Work Text:
Alan stretched out his back and pulled at his arms, muffing a long yawn as he shuffled his way into the kitchen. It was later in the afternoon so he wasn’t blinded by sunlight as he went about making a small breakfast. He smiled when he found Tron still sitting on his couch, pouring over the same book he was reading the night before. And the night before that.
“Quorra got you hooked onto Jules Verne?” He asked, taking a seat in the opposite armchair.
“Incor-no.” Tron hastily corrected himself, starting to fidget with the edges of the thin paper.
Alan didn’t press further, taking another sip of coffee, he mulled over the plans he and Sam had made for the Program and ISO. “You’re sure you’re comfortable enough around crowds now, Tron?”
“Yes, Alan-One.” He nodded. “I can still function.”
“I’m glad you’re up for the challenge then.” Alan stated proudly. “Big box malls are a nightmare to navigate.”
The User saw how Tron’s eyebrows pinched at the words ‘nightmare to navigate’ before flipping to another page. Alan realized that Tron had suddenly materialized a pencil and began scribbling something down on the paper. On a sticky note, to be precise. There were dozens of them, lined up in neat rows. Probably colour coordinated too if Alan were to guess.
He watched curiously as Tron scanned a page, crossed something out, added something else and then turned to another chapter. Alan tried not to be too obvious as he watched as he finished his coffee, but he figured Tron already knew he was being watched.
“Alan-One?” He asked. “Inquiry - I mean - I have a question?”
“Of course Tron.” Alan moved to sit beside his Program, now holding two mugs in his hands. Setting the second on the table, he took a brief sip and waited. Tron set his book on the table pages up Leaning over to get a better look at what Tron was reading, Alan almost laughed.
“A dictionary?” He asked fondly.
Alan could see the nicks and dashes around Tron’s neck glow brighter - embarrassed, he didn’t blame him - before the Program moved to rub at his neck I. A futile effort to hide the glow. “Yes. I’m attempting to compile data on the application of User language. But according to language databases, Users have six thousand-five hundred forms of language.”
“Do Programs have different languages?” Alan wonders.
“Yes, but they are exclusive to the code of the Program.” Tron tries to explain. “But Perhaps it is dependant on the User’s input as well.”
The Programer muses over the question, idly wondering if he knows any coworkers who speak another language. Maybe he could ask their Programs. Alan had to repeat the idea. It sounded so surreal, like something out of a movie. But his own Program was sitting beside him, so he had to believe it.
“What did you want to ask me?”
Tron straightened back and quickly flipped back to the page he’d marked with his finger. “This word… it confuses me.”
Squinting without his glasses, the Program holds the book closer to his Users face. “Vociferously; adverb. To express dissatisfaction in a loud manner.”
“But there are several alternative words to use in its place.” Tron stated with confusion. “Why would there be several options to describe a single action?”
“It is a bit pretentious sounding.” Alan muses.
“Pretentious?”
“It’s used to describe someone who’s trying to sound eloquent without knowing what it really means.”
“Eloquent?” Trons face scrunches harder as he begins to flip to the new words.
The old User groans and thinks hard about how he works his sentence. “It just means really fancy. The same as extravagant.”
“So… pretentious means someone who uses extravagant and eloquent words without comprehending their full meaning?” Tron figured. Alan nodded, but his Programs confusion doesn’t lessen. “Then why didn’t you just say extravagant in the first place? Or something with less si-syllable?”
Alan mused over the question, setting down his now lukewarm coffee. Tron waits for his Users answer. He doesn’t expect him to shrug and laugh. “Honestly Tron, I have no idea. I wasn’t an English maj- “ he cuts himself of when he sees how exasperated the Program looks “-I never learned much about User communications. I can’t tell you. I can’t even begin to guess.”
The Programs expression morphs into something that he knows was his face every time Flynn did something stupid.
“Alan-One, I mean no disrespect, but are all facets of Users this needlessly complex?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He dismissed. Looking out towards the open curtains, he spares several seconds to watch the sunshine sparkle against the dewy grass of his lawn. Tron follows his Users gaze, then questions why he’s suddenly become so fixated.
“And to answer your question.” Alan continues. “Yes. I guess we are needlessly complex. But in a way, I guess that’s what makes life interesting.”
