Haptics
Twist the metal. Bend it to and fro. Snap it in two before resealing it seamlessly. Make it dance and spin in the air like a ballerina. Consider the dazzling sunlight that glints along the edges, and make it go dull.
A mouse landed on the boy's lap, twitching its whiskered snout in shock. He regarded it in silence.
"Don't you ever get bored of that spoon?"
Looking up from his usual spot on the tatty green carpet, the boy saw Saga leaning on the kitchen doorway. The yellow light of the summer sky poured in from the windows and illuminated the girl's face, which held a bright grin.
"You have dropped your mouse," he said, levitating the squeaking creature over towards her. Its tiny limbs kicked frantically as it felt its paws leave solid ground. He had moved it halfway across the room when the air around it wavered, like the ripples of falling rain on a calm pond.
"No! Keep him for a bit," Saga said, pressing her fingers against her forehead as she mentally pushed the rodent back towards her fellow Potential. "Play with him, he's much more fun than some crummy old spoon."
"I do not want to have fun," he said, looking placid but internally straining as they tried to outdo each other. In the middle of the air, the mouse squeaked sharply. Both children ignored its protest. "I am busy studying the codes of the Matrix."
"Why do you study so much? You're allowed to have breaks, you know!"
"You should know this by now. Breaks do not contribute to the struggle against the oppressors."
"Ha! You don't contribute anything, you just sit around all day!"
"It is more worthwhile than acting like a child all day."
Saga stuck her tongue out and crossed her arms.
"I'm trying to be nice! I even gave you my mouse, he's like the only interesting thing around here. You are so… Y-You're duller than your stupid spoon, yeah!"
A grin lit up her face as she found her footing. Triumphantly, she marched across the living room and looked down at him, taking advantage of her superior height.
"And you even look like it, too. I bet you are a spoon!"
By this time, the young boy had dropped the mouse onto the floor and assumed a meditative stance, although his face was somewhat pinched. The muscles in his outstretched arms were visibly tensed, as if anticipating a need for movement.
"Spoon boy, spoon boy!" Saga sang, kneeling down in front of his closed eyes and bobbing to her impromptu tune. He refused to acknowledge her and bent his head away.
"Spoon boy!"
"Now, what's all this about?"
The children started as the calm voice met their ears. Saga clasped her hands over her mouth, as if she needed to physically stop her words from coming out.
The Oracle entered from the kitchen doorway where Saga had been standing, bringing with her the comforting and familiar scent of cigarettes and chocolate. A smile graced her tranquil features, but the boy was sure she wasn't happy. He disliked this game of mood guessing she made them play, it was too difficult. In context, he supposed, she must be disappointed with them; she tended to smile before making them face up to their mistakes, a tactic to put them at ease and make the embarrassment easier to bear. But if she was cross, why was she looking at him?
"I did not do anything," he said quickly, answering the question he had just posed himself rather than the one the program had actually asked.
"I was just trying to make him have fun," Saga said, plucking the mouse off the floor by his tail and cradling him.
"It sounded like you were doing an awful lot more than that, sweetheart," the Oracle said, raising an eyebrow without losing the smile. Saga began to blush, and she nuzzled her face into her pet's fur to hide her hot cheeks.
"I was joking, really, I wanted to make him laugh."
"It's sweet that you wanted to do something nice for him. But do you know who else tries to force people to do things they don't want to do?"
"The Machines, I guess," Saga said quietly.
"Sometimes, people just want to be left alone for a while. Do you understand? Now, say you are sorry. Then you can come and help me in the kitchen, how does that sound?"
The young girl nodded and turned ruefully to the boy.
"I'm sorry for trying to cheer you up," she said. A quick side glance up at the Oracle's raised brow and thin lips caused her to sigh. "And I'm sorry that I called you a spoon."
"Okay sweetheart, run along and I'll join you in a moment. Now, dear, what are we going to do with you?"
The boy flexed his fingers, which were stiff from holding a rigid stance for so long. He looked at the doorway and caught sight of Saga peering in at them. They made eye contact, and she immediately disappeared back behind the wall.
"I was meditating," he said at last.
"That's very good, but if you wanted to be left alone, you should have asked nicely. It's not kind to just ignore people when they are talking to you. There's an old human saying I'm fond of; 'you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar'. She only wanted to play, she would have listened."
"I don't understand," said the boy, stretching his skinny legs out and fiddling with the hem of his robe. "Why does she want to play? There are lives at risk all around us, but she acts like the Matrix is nothing but a playground. And that mouse isn't even real, why does she love it?"
The Oracle fell silent for a moment, tilting her head to the side as she regarded the lad.
"Dear, this is something I've been meaning to discuss with you for a while. Now is as good a time as any, don't you think?" She sat herself down on the fraying sofa, opposite to her young charge. Without standing up, he sidled towards her as she began to talk.
"Do you know why I picked you to come and learn here with me?"
"Because I'm powerful," he said, straight-faced. No hint of adult pride lay in the childish face, just the naïve honesty of youth.
"Well, yes, but there was something else. You have a special gift, child. You can see the minds held within the Matrix."
"Yes, they're all trapped," he said.
"You could play a role in freeing many of them. But you must learn to see past the power plant connections and into the mind itself."
"I can do that already."
"Oh, and what do you think of the mind?" she said, an amused grin on her lips. The boy paused to consider the question before answering, eyes flickering about as if looking for the right words in the code surrounding them.
"It is a… fragile thing," he said.
"And what do we do with fragile things?"
"We hold them carefully," he said, reciting the words she had taught him when he had first arrived and dropped a plate – his hands had still been shaking from his desperate escape with the rebels. Even as he said the phrase, his little forehead knitted, and he looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Oracle, I did something bad. There was an artist, Raven Underwell, she was making statues of Sentinels, and I – I went to see her and I…"
"I know, child, I know."
"She isn't the only one, there were others."
It was easier with adults. They were stubborn and close-minded, completely assured of the natural order of the world. Destroying their perception of reality created such palpable results. Younger ones were shocked, yes, but they were also filled with verve for the potential the truth offered. They hadn't yet grown overly comfortable in the artificial world; they could still see angels and monsters.
And, as such, they didn't appreciate the gravity of their awakening as the grown-ups did. On the contrary, they took it in their stride. Some treated it as a bit of fun, jumping around buildings and changing the outfits of their RSI, never once considering the unwanted attention they could attract. But the adults would stop and think, before staring into his face with unnaturally wide eyes as the full force of The Real came crashing down over their heads. For a second, looking into those wet, terrified organs was like gazing out into the true world, the one he had never witnessed with his own eyes of flesh.
"I just want to show them the truth," he said in a whisper, leaving his clothes and placing his hands flat out on the carpet. "They need to be taught."
"They can be taught. But you need to make a wise choice on how you will go about teaching them. You can force them to face it, like you did with Miss Underwell, or you can set them on their own journey to enlightenment."
"Honey or vinegar."
"Remember, child, we cannot presume to make the choice for others. Each man must walk down his own path. But we can choose to help them understand the questions that lie before them. And that is a very noble role to undertake."
"I am sorry, Oracle. I just become restless. I meditate every day, I work so hard to expand my mind, but I still feel trapped. And the other Potentials that the rebels free – they never treat their privileges seriously. Saga doesn't even treat her talents seriously, and they are something exceptional! At least when I give adults visions of the truth, it has some effect on them. I just feel tired of touching things I know aren't real. When I make people awaken, it's like I'm reaching out to the real world."
The Oracle did not speak straight away. Then, slowly, she leant down and rested her palm over the young child's cheek, gently stroking his skin with her thumb. A few tear drops, which had been forming in his eyes as he spoke, trickled down onto her fingers. With a light touch, she brushed them away.
"You carry a heavy burden for one so small. A thoughtful mind like that which you possess is the greatest gift a person can own, and we are going to need many more like you in the future. I understand how it can feel, watching the freed ones work while you're still in here. Sometimes it can feel like you could never help them. But peace is built on intellect, remember that."
The boy nodded, sitting up straight and rubbing his face. The Oracle rose and held out her hand, which the child took in his own thin fingers. For the first time, he started to think about how warm her skin felt. He had interacted with the shells of many programs, from the facsimiles of animals to the Agents who had once tried to take him away all those years ago. In all of these experiences, they had felt cold. What was there to warm them, when their blood was just a visual indication of injury?
"You know, I think we've had quite enough serious talk for today," she said. "Do you think you could pause your training for a little snack break?"
The Oracle had an inner heat, like real flesh. It was like holding on to the hand of his mother again. And he had never noticed it before. Hesitantly, he wrapped his fingers tighter around the program's digits. They both smiled, honest expressions that were not tailored to facilitate a certain response in the other or send out an important message; they smiled for the simple joy of smiling.
"Oracle? Can we please have cookies?"