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“Dad, this one’s gettin’ hairy.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well –“ Elanor Bradley grunted in frustration as another bug appeared before her, this one nearly as tall as the canyon walls that kept her trapped. “I got the information –“ She dropped her bike, derezzing it as she slid beneath the bug, yelping as its massive pincers clipped the air just above her head – “but I stirred up a whole nest of rather large bugs in the process –“ She swung as a smaller bug that leapt on her from above, smacking it soundly with her baton, now extended like a quarterstaff. “GET BACK! – and you better be at Flynn’s to open the portal in the next like…twenty – CAN YOU NOT! – minutes.”
Alan Bradley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, the sound of his daughter screaming at a set of computer bugs a perfectly ironic contrast to the quiet hum of Encom tower. “Twenty minutes?”
“Ye – GET OFF, YOU SCUM! Yeah, twenty should do.” She quickly shifted the baton back to its normal size, rezzing her bike again and shooting off through the canyon, smacking bugs away with her disc as she went. “Remind me again why I took Tron’s offer of apprenticeship?”
“You didn’t know giant Gridbugs would be involved, dear daughter,” her father said flatly, snatching his car keys from beside his office door, slipping into the hall and waving at Sam as he passed by, confused as to why his uncle was leaving his office in the middle of the day with his keys.
“She found bugs,” Alan called over his shoulder, sensing the other man’s confusion. “Big ones.”
“Ah.” Sam shrugged and continued on his way. The dealings of his cousin were beyond him – a day on the Grid once a month was about all he could handle. He still didn’t quite understand the thrill of her risking her life weekly, and on a completely different Grid regardless.
Elanor rode with one hand, using her body to balance her bike as Tron had taught her, her identity disc humming happily in her other hand as she continued to whittle away at the bugs, its pink light shimmering off the space around her. She’d known the hospital’s data system would be a mess, but not like this. She nibbled the inside of her cheek. Gonna have to have Tron and Beck jump over to clean this up with me, she thought. Honestly, might take the whole crew. Sam will take some convincing, but I’m good at that. Sometimes.
She slowed her bike as she returned to the main hub of the Grid – Light City, as they called it. Elanor thought it was a rather stupid and unoriginal name, but it wasn’t her Grid and she expected nothing less from a non-Encom system.
It didn’t take long – only a few Grid hours, at most – for the portal to light. She clipped her baton to her leg and pulled her disc free as she stepped into the light, a smile on her face as she turned her eyes towards it. No matter how many Grids she’d been on, or how many bugs had nearly clipped her head from her shoulders, the feeling of the light would never not be her favorite – bright and warm as the sun, but barely blinding, it welcomed her home every single time.
Soon, the blinding light was replaced by the softness of afternoon sunlight through a transom window, and the almost nonexistent smell of the Grid had been replaced with the familiar wetness of the basement of Flynn’s Arcade. Her disc was gone, only a tiny, bright-white chip in her hands. Her lightsuit, too, had disappeared, replaced with her loose jeans, t-shirt, Vans, and motorcycle jacket.
She cracked her shoulders and neck, turning to face her father, brandishing the chip with a grin.
“I think we got another win for Encom,” she said with a grin. Alan shook his head, wrapping her in a short hug before shoving her towards the stairs.
“Think you could choose a less dangerous way to drum up business?” he asked, following her as she climbed back out into the halfway-renovated arcade – Sam and Quorra’s newest pet project.
“I would love to,” she said, eyes roaming over all the now-uncovered consoles – Pac-Man and Galaga, Lightcycle Battle and Space Paranoids, Skee-Ball and claw machines. “But according to The Council We Didn’t Choose, hacking on Encom’s WiFi is cheating, and as it turns out, forty-somethings women don’t like when you sit next to them at a Starbucks and interrupt their gossip with ‘suspicious activity’.” She grunted in displeasure as they stepped outside, the sun landing right in her eyes.
“Bright?”
“Too.” She frowned. “Did you bring your bike? Or the car?”
“Car.”
“Boring.”
“Safe,” Alan said pointedly. Elanor snorted.
“Says the man who beats me up the Pass every weekend,” she retorted. “Getting old, are we?” She ducked as her father swatted at her head, laughing. “Yep, definitely old.”
“Get back to work,” her father growled through a smile, sighing as she pouted dramatically. “Fine. First one to the office gets to make the popcorn and choose the toppings.”
Elanor snapped her fingers, already moving towards her bike, parked on the street corner, as her father moved towards his car in the alley. “Deal!” she called. “And you better be ready to lose, ‘cause I’m not about to eat burnt popcorn again!”
“That was one time!” Alan yelled back, offended, growling as she started the bike and shot off down the street. He darted towards his car. “Better not win. I’m not eating popcorn with ranch seasoning again.”