A/N: This is my first oneshot (though, incidentally, not really my first LEGITIMATE oneshot, because it's a crappy attempt. But it's fine if you like it, because I just wrote this story because I was bored.) I also wrote this story to act as filler because chapter 9 to Sixth Warrior isn't here yet.
Disclaimer: I don't own neither The Matrix trilogy nor the franchise. That is the sole propery of the Wachowski brothers.
Date: September 4, 1999
Searcher's Journal
I was born into captivity, like many before me; bred by an unmerciful race of cold steel, which encased the minds of creatures. Creatures, which slithered in the dark. These creatures possessed the means to create worlds. Worlds, that which cannot be seen. We are born into these worlds, made to believe that nothing was amiss in these day-to-day happenings and events, which the creatures had invented for the lesser minds, as a means to control them.
That was, after all, the very reason for this dream world, this prison of virtual reality—control. They seek to control how we think, how we live, how we die, so that they may harness our own life force. But what exactly are these creatures encased in cold, hard, steel? Why do they grow us, only to feed off of our life? If we are to go by this definition, "those who consume the human life-force for their own self-preservation," we might call them Vampires, and yet something inside myself tells me that this is not the case.
Aliens? While these creatures ARE alien in nature as compared to that of the nature of humans, I don't believe that they are extraterrestrials, no. So what are they? I have been seeking the answers to what I call the Grand Questions for twelve years, now;
What is the name of my prison?
What is its nature?
Who are my wardens?
Why have I been imprisoned?
Over the course of my life, I have found the answer to the 'why,' and part of the 'whom'. I was bred in captivity, as a slave. Though I try not to, I am still constantly serving a purpose for my life-sucking wardens just by being alive.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep me pursuing the answers to my questions. My name is Gregory, and I am the Searcher. I work at a software company, Metacortex, as part of my day job. By night, I use my computer to roam the internet highways, searching for the answers, no matter how many places I must break into to achieve it. But while I do perform certain Cyber acts of questionable legality, I am always sure to cover my tracks. As far as any net law enforcer knows, there is a hacker known as "Prometheus" cracking the government database, and there is no such Gregory Schoffield involved.
Date: September 7, 1999
Searcher's Journal
I received a phone call today, from a man who calls himself "Neo." He said so much, while speaking so little. He has told me that he too used to search for the answers to this false reality. He has instructed me to search for his name on the internet highways on the wings of my beloved computer.
Once I did so, it didn't take me long to learn just who he was. According to government records, Neo was a hacker who was searching for a man named Morpheus. Neo's "real name" was Thomas A. Anderson, ex-employee of Metacortex. Very likely he cast off this shell of a name when he learned the truth; a truth that seems to have been delivered by the "terrorist" Morpheus.
Now that I know of Neo, perhaps he will contact me again when he learns that I have done as he has asked.
Date: September 20, 1999
Searcher's journal
I received a message from Neo last night, on my computer, which I have copied and pasted below:
You have seen the unseen.
You are the only one who truly understands, without being punished for it.
If you would like to meet, go to the Adams Street Bridge,
Where I was first taken to meet Morpheus.
Date: Unknown.
Searcher's (completed) journal
I have found what I am looking for. Neo, The One, the Messiah, has freed me from my prison, and I have learned the answers I have been seeking.
What is the name of my prison?
My prison, where I have endured a lifetime of slavery, is a virtual reality system, a computer program called the Matrix that was based on the era of 1999, the Dawn of the Twenty-first Century, and induced by an entire race of sentient machines as a form of control over the majority of the human population.
What is its nature?
It is, as mentioned, a system of control, meant to keep humanity on its knees, so that they may be used, literally, as human batteries; the source of life for all artificial intelligences.
Who are my Wardens?
Machines. Great mechanical beings created by humanity during the dawn of the 21st century to help make our lives easier, who turned on us during our finest hour, and swiftly created this world of pain and injustice that has now become common in the world of today. I have learned, however, that there is a city of humans, called Zion, where a Resistance has been organized to fight back against the Machines, using the Matrix as a battle ground. This Resistance is led by Neo, who is their Messiah, the One.
Why was I imprisoned?
For the same reason that I was created: to escape. I was meant to escape and fight back against the Machines, just as the rest of humanity.
And now, I leave this journal in the Matrix for as long as it can remain, hidden, so that other Searchers seeking the truth may attempt to free themselves from their prison. I am Prometheus, the Messenger, and I call all of humanity to War!!!