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Sam handed over his credit card to the ticket taker, bought passes to the zoo for himself and two grown men which was the gayest thing he’d done in a while. Tron and CLU took in their surroundings, smelt the air, found it all quite bizarre compared to the cityscape to which they were used. By the time Sam came to meet them, Tron had already wandered off, chasing after a peacock that refused to let him invade its personal space.
“Tron, c’mon, don’t touch that! It’s got…” What did parents say to scare their kids? “Polio!”
Tron turned to regard the young Flynn, expression a mix of sadness and frustration because nothing should be so beautiful and provocative unless it wanted to be touched. He dragged his feet as he returned to the group, looking backwards on occasion, taking note of which direction the bird was fleeing.
“Okay,” Sam began, flashing Tron a smile to brighten his spirits. “To the right is the aquarium, we can start there.”
“An aquarium houses plants and animals that live in the water,” Tron recited and Sam wondered if he’d gotten that one from Sesame Street.
“That’s right, good job.”
Tron grinned, bounced in place like he’d just won a scratch-n-sniff sticker from teacher. CLU gazed at him from the corner of his eye - debated shoving him over.
As they entered, Sam assured, “You’ll like the aquarium too, CLU. It’s full of reptiles who are all very disgruntled, just – like – you.”
His father’s Program commanded, “Show me them,” and Sam pointed to a clearing made to look like a swamp barred off by a plexiglass wall. CLU pushed Tron out of the way as he stormed over to see what was contained inside, leaning dangerously over the barrier, though Sam decided he didn’t have the energy to shout a warning.
A few turns of the head and he stood erect with expression sour. The creatures in the pit were resting on rocks, some with bodies half submerged in the dark water, and he complained, “They’re not doing anything.”
“Alligators are slow moving until they go in for the kill.”
“Make them kill something.”
Sam frowned, uttered, “I can’t…” He glanced at Tron who seemed equally unimpressed and said, with more enthusiasm than warranted, “Tell you what. We’ll visit Florida someday and you can try alligator meat.”
CLU’s brow furrowed. “Why can’t we eat this one?”
“He’s just lying there,” Tron added. “He looks delicious.”
Sam’s eyes flicked back to the alligator. He didn’t look that delicious.
“I’ll whittle a stake from those branches,” CLU stated, pointing behind him at a large, plastic tree. “Tron, you hold his jaw shut while I repeatedly stab him in the neck.”
“We’re not skewering the zoo’s albino alligator. I already told you I’d take you down South so you could eat one the proper, legal way.”
CLU turned to the other Program, muttered, “Down south is a euphemism for actions performed below the waist.” Tron regarded Sam wryly and the User could do nothing but stare at CLU, expressionless.
“Yeah, I bet you’d like to take us down south.”
“Just stop, CLU.” There was a shake of the head that said he was unamused but when he walked past the others they followed eagerly.
The Programs had already tasted fish and so Sam expected little headache going through the rooms filled with individual aquariums. It became complicated when they recognized words such as “clown” and “lion” and needed to know how they were relevant to fish, and then were legitimately offended the fish didn’t appear as carbon copies of their namesakes.
Losing control of the situation, Sam quickly dragged them to the shark tank; couldn’t possibly see why anyone wouldn’t be thrilled by sharks.
“I'm not impressed.”
Tron's hands slid down the glass and Sam was surprised he also sounded disappointed. “In the movie they had lasers.”
"Laser sharks?" CLU echoed, perking up. "Where are they?"
"No, guys, that's not real."
CLU crossed his arms, looked at Sam with eyes like slits, judging him. "Your pathetic society doesn't even have lasers?"
"We have lasers,” Sam grunted, more annoyed by the assumption than he should be. “They're just not attached to sharks.”
“The sharks would be more perfect if they had lasers.”
“You want to be in the water with a shark, let alone a shark with a laser? Really, CLU?”
CLU turned back to the tank, nose in the air, muttered, “It was for military purposes.”
Tron and Sam moved on to the manatees but CLU remained near the sharks, pressed his forehead against the tank and splayed fingers over the glass, a creepy voyeur. His concentration was disturbed when he felt a tug and heard a giggle and looked down to find a little girl with fat cheeks and curly pigtails. He huffed and ignored her, but she thought her game fun and scampered to his other side to pull at this right leg.
CLU shook her off with two quick snaps, growled, “I’m going to touch you, see if you like it.”
He barely had time to look up before the girl’s mother was upon him, grabbing at her child and shrieking, “Pervert!” alerting most of the visitors in the room as well as Sam, who instinctively hid his face in his hands.
Sam braved the stares to collect the Program who was directing his arguments to the little girl while the mother repeatedly tried to capture his attention by pointing fingers in his face. Sam slipped in a few sorrys but his main goal was to get the hell out before security came after them.
Outside, he breathed a bit easier, said nothing but, “You can’t do that,” knowing full well reprimands were completely rejected by CLU’s processor. “Alright, guys, how about we head to the Insect House?”
“I don’t care for insects,” Tron stated, staring at CLU grudgingly, upset he missed the dolphins. “They’re drones.”
“They’re disciplined,” CLU shot back. “I want to study them.”
“There’s another building nearby with birds and nocturnal animals. You go there, Tron, and we’ll meet you in a bit.”
The Program immediately perked up and went off with a bounce in his step, enjoying the great trust the User put in him. CLU hadn’t yet earned this liberty –never would, Sam predicted – and was directed with a hand on his back towards the Insect House.
“Look at this one.” Sam stood gazing at a large glass case filled with honey combs and swarming with bees. He pointed to a large bee marked by a pink spot. “The queen bee - that’s the leader.”
CLU paused a moment before deciding whether he should be impressed. He breathed in deeply and spoke with an airy tone, “That is my destiny.”
“You’re going to be the queen bee?”
“Yes.”
Sam nodded slowly, said, “Alright.” Seemingly satisfied, the Program moved on and Sam rolled eyes to the ceiling as he left.
Not soon after, a cry came from the other side of the room, “Samuel! How many of these can you consume?”
Sam trudged over, miffed the Program felt the need to use his full Christian name, answered, “Like, before you mutate into one of them? None.”
“You can’t eat any? They’re small.”
“I don’t want to eat them.”
“I didn’t ask what you wanted,” he sneered, waving him off. “Your processing unit is useless.”
Sam sucked in breath so he wouldn’t punch CLU in the face. “Five,” he replied, voice even. “At least five.”
CLU regarded him a moment unmoving. “A mental note has been made.”
“Good, excellent. Thank you.”
The older man scooted to the next terrarium, questioned, “And these?”
“We’re not doing this for every bug in here.”
“How many?”
“Seven - seven scorpions. …You realize they have poisonous stingers?”
“So if I wanted people to die,” he began, and Sam pursed his lips, “this would be a good way to go?”
Sam tapped his foot and then a sly grin graced his features when he answered, “You have to put them down your pants first. Get them riled up.”
CLU stroked his chin, contemplating this information, said knowingly, “They must react to the pheromones.”
Sam prayed the man would never stick a scorpion near his junk because admittedly he’d feel guilty, yet he made no remark. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
His body jumped slightly when the phone in his pants pocket vibrated and sang, and Sam didn’t yet know whether to sigh in relief he’d been distracted from CLU or fear what kind of mischief Tron had gotten into.
“Hello?”
“Sam.”
“Hey Tron, everything good?”
“Yes! There are these animals called armadillos and they run in circles.”
“That’s cool,” he replied, twisting around to see where the other had run off.
Tron agreed, “Yes,” nodding his head silently in satisfaction.
Sam waited for the Program to continue and when he did not, questioned, “Is that all?”
“That seems to be all they are capable of.”
“I mean, do you need me to come find you?”
“No, I’m still looking.”
Sam caught a glimpse of CLU, who was tapping on a terrarium filled with beetles. When the insects refused to heed his command, he yelled, “Fools! I will harvest your young!” and thrust palms into the tank until it shook and people stared.
Sam clenched his teeth, said, “CLU and I are going to meet you.”
“That’s okay. I’m doing alright.” Tron frowned, reluctant to give up the most freedom he’d experienced his entire existence. There were no orders from Flynn, there was no CLU, only countless creatures who wished to be his friend.
The Program made out a muffled, “We’ll be there shortly,” before the line went dead and he was left with a piercing yet hypnotizing beeping in his ear. Tron knew he should stay in one place, but he didn’t, instead checking some of the surrounding cages before making his way through glass doors and into a jungle-type setting.
There were birds there, flying freely, in all colors of the rainbow, but none resembled the strange headless, wingless, breaded chicken breast birds Sam had fed him.
From a distance was spotted a brown, furry blob hanging from long limbs off a tree. The Program beelined for it, slowing when he approached, realizing there was little more than a short barrier between them.
The sloth’s head tilted slowly as Tron came into its line of vision, regarding him as intently as he was regarding it. There was an instant connection – Tron could feel the energy radiating from this creature – and he was entranced.
The sloth reached for him, in a motion so painfully slow it was difficult to tell he was moving at all. Tron watched, unsure what the animal was doing, but decided to outstretch an arm to meet him. Sam came stomping in, dragging CLU along, cocked his head at the scene before him like a bizarre re-staging of Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam.
“Make a friend, Tron?”
Tron’s head snapped to the left like he was woken from a trance and surprised by the others’ presence. He regarded the sloth again, said seriously, “I think he is trying to link systems, share knowledge.”
Sam nodded slowly, too exhausted to correct him or destroy his dreams. Tron’s arm was completely extended but the sloth still struggled to do the same and CLU groaned, “How long is this going to take?”
Tron refused to openly acknowledge the complaint; still pressed forward, tried harder, stretched until his body was strained. The sloth looked at him with bright eyes and a blank stare, completely content with the situation and pace.
“I don’t think you’re gonna learn anything from this sloth. They don’t do a lot.”
“Oh.” Tron reluctantly pulled back, disappointed, but the sloth kept stretching, determined to touch this strange creature.
“What is the purpose of a sloth?” CLU questioned, words crisp and proper like he just asked how to measure the worth of a man.
Sam had no idea how the animals survived evolution at all and stuttered through an explanation that involved their fur being an ecosystem for bugs and algae.
“And that’s it?”
“Well…”
“So many of these animals are imperfect, useless, purposeless. Most of them can go.”
“You can’t kill off random stuff, CLU. There’s a balance, they -” CLU turned his nose up like he was physically disgusted by Sam’s banter. “You know what? If you succeed in wiping out an entire species, I will be impressed.”
“Of course you will, you’ll be dead.”
Sam tried to process that logic and couldn’t. “Let’s move on.”
They travelled through outdoor exhibits, where Sam welcomed fresh air and spaces large enough to disassociate himself from CLU if needed. He thought of using the chimps as a lesson on evolution but then decided against it, knowing CLU would never let him live it down if he knew humans were related to creatures who threw feces at each other.
Tron did his best to get as close as possible to every animal, smashing his face against the glass of the polar bear habitat and leaning over fences to look down into the lion and tiger dens. Each time he would say, “They like me,” and each time Sam would agree and add another tally to the beasts the Program thought he had befriended.
“Not so far, Tron, you’re going to fall in and get eaten.”
Tron leaned back off the wall surrounding the tiger pit, but his smile sank as he stated, “We’re friends.”
“Well yeah, but…” Sam scratched the back of his head, not wanting to break the other’s heart, said as gently as he could, “They’ll still eat you.”
CLU came up next to them, barely glanced into the cage before demanding to know, “What is this?”
“Those are tigers.”
“That's stupid.”
There was a huff as Sam turned to regard him. “How is that stupid, CLU?”
“They look stupid,” was the only response, annoyance accented by arms folded across his chest.
The young man grunted, “You look stupid,” and turned attention back to the massive pit.
The sun was setting and Sam thanked the universe excuses such as, “It’s getting late,” were applicable in most any situation. He announced, “It’s getting late,” and was met with blank stares and raised eyebrows like the Programs were confused why he’d state something so obvious. Sam tried again, a bit more directly. “We’re going home.”
They made it back to the main gates with few incidents, save for CLU trying to snatch stuffed animals from small children and Tron making a big scene out of saying goodbye to every creature they passed.
Sam and CLU made their way into the parking lot, but Tron fell behind, spotting a peacock from the corner of his eye. He came towards the bird carefully and soon realized he could control the direction in which it fled. He planned his moves methodically, mind working a million miles an hour as he calculated the angles at which he should approach. The bird was led out the exit, waddling ahead until it became trapped in between vehicles and Sam’s open door.
“What is this?”
Tron didn’t immediately respond, unsure whether it was a trick question. “A bird.”
Sam’s voice raised as if speaking to a child. “Why is it at my car?”
The Program watched as the peacock wandered aimlessly at their feet, replied innocently, “It’s coming with us.”
“No, Tron,” Sam sighed, “the peacock has to stay here.”
“I paid money, I should get to keep it.”
“I paid money, and you don’t get to keep anything from the zoo except your memories and the stench that permeates your clothes.” He waved his hand, said, “Put it back, please.”
Tron shrugged, defeated, and captured the bird in his arms. It squawked and its neck whipped around and Sam almost bit through his lip watching the Program narrowly escape injury.
“Okay, oh God, Tron!” He shouted, “Go, go!” watching as the man hurried back to the entrance, carrying the bird in front of him like a live grenade and throwing it into the zoo in the same manner.
Tron came strolling back, remaining unaware of the spectacle he’d made, despite Sam motioning violently for him to get in the car before anyone else saw.
Once everyone was gathered and seated, Sam sighed in relief, taking a moment to calm his nerves before starting the car. CLU called from the back, “Can we get ice cream?” and Sam turned eyes up to the rearview mirror to look at him.
“Do you think you deserve ice cream?”
The Program sat quietly, only for a second, before replying in great confidence, “Yes.”