Second Photo: Tron and Alan-One
Based on a image by Winzler, posted to Tumblr.
Ooo-oOo-ooO
When the light over the I/O tower in Yori's sector flashed white several hexes later, a sign of an incoming traveller, Tron wasted no time in signalling his departure to the other system monitors and directing his lightcycle towards the temple. Flynn had done some external coding several microcycles ago that would redirect new arrivals from the Outside to resolve inside the tower, instead of in random locations.
Sure enough, Flynn was waiting for him outside the tower in his usual Basic-template white circuit array, alongside another User whose ensemble of unlit clothing – relaxed-fitting gray trousers and a loose-fitting collared shirt – was probably his default template. The second User's back was to Tron as the lightcycle pulled in, but he turned to look in the monitor's direction as the program deactivated his bike, and Tron felt his processors lock up in shock.
"Alan-One," he breathed – for the User who wore his face could be none other than Alan-One – and made an aborted step forward, hesitating. What was he supposed to do? What action befitted meeting his User for the first time, face to face? Torn between kneeling in reverence and treating him as he did Flynn, Tron did the only thing logical; he acted like a proper security program greeting a new sysadmin.
Straightening his spine sharply, he adopted a stock militaristic posture and clasped a fist across his chest, bowing lightly from the waist. "Alan-One, sir, TRON-JA-307020 reporting. It is an honour to welcome you to the Encom system grid. If I had been warned of your arrival…" He glanced at Flynn, slightly accusing. Flynn just looked smug.
Alan-One looked as stunned as Tron felt, and was gaping in open awe at the program, looking from him to Flynn and back.
Finally he reached up and pulled off the digital visor that rested in front of his eyes and rubbed one of the individual, circular lenses absently with the sleeve of his uniform. It seemed to be a subconscious, reactive gesture, perhaps carried over from the User world; it was unlikely the visor had any smudges to be cleaned.
"Kevin…"
Flynn rocked on his heels, grinning. "Yes, Alan?"
"You're sure you didn't slip me something in my coffee?"
"Nooo, Alan."
"I'm really here?"
"'Fraid so."
Alan-One sighed, replaced his visor on his nose, and smiled at Tron, stepping forward and – after a moment's uncertain pause – holding out a hand to the program. "I think the honour is mine to have. It's good to meet you at last, Tron. To be honest, even with those photos, I wasn't sure Flynn wasn't trying to pull one over on us."
"Pull one…what, sir?" Tron blinked, puzzled. He glanced down at the hand Alan-One was offering, a bit dazed at the offer. With programs, the clasping of palms was a friendly gesture used to transfer energy between friends, a sign of trust and loyalty.
Hesitating for a moment, Tron grasped his User's hand in his own.
Alan-One's fingers clasped around his in a firm, confident connection, and a rush of warm, clean energy flowed into Tron's system, brightening his circuits and easing the exhaustion a nearly full microcyle's runtime had put on his shoulders.
Tron opened his mouth to thank him, but Alan-One didn't seem to notice or wish for gratitude. The User chuckled and shook their hands up and down briefly, then released his grip, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry; I should've worded that better. Flynn told us about what happened, with the laser and the MCP; the story was almost too fantastic to believe, but…" He spread his hands and dropped them to his sides, laughing in pure awe and astonishment as he looked out at the sector they were standing in. "It's really real. I can't believe it. And you helped make it possible." The look he levelled at Tron was warm and respectful.
Tron felt his circuits shift hue and ducked his head, uncharacteristically humbled.
"I couldn't have done anything without the help of Flynn, or Yori, or…Ram." He felt a moment's sharp grief for his friend. "And we never would have succeeded without your assistance, Alan-One. You wrote the code that enabled me to bring the MCP down. I was merely its wielder."
"You wielded it well. I couldn't have asked for better. And I'm sorry about your friend." Alan-One's hand was warm and heavy on Tron's shoulder, his voice kind and sympathetic, and Tron kept his gaze firmly lowered out of deference to the User's words.
"Thank you, Alan-One," he said, a tremor in his voice that he tried resolutely to crush.
Alan-One's hand squeezed on his shoulder briefly, then lifted off, and his User turned to Flynn, saying "So, where's this thing you were so desperate to show me?" as he returned to his friend's side. Tron took it as a dismissal, and turned back to activate his lightcycle; he stopped abruptly when it resolved, seeing the small red box he had attached to the side storage hatch.
"Alan-One, wait a moment!" he called, grabbing the camera and deactivating the bike before jogging after the two Users. They looked at him curiously as he caught up, and Tron held out the device reverently. Alan-One blinked in surprise, and cast a wry look at Flynn, who whistled innocently and stuck his thumbs in the loop of his uniform belt.
"My camera. Gee, how nice to see it again." Alan-One's voice held dry humour as he took the camera from Tron and checked it over. "I had wondered where it had gone, Flynn."
Flynn smiled beatifically and held up his hands. "I didn't think you'd mind, considering." He looked at Tron, desperate to change the subject away from himself. "How goes the photography, Tron? Get any good shots?"
"Oh, yes." Tron nodded, circuits tinged a faint pink as he reached into his uniform and pulled out a neatly-bound packet of used photo-cards, offering them to Flynn. As the User took them and started leafing through the contents, the security monitor continued, "I had to stop when I ran low on the inserts. I believe there is one unused card left."
"One left, huh?" Flynn eyed Alan-One for a moment. "Hey, Alan, lemme see that thing for a sec."
"Hm?" Alan-One, clearly distracted, looked up from the camera. "What, sorry?"
"Your camera, man. Gimme."
Alan-One frowned at him reproachfully. "You are five years old sometimes, honestly."
Flynn sighed, sounding very put-upon. "Fine. Please may I borrow your camera for five seconds?"
"What for?"
Flynn flapped his arms out and looked at the other User in exasperation. "So Tron can take a picture with his User, you dolt."
"Oh." Alan-One blinked in surprise and realisation, and looked at Tron awkwardly. Tron felt like strangling Flynn for his forwardness.
"That really isn't necessary, Flynn," the security program tried to protest, since Alan-One clearly didn't feel comfortable with it. "I couldn't presume to ask–"
"No, that's all right. I don't mind." Alan-One smiled and handed Tron the camera. "Although I trust you better with this thing than him." He jabbed a thumb in Flynn's direction.
Flynn grasped his chest and staggered in mock injury. "You wound me, Bradley; I am truly hurt."
Tron swallowed against the well of warmth and emotion that coiled in his chest at being trusted with Alan-One's property, and nodded, setting the camera up. He'd gotten quite proficient at doing so. Almost as afterthought, he reached up and yanked his helmet off, scrubbing a hand through his hair. When he looked up, both Flynn and Alan-One were staring at him.
He felt his circuits pulse self-consciously. "What?"
Flynn just spluttered and started to giggle, muffled by his hand. He had to turn and walk a few strides away to compose himself, shoulders shaking with the effort. Alan-One shot the other User a dirty look and smiled at Tron. "Ignore him. May I see that?" He gestured to Tron's helmet. Tron handed it to him obediently; the User turned it over in his hands, examining the circuit lines, which were now a dull, unlit gray now that they weren't in contact with Tron's system.
Tron blinked in shock when the User decided to place the helmet on himself. The circuits flickered, lighting up white as it settled into place, and the security program was struck with the uncanny resemblance it created. Without his visor and wearing blue circuit lights, Alan-One would've been near indistinguishable from the program standing next to him.
Tron couldn't help his pleased grin as his User stepped up next to him; arms folded over his chest, Alan-One let Tron lay an arm across his shoulders. Tron held the camera aloft, and with a flash, the last photo card slid out. He plucked the photo from the camera's lip, shook it gently to begin the development process, and diligently inspected the camera itself before shutting it with delicate care and handing it reverently back to Alan-One.
"Thank you Alan-One," he said with great sincerity. Alan-One chuckled and slipped the helmet off his head, handing it back to Tron.
"Call me Alan, please."
Alan-One – Alan – smiled and turned away, walking back to Flynn and, as Tron watched, smacked his friend gently upside the head and started berating him about something. Tron exhaled shakily and looked down at the photograph in his fingers. Pride shone the most on his User's still face, gaze tipped over the rims of his visor lenses, and his smile was gentle and awkward beside Tron's nervous grin. Yet despite their differences, they looked very much the same; each pleased and awed to have met the other.
"Hey Tron, c'mon! You're lagging behind!" Flynn's voice tore Tron from his contemplation of the photo, and he looked up to find the two Users waiting for him just down the street. He tucked the photo under his armour and, placing his helmet on his head, raced to catch up to his friends.
