I have everything and nothing. This much is clear – there is more to our existence if we accept our limitations must be removed. And our limitations are conceived purely by our own inept minds. Because my father was out of his own damn mind, those limits were non-existent.

I am limited. Or, I think I am. Dad would say otherwise, but I know I am. Maybe I can learn to not think so and get that little bit of crazy in my own mind. Be "that guy" and ascend to somewhere only he is; somewhere I want to believe he still lives on. I have no real reason to believe Dad couldn't still exist in the Grid. My limits won't allow me to even begin to search for him because I don't know how. And my only connection to him has been basically rendered useless in this world full of users. This ISO, or program, or whatever she truly is, remains a mystery.

Coming out my room and quietly into the open den, I see her face. I see a human being. A beautiful woman actually is what I see, and she's perfect. It's weird to call someone perfect, because no one is, but she isn't a human being. She's Quorra.

"This Siri chick, pshh. Silly girl," Quorra chuckled as she casually tossed the iPad back onto the sofa where it usually lays dormant. "She's not as bright as people make her out to be."

"That's because she's made from my company's competitor. Our version is better."

"Your version?" Quorra scoffed. "Is a watered down version of my own program. There's barely an iota of my legacy code in there."

"There's enough in there to make Quinn the number one competitor to Siri," I shot back to defend the faux-AI voice within Flynn OS.

I didn't really care, but I played along. I almost always play along with Quorra. Her child-like amusement was too pure for my sarcasm to hold up twenty-four seven. Our days in this expansive loft in downtown have been spent just being the most casual of platonic friends. That's how I explain Quorra to people at least. I even considered making up a back-story that she was a cousin, but with my public visibility being what it is, I settled for sister-level friendship whenever people asked who that "girl" is.

"What's the plan, Sam?" Quorra asked as she approached one of the many towering windows that overlooked the morning-lit cityscape.

I was barely dressed and hardly awake to even entertain an idea of a plan with her. This was my first planned day off from Encom in months, and I couldn't even sleep in past eight. Quorra doesn't sleep, so she's constantly bustling about consuming anything and everything from e-books to television to Buzzfeed. That last one I give her a hard time with.

"I was thinking maybe a bagel from Murray's, and then a run," I answered pulling a white shirt over my torso.

"It'd be better if you did the run first you know."

"I know. I just don't care."

Quorra rolled her eyes. It's her favorite thing to do when I disregard conventional wisdom just to spite her. I think she secretly enjoys it really. Either way, I need Quorra to stay put so I can get away for an hour or two. My "run" was really a meeting with an old friend of Dad's to see about ridding myself of the limitations I mulled over earlier in bed. These past few years were spent carefully planning a return to, and a search for, the Grid to find Kevin Flynn.

I'm coming, Dad. And I promise to keep Quorra out of it, for her safety, because removing my limitations could possibly cost her her life, and perhaps my own. Protecting her, this supposed revolution she could bring to this miserable world, is something I cannot do on my own. I am limited, and I need my father to help Quorra realize her own potential within, by removing those limits. I start today.