Tron Read Free Page A

with an eager “Yes!”
    As soon as it had spoken, the Bit reverted, shrinking back to its former shape. Clu nodded to himself absently. “Now, ol’ Flynn said for me to look over in here.” He worked the controls with a sure touch. The tank swung into a turn, advancing between lustrous defile walls.
    Clu was annoyed and disappointed in that, after all his and the Bit’s work, the danger and the running fights and constant peril of encountering a Recognizer, they’d come up with nothing for his User, Flynn. Clu persevered nonetheless.
    Now he frowned into his targeting scope. “But I don’t see what he’s looking for. I’d better get over to that Input/Output Tower and let him know.”
    For Clu, as for many other programs still at large in the System, there was no question as to whether or not he should respond to his User. What point was there to program tyrannizing program, rejecting the Users? And certainly there hadn’t, before the MCP, been the sort of cruelty and hatred that threatened the System now. If Clu had his way, all that would change.
    Now Clu worked the control surfaces, stroking and patting the energy channels, heading the tank for the distant Input/Output Tower, to make his report and seek new instructions. The tank’s command center rotated and tipped. The vehicle left the maze behind, merging with a stream of cometlike data bits moving along a canyon-size passageway, all bound for the Tower. Overhead, the sky was filled with unique colors and shapes, and luminosity—shifting patterns evocative of clouds.
    Clu, bent over his controls, paying close attention to his scope, steadied himself with the thought: Flynn will know what to do.
    His features were the same as Clu’s: animation in the face, irreverence, humor, a nimble turn of mind. Clu was, in fact, a reflection of him.
    Kevin Flynn crouched over the keyboard of the computer terminal as Clu had over the tank’s controls, muttering to himself. He was intent, concerned.
    “C’mon, you scuzzy little data; be in there!”
    He was blond and in his late twenties. He’d already been up and down in life, gone through enough victories and defeats to be convinced that any circumstances could be altered if you wanted badly enough to change things. He had an irresistible confidence in himself and that was fortunate for him, given the number of times he’d gotten himself into scrapes.
    The room was disorderly, clothes scattered everywhere, interspersed with empty Chinese-food cartons and pizza boxes and wax-paper cups. The room contained several large commercial videogames, and an unmade bed that hadn’t been used in some time. Flynn’s white-trimmed black hapi coat hung open; he had several days’ growth of beard. All in all, he felt much as he had back during his most dedicated periods as a computer hacker. But he thought he’d scented victory, and had the feeling he was onto something. At least, the password he’d managed to come up with stood a chance of getting his Clu program into the high-clearance memory that was his objective.
    Flynn tapped the keyboard a few more times, leaned forward to read the cathode-ray tube, and hoped; he projected his determination at the CRT. Its intense colors lit his face.
    Aboard the tank, Clu was studying the Input/Output Tower, thinking about his next contact with Flynn, when a warning light flashed on the control panel. Clu sat bolt upright, thoughts torn from his User, and stared at the alarm. The Bit whizzed down like an angry meteor to circle him in panic.
    “Uh-oh,” Clu said, more to himself than to the little data bit. “We got company. A Recognizer.” The thought filled him with misgiving; his face held the same worry that his User’s did on those all-too-frequent occasions when Flynn’s brash nature brought him into conflict with higher authorities.
    The Bit expanded momentarily to a jutting red star, just long enough to squeak, “No!” The instant it had delivered the word, it