It’s around something called “Christmas” in the Users’ world. Flynn had described it as an annual event during which people buy each other things and decorate objects called “trees” and also drink a lot. A “holiday,” in his words—Tron and Clu had also needed an explanation of that, since the closest thing they have to a “holiday” is the one cycle per year when the system needs a soft reboot.
Flynn had also insisted on celebrating it—all this time together and they’ve never celebrated Christmas?—and had introduced them to the ritual known as “Secret Santa.” What makes it secret? What is a Santa? When he’d finished answering their questions, Tron and Clu agreed to participate. How often do they get a glimpse into the cultures of the Users—and also get presents—anyway?
Now, on a day Flynn calls “Christmas Eve”—who Eve is, he never explains—the three of them gather in Clu’s office, drinks in hand, and consider the small pile of gifts on the desk.
“You know what I just remembered?” Flynn says. “This works a helluva lot better with more than three people.”
“Well, it’s too late now,” Clu says, and preens. “I made sure to pick out the perfect gift for my recipient.”
Tron, obviously a little tipsier than either of them, mumbles an, “Of course you did,” that they both ignore.
“Well,” Flynn says, “let’s get started, then.”
He distributes the gifts. As requested, they’re all in square, non-descript boxes. Tron and Clu hold theirs a little cautiously, but Flynn immediately brings his up to his ear, shakes it, and makes a sort of “meow meow” sound.
“Oh my god, you got me a cat?” he says. “How did you know I wanted a cat? Hell, I didn’t even think you knew what a cat was!”
“We don’t,” Clu replies.
“That was a cute noise you made there,” Tron says.
“Oh,” Flynn says, “you mean the…”
He meows again.
Tron snorts and breaks out into giggles, his drink sloshing around. “Aww, cute!” he coos.
“Can we just open our presents now?” Clu cuts in, irritated.
“Wait—do it again, Flynn.”
While Flynn meows and Tron giggles—even louder now, god—Clu huffs and opens his gift. The box unravels, voxel by voxel, until Clu has… something in his hands.
It’s made of… some kind of material. It has two thick flaps, and in between them rest at least two hundred flimsier sheets. He flips through it to see lots of words, all formatted neatly.
Well, it’s easy to figure out who got this for him. Kinda defeats the purpose.
“Okay, okay—Flynn, stop,” Tron’s saying now, playfully shoving a still-meowing Flynn. “I’m gonna open my present now, okay?”
“Fine, fine,” Flynn says, but not without letting out one final meow.
“Stop.” Tron’s giggling again, though—but he immediately stops when he unwraps his present and sees what it is.
A dildo.
Flynn’s cackling, piercing the sound barrier with his voice alone. Clu cracks a grin. And Tron’s blushing—who knew that was possible?—and shouting a shocked and exasperated, “Flynn! What—why?!”
“Hey, why do you think I got that for you?”
“Who else would?!”
“Well it’s not like I can tell you, anyway! It would defeat the entire purpose!”
“Really, Flynn?” Clu says drily, holding up his weird, flimsy gift. “Like this isn’t obvious enough.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Clu glares.
Flynn groans. “Okay—fine, sure, you got me. Yes, I’m your Secret Santa, Clu. Guess a book wasn’t vague enough.”
Tron’s jaw drops as he puts the pieces together. “Wait,” he says, his voice full of trepidation. “Wait, Flynn, if you were Clu’s Secret Santa, then—Clu! What the hell?!”
Clu just shrugs, his smirk growing. “What can I say? The perfect gift.”
Tron sputters, and his face goes even redder as he drops his present.
“So,” Clu says, turning to Flynn, “what did you call this again? A ‘book’?”
“Yeah, a book,” Flynn replies. “Specifically a self-help book. If you’re anything like me—well, you’re gonna need it.”
Clu doesn’t like the sound of a “self-help book.” He looks at it. On one of the flaps reads, in big letters, “Mastering the Art of Zen: Finding Your Inner Calm for a Perfect Life.” He hates it.
“So lemme guess, then,” Flynn says, rattling his gift again. “Tron’s my Secret Santa, right?”
Tron recovers from his shock enough to perk up and beam at him. “Yeah, I am,” he says. “I hope you like it.”
“If it’s anything like your gift, I’m sure I will,” Flynn replies with a wink.
He turns away as Tron starts to sputter again. He considers the box, and then easily dissolves it into voxels. What’s left is a flat pane that fits into both of his hands—an image.
It’s of the three of them, he notices. Tron’s on the right, his posture stiff and his hands clasped in front of him like he’s ready for things to turn south, but he’s grinning brightly, like he’s never worried once in his runtime. Clu’s on the left, and his posture is easy, his hand on his hip, his smile familiar, warm. And in between them is himself—he has his arms around their shoulders, and it nearly takes his breath away how hopeful he looks. How they all look.
And he remembers, too: this was the first cycle the three of them spent on the Grid together.
“Tron,” Flynn says. “This is… incredible.”
When he looks up, he sees Tron grinning at him. “I’m glad you think so,” he replies. “It took a while to recover the data. I was afraid I wouldn’t have it in time for ‘Christmas,’ but—”
Flynn pulls him into a tight hug then, and Tron immediately shuts up and hugs him back.
“Thanks, man,” Flynn says. He glances at Clu over Tron’s shoulder, reaches a hand out to him, and kinda half-shuffles himself and Tron over until Clu finally steps forward and joins the hug. “And thanks, Clu—to both of you. You guys made this Christmas Eve just… perfect.”
“You’re welcome, Flynn,” Clu replies. “And, uh… thanks for the ‘book.’ I guess.” He shifts a little. “Tron, do you maybe want to thank me for the thoughtful gift I so graciously bestowed upon you?”
Tron sighs into the hug. “No.”