Outside The Scope
I
I knew I had gotten off on a bad day when the dog pissed on my pants.
"God damn.....!!" I quickly threw the barking monstrosity off of my leg. "You little bastard!"
The chihuaua skittered off of my leg and down the stairs. It gave a snarl, and a bark, but didn't do much else. I swung my briefcase at it, and it simply ran off, barking.
"That'll teach ya....!!" I growled as I turned the corner. "Little prick."
I knew it was off to a bad day when that happened, but little had I imagined. I was about to be dropkicked in the nuts with things that, during the morning, I could never have fathomed. In fact, I doubt most people could comprehend the truth. Actually, I still don't get it that much.
"Hello, Ms. Schwartz!" I had given a wave to my next door neighbor. "You're looking lovely today."
"You too, sweetheart!" The woman smiled back. "You too! How's that debt coming along?"
"Just fine." I remember wincing. "Paying it off."
"Good, young man." She gave me a smile. "Because you know what happens to those who aren't paying them on time...."
"....Of....course!" I gave a wave. "G-goodbye! Have a nice day!"
I walked off, gave a sigh, checked my pulse and all that wonderful shit you do when you're frightened. Yes, the debters - those wonderful agents - were coming.
Ah, but permit me to introduce myself, before going deeper in my explaining. My name is Patrick Wharton. I'm a 38 year old consultant with International Insurance of New York City. I am a divorced father of two, and am in a hell of a lot of debt. It was a result of the divorce, but what could I do? So yes, I'm in a lot of trouble with quite a few high-profile businesses.
"Bring that up!" I could hear them already before I even turned the corner. "Load up the rope!"
Well, I was.
I had a smile during those final moments when I turned the corner. They were working on a housing project for homeless children, and this was in the path I walked. I knew some of those kids working on the crane and in the interior structure; a few of them were my clients. Some of them, their parents were.
"Hey, Joe!" I gave a wave. "How you doin'?"
"Just fine, sir!" The black kid gave a wave back. He was a good kid. "Hey, man, you going to work?"
"Sure am."
"You gonna pay that debt off?"
"Now," I was a bit surprised. "How'd you know about that, Joe?"
"Everyone knows, man." He gave me a smile. "Everyone knows."
I gave a shrug, and a nod. I didn't recall actually telling Joe about my debt, but then again, I did have an ex-wife. When you have an ex-wife, all means to prove incompetence are used to their advantage; the inability to pay off bills is one of them. Of course, that wasn't my fault; it was hers for having high alimony and telling me in court that she wished I was dead.
If she only knew.
"So, man, you going to-" Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Sir! WOAH! WATCH OUT!!!!"
I stared at him for a sec. He pointed up, and I had assumed someone was about to fall to the ground. I turned my head to see if I could intercept the falling man.
I instead found myself staring at a large, two ton beam.
*KLOOOOOOOOOOONG!*
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Its pretty simple what happened, really. The crane was holding a beam, the beam slipped out of its ropes. A classic cartoon scenario, right?
Well, I was laying there blacked for who knows how long (you don't when you're unconscious), and finally I woke up to my own wheezing. My face felt like a truck had hit it, but there was no sign of the beam that hit me.
"Aww....." I rubbed my head and felt some blood. "Shit! SHIT!"
I looked around, my eyesight slightly hazy, as I sat up. It obviously wasn't that long of a time, though it most certainly wasn't a quick job. The bent beam was to the side of the road, and there were a few cars piled around the vicinity.
Ugh, I thought. Just my day.
I gave myself a minute or so before deciding to stagger to my feet. It was pretty odd that no one was there to help me, no one to ask if I was allright, no police officer yelling at me for being stupid or anything, no insurance agent, no nothing. I looked around, slightly disoriented, but the bleeding had stopped. I then picked up my suitcase.
"Hmmm.....I'm ok!" I looked around, adjusting my suit before I gave another shout. "Don't worry! I'm fine! I'll be all right!"
No one seemed to be paying attention; they were too busy staring. Feeling a bit unnerved, I slipped myself past the yellow police tape (because, by then, there was yellow police tape) and started walking off, looking for the police. I found one, and went up to him.
"Um..." I tapped his shoulder. "Sir?"
The policeman paid no attention to me. I looked at him, and tapped his shoulder again.
"Excuse me, sir?" I presumed he was deaf. "Excuse me! I'm fine, and I'll go to the hospital after work, all right? Could you tell that to the superior officer?"
"Excuse me."
I turned around. Another policeman was staring at me.
"Umm..."
"Sir?" The policeman frowned. "Sir, your enhinging on an investigation."
"Oh, well...." I paused. "Tell the residing officer that I'm fine. I'll go to a hospital on my own time, ok?"
"....O......k......."
Why the policeman had given me such an odd look, I couldn't say. On the other hand, I saw it as a sign that I was free to go, and quickly went on my way to work.
Since nothing really happened at work for several hours, I'll just give the abridged version. I simply sat at my desk and filed reports. Thats about it. I also had a headache, though that was going away. I also resolved to go to the police station to check on my report, and then on to the hospital to make double sure of my injuries being non-threatening.
What was most on my mind, however, were those agents. Those agents are a scary bunch. They are dressed in nice, three piece suits, and they all have slicked hair and sunglasses. These guys work for everyone - you can't avoid them. I sometimes had to work with one myself, but I didn't enjoy it at all. They are completely freaky - you don't want to mess with them.
And now, I had to explain how I couldn't pay them until tomorrow - I didn't have enough money to even buy a hardcover book. They'd be pissed as usual, and I knew that this time could be that time that they decided to lug me off to jail, no questions asked. And it didn't matter where you were; they came to you from where ever, no matter what you were doing.
I am so dead, I started biting my nails. I am so-
Then I heard a shuffle, and a creak, and just as I prayed that it wasn't them, they came. The agents had come to pick up their money.
Holy crap.
II
Man, if I thought I'd have my life flash before my eyes, that was the moment. I thought for sure I was a dead man. I hadn't paid certain things on time, and the agents had come to rip me a new one. My heart just kind of froze.
Then things started happening. It'd be hard to explain, for those who never dealt with these guys personally, how hard it is to deal with them. They are practically uncompromising. They are one-toned, completely devoid of compassion. If they told you something, you did it. And they'd told me plenty of times and I didn't do it.
The main agent, indeed, came up to my desk and began to circle it. I felt a twinge of fear in my soul as he gave a strange expression of rage. An odd snarl came on his lips, and - the sissy I am - I shut my eyes and whimpered.
"Come on."
"Sir....." My eyes were still shut tightly. "Look, I.....I'm sorry, but......i-i-if you come tomorrow, I can pay you. J-just give me one more day."
I expected something to happen; a cuff, a bell, a gun, anything to denote that I was in serious trouble. I really was expecting it.
Then the unexpected happened.
"Let's go."
I opened my eyes. The next minute, they were gone, and the door slammed in my face. I looked at my desk, stunned.
Holy.... Then a thought occurred to me. Somthing's not right here.....
The reason I thought this was because of my experience with the agents. Normally, they'd give me a warning, though as the months have progressed, the warnings have gotten nastier. But there was nothing. No note, no warning, nothing. This was odd to me.
Then I thought that they were coming back to arrest me, and I waited. I twiddled my fingers. I wiped my brow. I took deep breaths, and as time went by, those breaths became deeper and deeper. By the time I'd finished, and calmed down, three hours had passed.
All right. This time, I stood up. What in the hell is going on?
I walked out the door, slightly startled. I couldn't understand it. I just couldn't. Maybe they did have compassion. Maybe it was possible they did give me the extension.
Ok..... I rubbed my hands together. Hmm......I should probably go check the bank, just to make sure I don't have money.....
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I knew I should have suspected something at that late part of the game, as after that I went to tell my boss about it and my boss completely ignored me. Or so I thought, but like everything that day, I shrugged it off.
Ok..... I found myself at the bank a half hour later. Now to check....
Now, I know I said I didn't have enough money, but I sort of lied. I did have my retirement fund which I could delve into. I knew it was a bad idea, but when you're in a bind, bad ideas are all you have.
So, I strutted up to the nearest teller.
"Excuse me....." I dug into my pockets for my ATM card. "I'm here to check on retirement fund 362451. Name is Wharton...."
I trailed off. The woman wasn't paying attention. I went to the next teller.
"Hello."
"Hi." This woman was a little older. "How may I help you?"
"I'm here to check on a retirement fund." I put my ATM on the counter. "Name is Warton. Number is 362451."
"Yes, sir." She took the card. "One moment, please."
She swiped the card through, and I looked around with a sigh. I knew it would be all right; I had quite a bit of money in my retirement fund.
"Um....." I turned back and nearly gasped when she gave the card back to me. "What.....did you say your name was?"
"Wharton." I looked at her, confused. "My name is Patrick Wharton."
"Patrick Wharton?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm sorry, sir." She suddenly gave me this odd smile. "I'm afraid that account has been closed."
My mouth simply dropped open at this. Shock hit me like a tsunami. The account was closed, yet I hadn't said anything. That wasn't right at all.
Unless.....
"Am I on Code 3?" Even then, I was chalking it up to the agents having though ahead of me. "Code 3, right? An agent suspension."
"Let me check...."
The banker went onto her computer, typing in a few things. I took in several deep breaths to calm myself down. Maybe it was just the agents taking my hard-earned money.
"Um....." The cashier suddenly gave me another odd look. "Are you sure your name is Patrick Wharton?"
"WHAT?" I gave such a shout that a few people had stopped and looked. "What do you mean, 'is my name Patrick Wharton'? What is this all about?"
"Well, sir......" The cahsier looked at me with some amusement. "It says here you died this morning."
My mouth dropped open again, but this time, the shock was much more palpable. They said I was WHAT?
To those who have never had the privilege of being "dead", I will explain. Sometimes, there's a fudge-up, and a living person is concieved as being dead through whatever reasons. It is a pain to reverse.
"But......" My voice became feeble. "I'm....right here! See?"
"Not according to this." The cashier turned the computer towards me. "Look here."
Until that point, I had thought it was a big misunderstanding, that someone had been messing up over somewhere. But then I saw the picture....of me......with the beam on top of me. I had been declared dead.
"And besides which...." The cahsier gave me a smile. "You don't look anything like him."
Well, that was the last apple of the barrel. That explained it. I was a ghost, and somehow, through whatever oddball circumstances, I could still be seen by people. But that meant I was truly dead.
I was about to give a scream when I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder.
"GUH!" My eyes widened. "NOW what?!"
"Huh." I suddenly felt something pressed against my hip. "There you are."
I turned my head to see my attacker. It was most definitely a he, by the square jaw of his face and of his mouth, and a pasty one at that. I at first thought he was an agent; his hair was slicked back, and he wore sunglasses. But then I noticed that he didn't wear tha right suit.
"What's going on?" I turned back to the cahsier, who had spoken. "Is there a problem, sir?"
"No, none at all, ma'am." The strange Western accent made me suck my breath in. "Just found my uncle, that's all."
"Your-"
"We've been looking for him since he left the institution." He turned me around, and as he did, I relized that what was at my hip was a gun. "But you'll come with me now, right?"
I knew better than to protest. Besides which, I knew it wouldn't matter if this seeming agent shot me; I was already dead. I gave a nod.
"All right, then." I was roughly led out. "Let's go. We have some things to talk about."
III
Now, this next part is going to totally boggle you if you have no clue as to what is going on. But trust me, this is in good faith.
Instead of being led down to an alley or a station, as I thought I would be, I was instead led to a black car. I would have protested, but I had the feeling I didn't want to.
"Where are we going?"
"With me." The man poked me. "Get in the car. You'll be safer there."
Without a second thought, I got into the car, and the man got into the front. He wasn't driving; another figure was. I looked around the car, marvelling how spacious it was, as it seemed much smaller on the outside.
"Just stay there, and you'll be fine." The man turned to the driver, nodding. "Let's go, Trinity."
"You've got it."
My eyes widened at the name. I knew who that was. Trinity, the international techno terrorist. In the same care as me! And - from the voice - he was a she! Then the man beside her could only be one person - the feared insurrector, Neo.
Before I had time to say anything, of course, I was suddenly thrown onto the floor and tossed around. I cursed myself for not using a seatbelt, as once again my head began to pound. But the ride was short, thankfully, and without another word, I was taken out and led into an abandoned building.
"Um...." I was pushed by the she-man Trinity. "Can someone explain to me what's going on? I'd like to know...."
"You'll know." I was brought to a door. "Step right in."
I obeyed, suddenly realizing that these people could actually help me - or at least seemed to be faking it. Normally, one wouldn't trust terrorists, but then again, when you're dead, you tend to do things you wouldn't normally do.
So, I was sat down in a chair in a nice, plush room, and there I faced the person I figured I'd meet once I knew who my other captors were - Morpheus. He cut a frightening figure as he came into the room.
"Hello." He sat down in the plush next to me. "We have a lot to talk about, and little time to explain."
And then he began to tell me the most incredible story I had ever heard.
To help you, I will abridge what they told me. Essentially, according to the terrorists, our minds are trapped inside a computer network, the real world had been taken by machines, etc. etc. It was a paranoid theory if I had ever heard it. But then again, it was a nice tall tale. But then I thought that it could be real, so I decided to believe in it a little, and then the following conversation made complete sense.
"So....." I had shifted myself, looking at Morpheus amusingly. "So.....I'm trapped inside a computer program like a battery? And the agents are my robot masters?"
"If you choose to agree with us."
"Well...." I paused. "What does it have to do with my being thought as dead? Are you here to recruit me or something?"
".....Not exactly." Morpheus sat back and brought his hands to his mouth. "We are telling you because you have to know. We normally don't tell others, but because you are now outside the scope....."
There was a slight pause at this. I looked at him, my eye twitching. I distinctly remember my eye twitching.
"'Outside the scope'?"
"The agents are unable to see you." Morpheus looked at me. "For whatever reason - we think an error of some sort occurred - the Matrix thinks you're dead. However, it appears that you are alive as can be - and not only that, but the computers have stopped acknowledging you period."
"So I'm a ghost?" I shook my head. "No one can acknolwedge my existance inside this 'matrix'?"
"....Not exactly." Morhpeus looked at Neo and Trinity. "It appears anyone who has been unplugged from the main system - like us - can see you and identify you perfectly. Humans who are still plugged in but not converted to the robots' side......some can see you, some cannot. And the robots......" Morpheus looked back at me. "Cannot see you or acknowledge you at all."
I was a bit surprised, maybe even shocked. It'd be hard to explain my feelings at this, even though then I didn't completely believe what they were saying. I gave a gulp.
"But......" I looked back and forth. "What about....what about my family? My debts? My life? Can I go into the real world?"
"Unfortunately....." Trinity spoke up. "I was by chance we even found you. Because the computers couldn't detect you, our own computers - specifically those that give us access to the Matrix and are our aid for liberating potential allies - cannot help you, either."
"So....." My voice was practically squeaking. "I don't exist? I'm.....stuck?"
"That's a crude way of putting it." Morpheus gave a smile. "I'd say out of everyone, you're the luckiest."
"You call this lucky?"
"Its a complete chance." Morpheus nodded. "You know about the Matrix even though you are still plugged in, yet the robots cannot utilize this fact because they can no longer sense your presence. You have the stealth we strive for, and - if we decide to use you - you'd have the information the robots crave. In short, you have the best of both worlds."
For a moment, I still didn't see the advantage of my plight. Upon thought, however, I realized that, indeed, Morpheus was right. I was nonexistant, yet there. I was within, yet could know things from the outside.
In short, I was free. Sort of.
"We will call upon you." Morpheus stood up. "You will be an aid to us in overthrowing the Matrix once and for all. To be sure, you may die once the Matrix is gone; we are unsure of what will happen to you. But," He gave a smirk. "We don't live forever, either way."
With that, he turned, and left. And that was that.
Almost.
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I say almost, I mean it in that the rebels have called on me from time to time. I've become an expert at espionage, and I've lined my pockets quite a bit with the work. And those robots are none the wiser.
And now, after that, I managed to get a nice house down in the Bahamas, where I live now. I have enough to be financially comfortable for the rest of my life, and no one will ever know that I still owe several businesses quite a bit of money. But when you're "dead", the robots just pass you on and find other victims to hassle. Not me, baby. I'm living in style.
I can't say I'm all happy, though. I miss my old work. I miss my kids. I even miss those guys at the neighborhood projects, the guys who, I will say, gave me this opportunity to begin with. Unfortunately, no one from my previous life can see or acknowledge me. It is something that I think about every day and regret.
But that's the only regret. I'm lucky. I donate money to charities - anonymously. I know one day I'll die, and the Matrix will no longer exist, but hey, I might as well enrich people while I can. Besides, its my duty.
My ex-wife said she wished I was dead. I've done a step better. I'm outside the scope.
THE END