There are a thousand things to do today, a schedule limned in data packets and archival ink, tourist info and circuit boards. Several of those can be performed alone. For the moment, Flynn favors that route, cloistered in a lab to build a station map from a collection of digital pamphlets.

He considers leaving the ACE there on the edge of the table, the wide slice of glowing cyan screen brightened by Clu's bold messages. Flynn deliberately, delicately drags away a section of holo-map by the corner.

He knows. Knew, rather, an abrupt halt to his morning. No one else new would be coming by now, but sometimes people left in stops and starts not long after that first arrival. They go without warning and, last night, Sam went with them.

Satisfied with his progress, Flynn reaches for his ACE.

Just working, man.

What's a word that means 'fine', but also 'not fine', that perfectly encapsulates the slimmest line between happiness and heartache? He had precious extra time afforded to him, the span of hours teased out to weeks. Months. Now, Sam is gone, and that means Sam is safe. His eyes burn briefly and he sighs, soft in the silence.

I need your help with something.

There's a bridge to keep building here.