The Grid herself had been more orderly than the Encom mainframe from the start: you couldn't get cleaner than a brand new box. And she had only one architect: one central Maker, and one vision, running in stereo. But that approach had its limitations. Clu had a tendency to think in right angles, carving a goal into modular sections and running them in parallel until he reached a solution. Entirely straightforward. And he'd built a large base of assumptions as--call it a shorthand--for dealing with problems that tended to recur.
Clu had trouble inventing spontaneous responses, and he hated having to guess.
Most rebels fit neatly into a handful of scripts, and were as neatly dispatched with the direct use of overwhelming force. The standout cases, who probably thought of themselves as unique, and who at the very least presented an actual threat--well. Those, he simply fed to Rinzler.
After all, he relished a challenge, and thanks to a natural discipline thrumming beneath his very tight rein, he was always up for a little exercise.
But it'd be a waste to do that with this one. And waste not, want not, or however it went: he only gave Rinzler the unsolvables--true believers who really would rather die than pledge to their System.
Clu liked to think of it as granting their last wish.
He only hoped this one could be made to see reason. After all, this brave and inventive fellow had taken his color and made it a spectacle, bright as caution tape. His latest catch was just full of surprises, with a basket of tricks that ranged from highly refined espionage routines down to the kind of glitzy garbage the street sentries were forever peeling off young vandals. And he'd smashed up quite a few units above his own threat class--was that down to raw power? Luck, maybe--or just the element of surprise? There was something in the report about a novel use of local architecture. And it matched scores of other incidents like it:
No, indeed. Underestimating this one would be a mistake.
Clu detested mistakes. And as a point of personal pride, he never made the same one twice. He considered that, not quite pacing, stalking nearer until they were almost toe-to-toe. He stiffened, ever so slightly, for the assessment of his best enforcer.
"Where'd you get that idea?" Snappish. He smoothed the bridge of his nose with a sigh, pinching. "Are you that eager to be scrapped?"
He crossed his arms, then let them drop, fixed the smile in place a bit more firmly.
"You're right about one thing: I do want something. But you should be asking the next question: whether you can give me what I want."
He was not about to wilt so easily under the force of that glare, sharp as any cutting torch. After all, the hacker would find it difficult to do much of anything mischievous--or anything about it at all, really--given his present position.
Re: got this double vision; i need my own religion {imprisonment/captivity; violence; verbal weaponr
Clu had trouble inventing spontaneous responses, and he hated having to guess.
Most rebels fit neatly into a handful of scripts, and were as neatly dispatched with the direct use of overwhelming force. The standout cases, who probably thought of themselves as unique, and who at the very least presented an actual threat--well. Those, he simply fed to Rinzler.
After all, he relished a challenge, and thanks to a natural discipline thrumming beneath his very tight rein, he was always up for a little exercise.
But it'd be a waste to do that with this one. And waste not, want not, or however it went: he only gave Rinzler the unsolvables--true believers who really would rather die than pledge to their System.
Clu liked to think of it as granting their last wish.
He only hoped this one could be made to see reason. After all, this brave and inventive fellow had taken his color and made it a spectacle, bright as caution tape. His latest catch was just full of surprises, with a basket of tricks that ranged from highly refined espionage routines down to the kind of glitzy garbage the street sentries were forever peeling off young vandals. And he'd smashed up quite a few units above his own threat class--was that down to raw power? Luck, maybe--or just the element of surprise? There was something in the report about a novel use of local architecture. And it matched scores of other incidents like it:
No, indeed. Underestimating this one would be a mistake.
Clu detested mistakes. And as a point of personal pride, he never made the same one twice. He considered that, not quite pacing, stalking nearer until they were almost toe-to-toe. He stiffened, ever so slightly, for the assessment of his best enforcer.
"Where'd you get that idea?" Snappish. He smoothed the bridge of his nose with a sigh, pinching. "Are you that eager to be scrapped?"
He crossed his arms, then let them drop, fixed the smile in place a bit more firmly.
"You're right about one thing: I do want something. But you should be asking the next question: whether you can give me what I want."
He was not about to wilt so easily under the force of that glare, sharp as any cutting torch. After all, the hacker would find it difficult to do much of anything mischievous--or anything about it at all, really--given his present position.