Chapter 2: Nathan and Harley
His name was not Thomas Anderson. He didn't even know a Thomas Anderson.
And yet, he woke up to the name most every night now, as if it was yelled into his ear. But every time he opened his eyes and woke from his haunted dream world, he only saw the opposite wall to him in his small, plain room.
Each night, he would record his dreams on his computer, so not to forget them in the morning. They were reoccurring dreams; they were constant and too life like—they were more like memories than dreams. And they were always in the same person's perspective.
Nathan's dream entry #487:
It's silent again, I can only see what's going on. I'm fighting someone in the real world. I was blinded, but could still see the other man. It's as if he was made of lights. Everything's black after I finally kill him, but then I hear a voice, the only voice that I ever can hear in these dreams. I can feel her wrap her arms around me and I know exactly who it is. (This Neo guy had it bad for this girl…but then again, who wouldn't? ) Anyway, she's concerned about my eyes, and then she suddenly hugs me tighter. I wake up.
He'd eventually figured out through his dreams that Neo was the perspective he was always in. In his entries, he would refer to himself as Neo to make it less complicated, knowing full well that it wasn't him at all. He wondered who this guy was, why he had this guy's memory and what this reality meant.
That must be what's out there. This is what the real world is like.
Of course, he already knew that the world he lived in wasn't real because of his visits with the Oracle. He'd been visiting the Oracle since he was 6 years old. His father had told him that he was "special," probably because of his powers of levitation. That's why he went to the Oracle, she helped develop his power by freeing his mind and answering some question—not nearly all, but some. She never told him why or how he had those memories, but she did say that they were the memories of a very important person; a hero; a legend. She said he would find out exactly whose memories they were once he did one simple thing.
Know thyself, know thyself
He seemed to have been born with that phrase engraved into his skull. His father recalls that his first words were know thyself. But he had never had any idea who he was, never. He'd never been sure of himself because he was so different—because of his strange powers the Oracle had taught him to use—and now with these dreams; these memories that weren't his own, how could he know for sure what he was, let alone who.
Harley had always been attentive to his passive son. He practically hovered over him when he was at home—which was most of the time—as if to find a sign that he wasn't human; proof that he'd been sent from outer space or something. Nathan was "gifted." He could lift objects into the air with his mind; he could heal things like scratches and bruises. Luckily, Nathan was a good quiet kid who could keep a secret.
He was a single father, he'd adopted Nathan. It was a peculiar time in his life; he had to make a very quick and unexpected transition from being a daring bachelor to a responsible dad. Apparently, a long lost cousin died and gave him her child, so they were even related. He couldn't remember this cousin, but when he took the child into his arms the first time, he didn't really care. He knew something had to come along to make his life worth something, he must be my future. He must be what I was waiting for.
He didn't really know anything about raising kids, but he was determined to be a better father than his own, whom he'd hardly ever seen before he died of an overdose one bitter morning. He made sure to fill Nathan's childhood with fun, although, he quickly learned that Nathan was different; he was fairly unresponsive to this "fun." He didn't like Nick Jr. or Playhouse Disney shows; not even the generic Saturday morning cartoons.
One day, he gave up with the kid stuff, he'd had enough, needed something rated R. While Nathan was sleeping one night, he put on Resident Evil. Nathan woke up half way through, hungry—it was about 1:00 am—and Harley was way too tired to pause the movie, so he brought him in and fed him while watching a fight scene. To his surprise, the baby didn't cry or even seem to dislike the violent gunfights or the occasional shattering of glass. He actually seemed to enjoy it. So for the rest of the movie, Harley slouched on the couch with the baby in his lap, and at the end, Nathan clapped his hands.
"Wow," Harley was amazed. "We really are related."
Since then, Harley would try and sneak Nathan into these kinds of movies at the theatre, and most of the time, it wasn't a problem. The cheap theatres never cared, as long as they sold two tickets, it was all good. But the big expensive theaters had a reputation, so naturally, they wouldn't allow a five year old to see The Expendables. Sometimes, they could be bribed, but not always.
Watching violent movies became a ritual; a father-son outing, as strange as it sounds. It was one of the only times Nathan willingly went out. It was like Harley was his only friend, which worried his father immensely. As a single dad, Harley thought he'd have to be strict once in a while to keep his son from being a juvenile delinquent, like how he was as a boy. He was even preparing to be flexible when it came to going out with friends late at night or buying him something expensive on his birthday. But Nathan never asked him of anything, he was a teenager now, but he never did anything either.
He wanted a computer on his thirteenth birthday. That was it. Maybe a few video games, but they were never too important to him. Even when he was a little kid, he didn't want to make friends, he didn't want to play like everyone else. He played cards, and chess. After he started seeing the Oracle once a week, he would use his mind powers to move the pieces on the chess board, and Harley wondered if his powers gave him an advantage, because he could never win against his six year old son.
Although Nathan was quiet, he was very sincere. He wasn't shy; he just preferred to stay away from people. He was so sophisticated at such a young age; he was like a professional, controlled, reserved adult who only allowed himself to be close to one person.
Once, when Nathan was at school, Harley checked his computer for something—anything. A Facebook account, a forum, porn, whatever could explain his son's content with his lack of a social life. What he found was nothing he'd expected. All of his bookmarked websites were to weird cult-like chat-rooms or information in codes that he couldn't understand. A repeating question: What is the Matrix? What is Nathan up to? He opened a word document file that read Nathan's dream entries and read some of those. Does this have something to do with Oracle?
He remembered the day perfectly, the day a man in a black suit came up to him while five year old Nathan was sitting in the sand alone, trying to make a sand castle with a bucket and a bottle of water. The man was abrupt and to the point, his voice was flat and almost mechanical. He remembered his exact words.
"Your son is very special, Mr. Peterson."
"…How do you know my name?"
"I know your name because The Oracle knows your name. Now tell me, Mr. Peterson, has your son ever told you he had a dream about being on a spaceship? Or that he had superpowers?"
"…Yes"
"And is your son shy? Antisocial? Distant? Is he smarter than most other kindergarteners?"
"…Yes. Look, what's this about? How do you know all this?"
"I know because the Oracle knows." The man hands Harley a slip of paper. "Come to this address when you find that your son is more gifted than you know now." And he was gone.
Only a few days later, when Harley had almost forgotten about this encounter, Nathan came in his room levitating a crayon just above his hand. They got in the car in search of the Oracle's address.
Now Nathan was sixteen. One night, after seeing the Oracle, Nathan came home completely depressed. He inched towards the kitchen table and rested his head in his folded arms. Harley asked if he wanted dinner.
No answer. He started to cry.
He asked what was wrong.
Nathan said he didn't really know. He felt as if he had just lost a part of himself; as if someone close to him had died.
He asked what the Oracle told him and if that was upsetting him.
He said it wasn't the Oracle who made him feel this way, it just came—like he'd bottled up these feelings for so long that he couldn't hold them in any longer.
Harley had never experienced this; such sad emotion coming from his son, it was incredible. When he realized that this was this first real emotional breakdown Nathan had ever had, he wondered what was wrong with them. What was this Matrix mystery and what did it have to do with them? Why was Nathan so different? And now, it wasn't just Nathan who was different, it was him too. It had always been both of them. They were a small family—a very small unit, more like it—but he felt as if they were both fighting a war against normalcy together; like they were living in a world that didn't include them; like they were living in a dream world that was turning into a nightmare.
He realized that this must be how Nathan had felt his entire life, ever since he was little. He sat down and put his arms around his son, a gesture of comfort,; retreat; trust; love; understanding.
Nathan found this comfort and embraced Harley, the feeling of being watched increasing now; his anxiety increasing; his sadness increasing—but with his father, he thought he might be able to pull himself back together after some time of releasing tears and emotions and memories that he now knew had to be his own. But even with this knowledge, he still couldn't connect those memories in his consciousness, he was too far gone into this "new" life that he couldn't for the life of him feel that those memories were his own.
4:00 am, Harley and Nathan were sitting on the couch in front of the television flipping through channels. Nathan was asleep and Harley was dozing off when the phone rang.
"Hello?" Harley tried to sound as if he wasn't half asleep.
"This is Morpheus. You've never heard of me, but your son has."
"My son knows a lot of things."
"That he does, but not quite enough. Nathan has realized part of the truth, and so have you. I'm prepared to tell you everything you want to know. Are you ready?"
"…" Harley knew exactly what he wanted to say. Yes. YES. Tell me the whole truth, I know something's wrong with this world, I know we're not normal. He looked at Nathan, sleeping peacefully. He wanted Nathan to be happy, to be free from whatever he knew was trapping them. He believe that this "truth" would free them.
"Harley?"
"Yes. Yes, yes, we're ready. We've been ready."
"Good."
OK, I know this is a really weird concept, I just had to write it. Please review, justify its weirdness if you must, criticize its oddness—yes, oddness is a word.