CHAPTER TWO: DAY IN THE LIFE
Kyle rolled over in his bed and groaned at the feeling of warm sunlight on his face. Feebly, he opened one eye and glared at the bedside clock. Its small red digital display stared defiantly back at him. Seven twenty seven. He'd only managed to get to sleep again after the nightmare two hours ago.
He groaned again at the scent of frying eggs drifting in from the small kitchen compartment across the living room. It looked like Gayle was already up and cooking breakfast. Slowly he sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. The whole room spun as a lancing pain shot through his skull. Biting back a cry of agony he reached up and began to slowly massage his temples. It wasn't as if the motion actually did anything but he still felt better for it, as if his body was at least cutting him some slack for his vain attempts at relief. Carefully, so as not to upset his head any further he clambered out of the bed and padded barefoot over the creaking wooden floor.
"Here you go." Said Gayle poking her head round the partition wall to smile at him. "Your favourite fried eggs, coming right up." He smiled back, the headache lessening with every step he took.
"Sounds delicious." He said, seating himself at the kitchen table and picking up the mornings newspaper and tearing out the jobs column. This was becoming quite the ritual for him. Every morning he woke up, came in to the kitchen and settled down to look for jobs. The operative word of course being, looked for.
He'd been looking for the past six months, and for a guy, whose IQ was supposedly one hundred and thirty, jobs seemed quite thin on the ground.
"By the way," said Gayle, her smile fading into a disapproving frown, "Grant called just before you woke up." Kyle felt his heart plunge. What did Grant want now?
"He said for you to meet him at the corner Wilson and Rosener, at midday. Sounded like he had some business for you." Kyle could smell the eggs beginning to burn, as she continued to shuffle the pan back and forth on the oven hob.
"Kyle," she said, her voice becoming flat and emotionless as she turned her back on him, "I thought you were finished with all that." Kyle scraped back his chair and made his way over to her, the jobs column left forgotten. Her shoulders were beginning to shake with silent sobs just as he wrapped his arms around them. He hugged her tightly, soaking up the warmth of her skin, the scent of her perfume. God he loved her.
"Oh baby," he said, kissing the back of her head, "I am, or at least I'm trying. But you know the kind of person Grant is. He just doesn't take no for an answer, and besides," he his arm moved in a broad sweep, encompassing the whole of the dingy flat, "It's not like we don't need the money right now." She rounded on him, her tear stained eyes suddenly filled with anger.
"Then maybe you should consider finding a job." Her voice was laden with disdain. "It's not like you don't have the time."
"Oh yeah!" Kyle shot back, his own anger beginning to flourish. It wasn't like he hadn't been trying, and she knew that.
"Every day for the past six months, and I mean every single day, I've been out there," he pointed out of the window at the city beyond. "I've been hunting high and low for a job, but there isn't exactly that much going for a retired car thief out in the big harsh professional world." He scrubbed his hand through his short-cropped hair. "It's alright for you. You've everything you need to get a job. Skills, college education, a CV with more than just your name and address on it, but as for me, well there are too things in this world that I'm good at. Stealing cars and selling them afterwards."
Gayle stared at him as if he had just grown another head. The way his was feeling at the moment it wouldn't surprise. Slowly, more tears began to well up in her eyes. The moment he finished ranting, Kyle felt his anger begin to fall away. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't wanted to become swept up in his life. It had just sort of happened.
"Baby I'm sorry." He said, hugging her tighter, "I'm so sorry. But you know I've been trying, and we really do need the money."
"I just want you to be careful." She said, sobs wracking her body. "I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you."
"Hey, hey, hey." said Kyle as he took her face in both hands and tilted it back so that she was looking him in the eye. "Just look at me." He gave her a reassuring grin.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who something's about to happen to? I mean c'mon. The last excitement I had was when I ran out of gas on the interstate." She gave a laugh at that.
"I remember." She said, her smile looking strange against her tear stained cheeks. "You had to walk five miles to the nearest gas station, and when you got back, you realised you'd managed to lock yourself out of the car." Kyle grinned broadly.
"Hey, it was an easy mistake to ma." he was cut off as her lips covered his in a kiss.
"Just be safe." She said quietly as she pulled away.
"Always." He smiled back.
*****
Kyle remembered the doughnut stall on the corner of Wilson and Rosener. It had been the regular pick up and drop off point whenever he had dealt with Grant. He sure as hell didn't remember it for the doughnuts. They tasted like reconstituted cardboard and smelled even worse. How the thing had managed to stay in business for so long was completely beyond him.
He gave a long deep yawn as a wave of exhaustion passed over him. Sleep was something that hadn't been coming easily to him recently. He was still yawning when the van pulled up in front of him, the back doors swinging open before it had even come to a full stop. A man only a little older than him leaned out, his thick blonde hair hanging in shaggy curtains down either side of his grinning face.
"Hey, Morpheus." The blonde man laughed. "You gonna get in or do I have to send you a written invitation." Kyle grinned
"What can I say Grant," Kyle grinned, "I love your penmanship." Grant rolled his eyes.
"Just get in here."
The van rocked slightly as it thudded over a speed bump. Kyle watched as Grant spoke hurriedly into the receiver of a mobile phone.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah he's here. Yeah. I understand." Before the phone had even clicked shut, Kyle began to speak.
"What's going on here Grant? You know I'm retired." Grant grinned at him.
"So you keep telling me. But I know you Mor."
"Don't call me that. I'm not Morpheus anymore. I'm Kyle and you know it."
"Ah c'mon man!" Grant groaned. "What's this sudden new life kick you're on? Is it that bony little bitch you're screwing? It is isn't it! She's got you totally whipped."
"Hey!" said Kyle, outrage creeping into his voice. "This isn't about Gayle, okay. I was having doubts a long time before I even met her!" he shrugged. "She just helped me put things in perspective is all." A look of utter disbelief hung on Grant's face.
"What sort of perspective? I know you Morpheus." Kyle tried to protest but Grant pushed on regardless. "You were the coolest head in town when it came to the business. Then Jimmy bought it and suddenly you're all nerves." Kyle raised his eyebrows at him.
"Yeah Grant. There's nothing like your best friend getting killed, to make you think 'hey, my life's on the right track'."
"Okay then. If you're so out, what're you doing here?" Kyle shrugged again.
"Times are tight and I need the money." Grant chuckled dryly.
"Ain't the real world a bitch?"
The van ground to halt just outside a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Kyle thought the whole place looked like something out of a bad gangster movie. It was the kind of building where the two sides met to settle scores and ended up blowing each other's brains out. Something about that thought unnerved him terribly.
"What's the deal Grant?" he said as he crunched through the gravel alongside the older blonde man and his entourage. His eyes roved over the crumbling structure. Huge chunks of the roof were missing, as if it had been built without them, and the whole place had an aura of foreboding about it. "You could have gone to any of the guys with this deal and I'm sure they'd jump at it. Why ask me?"
"Because this guy wants you."
"Me personally?" Grant turned a frown on him.
"No, the other less personal one of you. Goes by the name of Morpheus, maybe you've met him."
"Would you stop with this Morpheus crap!" Kyle felt like screaming but held it back. "It was a stupid nickname." Grant held his hands up in mock surrender.
"Hey man, don't shoot the messenger. The guy said he wanted the best for this deal. Didn't say he wanted Kyle, said he wanted Morpheus." Kyle shrugged.
"So the guy's information is out of date. Guess I'll just have to correct him." Grant laughed out loud at that.
"Whatever you say man." he pushed the heavy door to the warehouse open for Kyle, stepping through just behind him. "But this guy, well he sounded like something of hard a." his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the three men who stood in exact centre of the warehouse.
Something about the precision of their placement unnerved Kyle. The only thing that unnerved him more was their clothes. They seemed to be arranged in order of size, tallest on the left, shortest on the right. The tallest wore a short leather bomber jacket and a wide brimmed fedora that gave him the look of some kind of Wild West gunslinger. His arms were folded across his chest, but Kyle had spent enough time around hired muscle to tell when someone was tensed, ready for action.
The one on the right hand side was the complete opposite. His head was completely shaved save a topknot of jet-black hair that jutted from the rear of his skull. A long flowing trench coat, blacker than Kyle thought possible hung almost to the ground, disguising the man's build remarkably well. In his left hand he held a long thin case at least half his height.
The man in the middle was by far the most unnerving. He stood in his own long black coat with short dark hair that was greying at the temples. An immaculate black suit was evident beneath, and his arms were folded behind his back. His head was tilted back slightly, giving him the appearance of a man who saw everything around him with disdain. Without exception they all wore sunglasses.
"Is this him, Grant?" The middle man's voice was full of confidence, but even Kyle could feel the hatred that shone through the well spoken veneer he adopted. He took a step forward threateningly. "And don't disappoint me."
"Yes, this is him." Said Grant, his normally brash and arrogant voice filled with unease.
"Fade." Said the middle man, as if giving instructions. Kyle was about to ask what the hell he was talking about, when the shortest of the three walked up to him.
"Name." He said simply. Kyle frowned in confusion. What the hell was going on?
"What?" he said, desperate thoughts swimming through his head. Who were these people? Why did they want him? Something told him they weren't hiring him for his services as a car boost. He glanced at the man in the middle, and for the briefest moment the memories of his recent nightmares flashed through his mind.
"I asked you, what is your name?" the small man repeated.
"Kyle Jeffries." He said, trying not to let his voice shake.
"Date of birth?" The little man demanded.
"First of October, nineteen sixty one." He said without pause.
"Blood type?" he asked. Kyle frowned for a moment.
"A." he ventured uncertainly. The smaller man turned and looked back at the middle man. Kyle assumed he was the leader.
"He seems to check out." The middle man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"Bring him here. It's time we were leaving."
"Hey, now wait a minute!" said Grant, stepping forward as he did so. "We had a deal here. "I get Morpheus for your dirty little job, you cut me in on this boost!" The middle man frowned for a moment, then gave a dry laugh before turning away.
"Fade, bring Morpheus, and Buckshot, explain the situation to our friend Mr Grant here." The gunslinger going by the name of Buckshot straightened and took a step forward.
"Listen to me little man." he said. "You're out of your depth here, and you have no idea how much. I suggest you get out of here before you see something you shouldn't or." Kyle barely even saw him move. One moment his arms were folded, the next one hand was resting casually at his hip, while the other held an absurdly large looking six shot pistol, pointed squarely at Grant's head. "Things are going to get messy." Buckshot finished.
*****
The Agent had never seen rebel humans in the Matrix before. If it had been capable of such emotion, it would have been surprised it had never noticed them. Their code strings glowed brighter than the rest, and their ident signatures were conspicuous only by their absence while their encryption codes were completely different to standard Matrix patterns.
It roved through the rest of the code for the warehouse, hunting for the male it had been pursuing. Standard operating procedure indicated that termination of the security threat should be accomplished when the threat had been successfully isolated so as to avoid spreading suspicion and panic among the other humans. If it had known resistance members were going to turn up, it would have eliminated him long before by now, most likely in the flat. The other human, the female, had posed a negligible security breach and could have been tolerated.
Suddenly, the Agent stopped. There was the human male. It focused on the code string, isolating it from those around it. The subject appeared to be alongside a resistance member. This could make things a little more difficult, but not much. The resistance posed little real threat to Agents. No human could. In the Matrix, Agents were the ultimate power and nothing could stand against them.
Slowly, the Agent began to hunt for a host.
Kyle rolled over in his bed and groaned at the feeling of warm sunlight on his face. Feebly, he opened one eye and glared at the bedside clock. Its small red digital display stared defiantly back at him. Seven twenty seven. He'd only managed to get to sleep again after the nightmare two hours ago.
He groaned again at the scent of frying eggs drifting in from the small kitchen compartment across the living room. It looked like Gayle was already up and cooking breakfast. Slowly he sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. The whole room spun as a lancing pain shot through his skull. Biting back a cry of agony he reached up and began to slowly massage his temples. It wasn't as if the motion actually did anything but he still felt better for it, as if his body was at least cutting him some slack for his vain attempts at relief. Carefully, so as not to upset his head any further he clambered out of the bed and padded barefoot over the creaking wooden floor.
"Here you go." Said Gayle poking her head round the partition wall to smile at him. "Your favourite fried eggs, coming right up." He smiled back, the headache lessening with every step he took.
"Sounds delicious." He said, seating himself at the kitchen table and picking up the mornings newspaper and tearing out the jobs column. This was becoming quite the ritual for him. Every morning he woke up, came in to the kitchen and settled down to look for jobs. The operative word of course being, looked for.
He'd been looking for the past six months, and for a guy, whose IQ was supposedly one hundred and thirty, jobs seemed quite thin on the ground.
"By the way," said Gayle, her smile fading into a disapproving frown, "Grant called just before you woke up." Kyle felt his heart plunge. What did Grant want now?
"He said for you to meet him at the corner Wilson and Rosener, at midday. Sounded like he had some business for you." Kyle could smell the eggs beginning to burn, as she continued to shuffle the pan back and forth on the oven hob.
"Kyle," she said, her voice becoming flat and emotionless as she turned her back on him, "I thought you were finished with all that." Kyle scraped back his chair and made his way over to her, the jobs column left forgotten. Her shoulders were beginning to shake with silent sobs just as he wrapped his arms around them. He hugged her tightly, soaking up the warmth of her skin, the scent of her perfume. God he loved her.
"Oh baby," he said, kissing the back of her head, "I am, or at least I'm trying. But you know the kind of person Grant is. He just doesn't take no for an answer, and besides," he his arm moved in a broad sweep, encompassing the whole of the dingy flat, "It's not like we don't need the money right now." She rounded on him, her tear stained eyes suddenly filled with anger.
"Then maybe you should consider finding a job." Her voice was laden with disdain. "It's not like you don't have the time."
"Oh yeah!" Kyle shot back, his own anger beginning to flourish. It wasn't like he hadn't been trying, and she knew that.
"Every day for the past six months, and I mean every single day, I've been out there," he pointed out of the window at the city beyond. "I've been hunting high and low for a job, but there isn't exactly that much going for a retired car thief out in the big harsh professional world." He scrubbed his hand through his short-cropped hair. "It's alright for you. You've everything you need to get a job. Skills, college education, a CV with more than just your name and address on it, but as for me, well there are too things in this world that I'm good at. Stealing cars and selling them afterwards."
Gayle stared at him as if he had just grown another head. The way his was feeling at the moment it wouldn't surprise. Slowly, more tears began to well up in her eyes. The moment he finished ranting, Kyle felt his anger begin to fall away. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't wanted to become swept up in his life. It had just sort of happened.
"Baby I'm sorry." He said, hugging her tighter, "I'm so sorry. But you know I've been trying, and we really do need the money."
"I just want you to be careful." She said, sobs wracking her body. "I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you."
"Hey, hey, hey." said Kyle as he took her face in both hands and tilted it back so that she was looking him in the eye. "Just look at me." He gave her a reassuring grin.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who something's about to happen to? I mean c'mon. The last excitement I had was when I ran out of gas on the interstate." She gave a laugh at that.
"I remember." She said, her smile looking strange against her tear stained cheeks. "You had to walk five miles to the nearest gas station, and when you got back, you realised you'd managed to lock yourself out of the car." Kyle grinned broadly.
"Hey, it was an easy mistake to ma." he was cut off as her lips covered his in a kiss.
"Just be safe." She said quietly as she pulled away.
"Always." He smiled back.
*****
Kyle remembered the doughnut stall on the corner of Wilson and Rosener. It had been the regular pick up and drop off point whenever he had dealt with Grant. He sure as hell didn't remember it for the doughnuts. They tasted like reconstituted cardboard and smelled even worse. How the thing had managed to stay in business for so long was completely beyond him.
He gave a long deep yawn as a wave of exhaustion passed over him. Sleep was something that hadn't been coming easily to him recently. He was still yawning when the van pulled up in front of him, the back doors swinging open before it had even come to a full stop. A man only a little older than him leaned out, his thick blonde hair hanging in shaggy curtains down either side of his grinning face.
"Hey, Morpheus." The blonde man laughed. "You gonna get in or do I have to send you a written invitation." Kyle grinned
"What can I say Grant," Kyle grinned, "I love your penmanship." Grant rolled his eyes.
"Just get in here."
The van rocked slightly as it thudded over a speed bump. Kyle watched as Grant spoke hurriedly into the receiver of a mobile phone.
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah he's here. Yeah. I understand." Before the phone had even clicked shut, Kyle began to speak.
"What's going on here Grant? You know I'm retired." Grant grinned at him.
"So you keep telling me. But I know you Mor."
"Don't call me that. I'm not Morpheus anymore. I'm Kyle and you know it."
"Ah c'mon man!" Grant groaned. "What's this sudden new life kick you're on? Is it that bony little bitch you're screwing? It is isn't it! She's got you totally whipped."
"Hey!" said Kyle, outrage creeping into his voice. "This isn't about Gayle, okay. I was having doubts a long time before I even met her!" he shrugged. "She just helped me put things in perspective is all." A look of utter disbelief hung on Grant's face.
"What sort of perspective? I know you Morpheus." Kyle tried to protest but Grant pushed on regardless. "You were the coolest head in town when it came to the business. Then Jimmy bought it and suddenly you're all nerves." Kyle raised his eyebrows at him.
"Yeah Grant. There's nothing like your best friend getting killed, to make you think 'hey, my life's on the right track'."
"Okay then. If you're so out, what're you doing here?" Kyle shrugged again.
"Times are tight and I need the money." Grant chuckled dryly.
"Ain't the real world a bitch?"
The van ground to halt just outside a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Kyle thought the whole place looked like something out of a bad gangster movie. It was the kind of building where the two sides met to settle scores and ended up blowing each other's brains out. Something about that thought unnerved him terribly.
"What's the deal Grant?" he said as he crunched through the gravel alongside the older blonde man and his entourage. His eyes roved over the crumbling structure. Huge chunks of the roof were missing, as if it had been built without them, and the whole place had an aura of foreboding about it. "You could have gone to any of the guys with this deal and I'm sure they'd jump at it. Why ask me?"
"Because this guy wants you."
"Me personally?" Grant turned a frown on him.
"No, the other less personal one of you. Goes by the name of Morpheus, maybe you've met him."
"Would you stop with this Morpheus crap!" Kyle felt like screaming but held it back. "It was a stupid nickname." Grant held his hands up in mock surrender.
"Hey man, don't shoot the messenger. The guy said he wanted the best for this deal. Didn't say he wanted Kyle, said he wanted Morpheus." Kyle shrugged.
"So the guy's information is out of date. Guess I'll just have to correct him." Grant laughed out loud at that.
"Whatever you say man." he pushed the heavy door to the warehouse open for Kyle, stepping through just behind him. "But this guy, well he sounded like something of hard a." his voice trailed off as he caught sight of the three men who stood in exact centre of the warehouse.
Something about the precision of their placement unnerved Kyle. The only thing that unnerved him more was their clothes. They seemed to be arranged in order of size, tallest on the left, shortest on the right. The tallest wore a short leather bomber jacket and a wide brimmed fedora that gave him the look of some kind of Wild West gunslinger. His arms were folded across his chest, but Kyle had spent enough time around hired muscle to tell when someone was tensed, ready for action.
The one on the right hand side was the complete opposite. His head was completely shaved save a topknot of jet-black hair that jutted from the rear of his skull. A long flowing trench coat, blacker than Kyle thought possible hung almost to the ground, disguising the man's build remarkably well. In his left hand he held a long thin case at least half his height.
The man in the middle was by far the most unnerving. He stood in his own long black coat with short dark hair that was greying at the temples. An immaculate black suit was evident beneath, and his arms were folded behind his back. His head was tilted back slightly, giving him the appearance of a man who saw everything around him with disdain. Without exception they all wore sunglasses.
"Is this him, Grant?" The middle man's voice was full of confidence, but even Kyle could feel the hatred that shone through the well spoken veneer he adopted. He took a step forward threateningly. "And don't disappoint me."
"Yes, this is him." Said Grant, his normally brash and arrogant voice filled with unease.
"Fade." Said the middle man, as if giving instructions. Kyle was about to ask what the hell he was talking about, when the shortest of the three walked up to him.
"Name." He said simply. Kyle frowned in confusion. What the hell was going on?
"What?" he said, desperate thoughts swimming through his head. Who were these people? Why did they want him? Something told him they weren't hiring him for his services as a car boost. He glanced at the man in the middle, and for the briefest moment the memories of his recent nightmares flashed through his mind.
"I asked you, what is your name?" the small man repeated.
"Kyle Jeffries." He said, trying not to let his voice shake.
"Date of birth?" The little man demanded.
"First of October, nineteen sixty one." He said without pause.
"Blood type?" he asked. Kyle frowned for a moment.
"A." he ventured uncertainly. The smaller man turned and looked back at the middle man. Kyle assumed he was the leader.
"He seems to check out." The middle man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"Bring him here. It's time we were leaving."
"Hey, now wait a minute!" said Grant, stepping forward as he did so. "We had a deal here. "I get Morpheus for your dirty little job, you cut me in on this boost!" The middle man frowned for a moment, then gave a dry laugh before turning away.
"Fade, bring Morpheus, and Buckshot, explain the situation to our friend Mr Grant here." The gunslinger going by the name of Buckshot straightened and took a step forward.
"Listen to me little man." he said. "You're out of your depth here, and you have no idea how much. I suggest you get out of here before you see something you shouldn't or." Kyle barely even saw him move. One moment his arms were folded, the next one hand was resting casually at his hip, while the other held an absurdly large looking six shot pistol, pointed squarely at Grant's head. "Things are going to get messy." Buckshot finished.
*****
The Agent had never seen rebel humans in the Matrix before. If it had been capable of such emotion, it would have been surprised it had never noticed them. Their code strings glowed brighter than the rest, and their ident signatures were conspicuous only by their absence while their encryption codes were completely different to standard Matrix patterns.
It roved through the rest of the code for the warehouse, hunting for the male it had been pursuing. Standard operating procedure indicated that termination of the security threat should be accomplished when the threat had been successfully isolated so as to avoid spreading suspicion and panic among the other humans. If it had known resistance members were going to turn up, it would have eliminated him long before by now, most likely in the flat. The other human, the female, had posed a negligible security breach and could have been tolerated.
Suddenly, the Agent stopped. There was the human male. It focused on the code string, isolating it from those around it. The subject appeared to be alongside a resistance member. This could make things a little more difficult, but not much. The resistance posed little real threat to Agents. No human could. In the Matrix, Agents were the ultimate power and nothing could stand against them.
Slowly, the Agent began to hunt for a host.