"Okay, you all remember where your place is in the line, right?"
A chorus of 'Yes's' answers the question.
"And everybody knows what they're doing? What each of you is going to do? Show me one last time."
The resulting 'Yes's' and 'No's' are distracting, however, they can't compete with the simultaneous light show for attention grabbing.
"Alright, team! Go show them what we can do!"
"What is going on?!"
The sentry flinched at the sound of his commander's voice. Why did he have to be the one stuck delivering this news?
"I have been receiving reports of programs mocking the Leader all microcycle! They are chanting and singing this…..this…I don't even know what to call it! This must be stopped before CLU hears about this…"
"Sir….he has."
The Commander turned, furious, to face the hapless sentry.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
"CLU, he…he has heard about the …disturbances. He wants to know how this 'insubordination' started. And he wants it stopped….immediately. Sir."
"Anything else?" the commander asked, coldly.
"If there are any reports of more …insubordination…CLU will assign General Tessler to this city until it is fully under control again."
The commander glared at the sentry.
"Dismissed," he said, sending the sentry from the room.
He began pacing nervously in the room. The thought of General Tessler taking his command was not a pleasant one to contemplate. The General was fond of derezzing programs that he deemed to be useless or incompetent. He was not interested in appearing as either to the General or CLU.
He called in his second in command. They would find out how this began, if they had to arrest and question every program in the city. They would start with the ones chanting that ridiculous rhyme first. In fact, they would declare the rhyme itself illegal.
The next few microcycles were busy ones for the military assigned to the city.
The rhyme had spread throughout the programs living there like a virus. Unlike a virus, however, it would suddenly pop up in areas that had no contact with anyone that already knew of the rhyme. All they learned from questioning the programs they had arrested was that "I heard someone else saying it". In a few cases, it was, "I read it somewhere". Further investigations found nothing written anywhere, not in free code, and not in any other recognized format.
Finally, in an unexpected breakthrough, a program that had been detained for questioning had blurted out that it read the rhyme in binary.
"Binary? Why was it in binary?"
"I guess because that's all that a bit can spell in… I mean…"
"A bit? How could a bit possibly spell something that long in binary? No one would wait that long to read it; and we would have found this bit by know if it took that long."
"Well, there were a lot of them…"
"A lot…how many bits were there?"
"Enough to spell it all out at once."
Orders went out immediately; all programs with companion bits were to be detained for questioning.
It was pointless. Even with every companion bit rounded up and in custody, the rhyme continued to spread. Now instead of being sung or chanted, it was being whispered on the street corners. The whispering was even worse, and much harder to stop.
The commander was getting frantic. CLU would be sending Tessler out to take charge of the city, HIS command, if he could not stop this, and soon.
"Where are they coming from? We do have every bit in the city in custody, yes?"
"Yes, sir; every companion bit is being held. And the wild ones…"
"Wild… there are wild bits flying around my city?"
"Of course, sir. They come in from the Outlands every so often. No one really knows why. But who could possibly train a horde of wild bits to spell rhymes in binary?"
"Ready for the next one, team?"
Another happy, excited chorus of "Yes's" answered back.
"Show me what you've got."
The cloud of bits flew by in a stream, circling the figure that stood there in the lonely landscape of the Outlands. Lights flickered as a cacophony of 'yes' and 'no' called out; spelling out a new rhyme in binary.
Blinking madly, the bits spelled out:
There once was a program named CLU,
Who said I know what to do.
I'll perfect the Grid,
Of its imperfections I'll rid.
And now all its programs are screwed.
"Great job, guys. When you get back, extra energy for everyone."
Twirling and blinking, the bits flew by on their way towards the city. The figure stood there for a moment, watching as they disappeared over the horizon. Footsteps sounded behind them, heralding the arrival of another.
"I thought that I might find you out here," the newcomer said. "You sent them out with a new limerick, didn't you?"
"Yeah," answered the first figure, sheepishly.
"Why do you do this? I don't understand, Flynn."
Flynn sighed, looking over to where his apprentice stood. She waited for his answer, curious.
It was hard, sometimes, to stay out here, doing nothing. He had come out to the Outlands during the Purge, tired and heartbroken by watching as friends that tried to help him were derezzed along with the ISOs. He dared not go back to the city, dared not risk Quorra. She was the last of the ISOs, the last of the miracles.
"I just can't…can't remove myself from the equation, not yet," he told her. "I haven't quite got this Zen thing down."
"But…limericks, Flynn? They aren't logical."
"Exactly. I can't think of anything else that would drive CLU this crazy," he said, grinning at her.
"Illogical, and imperfect; at the very least it has to unbalance him a little. Maybe it will help someone else fighting CLU, or keep their spirits up."
The two of them turned to head home, turning back occasionally to watch the bright, twinkling cloud that continued on its way to the city.