Author's note: This is a story about the young Neo and his life. In the story I say he is aNew Yorker, I know this is technically not true, but my cousin says he seems like he comes from New York, so I guess he could have grown up there.

Disclaimer: I don't own Neo, Morpheus, Choi, the Matrix etc, etc. I do own this story however.

For Hayleigh.


There's a man.

They call him many things. They say he's a saviour, he's a messiah, he's an anomaly, he's the One. But when you get down to it, he's not. He's just a man, just a guy, a hacker, a man who's been given the ultimate, unbearable responsibility. To save the world.

You wouldn't notice him really, in the street. He's a tall guy, but not that tall. Dark floppy hair, contrasting with pale skin, and large brown eyes. He favours dark clothes, but nothing outlandish. Just an ordinary New Yorker.

But he's not.

He's Neo.

The one man who can end the war, and bring peace. You'd never have thought it, to look at him...and neither would he.

Other people have faith in him, believe in the Prophecy, believe he's the One. Others are confident he can do it, sure he'll do what the Prophecy foretells.

He's not.

He knows he's the One, but he doubts himself. He doesn't know if he'll be brave enough, strong enough to finish it and give his life. Everything depends on it, but in the end he won't trust himself.

Won't trust himself to fight, to push back for once, and not be pushed around.


There's a child.

He curls his knees under his chin, and clasps his arms around his legs. Pressing himself against the wall, he rocks back and forth as tears run down his cheeks. His daddy's been drinking again. He came back in a temper and started yelling at his mommy.

Then he hit her.

Tommy sits there, crying, listening to the yelling, wondering why his daddy's so mean, hoping it'll stop soon. He wishes his daddy wouldn't hit his mommy. He wishes his daddy wouldn't hit him.

"You're nothing!" Tommy bows his head and the tears trickle down his face as his daddy shakes him by the shoulders. "You're nothing, and you'll never be anything, you weak, stupid, helpless little shit! Do you hear me?"

Then, his daddy hits him on the face with the back of his hand. Tommy staggers, but stays standing, stays silent, says nothing.

He never does.

He never says anything, not when the children at school laugh at him and call him names. He never says anything to the teachers when they push him over, and he scrapes his knees. He tripped over, he says. That's what he always says, and they tell him off for being careless.


There's a kid.

He stands in the lunch queue at high school, lanky, skinny, silent, and alone. He never says anything, unless asked a direct question, and sometimes not even then. There's no point. They will hit him just the same.

He's alone here, where everyone else is together. They sit in groups, and laugh, and talk. The girls stare at him and laugh, but not nicely, not because they think he's cute. Because he's a loner, a loser, he's weird and he never says anything to anyone about anything that happens to him.

They find Tom by his locker.

The big one grabs him, spins him around, and slams him by the collar into the wall. They surround him, jeer at him. Someone shoves him hard, and he falls to the floor. Slowly, Tom gets to his feet and faces them again.

"Leave me alone," he says quietly, staring into harsh eyes that hate him for no reason. They snigger at him as he says it. They laugh at him for no reason.

Then the big one hits Tom on the jaw so hard he nearly falls again. Rough hands shove him upright. He's bleeding in his mouth, and his head hurts so badly he feels sick.

But still he stays silent. Still he won't push back.

He never does.

He bows his head and takes it.


There's a boy.

He sits alone, behind the skate park, his head in his hands, his back pressed against the cold hard metal. Tears trickle slowly down his pale cheeks, silver in the twilight. He's been sitting like this for hours, ever since he got the message on the answer machine.

The message to say his mother has died.

She had cancer, they said, and she never even told him. His father never bothered to let his son know she was going to die. And Thomas never asked, and now he blames himself.

He sits there, unmoving. And now he's like all the others, because now he hates himself. He pulls at his hair, not caring about the pain. All he cares about is that his mother is dead and it's his fault. The doctors at the hospital say it's not, but he thinks it is.

The tears keep rolling down his face, and fall onto the ground.

Thomas wishes he were dead instead of his mother. He wishes he'd asked her what was wrong when she coughed so bad, instead of locking himself in his room with his computer. He wishes he'd been strong enough to do something, anything to help her.

Silvery tears keep on running, and he keeps on sitting there.

He doesn't move till the light of dawn.


There's a hacker.

He sits in a tiny, attic flat, dark, cold and silent. He's older now, his face if anything is even paler because of long hours staring at his computer. He has a job, but he's in danger of losing it. And he doesn't care.

All he cares about is his search, his endless search for an answer, and the man who can give him the answer. Choi, the closet thing he's ever had to a friend, is late. He hopes he's coming, he needs the money to pay his rent.

But still he doesn't care.

He flies through cyberspace, using a name he thought of a long time ago. Now his name is Neo.

Neo looks up, at the clock. Choi's an hour late. He doubts he's even coming.

'Morpheus'

The search continues, and he watches the monitor like a lifeline. And in a way, it is. He has nothing else in his life: a job he couldn't care less about, a father he hates, a mother who died a long time ago, and a fence who isn't coming.

All that matters to Neo is a name and a question. The name is "Morpheus" and the question is, "what is the Matrix?" He hopes that to find one is to find the other, and he hopes he can find both through hacking.

It's late. He closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

Wake up Neo
The Matrix has you
Follow the white rabbit
Knock, knock, Neo

One life ends and another begins.

Missing: Thomas A. Anderson, 33
Tall, pale, black hair, brown eyes

Has been missing from his home for six months. Last seen in April, near the Adam Street Bridge. Anyone with information should call the National Organisation for Missing People.


So, do you like? If you do, review. If you don't, review but don't flame.

As always, I will see you in Zion.