Tron Legacy
Authors: Alice Alfonsi
Tags: #Family, #Readers, #Juvenile Fiction, #Video games, #Fantasy & Magic, #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Intermediate, #Parents, #Adventure and adventurers, #Virtual reality, #Media Tie-In
Copyright © 2010 Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 100115690.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number on file.
ISBN 978-1-4231-4612-4
WHEN SAM FLYNN WAS A LITTLE BOY
, his dad, Kevin, told him a story every night before he went back to the office. Kevin didn’t work the night shift or anything. He owned a software company, Encom, and he worked there…a lot.
Sam loved his father’s stories because they were almost always about Tron, the hero of the popular video game his dad had invented.
“The grid is the digital frontier,” Kevin would tell Sam. “Add quantum paring, biodigital teleportation, enfoldment, and they have the power to change everything…”
Hold up, dad, Sam would think. I’m only seven!
Even though Sam wasn’t quite old enough to understand everything his dad said, he loved the stories anyway and would always try to follow along.
“I imagined what it looked like inside the computer,” Kevin would say to his son. “I kept dreaming of a world I thought I’d never see. Then one day—”
“You got in,” Sam finished, always right on cue.
“I got in…” his dad would echo.
Sam understood this part of the story. His dad had actually gotten into a computer. He’d played the games from the inside.
“The world behind the computer screen was more beautiful and more dangerous than I ever imagined,” his father would explain. “But with the help of a brave warrior named Tron, I took down the evil Master Control Program. Then I got back out.”
The story always ended there. Except for one important night ...
“I tried to forget the digital world,” Kevin informed his son. “But I couldn’t let it go. I kept tinkering, and one day I got inside again.”
Sam got excited. This part of the story was new!
“It was my world, my creation,” Kevin said. “But I needed help to build a new system, so I created a program that could think. Like me. Like you. I named it Codified Likeness Utility—or Clu for short. But then something unexpected happened. A miracle!”
His father did not go on. Sam pleaded with him to stay home that night. Sam wanted to hear more of the story. But Kevin shook his head.
“I have to go, Sam,” his dad said. “We’ve got to see how the story ends, right?”
Sam nodded, but his eyes were filled with disappointment. Trying to cheer him up, Kevin promised Sam that they would go to Flynn’s arcade first thing the next morning. They could play a couple of levels of the games that Kevin had invented: Space Paranoids and, of course, Tron.
“Can we play on the same team?” Sam asked.
“We’re always on the same team, kiddo,” his father said before stepping out of the bedroom. They were always in it together.
But that wasn’t true.
That night, Kevin Flynn disappeared…
MANY YEARS PASSED
, and the pain from his father’s disappearance stayed with Sam, refusing to fade. His dad’s last words still echoed inside Sam’s brain: “We’re always on the same team, kiddo.”
Sam shook his head angrily, trying to drown out the words. He revved his motorcycle’s engine. The wall of noise battered his ears, but the memories would not go away.
Some team we are, Sam thought. I’m here, dad. I’ve been here all along! Where the heck are you?
Heat lightning rippled across the night sky. Up ahead, cars hurtled along the freeway. Without warning, traffic slowed to a crawl. Bright red brake lights blinked in the night. Instead of slowing down, Sam sped up, expertly darting his bike around the scarlet lights.
I have to get there on time, he thought. Especially tonight…
It was exactly twenty years ago to the day, that Sam’s dad had finished his bedtime story, left for the office…and vanished.
At the time, Kevin Flynn’s disappearance had been front-page news. After all, he owned one of the biggest companies in the world. There was a huge media circus. reporters camped out in front of Sam’s home. But the stories were all about the fate of Encom. No one really cared about young Sam. He was just a kid with a mom who’d died a few years before and a genius dad who’d gone missing—without even saying good-bye.
It’s that stupid company’s fault my dad is gone, Sam thought. Encom was always more important to dad than me.
After his father vanished, Sam inherited a huge stake in his company. But Sam didn’t care. He pretended the company didn’t exist, except on one day every year—the anniversary of his father’s disappearance.
Every year on that day, Sam pranked Encom. Once he performed a flaming motorcycle stunt at the company barbecue. Another year he hacked into the CEO’s computer. Then there was the time he bungee jumped during a big press junket.
Sam knew these wild pranks could never make up for a life without his father. But the stunts gave him satisfaction. On that one day a year, he made sure everyone at Encom remembered that he was still here—and that his dad wasn’t. It was, in a weird way, his only connection to the father he would probably never see again.
For tonight’s very special anniversary, Sam had planned something really spectacular.
Pulling free of his memories, Sam gave a sharp jerk on his motorcycle handlebars and cut across six lanes of traffic. He blew down an off-ramp, ran a red light, and swerved into a narrow alley. Finally, he parked the cycle on a big commercial boulevard. In the daylight hours, these streets were very busy. Now they were dark and deserted. Everyone was home—with their families.
With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Sam jogged toward Encom Tower. In the quiet shadows of the night, a young man joined him. The kid wore a dark hoodie, black jeans, and dark sneakers. This was Sobel. He was an acquaintance of Sam’s. Sam didn’t have friends.
“You were on time,” Sobel whispered gleefully. “That’s good. Synchronization is good.”
Together, the two jogged to a steel security door near Encom’s loading dock. Sam pulled up the cord hanging around his neck. Attached to it was a USB device. He plugged the device into the electronic door lock. Then he connected it to a handheld keypad with a tiny LEd screen.
“We take down the big guy up there,” Sobel whispered. “That is assassin cool. That is rep, bro!”
“Huge rep,” Sam quietly replied, still working the keypad.
“But why we always messin’ with the same guys?” Sobel asked. “I know they’re master-of-the-universe, corporate-evil style, but I want to hit other villains, too. My game is too strong for just one enemy.”
“You do have mad game,” Sam said halfheartedly, his eyes on the hundreds of cipher codes running through his device. He knew one of them would open the lock.
“You’re courageous, Sam,” Sobel said. “You’re my Butch Cassidy! This is just the beginning!”
Sam noticed something on the screen just then. “Uh-oh…”
“What’s up?” Sobel asked, worry in his voice.
“They added a new security cipher,” Sam explained. “The code I hit…I might have just called the cops.”
Sobel’s eyes grew big. “Cops?”
Sam shrugged. “So we get caught. This is where reps are made, ‘assassin.’ ”
But now Sobel had gone completely pale. “If I’m caught by the cops, call my stepmom!” He took off down the street. “My stepmom!”
Sam rolled his eyes. Figured. The only person he could rely on was himself. “Okay, Sundance!” he called. See you on the flip side, he added silently.
Just then, the multiple locks clicked, and the security door opened. Sam smiled, tucked the USB device into his jacket, and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Then he took a deep breath and darted through the door.
At the base of the stairs, Sam spotted the red light on the first security camera, indicating that it was active. He slipped a modified laser pointer out of his wrist sheath and fired at the lens.
Somewhere inside Encom, a security monitor went blank. Then another and another as Sam fired at each camera.
Now, that’s how we do it, he thought. Invisible people can’t get caught.
Sam needed no map as he raced through the building. He’d studied the floor plans and knew exactly which route to take.
After two flights of stairs, Sam arrived at a bank of freight elevators. He hit the button and an elevator instantly opened—just as he knew it would.
Three minutes later Sam stepped onto the skyscraper’s roof, his backpack now firmly attached to both shoulders.
The night air was warm and laced with the smell of the ocean. Sam paused in the neon glow of the huge Encom sign that topped the building.
“Hey, dad,” Sam whispered to the dark wind, hoping that wherever his father was, he could hear him asking: “How you doing?”
Just then, Sam heard a heavy door clang. Boots clomped across the roof. Two security guards appeared behind him! It looked like he hadn’t been as invisible as he hoped.
Here we go, Sam thought.
A third uniformed man appeared. This last guy was big and beefy. He wore special bars on his collar indicating that he was the guy in charge. “I got you now!” the big man called to Sam.
Sam ignored him as he tugged on the straps of his backpack, making sure they were secure. Then he began climbing to the top of the neon sign.
The guards shouted at him to get down, but he didn’t listen. So the big guard started to follow him up.
Sam kept climbing—right onto a catwalk suspended high above the city. The walkway was attached to a huge crane.
“I’ve got you cornered,” the big officer shouted as he climbed onto the walkway. He faced Sam, moving a step closer.
“Take it easy, buddy,” Sam said, backing away.
“The name’s Ernie,” the guard said. “You should know the name of the sheriff who brought you down.”
“You’re a sheriff?”
“You think you’re so smart,” Ernie shouted. “Every year at this time, some stupid stunt. And every time with that logo, that 89 symbol you leave behind! But not this year. No more chew-outs from my boss, because this year I’ve got my man!”
By now, the night wind was buffeting them both. The crane began to sway. Sam clutched the rail, looked at the ground far below and then back at Ernie.
“Your boss is fine with this,” he informed the man.
Ernie frowned and shook his head. “No way.”
“Who’s your boss?” Sam asked.
Ernie inched a little closer to Sam. A blast of wind hit them, and the crane’s swaying became more violent.
“The security chief is my boss,” Ernie shouted.
“That’s not actually true,” Sam told him, “because your boss works for the board of directors, and they work for the shareholders.”
Ernie gave Sam a “so what” look.
“do you know who the biggest shareholder is, Ernie?”
“I don’t know!” Ernie cried. “Some kid!”
Sam stuck a thumb in his own chest—and grinned.
“You’re the kid?” Ernie groaned.
Sam nodded.
“You’re killin’ me,” Ernie muttered.
Still grinning, Sam dived off the walkway. “See ya, Sheriff!” he shouted as he hurtled toward the pavement.
Ernie looked away, too horrified to watch. That’s when he saw the 89 logo glowing from a giant neon sticker now attached to the crane. Sam had struck again.