Alan is quiet for a few moments as he turns over Rinzler’s words. He had expected Tron’s function to serve as a justification; a reminder that Alan had created them to fight. But Rinzler is right. He has another function quite separate—and even counter—to what Alan had originally intended.
“I know you’re not Tron,” Alan says. And then, more reluctantly. “But maybe sometimes I forget that you don’t have his function. Or, I choose to forget it.”
Of course, Alan hates to think of Rinzler as belonging to Clu. Thus, it had always seemed better to him to think of the program’s ‘function’ as an obstacle to be circumvented rather than an integral part of who he is. And in the void that leaves, Tron’s function is the natural substitute.
Given Rinzler’s identity issues, Alan can see why that would be upsetting.
“After what happened with Anon, did you feel like I was treating you like I would Tron?”
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“I know you’re not Tron,” Alan says. And then, more reluctantly. “But maybe sometimes I forget that you don’t have his function. Or, I choose to forget it.”
Of course, Alan hates to think of Rinzler as belonging to Clu. Thus, it had always seemed better to him to think of the program’s ‘function’ as an obstacle to be circumvented rather than an integral part of who he is. And in the void that leaves, Tron’s function is the natural substitute.
Given Rinzler’s identity issues, Alan can see why that would be upsetting.
“After what happened with Anon, did you feel like I was treating you like I would Tron?”