Hi, all. My first Matrix fic, and my first solo too. Here's the point, in case you don't want to read it: contrary to all the Mouse bio fics I've read, Mouse would never have had a real girlfriend. Seriously, why do you think he's the Matrix pimp? Because he couldn't be a pimp in the "real" world before he was unplugged. That simple. But now that I've told you the point, read it anyway and tell me what you think.
Morpheus wanted all of us on the Neb to write down something about ourselves, to keep a record of real humanity or whatever. So here's mine, the world according to Mouse. Maybe I should put down my real name, but I like Mouse better. It's who I am, the short little hacker. And I can be real quiet.
Anyway. I've always been a hacker, as long as I can remember anyway. I had this big old piece of junk computer in the Matrix as a kid, and that's where I spent my time. I was a pretty classic little nerd in school, but I was the kind you never wanted to turn your back on. I was crazy, and they knew it. It was sort of a power trip, because I had no real friends, no social status. I hung out with, you know, the d and d crowd, the builders of killer robots, the short, pathetic guys that no girl would look at twice. We were the misfits, the friendless. We had a sort of society of our own, some of us, but we were all misfits and loners.
Morpheus found me when I was in fifth grade, or someone did. I managed to hack into something they were doing on the net, snaring someone into freeing their mind. I was amazed, thrilled a little. It was like, this was the real thing. I didn't know how right that was. Anyway, I can't explain really. I knew I was onto something, though. I think I scared Morpheus a little, getting into their stuff so easy. It wasn't an easy hack, though; I came up against this nasty privacy deal that hadn't been there before, and I just tried everything.
They told me about the Matrix a few days later, after I'd hacked in a few times more and made myself a nuisance. I guess they couldn't really free me yet; it would make big problems if a fifth-grader vanished straight out of the world mid-year. They gave me the blue pill/red pill treatment that summer.
I didn't have all the disbelief problems most people have coming out. I had some – I guess that's inevitable – but I'd had a while still inside to get used to the idea and I was steeped enough in d and d culture to deal well with strangeness. That's what I think, anyway. I don't think I caused the Neb crew much trouble, either – they could take their time getting to me, not alerting any Agents or getting into trouble.
I met the rest of the crew – Switch, Apoc, Trinity, Zypher, Tank, and Dozer. I'm still the youngest and newest crewbie. I've seen Zion, of course – grew up a little there, before I could convince Morpheus to let me back on the Neb. They didn't think a little sixth grade kid could be any help on the Neb, and that I would only be in danger. Morpheus, he don't like putting people in danger. Just himself, when he thinks he'll help one of us by putting himself where he'll get killed. We all follow him for it, like he was some mythic commander in a long-ago medieval war – the kind whose followers would be willing to die for him because he would be willing to die for them. I can't really explain it, but he's a good guy.
There was another crewbie, too – she got too close to an agent and died. She called herself Ki – the key to Zypher's code. She was Zypher's girl, kickass like Trin or Switch but kinder; she treated me like she was my mother or my favorite aunt when I needed comfort. He's been depressed and moody since – she was so good for him and now she's gone; he's started to doubt, to hate Morpheus a little though he doesn't say it. I have to write something for her here, because she can't write for herself. She's a big part of that humanity that Morph wants to record. So here's my tribute to her, and I wish I could do something more but I can't.
I've started writing programs for Morph, too – training programs. I wrote a lady in red just recently – a beautiful lady in a flashy red dress who turns into an agent, to scare any new trainees witless. She's nothing like Ki or Trin or anybody, but a honey-blonde fashion model type. Then she turns into Agent Smith, who is a pretty big bad; he leads the Agents. I've written some others and some just for myself.
I mostly like it on the Neb. I like the company, I like the idea, I like the job. It sometimes gets crazy – you know, cabin fever – when we're locked down and frozen, and sometimes it's real stressful – like trying to get someone out of the matrix before locking down and freezing. And the food is bad. But we get to do a lot of things that coppertops never get to, go anywhere in the world – "world" – make up and go to places that never really existed, all sorts of things.
I think that I really believe in the cause. Not like Morpheus does, without reservation and to the last breath like he does. But I think it's the best cause possible – free all of humanity from the machines. Not just some little group of people, or some obscure species of whale – they're all gone now anyway, at least that anyone knows of – but everyone. Give me liberty, as they say.
AN: I might write more later, though I don't think Mouse would keep much of a running journal. It all depends on you, oh good reader, and whether you think it is worthwhile. I might do someone else, if I watch the Matrix enough to get into someone else's psyche enough to write for them. Maybe Tank, maybe be ambitious and do Morpheus. Now there's a steady journal type, fun fun.