Tron Legacy by Alice Alfonsi

him. “My name is gem.”
    Then, before Sam could say more, Castor hustled him off the platform and through the crowd. They paused when they arrived under the elevated booth that housed the club’s DJs. Castor spoke to them briefly.
    “I’m slipping away for a moment, boys,” he said, waving a lazy hand to encompass the club. “Change the scheme. Alter the mood, would you be so kind?”
    Castor tapped his cane to slow the music’s beat. The DJs responded. The club darkened. The color scheme changed.
    The blue waves of plasma running along the walls now pulsed in a deep purple. Soon the entire building throbbed with a purple glow, both inside and out.
    Castor smiled with satisfaction. Then he tapped the floor one last time.
    Sam jumped backward when a section of the ground opened. An ornate spiral staircase emerged from the pit. The staircase spun like a drill bit as it shot upward. Finally it stopped.
    “Whoa,” Sam whispered.
    “designed it myself,” Castor boasted. “Elegant, no?”

    MEANWHILE, IN THE CARBON-BLACK OUTLANDS , Clu had arrived at Kevin’s safe house. It had taken longer than anticipated and he was anxious. Not that he would admit that—ever. He moved onto the veranda and took in the view from Flynn’s mountaintop. Then he strode back inside and scanned the living quarters.
    “Cozy,” Clu said.
    Right now, his Sentries were searching the compound, eager to find Kevin as quickly as possible.
    Clu continued to look around the area, and his gaze landed on the dining room table. He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and wondered at its purpose. Such strange things in this place. What need did Kevin have for them? His thoughts were interrupted when Jarvis entered. The counselor was flanked by the Black Guard—Clu’s private army—in dark, faceless armor.
    “Our Sentries discovered Flynn’s outmoded Light Cycle in the Old City,” Jarvis reported. “I assure you, we traced its energy signature back to this place. But Flynn must have fled before we arrived.”
    Clu glanced at his own reflection in a giant mirror, his mind racing back to that moment when Kevin first created him.
    “You are Clu,” Flynn had said. “You are to create the perfect system. Together, we’re going to change the world.”
    Clu had never disobeyed Kevin’s first command.
    It was Flynn who lost his way, Clu thought. Flynn chose flaws over the flawless—the ISOs instead of perfection…
    Just then, Clu noticed Flynn’s chessboard. Enraged, he swept it clean.
    “Leader,” Jarvis said nervously, “might I direct your attention to the End of Line Club?”
    Clu peered through the room’s arched windows. On the distant skyline, Clu noticed that the tower was pulsing with purple light. For the first time that evening, Clu smiled.

    MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE CITY , Sam and Castor were ascending the club’s spiral staircase.
    Castor’s private lounge was located high above the End of Line Club’s dance floor. The lounge’s ceiling, floor, and walls were all glass, and the room was bathed in the same purple glow that lit the rest of the club.
    “You can’t be too careful,” Castor said. “You’ve caused quite a stir with your arrival. Whispers of revolution are gaining volume. The grid is alight.”
    Castor offered Sam a chair. “Zuse has been around since the earliest days of the grid,” he continued. “To survive, he had to mind all the percentages, all the angles.”
    “So when do I meet him?” Sam asked.
    Castor bowed his head. “You just did.”
    Sam blinked. He hadn’t seen that coming. “You’re Zuse?”
    “After the Purge, I needed to reinvent myself,” Zuse explained. “Self preservation, you understand. Now, what can I do for you?”
    “I need to get to the Portal,” Sam said.
    Zuse pointed his cane at a light shining on the horizon. “The spire to the east, as I’m sure you’re aware. It’s quite a journey. Beyond the far reaches of the Outlands and across the Sea of