My Wings
It is a time before Neo, before Smith. A time when there was no prophecy, or One. No war, or Resistance. There was no Zion yet. A time when programs are simply, with simply tasks. They have not many rules or boundaries. They are free to do as the please.
Because now, you don't need a purpose to have life.
This is the first version of the Matrix.
The humans are happy, as they smile everyday. No one dies painfully, no one is murdered, there is no such thing as guns. There are no accidents, or pollution. Everything is free, and is in surplus.
Everyone is always happy.
It's paradise, perfection, a dream. And some humans are beginning to realize this.
But for now, when they look up they see a beautiful pink sky. There are Angels that fly through it all the time, everyday. Angels. Guardian Angels, watching them, protecting them.
These Angels, are programs.
Guardians, that watches, and calculate, and care over human needs. Reporting to the Mainframe of slight changes or anything unusual.
And one Angel that floats above the city, is waiting. Flapping his fifteen foot wingspan of feathered white wings, he waits. His name is Seraph.
They're aren't many programs that are created for much more, or aren't given wings. They are the only ones. Angels that fly above the city. There's not much else programs can do now, when the humans are so happy, they don't need much care.
Then Seraph sees who he is waiting for, and starts to fly towards him.
"Hello, Lucifer..." Seraph taunts his friend.
And the Angel Seraph now taunts, turns to him, with the most amazing blue eyes this version of the Matrix has yet to see.
"Don't call me that." The Angel says.
Seraph laughs.
This Angel, who Seraph has dubbed, Lucifer, wear a black coat, much like the coming Neo will wear. And this Angel, flapping his wings, and smiling will be the Smith in the new versions.
"Then give yourself a name Lucifer!" Seraph yells, flying around him.
The Angel that will one day become Smith, turns to Seraph and hits him in the arm.
"I told you!" The Angel yells. "I need to figure out a name different than any other human, or program! It needs to be unique. My name."
Ironic that his name will be Smith, the most common last name among the human species.
"More unique than Seraph?" Seraph smiles.
And the Angel, Smith, smiles.
"Oh much more unique." Smith says.
Seraph laughs, as begins to fly off aimlessly. And Smith, begins to follow.
And the humans below, look up at them, and smile. Smile at their Angels.
As Angels, they fly. The Angel that will be Smith, smiles as he turns within the air, a dive just a little. Flight is amazing. A wonderous gift from the Source. A gift he thanks for everyday. His wings, his beautiful wings. With the feathers so different from anyone else's they are unique only to him. And this gives him comfort.
He is weightless as he flies above Seraph, and then next to him.
He is so skilled at flight, because he flies so often.
"Where've been all this time, Lucifer?" Seraph asks.
Smith ignores it.
"I've been looking around. Snooping in places I haven't. I even stole some chocolate from a store. Very delicious I recommend it." Smith says.
Seraph smiles.
"And that is why I call you Lucifer!" Seraph yells.
"Well, why should I pay for it? I am above them." Smith says.
"Don't act so high and mighty!"
"Why not, I am."
"You have big head, you know that?"
And Smith flaps his wings and hits Seraph in the back.
"Ow!" Seraph yells, turning to him. "Don't mess with me! I know Kung-fu!" Seraph makes a fist.
"No, you don't." Smith shakes his head.
"Well, I planning on learning."
"Yeah, sure you are."
And Smith begins to fly ahead.
Seraph flies towards him to catch up.
This is how it is in the first version of the Matrix. It's been online for nearly a centuary. All programs have wings, except for a couple that transfer from the machine world. All programs know of the machine world. But the Angel that is Smith has no interest in it, or the Real World. Who would want to go there, after experiencing flight, and the warmth of the sun on your wings? He wouldn't give that up for anything.
Maybe if he could become a Sentinel's mind he would go to the Real World, just because they have flight. But that's all he'll settle for.
"So where are we going?" Smith asks.
"I was thinking the Heart O' the City!" Seraph says.
"That horrible hotel!?"
"Hey, it's the Heart of the city!"
"How about we just go over there." Smith points to the tallest building he can see.
"Alright if you really want to."
Soon they land on the building, and sit upon the ledge, resting their legs and wings. It is a wonderful view, as Smith stares down at the humans that appear like bugs from his height. Though they always look like bugs, since he's always flying.
"They're disgusting, aren't they?" Smith says, staring down at them.
"What?" Seraph looks at him.
"Look at them. Horrible. I see why they have so easily fallen to this dream world."
"The humans? Disgusting?"
"Yes, walking around in their own filth, inefficient, horrible, weak, creatures."
Even now, he is disgusted by them.
"They're viruses, not mammals. Look what they have done to themselves. They're greed and power, look where it got them." Smith continues.
"Just keep in mind, without those 'viruses' you would not exist."
"They don't deserve this paradise."
"And you do?"
Smith keeps silent and looks away.
"I just don't like them. Viruses is all they are." Smith says.
"They gave us life." Seraph argues.
"Their only success."
"I don't understand your hatred against them. They have done nothing to you."
Smith stays silent, and sighs. No use to explain such things.
And then they look to the sun, and the other programs flying around with their wings spread. This is it. This is paradise.
Then there are two Angels that fly by them, smiling and waving.
"Hey Lucifer! Hey Seraph!"
"Hello, there." They say.
These two Angels, will someday be named Jones and Brown.
"Hey!" Smith yells at them.
And the two of them laugh, and fly away before Smith could hit them in the back of the head.
"How do they know!?" Smith looked at Seraph.
And Seraph began laughing.
"Well I might have mentioned your nick name, to uh...some friends."
"Seraph!"
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"You know, I heard they're made some programs without wings." Seraph says, laying on his back, spreading out his wings.
"That's horrible." Smith says, sitting above him.
Still on top of the building, begins a conversation of their future.
"Well the Oracle seems to be fine without wings." Seraph argues.
"But the Oracle has gifts beyond flight. And you're just saying that, cause you're so fascinated by her."
"Yeah, anyway they call them Agents. And they have guns." Seraph continues.
"Guns!? In this world!?" Smith yells.
"Yeah, they supposedly kill humans that are about to unplug themselves. You know, so they won't be free."
"The Mainframe created guns, in this world?"
"And the Agents wear suits, like the human government."
"How can they stand killing people?" Smith asks, staring at Seraph.
"They don't have a choice." Seraph sits up. "They're programmed with rules upon rules, I don't think they even have a concept of choice. They don't even know happiness, Lucifer."
"What!? That's, that's..."
To live in a world where all have choice, and all is happy. This speaking of no choice, it's horrifying.
"I know." Seraph says.
Smith looks away, fearing these, 'Agents.' These programs that feel nothing well they take a life. Yes, he hates humans, but to kill one...
"There is also speak of programs being altered, 'uprgraded,' into other programs, with other purposes...without wings." Seraph looks down.
"They can't do that! They can't take away our wings!" Smith stands up.
The very things they gave them. Wings that make them Angels, wings that fly them into the sky, a place where no human could ever wish. Wings, their wings, that make them, them.
"They are. They gave us wings, and they're taking them away." Seraph says.
"Why!? Why are they doing this to us!?" Smith yells kneeling back down to Seraph.
"Because, there is talk of change, Lucifer. Crops are being lost, and no one knows why. They're going to change the Matrix. And they're going to change us too. All I'm saying is we must prepare for this new world." Seraph looks at him.
"They're not taking my wings." Smith says.
"How do you know?"
"Because I won't let them."
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Five Crops were lost on a single day. It is clear action must be taken. And soon the Architect his biggest flaw, in his biggest success. It is too perfect, his world, his paradise is too perfect. Reprogramming and rebooting of the Matrix is under way.
Now for the Angels, they must be reprogrammed as well.
And it is the Angel with no name, it is Smith that is flying away as fast as he can from the Agents that are now firing guns at him.
He is running from the inevitable. They're going to take his wings away. All other programs have returned to the Source, and are now without wings. He will not be like them. He will not stand to be on the ground with those humans. He wants his wings.
He flies as high as he can, but the Agents jump from rooftop to rooftop firing their guns. He will not fall, he can't. He can't loose. He can't let go of his wings.
Then he feels something he's never felt before. Pain.
He looks over at his right wing, and there is blood spilling from it. This is the result of a bullet going right through his wing.
Then three more bullets hit his wings. And slowly he realizes he has lost. Darkness consumes his vision, and he begins to fall. He is the fallen Angel, and then he hits the ground.
He is returned to the Source, and he wakens just in enough time to watch as he turns to code, and his wings are ripped off, and deleted. He screams within the light of the Source, and no cares.
Then he is reprogrammed.
He is chosen to be an Agent. The Source senses his anger...his hatred towards the humans. This fueled sense of emotion will power him as an Agent.
The Source begins to delete any sub routines, any memories, anything that gives him even a bit of emotion. He cannot have emotion as an Agent. He cannot have such things. No memories of what he had, and what he was. No memories of the friendships he had, or laughter he felt.
Nothing will be left.
And he steps out of the Source, in a suit.
No more wings.
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"You don't know someone until you fight them." Seraph says.
The wingless Angel known as Seraph, stares at the Angel he once knew. Lucifer...the Angel that never was able to choose a name, now has been given one. His name is Smith now.
"It is inevitable." Smith says.
Seraph nods, as he attempts to punch his old friend in the chest. Smith grabs him the arm, before he could.
And Smith stares at him, while Seraph only sees his reflections in those dark sunglasses, that shield blue eyes. And somehow, he is reminded of his friend.
"I want my wings back." Smith says, before punching Seraph in the face.
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Perhaps they weren't able to delete all his memories. Perhaps those thoughts of freedom in flight, and laughter weren't fully gone. Maybe he remembers flight. Those memories rather than his anger made him who he is.
Smith looked out the window, and wanted freedom. He didn't want to be an Agent anymore. He wanted to fly. Maybe those memories are what made him hate the humans. Because of them he lost his wings. Maybe those memories, made him smell the humans. Maybe...they made him run away when he did.
And in the rain, he flew.
In the rain, he grew wings. That final battle, he flew again.
In his suit, to show he was once an Agent, and with flight, it showed all he once was. And now he was a Virus.
In the rain, he was not an Angel anymore. But he was something more. A god among the Matrix. He ruled the world, land and sky.
Then the lighting struck, and gave him wings again.
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I have not given up on Smith.
Shadow