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“How damn glitched are you?!”
The woman’s yelling outside was so loud it made its way to the stairwell nearly unmuffled. Tron, Sam, and Alan all paused before reaching the top, listening carefully.
“The User can wait! He can fend for himself!” She kept on going. “Do you know who can’t fend for themselves? The artistic Programs in Theta Sector you chose to abandon to play baby-sitter to Sam Flynn! If it wasn’t for our faction, every one of those Programs would have been derezzed! They are not expendable like your troops are! I’d derez you myself if it was permitted!”
“Okay, that’s enough of that!” Sam jogged up the stairs, getting out of the replica arcade to figure out what was going on.
What he found was Paige digging a sharp finger into the chest of one of the newer Programs he’d installed for security. Mara stood beside her, arms crossed, disc in hand like she was just waiting for an excuse to swing it.
This certainly wasn’t the introduction to the Grid anyone wanted for Alan. It was the one he was getting, though, as he and Tron stepped out together to see uniformly armored Programs to the left and a mixture of haphazard former freedom fighters to the right.
“Well, I guess that makes it three for three on bad first impressions on the digital world.” Alan half-heartedly joked under his breath.
Tron looked at them all, rather let down by the display. “Why are all of you here if there’s a problem in Theta?”
Mara rolled her eyes at him, “We get half a millicycle notice of when the portal opens, Tron. The problem has already been dealt with. It would have been easier if Saed hadn’t decided to organize an honor guard for you instead of doing his job, though.”
Saed, the Program currently under attack from Paige’s finger, spoke out, “The safety of the Users is our first priority. Civilian Programs come second.”
Sam lashed out at him, “Keeping the Grid intact serves both at the same time! I brought you here to make sure the Grid was kept safe, you idiot!”
“Sam,” Tron laid a heavy hand on the User’s shoulder, “I’m pretty sure it’s actually your fault. You should have re-arranged their priority lists.”
“Oh, believe me, I’m doing that as soon as I’m out again.” Sam grumbled. He shot Alan an apologetic look. “Sorry about all this. Things are a lot better than they were, but there’s still some hiccups between the new and old Programs now and then.”
Alan had seen some of that from the other side of the screen already. Despite knowing Quorra and Tron now, he just hadn’t imagined the trouble of getting the new and old Programs to cooperate looking so… human here. For some reason, he figured it was like a language barrier, not an actual difference of opinion that would lead to a showdown in the streets. “When Flynn said this was a new frontier, I really should have known he meant it wild west style after all.”
Sam’s shoulders slumped as his eyes raised to the sky in a silent plea for help. Alan had picked a bad time to feel playful about something so serious. Getting himself back under control, he ordered the whole lot of them, “Everyone back to work. Saed, no more honor guards. Ever. Paige, I thought you said you weren’t getting involved. Mara, why are you in Tron City?”
Paige and Mara both started to give their answers simultaneously, and Sam had to hold up his hands to stop them from trying to talk over one another. “You know what? I don’t actually care. I’m just glad you were here and helping. What kind of damage are we looking at? What do you need from me?”
Paige stepped forward first, her sharp tone softening slightly. "Theta Sector’s data banks were hit by a corrupted subroutine bombing—probably remnants of the old Clu loyalists. We managed to isolate and purge it, but a lot of the artistic archives were damaged. The Programs there are scrambling to salvage what they can, but they’re going to need more processing power and time."
Mara nodded in agreement, her disc still resting in her hand but no longer poised for action. “I’ve dispatched repair crews, but without proper resources, it’ll be slow going. And if Saed hadn’t pulled half the security detail for his little ‘honor guard,’ we might’ve caught the corruption before it spread."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright. I’ll allocate extra resources to Theta Sector as soon as I’m back at the terminal in HQ. Mara, stay on coordinating the reconstruction efforts. Paige, I want you to work with her in case of injuries." He glanced at Saed, who was still standing stiffly, clearly chastened. "And you—go back to your post and actually do your job this time. If I hear about another ‘honor guard,’ I’ll reassign you to monitor the Grid’s recycling protocols for the next fifty cycles. Got it?”
Saed straightened up, his face a mix of relief and lingering embarrassment. “Understood, Sir. It won’t happen again.” He gave a curt nod before turning on his heel and marching off, the rest of his security detail following in tense silence.
Paige and Mara exchanged a brief glance, the tension between them easing slightly. "We’ll get it done," Mara said, her voice firm. "Theta Sector’s too important to lose."
"Good," Sam replied, his frustration still evident but tempered by their resolve. He turned back to Alan and Tron, who had been quietly observing the exchange. "Sorry about that. Welcome to the Grid—where even the Programs can’t agree on how to run things."
Alan chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses. "Seems like you’ve got your hands full, Sam. Where’s that attitude in the board room? You’re always leaving it to me to give the orders at work.”
“Because you earned the right to do it,” Sam explained, starting to walk away. “Around here, though, it’s completely my mess to deal with thanks to Dad. He literally put it into the base code that I was to inherit everything as it stood when he died. That means all the problems, too, just like ENCOM. You’re set as a secondary User. I’m the primary. They’ll do what you say, but only if you’re here and I’m not.”
Alan raised an eyebrow, following Sam as they moved through the sleek, glowing streets of Tron City. “Secondary User, huh? Guess that explains why they barely glanced at me back there. Not exactly the warm welcome I expected.”
Tron fell into step beside them, his voice calm but tinged with regret. “The Grid is still adapting to its new state of equilibrium. Programs like Saed are from newer systems—ones where Users are seen as distant, almost mythical figures. It’s taking time for them to adjust to the idea of Users being actively involved in their world.”
“And yet, somehow, Paige and Mara seem to have no problem telling me off,” Sam remarked dryly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Paige and Mara came from a different era,” Tron explained. “They’ve always seen Users as equals—or, in some cases, as obstacles to be navigated.”
Alan chuckled again, shaking his head. “Sounds about right. Doesn’t matter if it’s the Grid or the boardroom—people are people, whether they’re made of code or flesh and blood.” He paused, glancing around at the towering structures and steadily glowing energy lines that defined them. “This is absolutely amazing, though. I know you described it a dozen times, but words just don’t prepare you for something like this. Are those stars up there? Your dad said he wanted to do it, but other things were more important.”
Tron’s eyes lifted to the sky, tracing the outline of a brighter pattern resembling Able’s lightline pattern to the north. “Sam made them some time ago. They’re better viewed outside of the city, like your stars are. We should go look at them later. I will explain the constellations to you.”
Alan smiled, looking at Sam as they continued to walk along, “You made custom constellations? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just copypasta somebody else’s version of the real ones?”
“Easier?” Sam shrugged, “Yes. But I wanted them to be special for Tron.”
Tron's expression softened, a rare flicker of warmth crossing his usually stoic features. "They are more than special," he said quietly. "They are a reminder of our history, and those who fought to secure what we have now."
Alan nodded, his gaze lingering on the faintly glowing patterns above. "I can see that. It’s… poetic, in a way. Something tangible to remind everyone here that they’re not alone."
Sam smirked, glancing at Tron. "Yeah, well, don’t let him fool you. He’s the real poet around here. I just put the dots in the sky."
Tron tilted his head slightly, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And yet, it was your vision that brought them to life. The Grid is shaped by its Users, Sam. Your father understood that, and so do you."
The three of them walked in companionable silence for a moment, the hum of the Grid’s energy lines filling the air. The streets were quieter now, the earlier chaos giving way to a sense of calm as Programs returned to their tasks. Sam glanced at Alan, who was still taking in the sights with a mix of awe and curiosity.
"Speaking of my dad," Sam began, his tone shifting slightly, “if you two want to take off and go to the house together, I can handle myself alone at HQ for a while. That is why you wanted to come here. Right, Alan?”
Alan bumped Tron’s shoulder with his own, “If you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s his way of saying he wants to be left alone so he can concentrate.”
“Very well,” Tron agreed. “We should get you a disc and outfitted for the Grid first. You shouldn’t actually need it, but you’ll be better off. Discs are more than weapons, and our clothing is more than a protective covering here.”
Sam snorted a little, “Don’t let the ladies fondle your new lightlines, Alan. They’re super sensitive. Things can get embarrassing if you’re not careful.”