I am a genuine child of Zion.
I am a rarity, an exception - a child of Zion with the plugs. They took me. They changed me and took my memory, but they realized too late that it hadn't been an accident. I let them take me, as a sample. I almost died. I know I did. But I was the exception. I was the brave one. I was the sample.
Putting the plugs in almost killed me. I was twelve, and my memories were mingled afterwards, and are still, with the memory of a Matrix boy who does not exist. He never existed. He had memories of sandlots and a sister and a family and friends and punk rock, baseball and apple pie and a cat named Scarlet Terrior. Don't ask me why. That was what the Agents decided. But his memories, always, were mingled with my own. Memories of a fire in Zion when one of our own turned and infiltrated. Memories of the smell of my own burning flesh - my leg, which they healed as best as they could before changing me. Memories of my parents dying. Memories of wondering what the sun was.
But I spied and worked inside when I was me, and when I was Jack, I froze up and stopped seeing. Unfortunate, so very unfortunate that Jack was in charge when the man in a black suit followed him home from school.
Following me, not Jack.
I was in the Matrix for five years before they finally took me out again, and Jack died in a freak accident. But his memories, which I could access but not live, are still here.
I was supposed to be in the system for five days.
My name is John Terrence Washburn, but they call me Morpheus now.
I am a rarity, an exception - a child of Zion with the plugs. They took me. They changed me and took my memory, but they realized too late that it hadn't been an accident. I let them take me, as a sample. I almost died. I know I did. But I was the exception. I was the brave one. I was the sample.
Putting the plugs in almost killed me. I was twelve, and my memories were mingled afterwards, and are still, with the memory of a Matrix boy who does not exist. He never existed. He had memories of sandlots and a sister and a family and friends and punk rock, baseball and apple pie and a cat named Scarlet Terrior. Don't ask me why. That was what the Agents decided. But his memories, always, were mingled with my own. Memories of a fire in Zion when one of our own turned and infiltrated. Memories of the smell of my own burning flesh - my leg, which they healed as best as they could before changing me. Memories of my parents dying. Memories of wondering what the sun was.
But I spied and worked inside when I was me, and when I was Jack, I froze up and stopped seeing. Unfortunate, so very unfortunate that Jack was in charge when the man in a black suit followed him home from school.
Following me, not Jack.
I was in the Matrix for five years before they finally took me out again, and Jack died in a freak accident. But his memories, which I could access but not live, are still here.
I was supposed to be in the system for five days.
My name is John Terrence Washburn, but they call me Morpheus now.
