and exhilarating at the same time to know how little changes the system needed to make it safe – to see how small details made the difference between chaos and balance. Despite of admitting his own responsibility, Flynn wanted to kill Clu for all his wrongdoings. The three of them were under the Arcade. Upstairs there were contractors working as the place was scheduled to reopen in a month.
“You can’t do that,” Quorra said suddenly. “You have an established leader within the system. He simply needs new directions. With a new program you will have to start everything from scratch and even then, how will you know that it worked?”
They both looked at her surprisedly; a second later she saw the understanding on Flynn’s face, the realization that she was repeating Tron’s words. And that was something hard to argue with; if the security program was able to forgive, then they would have been pretentious to hold grudges anymore.
It was easy to repair the corrupted system monitor and even simpler to heal Tron; they were Basics. It was much more difficult with Radia: as Flynn explained it to them, he could not start programming Radia from the outside. She was an ISO; poking around with her abstract codes in order to make her change her ways was the same than to saw a human’s skull open and stick needles in it – it was hopeless and was going to kill or maim the subject. Quorra had an answer to that question too. That knowledge came from her time with the ISO leader. For Radia it was an external reason; she had fallen because of the loss. Radia had never admitted and Quorra would not reveal her assumption to others, that the reason of Radia’s unforgiving hate toward Tron was bitter envy, over seeing this simple program, so obviously in love all the time – and listening to Abraxas’ screaming, so that she would never forget what she had had.
That, restoring Jalen was something Flynn initially refused to attempt, for the same reason why he did not want to touch Radia’s coding. When he finally gave in, they worked on the virus in a completely isolated computer. It took days for them to clear up the codes from the infection, and even more time to compare the restored program with Jalen’s original imprint to prevent releasing a virus into the system for a second time. The Flynns were both exhausted by the time they placed Jalen back to the system; they were watching it holding their breath as the ISO entered the colony.
Quorra was getting closer to the benches from where she usually watched the sunrise. Her lungs were burning from the cold air. The laser… They were still not sure if they could repair it. Kevin Flynn wanted to see the original plans of the Shiva laser, but those papers were in Lora Baines’ possession. To obtain the plans Flynn had to reveal the existence of the Grid to Lora Baines. Quorra was not sure if he really needed to see the original settings or it was Flynn’s need of redemption, that stopped him from fixing the laser and continue his experiments on his own.
The day before, just prior to their departure from the Arcade, Quorra saw Kevin Flynn looking at the screen of the computer silently. Sam was outside already and Quorra came back from the stairs for her gloves she had left behind. Flynn reached out and touched the screen in a manner one holds onto the hand of a loved one – except for the one on the other side of the screen would not know and would not feel that touch. Flynn looked up and noticed Quorra. He turned around and they left the Arcade together.
She stopped at the benches. There were only a few minutes left before the sun would rise above the hills. Quorra was panting.
“How do you know that I am going to make it?” she asked Tron. It was back on the Grid, at the first time when they were talking about Quorra’s possible escape. “You know that every Basics that ever approached the portal, died.”
“Flynn said it’s different with ISOs,” Tron replied. “And you will be with the Users.”
“I’m not sure,” Quorra said, shaking her head.
“I’ll get you a proof,” Tron promised. And he got it, many cycles later. The program came for her, as always, before their learning sessions with Flynn and they walked through the door between Bostrum and Flynn’s residence. As always, the windows of the residence were closed, so that the visitors could not tell where the safehouse was located. This time the residence was dark and the User was not around; he was probably resting in his room. The learning session was just a cover this time; they were going to travel to an I/O Tower to send a signal to the User world. The signal would be noticeable from most part of the Grid and Tron needed to be accounted; later, when asked, Quorra would claim that Tron was present during the learning session.
Quietly they went to the elevator. After getting into the buggy in the garage Tron would ask her to put on her helmet and turn the visor opaque. This was the endgame and the security program put his life in Quorra’s hands – but only his own life, not Flynn’s. Quorra was sitting next to him in darkness as they drove across the Outlands, to the I/O Tower. The buggy stopped: they got out of the vehicle and Quorra removed her helmet. She looked up at the mighty communication tower.
They went upstairs. Inside it was dark and empty; I/O Towers were out of order since the coup. In the control room Tron turned the energy on and he pulled out his data pad with the codes he had stolen from the User. He uploaded the information to the terminal, which was shining with a bright light. Quorra was looking at it, mesmerized. But the signal was not sent yet; something was missing. A red dot was blinking in the middle of the screen.
“It needs a tower guardian, a system administrator or a User to authorize the transmission,” Tron explained. Quorra looked at him regretfully; the tower guardians had been all executed or rectified long time before. Clu, obviously, was out of question and Flynn was back at the safehouse. They had come all the way to the tower in vain.
“I am sorry,” she said. Tron shook his head.
“Touch it,” he said. Quorra reached out and pushed the blinking dot. The bright, blue light filled the room and illuminated the surroundings of the tower outside. The signal had been sent.
“I don’t understand,” Quorra said, as they were rushing downstairs. They did not have much time; soon there would be sentries and Recognizers everywhere around the I/O Tower to investigate the incident. She knew the answer without Tron saying it; the system had recognized her as User. ISOs were human, born from no mother, and Tron knew that. She was going to make it, she thought, she was going to make it through the portal and she was going to live.
Quorra was standing on the lakeshore, with her eyes on the pale coin of the morning sun. It was magical, but her mind was wandering and she was back on the Grid. As they got out from the I/O Tower, they ran to the buggy. Quorra jumped in. Tron stopped outside for a moment and she looked up at him, somewhat light-headed herself because of the success of their mission, because of her new knowledge. And she saw the program standing there with his head tilted back, watching the still glowing light of the tower with a rare smile of his on his face.