Tron Legacy by Alice Alfonsi Read Free Book Online Page B

high platform at the center of the vast club. The platform was heavily guarded by grim-faced programs. They stood, arms folded and staring straight ahead, as the party flowed around them like ocean waves around giant boulders.
    A man sat on the platform they were guarding. He wore a formal tailcoat and a top hat. He spun a cane in his left hand. His hair was white, his face the same pale color, and his clothes a startling white as well. He was like no program Sam had ever seen.
    “His name is Castor,” the Siren told Sam. “If you want to speak to Zuse, you have to go through him.”
    Sam noticed the wall of guards parting. A tough-looking program climbed the platform stairs. Pixels were missing in his face and neck—this world’s version of a hideous scar.
    “That’s Bartik. Bartik the Anarchist,” someone close to Sam whispered, pointing to his scarred face.
    Bartik crossed the high platform and approached Castor. down in the crowd, Bartik’s gang watched the meeting with interest. So did Sam. He moved closer to hear what the two were saying.
    “Have a sense of humor, my friend,” Castor began. “It’s only a revolution.”
    Plasma pulsated through Bartik’s armor. “I didn’t come here for entertainment,” he snapped. “It’s time. You can feel it. The boy’s on the grid. He’s spurred hope.”
    Sam tensed. They were talking about him.
    Bartik pointed to the windows. “The eastern sky is alight!”
    Castor sighed. “And you wish me to ask Zuse to rally the troops? Stir the masses? rouse the rabblers? Am I right?”
    “Programs are disappearing, Castor,” Bartik said. “Soon none of us will be left. We need to strike now. Unite the factions. Encourage revolution!”
    “Of course, Zuse can do these things,” Castor said, stifling a yawn.
    “Then grant me an audience,” Bartik pleaded.
    Castor yawned deeply. “Your enthusiasm is intoxicating, dear Bartik, but Zuse’s time is more than precious. We shall see…”
    The Siren turned to Sam. “Wait here.”
    He watched her move up the stairs. The guards never questioned her, and that surprised him. She leaned close to Castor and whispered in his ear.
    Castor glanced quickly at Sam, then took a harder look. Finally, he turned to Bartik and said, “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I have to attend to something. But have a drink. Courtesy of End of Line.”
    Castor stepped down off the platform and walked right up to Sam. The programs around them suddenly got quiet. Sam felt like every program in the club was watching them, including Bartik and his gang. He wanted to shrink into his dirty poncho. But Castor hooked a thin arm around Sam’s.
    “Come away from these primitive functions,” Castor cooed, leading him back onto the platform.
    Castor glanced at him once more, his eyes filled with curiosity…and something else Sam couldn’t pinpoint. “The Son of Flynn!” Castor gushed as they walked. “Of all the innumerable possibilities, of all the places he could have chosen, he just happens to walk into mine!”

CASTOR LED SAM AND THE SIREN to his private table in the massive nightclub.
    “Libations! Quickly!” Castor called to a waiter. Then he slid his scarecrowlike physique into the seat beside Sam. Smiling, Castor lifted his top hat and extended his hand.
    “Castor, your host,” he said. “Provider of any and all diversions. At your service.”
    Sam got right to the point. “I’m looking for Zuse.”
    Castor arched an eyebrow. “Indeed. Many are…”
    “Where can I find him?”
    Castor glanced at the crowd. Everyone was watching. Everyone was listening. All of them pretended they weren’t.
    “This, good sir, is a conversation best had behind closed doors,” Castor said, rising. “Perhaps we should adjourn to the private lounge?”
    Castor waved his hand, dismissing the Siren. But as Sam was hustled away, he called to her over his shoulder.
    “Thank you—” Sam paused, not knowing the Siren’s true name.
    “Gem,” she told