Left Behind
By Vortex
Tom was always searching for something, looking. As if he knew something else. Something that we all felt, but that no one else wanted to admit for fear of being sent away. Fear of being pulled away form our normal lives, fear of our normal routine being broken.
Normal.
Why does everything always have to be normal?
Why does there have to be explanations for everything?
Can't something's just be?
Like Tom.
They say he's in prison. In prison for violating 'the data protection act' of
199-whatever, but that would never happen. Tom was the most paranoid hacker I ever knew. He encrypted everything, put the most vicious viruses I've ever seen in his files and hid everything in subfolders of subfolders of subfolders.
All in all, no one could have caught him.
In actual fact, he asked me to try and trace him once. I used a computer from a nearby cyber-café, as I knew he would have viruses inside all the files. I ended up taking out the half power for the city.
And not finding him.
But, if tom was in prison, Neo would be back. Neo would always be back. Even after various warnings Neo would always be back, and he would revise his security tighten his firewalls get new viruses and begin hacking again.
I remember the first time I knew he was a hacker. It was at one of those stupid, school reunion things. You know, the ones where people sit around and whisper about other people's partners, or how great so and so looks, or why thingamy jigger wasn't there. Anyway to try and spice things up I had done a background check on some of the people in my old year. Most of them were boring, all the job descriptions might as well have read - works for some old guy in some dead end job for the rest of their life. Then there was Tom, who worked for the same guys I did. Metacortex, the program writing company and major workplace for hackers, criminals and anyone else who knew anything about computers.
Anyway, sitting in the corner of the room having my brains bored out by someone who decided they were gonna re-enact there whole life story to me, sounds included, wasn't my idea of fun so I excused myself to go to the 'bathroom' and wondered off in the direction of the computer room.
I turned on the small computer and it hummed into life, obeying my every command. I wanted to hack something. I really did. But I figured, why get a pathetic little school in trouble, and checked my e-mail.
A couple of junk mail stuff and a few things from other hackers. I opened one. Then someone else came into the room. Normally, I would have minimized any of my mail that was up on the screen and waited until they had walked past, but I didn't see the point as this was written in the universal language of hacking. Numbers and zeds everywhere, and, anyone who wasn't a hacker wouldn't understand anyway. This email was a request for a fake passport.
"You actually gonna do that?" asked a voice from behind me.
I turned. Tom had read the email, and was standing behind me.
"Thomas A. Anderson right? Hey, you work at the same place as me." I replied.
"And you've been in prison two times." He hit back.
Ok, that hurt. Yes I had been in prison, but how was it any of his goddamn business anyway. But, hackers will be hackers, and Tom had obviously done exactly the same thing as me.
"No." I said.
"What?" he replied.
"I'm not making the fake passport. That would be stupid."
"Oh right."
After that we exchanged emails, and became a part of the others life.
* * *
"Do you ever wonder what there keeping from us? What they have in there possession?" Read the message.
"The government? Yea of course I do. But I guess they think people won't understand." I replied.
"But people are clever, they would understand."
"A person is clever. People are scared, panicky and unpredictable. A crowd can kill a person. A riot can kill many."
"I guess so."
That was a transcript of a conversation I had with Tom, over works internal messaging system. I don't know why, but I kept all our transcripts. I guess it made everything more real.
But I still can't escape the feeling that it was all never real.
That somehow, the world isn't real.
The official theory is that Tom is in prison.
But I have another theory.
I think he got out.
Out of whatever is holding us here, what ever we are inside.
Out of the matrix.
Tom was the first one to introduce me to the matrix. He just brought it up one day, as if it was casual conversation.
"What is the matrix?" was the exact question.
"Huh? I don't know what is the matrix?" I replied, thinking it was another of Tom's attempts at humor.
"That's what I asked you, but I think you know."
"I know what? Tom, you're freaking me out."
"I think you've felt it. The feeling that there is something wrong. Like you're dreaming."
I stiffened. That was exactly what I had been feeling the past few years.
The last conversation I had with him took kinda the same format.
"What is the matrix?" Tom started.
Right then I had major déjà vu.
"Ok, Tom I'm having major déjà vu here so cut to the chase ok?"
"Don't call me that."
"What?"
"Tom. Tom's not my name."
"Hello? Yes it is."
"No. My name is Neo."
"Oooo….kaay."
Damn.
I wish I had said goodbye.
I wish I had left telling him he had been a good friend to me.
Damn.
What is the matrix?
The matrix is something that was holding Tom back.
And he broke through it.
He got out.
And I'm just what was left behind.
THE END
Based on concepts by Andy and Larry Wachowski.