During the afternoons, all I do here at my office is answer phones. A lot of our business comes from the US, and seeing as how today is July 4th, they're all closed and we are not. I've spent the afternoon browsing the Matrix website, reading the philosophical essays and whatnot. So, to pass the time, here's my Matrix mini-story.

I like how the movies.well, the first one anyways, use lots of religious themes and things like that. So in this story, I've decided to make some of my own. Peter Claver, the main character, is the Catholic patron saint of slaves. More to come.

PS- While looking for names for my characters, I found out that there's a patron saint for lost keys. True story.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, universe, blah blah blah. If you notice that this story starts out a lot like the anitmatrix short, "A Kid's Story," you win a hero cookie.

CHAPTER 1,VERSION 1.1 - Following the constructive criticism of a friend of mine, I've revised this chapter a bit. Also, I've taken Morpheus out of the story. I love his character and all, but I find it will be easier and better to use all-new, original characters instead of trying to re-create the old ones we've all seen before.

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All my life, I felt different. You probably think it's the usual teenage alienation, identity crisis and all that, but I don't think so. As far back as I could remember, the world just seemed... well, fake. Everything I touched, smelled, tasted or saw just seemed... unreal. I felt like my senses were lying to me.

The most frustrating thing of all was that I didn't know what it meant or what I should do about it. So as I trudged through this false, unreal world I was aimless and filled with apathy. At every parent-teacher interview my teachers would say the same thing.

"Peter's a very smart, talented boy. He could accomplish great things if he would just put his mind to it."

But I just couldn't. I couldn't put up a façade and act like the world's petty problems were any less trivial.

I wondered if everyone else felt the same. Was everyone else just ignoring it?

One day when I was sulking in my room, the doorbell rang. I was the only one home, so I went downstairs to open the door. There were two men, wearing sunglasses and suits. They each had little cords wrapped around their ears like Secret Service agents. The monochrome black and white of their suits contrasted against the green grass and trees of suburbia.

"Yes?" I said, hesitantly.

"Hello, Mr. Claver." Said the man on the left. His voice was dull, bland and icy. His tone was monotonous. I strong feeling of discomfort washed over me... and maybe a bit of fear.

"I am Agent Thompson," said the other. His voice hardly sounded any different.

"And I am Agent Jones."

I didn't say a word. I had no idea what these men were at my house for, but I couldn't think of a reason I liked. They were different, they were unlike anyone I'd ever met before, but certainly not in a way I liked. I couldn't figure out why I they bothered me, though.

"We're here because we believe that a known terrorist and hacker, known as Leet, may be trying to contact you," said Agent Thompson. The word Leet seemed like it was spit out of his mouth in disgust.

"Me? Why?"

The agents acted as if they hadn't heard me. The one on the left, Agent Jones, pulled a small, white business card out of his inside pocket and offered it to me.

"He is a dangerous man. If he finds you, do what he says, but contact us immediately."

I took the card. It was plain white, with nothing printed on it except for a phone number on one side.

"Yeah, sure."

With that, they turned and walked away.

***

After that bizarre confrontation, life seemed to return to its usual, boring normalcy. Those two men occupied my mind for days. I had no idea what agency they were from, if they were from any at all. Their business card had no logo or insignia on it. And the fact that they bothered me so much was unsettling, especially considering how I had only seen them for a few seconds

And then there was this Leet...