Clu
People often assume that programs have no feelings. I am a Codified Likeness Utility, and therefore I was made specifically to be like my creator. Did he program feelings into me, or do I have emotions simply because everything has an emotion? I am a program, and yet I have self-awareness, and the constant fear of deresolution, much like a human's constant fear of death. I have felt emotions, and I know I have. I have felt anger and frustration and happiness and depression and, yes, even love. I have laughed at jokes and I have missed someone deeply. I believe that programs have feelings.
They came without warning. In fact, it was completely spontaneous generation. I wasn't sure what to do when Flynn, Tron and I stood at the edge of the city, and they staggered towards us in a confused line. I was positive, then, that they had been a virus. Someone surely had hacked into the system and created them to take us over, just when we were beginning. Was it Tron's creator? Was it Flynn himself? Flynn called them ISOs, isomorphic programs, and he rambled on and on about how they were miracles. In the beginning, I scoffed at his ideas. I felt that they were a flaw in the system. He said they carried a deep wisdom, I said they showed blatant naivety. They were a threat to the system's stability, and soon everything would fall into chaos. My job was to create the perfect system. How could I create something perfect when it was inhabited by so many flaws?
However, Flynn insisted that I work with these abominations. When he started taking absences, I would go and speak to their leader, whose name was Jalen. I had a bit of a history with Jalen, as I had admitted him into the games when it he was disqualified because he was an ISO. I felt he had potential, and I was right – potential for other matters, but we will address that later. He was just and cheerful, and good friends with two other ISOs, Radia and Quorra. They normally stepped back from Jalen when I would go to visit, and I would only speak with him briefly about what needed to be discussed, leaving no room for social affairs. It was like having a neighboring country – you didn't necessarily like them, but you needed to keep peace over your borders. Since Flynn had a sort of adoration towards them, they were allowed over the border and into my city. It did not bother Tron, but it irked me thoroughly.
A bit of a popular haven for them happened to be the End of Line club. It was run by a bit of a flaw himself, with an overabundance of personality and scheming, named Zuse. While I abhorred the scenery and overall environment, I was amused by Zuse's attitude, and the drinks were superb. Sometimes he would even show me how to mix his drinks, and I enjoyed it, because it seemed to be the time when he was the most focused and least extravagant.
One night I happened to be loitering there, moping over Flynn's latest departure. I suppose you could say I was a little bit in love with my creator, because I was happy when he was there and sad when he was not, but I never felt the sort of attraction I felt for him that I felt towards the various female programs who I had sometimes run in with, but never pursued. That night, I was mixing drinks behind the bar – it seemed to take my mind off of things – and as I served a drink to one program, I came face-to-face with an ISO. I wasn't surprised by her presence, because they were everywhere in this club, but this one was different. Instead of looking away, her eyes locked right onto mine. It took me a moment to recognize her in this bright light, the music pounding in my ears, but after a moment I realized that she was Quorra, the ISO who would stand to the side with Radia when I would go to visit Jalen. She smirked a little, and I stared back blankly. "Would you like something to drink?" I offered, and she shyly turned her head to one side, her uneven black hair sliding over her cheek.
"I didn't know you worked here," she mused kindly, splaying out one hand on the bar. "I'd just like the regular." I nodded and turned around, preparing to mix her a drink, when I remembered that I wasn't sure of what her regular was. I turned around to ask her, but she was gone. How could I have been so clueless? My mistake was going to bother me now, so I resolved that I would find her. I slipped out from behind the bar, and I was bout to seek out Zuse, when the happy face appeared in front of me. I stepped back a little bit, shaking my head.
"Ah, there you are!" he said jovially, twirling his cane a little bit. "I was just looking for you. I found a young lady that might tickle your fancy, if you get what I mean," he winked at me, and I grimaced disgustedly. Zuse had always had this idea that he was going to hook me up with some small female program, because apparently even we needed love and sex. His mistress, Gem, came up behind him, and he turned and swept her off her feet. They matched – the same platinum blonde hair, the same white circuitry color. She giggled a little, nuzzling his cheek, and I felt suddenly nauseous. What gave them a right to show their affection publicly like this? I noticed a few other programs turn their heads, and I knew that I would take this up with Flynn later – a law against public displays of affection.
"Have you seen the ISO, Quorra? She told me to make her the regular, but I'm not quite sure what that is." I realized that I must have sounded a ridiculous – a leader, working as a barman part-time. I didn't even get paid. After all, what would I need to get paid for?
"Ah, that one's a rare bird," said Zuse, winking at me and putting the woman back onto the floor. She sneered at me, angry for taking the attention away from her, and she looked me up and down as if she were sizing me up. I merely glanced at her, trying to ignore her obviously jealous reaction. "Perhaps she excites you a little bit? Quite the feisty fighter, if I do say so myself. I believe she left just a few minutes ago." He stalked away, twirling his cane, leaving me quite frustrated. But who was I to be angry over such a simple thing? After all, it wasn't required for me to have made her a drink, and if she was gone it didn't matter anyway. She had probably just said something to mess with my head or distract me, since she had locked me in her gaze to begin with. Perhaps she was simply embarrassed. The fact that she got to me so much angered me even more – ISOs were a flaw. Perhaps she herself had infected me with a virus, by just making eye contact! What a notion.
I trudged through the club gloomily, drawing away from the bouncing people who rubbed up against me. I stepped foot into the elevator, thankful for its lack of fellow programs, and as the door closed I relaxed. The loud pounding continued in my ears, like the thrum of the heartbeat I didn't have, but the silence was therapeutic for my racing thoughts. It allowed me to clear my mind a little, focus on my raging headache. When the doors opened again, I found myself on the streets of Tron City, and I stepped out, glad to be breathing in some fresh air. The luminescent glow of the circuitry on the buildings created a bit of a calming effect, and I plodded out onto the streets. I felt like I had sort of put something in the past, and I decided I would not return to the End of Line club for a while.
As I turned to begin walking aimlessly down the street, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. There she was, at the corner of the street, squatting on the pavement, her hands together as if in prayer. But her head was not bent; instead she stared straight at me. Again I felt trapped, as if she had some underlying power. Should I go and confront her, or should I continue on my way? After all, she was only a lowly ISO, with no real administrative power. I broke my gaze away, and took a step forward, but then an idea appeared in my mind. What if she did have some sort of power? She could be a spy, or an assassin, sent out to finish me off. The ISOs wanted to take over, and the way they would do it was destroy me first. Surely such a system, full of conspirators and spies, was not perfect in the least.
I crossed the street, ignoring the bewildered looks of programs and ISOs alike as I approached the girl. She stood to meet my gaze, but I kept my distance, staying a good few feet away from her. She could attack at any moment. "You're a rare bird," I mused aloud, remembering what Zuse had said when I had mentioned her name. She cocked her head to one side, and her hair fell across her cheek the way it had before. I had this urge to brush it off of her cheek, but I passed it off as simply a compulsion due to my overly perfectionist values.
"What do you mean by that?" she said. Her voice sounded less strained on the street, and quieter. She was no longer yelling over thumps of music and countless voices. I shook my head.
"If you're wise, we won't meet again," I said, looking at her with suspicion. She smiled back kindly, and I turned and walked the direction I had wanted to go before. I took about twenty paces, but this time when I looked back she was still standing right where I had left her.
