This place is moving backwards.
Over a thousand cycles ago, I came here. I was invited by Flynn, the only user I have met, the one whom others so reverently referred to as "The Creator."
I never called him that.
To me, he was a far more complex enygma. Never too serious, yet always so determined; so unlike a god, yet in defiance of every natural law of the system, despite his casual manner.
When I first met him, I was under the impression that he was a program like myself, just a conscript. To some extent, that sense of equal footing never left me. While he made me curious and perhaps unnerved at times, I never saw him the way Tron did. He was never my user.
My user, Lora, was smart, efficient, pleasant, and highly impersonal in regards to me, and I miss her to an impossible degree for that. I miss her exacting commands, the exultation of crunching numbers and forming something from the strings of bare data she sent my way. Despite everything I have done and been through, in all of it I have never felt more useful than I did working for her.
But I gave her up. I gave her up because there was someone else, here, that meant more to me than any user.
I gave her up for Tron.
Tron is why I've done what I've done, and am doing what I'm doing. He is why I'm sitting in the poorly lit bar, watching as people come and sit around me, their eyes and ears waiting to hear my story that I don't want to tell, but will tell all the same.
I have to tell it, really. Like I said, the grid is moving backwards, devolving. I have to tell this story because it will give hope back to these programs, and hope may be the one thing that can keep this place from unraveling completely.
Greetings, programs. My name is Yori.