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It came out of nowhere. He was running at the door, late as usual, Clu moved to block his path like a brick wall that had been dropped from the ceiling. There was an odd expression on his face Sam couldn’t place in the span of that short instant it existed there. His roommate’s arms reached out toward him and he staggered back, expecting to be hit or strangled.
Early on they had given up settling their differences with swearing and insults, to try and tear each other limb from limb. The pair found a reason to make war even over the tiniest disagreement. It was a miracle they hadn’t killed each other yet, being forced to live in such close proximity. Very literally, Sam’s home was really only made for one, and in the cramped space so much as a brushed shoulder could earn you a punch in the mouth.
The board thought he was either mad or a member of the local mafia, having showed up at every meeting to date sporting a garish injury. A black eye, a gash sliced across his cheek, a limp from his bruised ankle. He would smile and joke “You should see the other guy.” And really, Clu didn’t look any better. Even as Sam was standing there his head throbbed, Clu shoved him into the harbor the previous night, the back of his skull had connected with a rock underwater. Both of them could have easily drowned in the ensuing brawl.
“Clu, Clu what the hell?”
It took Sam a moment to realize what this was intended to be, because the latter assumption hadn’t been far off it’s mark. The program was hugging him, clinging to him so tightly Sam thought his ribs would snap like twigs. The motion was awkward and violent, like a five year old trying to show his affection for a pet cat and nearly snapping the poor frightened animal in two, Clu didn’t quite understand how a hug was supposed to work. Sam wondered if he’d ever been hugged before, probably not if this was any demonstration of his experience.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke against Sam’s shoulder, the sound was muffled by the fabric of the suit jacket Alan had finally bullied him into. It was barely audible, but Sam heard just fine. He didn’t bother asking for what, 'for everything', were the unspoken words.
His head was still filled up with hatred, he was too angry to consider accepting any kind of apology. As unbelievable as these were, words weren’t compensation enough for his father’s death, silently he left for work without looking back.
He realized now Clu had been trying to say goodbye.
Clu was little more than a disembodied head resting on a steel surgical table, but he was conscious. Program’s in this world were still distinctly inhuman, Sam had thought they might bleed like humans on this side, but there were plenty of other new similarities instead.
For the most part Clu looked the same dying here as he would have on the other side, a pile of glittering cubes. There was what looked like a spinal cord winding down from his head. With drills and needles a team of R&D employees had attached wires to the synthetic bone, they fed information into the surrounding machines. Using the right equipment a program was just as easily edited here as on The Grid.
Sam bit his lip, and something twisted in his stomach, seeing the alien creature writhing in pain. He asked that Alan give Clu some kind of mercy, to shut him down. The old programmer was behaving like he was out of earshot, Sam suspected he had been ignored. Alan liked Clu even less than Sam did, after what happened with Tron. His adoptive father had just spent two sleepless days and nights trying to keep this thing alive when he wished he could have left it to die alone on the highway. Unnecessary pain on Clu’s part, was in Alan’s opinion, compensation for his efforts.
“What were you thinking?” Sam needed to know why. He was leaning down, his ear nearly pressed against Clu’s mouth so he could hear, even as quiet as the once-dictator’s voice was.
“Alan One told me that Flynn was still alive.”
“What?” That was a response Sam wasn’t expecting, his brow furrowed, perplexed. Could that really be true? Had Alan been keeping secrets? Had he discovered something in the empty, burnt out shell of The Grid and not told him? “You ran out in front of an 80,000 pound semi going seventy.” He said, in case there had been any confusion.
“Alan One said he went somewhere else, to a better world, separate from yours or mine.” Clu paused, exhausted, speaking was agony. “He said one day, when I died, I would see Flynn again.”