The End of Line Club was full of music and programs as usual. It had everything from odd-looking, half-resolutioned viruses to normal programs looking to escape basic function. Sam waded through the crowd to the bartender, an old outmoded looking thing that had been around since the first cycles. "What will it be?" it asked, calmly rubbing down the spotless bar.
"I need to know who the new owner is. I need to speak with him…see if he's as reliable as Zuse was." Sam said. The bartender gave him an odd look, then glanced beyond him.
"Sam Flynn!"
Sam straightened up and turned around at the sound of his name, his eyes widening. Zuse stood before him, cockily leaning over on his pyrex cane, his chin resting on the neck of it casually. "So the prodigal returns to grace us all with his well-meaning presence. You certainly don't know to make much of an entrance of it." He looked up to the Djs in their booth, gesturing with a hand and straightening up. The music took a turn, pulsing like heartbeats through the room. Electrifying the programs to dance and sway with it. "Drinks all around!" he proclaimed much to the cheers of the programs around Sam.
"Come into my office Sam. We have so much to catch up on." Zuse straightened up and flicked the end of his cane up to the office, dancing up the stairs with a light gait. Sam shifted through the dancing programs and followed, confused. He could have sworn he'd been told that Zuse was murdered by Clu. His programming had been wiped from the system…he was an iso, not something he could easily recover even with his programming skills.
"How are you alive? Everyone told me you were dead." Sam said suspiciously as Zuse pushed a champagne flute into his hand.
"Well that's the thing about the Grid. Nothing's ever fully erased…it just took a bit of a push to pluck me from the recycle bin." Zuse smirked. "Since you never bothered, someone else did." He poured himself a glass and leaned his cane up against the bar, taking a sip. He shifted his skinny form back against the slick glass of his personal bar.
"Pluck you out of the…Zuse, your programming is beyond even me. You're as complex as Quorra. You're an iso, how could you simply be recovered like that?" Sam demanded, setting his drink down on the bar.
Zuse met his eyes, cocking his head slightly. "Someone a bit more skilled than you, Sammy." He smiled and lightly touched Sam's nose with his finger. "Another Queen's entered the chess board."
"You mean another user. How?" Sam growled. "I'm the only one with that beam thing that my father left."
"And you take such good care of it. What with the dust, the…questionable security. I'm sure that whole arcade is locked down just. Like. A. Fortress." He poked Sam's chest with his finger, emphasizing each word. Sam's face paled. "Ah, the boy learns." Zuse slid to the side and away from him.
"Someone accessed the same terminal? How could they even use it?" Sam growled.
"Oh well if they know your last name, and the basics of how to get in…your father programmed it to be accessible by anyone. The Grid was meant to be shared. Such a dreamer, your father." Zuse said in amusement, getting up close to Sam. He slid his hand around to Sam's cheek. "You're getting lines." He withdrew. "Go on. Enjoy a girl. Enjoy a boy." He took up his cane and headed to the C shaped couch, plopping down lightly.
"Zuse. This is serious. I was attacked today…some sort of cat. Nothing me or my father programmed, this was something straight out of the blue."
"There aren't any animals here. Except for the ones out there maybe." Zuse flicked a glance at the dancers.
"It was…I don't know. Looked mechanical. I didn't create it, and the thing tried to murder me."
"Well it must have been the other user then. He's a bit more creative." Zuse said, feigning ignorance.
"He's the one who…brought you back." Sam said, scowling. "He's the one who put you back in control of the club! How the hell was he able to do it? How? I know you know. He obviously told you otherwise you'd not know what was outside the Grid."
"Just observations I retained." Zuse was obviously warming to the compliments.
"Where is he?" Sam pressed, walking over to the couch and standing before the iso. "Look there are a lot worse things out there than me. This guy's just going to use you and toss you back in the trash the minute there's a problem."
"Isn't that what you're going to do?" Zuse pointed out.
"No." Sam said coldly. "I'm not Clu. I never will be. Why did he bring you back?"
"Then take it from me, Sam Flynn. You're better off leaving that one alone." Zuse said calmly. "Now, three reasons people come here. Dancing, drinking, fucking. Either do one of those three or I think we're done here." He rose from the couch and downed the rest of his champagne, giving Sam a knowing smirk. "Unless you want door number three."
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "I need your help finding this guy. I'm not leaving until I do."
"Is that a yes?" Zuse drew closer.
Sam put his hand on the iso's chest. "No. I have Quorra…I'm in love with her. Besides, I'm not into programs." He grumbled.
"Contradicting statement. Would have been a thrill to see what Users are like. I've sampled everything else in this dry little terminal." Zuse said flippantly. "You'll find your other User across the Grid, in the Outlands. Keep going in a straight line, and you'll find him about somewhere between far away and impossible. Fly away Sam Flynn. I believe you know where the door is."
Sam scowled at Zuse. He'd barely gotten any information at all squeezed from the man. But if Zuse didn't want to open up, then he wouldn't. It was just his programming. If Sam wanted to change it then he would have to spend hours at a terminal figuring out how to modify the isos…which could take from years to the rest of his life knowing their complexity. Zuse was Zuse, it would always be that way.
Unless the iso got himself killed again.
He walked through the crowd to the elevator, leaning against the side of the machine and hitting the button to go down. It was a bit of a trip; his father had originally built the bar to be above the skyline of the Grid. It was beautiful, just took a while to get to. Sam used the time to think, about Zuse, about the isos, about this new User. If Zuse was correct and this person's programming skills were far beyond his own, then he would be heading into a war zone.
The portal was closing behind him, he had to get back to it. First of all to lock down the terminal stationed at Flynn's Arcade, perhaps move it to his own home to keep an eye on it. It had been foolish leaving it in such a dangerous area, what had he been thinking? His father had left it there because no other person could have figured out the location. He had been coming here a lot lately and hadn't bothered to cover his tracks. If someone was really curious as to his whereabouts ,they could find him. Once they had access to the Grid, it was obvious now a person could go wild with his imagination.
Sam hit the bottom and got back onto his light cycle, letting the small canopy close over him. He leaned over the white and black machine, sighing softly and turning it to head toward the portal. He would have to get outside, see what was going on. Maybe try and track the terminal's usage from the ENCOM computers.
He looked down at the microchip dangling on his throat. That was the Grid, there in that small chip. He could try a system restore with it, but he didn't know what would happen to the Grid itself. Restoring it using this chip would restore it to the point just after Clu's reign. Where he had to convince the programs to trust him on a public scale…but it would also mean that this new user's creations would be wiped completely from the board.
Sam would have to ask Quorra. She had grown up on the Grid, in the Outlands. She would know exactly what he needed to do and how to do it. In the meantime, it was time to delve in to the ENCOM systems to find out who had accessed the terminal located at his father's arcade. With ENCOM's powerful servers, he had begun to believe that anything was possible. Much as he hated to admit it, they had done well in updating a few things.
The portal would take a few hours to get to. He had to move fast.
Quorra sat in one of Sam's armchairs, a cup of coffee between her fingers. She looked down into the dark liquid, sighing. Sam should be home soon. He was off in the Grid again, visiting the site of his father's statue. She missed her mentor…he had been such a kind man to her. Taking her in when the Purge began, protecting her. Teaching her things about the world outside, but now that she was there it was entirely different from the books.
The ships were made out of steel, the city was nothing grandiose or beautiful, it was grimy. Similar to the novel Oliver Twist, though she'd discovered this wasn't London at all. Getting used to imperfection was a fascinating and arduous process. Things like coffee were small saving graces, and she enjoyed Sam's dog. The little boston terrier had warmed to her considerably since she'd been here.
Alan, who she understood was a friend of Flynn Sr., pestered her relentlessly about the Grid and the Outlands, programs and users, even the isos. It was no secret he wanted to go into the Grid again to see how it progressed. He was even more fascinated by the fact she was here, outside of the Grid. That something digital had become flesh. He was a well-meaning creature, so she tolerated him. Sam apparently held him as close as his own father.
She sipped her coffee, looking up at the clock. It was still early in the night, but Sam had been gone all day. She couldn't help but worry about him.
Three in the morning came and went.
Where was he? He'd promised to come back before midnight! She frowned in worry and picked up the motorcycle keys. She'd go to the arcade, see if he'd fallen asleep in the office again. The thought that something else had occurred didn't even cross her mind.