FOUR

"That's cool, man," said the Dude. "Better than I handled it. First time I saw 'em, I screamed like a little girl." He had also parted his shirt to show Rooster that they were brothers in torment. "Walter had to calm me down." He gave a brief snort of laughter.

"Holy jumping Jesus," Rooster muttered. His flesh did not melt. The silver did not run; it stayed in its pattern.

"Bodies are different in here. No hair. Except you get to keep the hair on your head."

"I would not mind a bald pate, but the wife would surely miss her crowning glory ... what in God's name are these things — what is their purpose?" The Dude held a different pattern, in a pale blue. More turquoise than silver.

"Not really sure. They're called circuits. Fuck, there's so much to tell you ... Okay, blood. These bodies are a little ... uh, really, a lot different. At least we look the same. Except for circuits and bald bodies, whoo!" The Dude dug into a shirt pocket for an outdated laser knife, bartered from a bum for some ganja. He rolled up a sleeve, showing a few circuits not as dramatic as those on his chest. He gingerly drew a shallow shining line across his inner forearm.

Instead of a normal spill of blood, what looked like large grains of blue glowing sand emerged.

"I am beginning to feel astonished past any possibility of surprise."

"There are advantages. Just brush it away." The Dude demonstrated. "Poof, gone." He cleared his throat. "Another thing. When ... uh, yeah. When you're, uh, you know. With the wife. Uh, and you ... uh, you know, uh ..." The Dude could not believe he was stammering and blushing. He still felt somewhat overawed by this formidable security-program type.

Rooster took pity on him. "This is not my first marriage, son."

The Dude laughed weakly. "Okay. Uh." He took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Stuff comes out of you ... your rod, looks a lot like this." He shook his head. "Another thing to be grateful for, you still got Mr. Johnson and his two close friends."

"We must be grateful for the little things."

"The big things, man. So. Uh. When you … Uh. Are with her. You won't need a towel. Just like the blood, it just, uh, disintegrates. See, there's no such thing as peeing here. And I've only heard one case of anybody ever taking a dump. And that was a rumor. Story goes, he was getting de-rezzed in a —"

"Back up and use short words. In this fair land, nobody ever —" Rooster glanced at Mattie. She remained unaware. "Nobody ever pisses or shits. However, they still —" The way the Dude abused the word, perhaps 'fuck' had taken on a different meaning over time. "They still enjoy God's blessing of the marital relation."

"Yeah. That's right. I gotta tell ya. The whole arrangement makes personal hygiene a lot easier."

"This is not hell, then."

"No. No, but you can see it from here, man." The Dude visibly perked himself up. "Hey, I don't wanna bum you out totally. There's a lot of good on the Grid. You still got each other." The Dude had seen how the older man's face changed when he regarded his young wife. "Watch out for the bad shit, you'll do okay. Damn, there's about a million things different between our world and this one. No way I can download it all at once. And I gotta get back to work." The Dude smiled ruefully. Another sentence he'd never thought would pass his lips. "Three things you gotta know, to start with." He ticked them off on raised fingers. "Don't say the word 'user'. Don't say the name 'Kevin Flynn' or just plain 'Flynn'. Main thing: don't piss off Clu."

"I believe we can accomplish the first two. Who or what is clue?"

"C-L-U. Initials mean something, I don't know what. They just call him Clu. Shouldn't say that name either, come to think of it. He runs this place. Not just Tron City, the whole fucking Grid, man. Don't piss him off, which is a whole lesson plan right there." He stood. "Lessons start tomorrow. You look after your fu— uh, special lady." The Dude had suffered a true beating on the Grid after applying his usual label 'fucking girlfriend'. "She wakes up, she'll think it was all a dream. Took, uh, I don't know how long till I got over that." A shrug. "Still happens sometimes. Damn, I almost forgot. I gotta get you ID discs. No disc, you can get in deep shit if you don't have a disc. So I guess you gotta introduce yourself. No last names, though. Not here."

"Our Christian names are Reuben and Martha. But she's always gone by Mattie."

"Reuben and Mattie. That's cool, I can get you IDs. R-U-E, M-A-T, three letters. That's easy. I can tell you're some sort of law—"

"No longer. I am well out of it."

"Yeah. Well. I hate to say this, but you're back in it now, man. What is Mattie's primary function?" Blank look. Oh man, culture clash. "I mean, if she had to make a living, make money, what would she do?"

"Well, now." Mattie could do anything she put her mind to. "She is a fine bookkeeper."

"Cool. Security program. Accounting program. Discs, no problem. I really gotta split. Crash as long as you want. I'm never here anyway." The Dude made what Rooster assumed was a gesture of departure, and hastily departed the bedroom.

Rooster stared at the bedroom door. He did not know what to think. He was too weary to think. Sighing, he got to his feet. If he stayed seated, he would surely fall asleep. He knew how to stay awake while keeping watch. He knew to do this much: he would watch over Mattie while she slept, then have her keep watch while he slept. How he would explain this to her, he didn't know. Everything the Dude (Jesus God, what a moniker!) had told him seemed to be flying out of his head.

He decided against disrobing her and simply loosened her clothing. He laughed softly to himself as he realized that he hadn't even thought on the wonder of their restored body parts. Instead, his mind lingered on the wonder of the Dude kissing a Negress in public. Perhaps the Temple of the Dude was one of those free-love communities. Rooster would not care, only those experimental utopias tended to end badly. The best case was recrimination and tears. The worst (and more common) case was shooting and stabbing. Rooster would not keep Mattie in such hazard. He laughed to himself again. As if Mattie would associate herself with free love in any fashion! In any way, shape or form!

First things first. Keep watch. Stay awake. Rooster began a slow pace to make sure he didn't go into a standing snooze. He had learned the hard way that it was quite possible to fall asleep while on your feet.