Prologue
It was a dark rainy Wednesday evening.
In a grey revolving chair sat, with his right hand pressed up against the cold window, Agent Smith, staring out the window, no emotion showing on his face. He sighed and looked away. Slowly he removed his hand and looked at it, agony showing on his face for a split second. He could feel, taste, and know nothing. No heat, cold, pain, nor joy. Nothing.
'What is it like? To have emotions? To feel things?' he thought.
There was a knock on the door to the apartment, that was barely furnished with a table, the chair he was now sitting in, and bed to make it more realistic, that he was currently inhabiting. Once he had tried to sleep in the bed but...computers don't rest.
He looked over his shoulder and up at the door, and hesitated before saying, "Come in."
The door opened and two more Agents walked in. They stared at him for a moment, standing in the doorway motionless.
'Why do they always do that?' he thought. "Yes?" he said aloud.
The Agents walked the rest of the way into the apartment and closed the door, a light *click* showing that they had locked it.
"Where have you been?" asked the first one, Agent Jones, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.
"Here," Smith answered, looking back out the window. The two Agents were silent, watching him.
"What do you suppose rain feels like?" asked Smith suddenly.
"Excuse me?" replied a startled Jones.
"Never mind." Smith turned the chair around and leaned back, looked at them expectantly. "Well?" he asked.
"Eh, yes, well," stammered the other Agent, Agent Brown. "We have come to tell you of a pill that They have supposedly created."
"Yes," said Smith, a queer gleam, that was conveniently hidden behind his dark square sunglasses, flashing in his eyes for a moment before disappearing.
"It is said to make Agen--" the Agent was cut off by the sound of guns firing and an alarm going off.
Smith shot up from his chair and turned to face the window. There was an explosion, rocking the apartment building and almost knocking the Agents off the feet.
"They are here," declared Jones, staring out the window.
"Well?" asked Smith, almost halfheartedly. "What on Earth are you waiting for?"
The Agents looked at each other then nodded at their leader, and left.
Smith sighed and looked out the window. 'What is it like?' He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts, then ran out the door.
The Matrix and it's characters are not mine. The plot of this story is mine and whoever else that does not show up in The Matrix. I am not going to put another disclaimer in. Why? Because I personally believe that it disrupts the story, as do A/Ns. Oh, And Hugo Weaving's awesome : ) Please review. Thanks, Lúthien Arnatuilë.
It was a dark rainy Wednesday evening.
In a grey revolving chair sat, with his right hand pressed up against the cold window, Agent Smith, staring out the window, no emotion showing on his face. He sighed and looked away. Slowly he removed his hand and looked at it, agony showing on his face for a split second. He could feel, taste, and know nothing. No heat, cold, pain, nor joy. Nothing.
'What is it like? To have emotions? To feel things?' he thought.
There was a knock on the door to the apartment, that was barely furnished with a table, the chair he was now sitting in, and bed to make it more realistic, that he was currently inhabiting. Once he had tried to sleep in the bed but...computers don't rest.
He looked over his shoulder and up at the door, and hesitated before saying, "Come in."
The door opened and two more Agents walked in. They stared at him for a moment, standing in the doorway motionless.
'Why do they always do that?' he thought. "Yes?" he said aloud.
The Agents walked the rest of the way into the apartment and closed the door, a light *click* showing that they had locked it.
"Where have you been?" asked the first one, Agent Jones, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.
"Here," Smith answered, looking back out the window. The two Agents were silent, watching him.
"What do you suppose rain feels like?" asked Smith suddenly.
"Excuse me?" replied a startled Jones.
"Never mind." Smith turned the chair around and leaned back, looked at them expectantly. "Well?" he asked.
"Eh, yes, well," stammered the other Agent, Agent Brown. "We have come to tell you of a pill that They have supposedly created."
"Yes," said Smith, a queer gleam, that was conveniently hidden behind his dark square sunglasses, flashing in his eyes for a moment before disappearing.
"It is said to make Agen--" the Agent was cut off by the sound of guns firing and an alarm going off.
Smith shot up from his chair and turned to face the window. There was an explosion, rocking the apartment building and almost knocking the Agents off the feet.
"They are here," declared Jones, staring out the window.
"Well?" asked Smith, almost halfheartedly. "What on Earth are you waiting for?"
The Agents looked at each other then nodded at their leader, and left.
Smith sighed and looked out the window. 'What is it like?' He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts, then ran out the door.
The Matrix and it's characters are not mine. The plot of this story is mine and whoever else that does not show up in The Matrix. I am not going to put another disclaimer in. Why? Because I personally believe that it disrupts the story, as do A/Ns. Oh, And Hugo Weaving's awesome : ) Please review. Thanks, Lúthien Arnatuilë.