He whips around a corner with masterful precision, on a vehicle that shouldn’t exist, on a road made from numbers. There’s no law here, no one to say he’s going too fast or driving recklessly when he’s simply giving his spirit what it craves.
Riding on the lightcycle brings a strange mix of freedom and entrapment that makes Sam’s stomach tumble and heart swell. It’s connected to the Grid; it’s a machine of infinite possibility that’s trapped inside a world only as big as his imagination.
Sam’s already been damaged by the real world. He’s already been told he can’t and he’s already learned limitations, and he could create anything inside this space if he only believed that he could.
Sam misses the wind in his hair, misses the green and blue flooding his vision when he streaks down the highway on his father’s Ducati. He misses the rules and misses breaking them. He misses the chaos of human order, feels uncomfortable that things on the Grid are hardwired and uncompromising; hates that he can force his will with a few lines of code.
In the real world, on his motorcycle, he feels free. In the Grid, on his lightcycle, he’s untouchable, but Sam knows now he doesn’t want to follow his father’s footsteps. He never wants to be a god.