Anomaly

Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix or any affiliated Wachowski machinations. I also don't own any of the soundtrack recommendations in the chapter titles. Only my OCs and this phaileplot.

AN: I won't be typing Mero's accent. Italics are thoughts. This is all post-Revolutions.

Replies to some reviews:

Digital Angel: Yay, a return reader! Thank you so much for your detailed review. I've tried to limit myself a bit more now, and I've done a little more research on Smith outside of my (admittedly fuzzy) memories from watching the Trilogy. I'll have to go back and watch them again, to catch Weaving's portrayal subtleties. I know how ridiculous the situation was, and K and Smith were hyperaware as well. But at the moment, he really can't do anything, unarmed and stripped of his Agent powers, so he was following any and all leads. I'll go a bit more philosophical this chapter, channeling, and hopefully the plot will become a bit clearer. And I don't think K can help the attraction; she is a human teenage girl, after all, despite her memories and "parents".


Chapter 3: Just

The Merovingian was, to put it mildly, pissed. The confusing news about the return of the anomalous agent, Smith, and rumors about Neo being reincarnated were added frustrations and unanswered questions, compounded by the news that the Twins returned with about his daughter.

The Twins followed the Merovingian up the vast staircase to the second level of his chateau. The conference room was lush but prim, and Persephone sat at one of the chairs at the far end, perfectly manicured nails drumming a four-part staccato on the mahogany table. She pushed her chair back and made an effort to stand when her husband program and the Twins swept into the room, but the Merovingian waved her to sit down again. The four assembled after locking the door, and Persephone leaned into the table in concern.

"Kezia…is she alright? She returned yesterday rather quiet."

"We have no reason to worry for her physical health." "But as for matters of the mind, we realize her lapse may indicate" "An awakening of sorts." The Merovingian stiffened visibly, and disquiet opened cracks in Persephone's carefully crafted veneer.

Poor child. He knew she was getting better at manipulating code; it was almost like second nature to her by now, a reflex rather than pure response like it had been when they first met. But each time she read herself, she risked going deeper. One day, she would reach her core, he feared, and find that hers was so different from those of the Twins and Luke. She would find it like those of the humans she so often watched and dissected with her mind's eye, and being the bright child she was, she would assume truth.

"So, her days are numbered, as her kind would say?" Persephone closed her eyes at her husband's words.

The Twins nodded affirmatives. "We would believe so. At the normal rate of human introspection" "She should reach her core in approximately twenty years" "Given her propensity for isolation." "However, the damage obtained on various missions" "And the subsequent need to heal" "May hasten this process to the span of a few years." "Maybe briefer."

"O-only a few years?" Persephone whispered. To her, this was but a blink compared to her lifetime since the Second Matrix.

"It is inevitable, darling," the Merovingian drawled. "We treated her as an Exile; it necessarily follows that she will awaken."

Persephone ignored his comforting hand on her back, porcelain brow knitted sternly in thought. "Is it possible to keep her? We did once, six years ago…" The couple smiled weakly, remembering Kezia's existential crisis that comprised her teenage angst. It had been the first time the Merovingian felt the urgent need to protect the child, and he supposed that had been how Kandra had felt when he urged him to protect Sati.

True, it wasn't as if Kezia was going to be put up for deletion, but the fact remained that redpills were generally targeted in the Matrix. "It's possible, yes. But it only delays her eventual awakening. And if she does find a way to return, her chances of survival are again diminished, due to both her status as simulacra and her…questionable connections."

"But isn't there a way to…shield her from seeing her core? Or perhaps after the awakening, if she chooses to stay-"

"Woman, there is no choice. She is a human who can read the Matrix; she will awaken to this fact. She cannot remain like those bumbling sheep who escape awakening only to die. And the nerve of you to mention choice, of all things, when you know full well that the nature of causality prevents a return to normalcy." But for a moment, he sincerely wished he could believe that infernal woman's infantile hopes. And thoughts of another infernal woman who believed in choice interrupted his thoughts.

"The Oracle wishes an audience with our daughter." Persephone shook her head in confusion. The Merovingian was visibly irritated as well by this fact. "You two will take her. Do not take the darkmage; bring her only to the Oracle and straight back." The Twins nodded again in understanding. "We cannot afford to cause more damage while that woman plays her silly games."

The Virii stood silently and left the room. Persephone watched the doors close, and turned back to her troubled husband.

"Kezia needs to know," she murmured, stretching a rare sympathetic hand towards the Merovingian's trembling fist. With a scowl, he slapped her hand away,

"The child needs to know nothing. She may know too much already." He knew the delicate nature of information and truth, and the between blur of discretion. The inherent risks were far too many, and her status as his assumed child only complicated matters.

Persephone stood, smoothing out her dress. "There is still time. I can only pray, to what gods there are, that you make good use of it." Her voice was bitter like his outlook, and she stalked away from the man at the table, who buried his face in his hands.


The creak and clang of the iron door opening only caused Kezia to grimace and tighten the current screw more furiously with her screwdriver. Her grip was tainted with sweat, and beads of perspiration dripped down her forehead and nose, wetting her black wifebeater and dampening the black leather of the motorcycle seat. With her hair up messily and camo cargo pants slung dangerously low on her barely-there hips, she imagined herself a sorry sight for the intruder. And that is why I like to work here alone.

The intruder cleared his throat. She ignored it, and proceeded to select a socket wrench fitting and crescent wrench to tighten a bolt. The clicks of the ratcheting tapped along the void of conversation.

"Kezia." She registered the Twin's warning, but finished her current bolt before straightening wearily on the seat of the motorcycle, closing her eyes and breathing deep. Opening them, she put the tools back on the nearby bench and wiped her face carelessly with grease-stained fingers, flicking away the sweat and glaring at the albinos from her Suzuki throne.

"What."

Twin Two shifted uncomfortably at her obvious annoyance, but Twin One simply pressed his lips a bit thinner. "We are to accompany you to the Oracle. She has…" "requested an audience."

Kezia wiped her hands on her pants, and gestured the Twins to go on, impatiently. And I care why…?

Twin One relented. "Look here, love, it shouldn't take long. We will take you there and back, no detours." Kezia rolled her eyes, but sighed and descended across the diamond plate steel platform. A noticeably irritated expression marred her face as she grabbed her wallet and jacket and made a futile effort to rearrange her hair into a more respectably feminine style.

As they headed towards the door, Twin Two paused and wiped a streak of grease off of Kezia's cheek, turning back around and following his Twin out the door, missing the girl's momentary blush.


The ride to the Oracle's building was an awkward one for Kezia. As she stared at the backs of the Twins' heads, she cursed her cardboard-box figure. No hips, no cleavage canyon, and a butt that's good, but doesn't make up for everything else. If only I had inherited some of Persephone's curves. The world outside her workshop was only a comfort when she was alone. She could watch the humans, but knowing that somebody was watching her…that made her uncomfortable. The standards of beauty had wormed their way into her mind, and there were times when she felt utterly a failure as an Exile. Maybe I could ask my dad for a reprogrammed skin…

Twin Two cleared his throat and looked back from the passenger seat. "Kezia?" She looked up with a placid expression that masked her thoughts. "Why do you insist on working on those machines? You could fix their code far more easily, and it would save time as well."

Kezia looked to the side thoughtfully. "I dunno. It's what I like to do. Manipulating code is fun and all, and it's quick and easy. But there's something different about holding the metal and fitting the parts together, soldering those wires and tightening screws with your own hands, trying to see past the fog on your goggles and getting your arms sore and dirty. It makes me feel like I've actually achieved something, fixed it, made it better, with my own skills alone." She gestured with her hands as she spoke, tracing curves of imaginary steel and aluminum.

"Your role as the Mechanic is due to your skills as well." Twin Two looked confused, and Twin One looked at her curiously in the rearview mirror as well. Kezia sighed.

"Let's just say it's stress relief. It takes time, and I like spending that time in my element. I just…it's hard to explain." And she left it at that with a noncommittal shrug. It was so difficult sometimes to explain feelings. Her father similarly questioned why exactly she "insisted on tinkering in such a human way on machines", but Persephone seemed more receptive to Kezia's idiosyncracies.

Twin One twitched an apathetic eyebrow and returned his eyes to the road. Twin Two, however, gave Kezia a roguish smile and chirped in a good-natured, accented voice, "Weirdo."

Kezia made a face (ಠ_ಠ) and stuck out her tongue. Somehow he even makes an insult sound good. Gah! What is wrong with me! Her smile faded and Twin Two glanced out the window, unperturbed.

The apartment buildings on both sides rose up, sky-blocking walls of dreary brick and grimed windows. The pristine black Cadillac was remarkably un-ghetto, but the Twins flicked out their razors idly as a subtle warning, and Kezia rolled her eyes unseen behind her replacement shades. As they entered the apartment complex, she wished terribly that she had her old ones, and would not be troubled to remove her shades indoors. However, the flickering weak lights in the elevator made her squint and place the glasses in the pocket of her cropped leather bomber,

Hearing the ding, they stepped out onto the eleventh floor, and Kezia's attention was immediately drawn to one sickly green door that seemed brighter, newer than the others down the hall. The bare hallway lamp glinted off of the brass 1123. The three Exiles swept towards the door in an incongruous triangle amid the surrounding litter and peeling paint. Kezia scuffed her worn boot on the well-trodden doormat and sighed, looking back to the Twins for the go-ahead.

Twin Two shook his head. "We can't go in because we're not h-" "Not her invited guests," Twin One interrupted, sending his counterpart a spark of annoyance through a shielded glance. "She asked for you only; our presence will only complicate things," he continued. Twin Two added, with a twinge of reassurance, "We'll wait outside right here for you." Kezia gave them a suspicious glance, but closed her eyes and turned back to the door.

She took a deep breath in preparation, and reached for the doorknob tentatively, first with her fingertips, as if she was scared it would burn her. And then she steeled herself, drawing her other hand out of her jacket pocket, and turned resolutely.

The door fell open for her, and a small androgynous child looked up at her from behind the gap. "Hello. You're a bit late, but she's waiting for you in the kitchen." The child offered the Twins a wan smile before letting Kezia in and closing the door securely behind her.

She was greeted by a collection of children accomplishing strange tasks in the living room. It seemed like the normal mind over matter sort of illusion, but these children appeared far from normal. They exuded a sort of calm control over their sense of reality, their wide eyes too large for their face yet already understanding everything they saw on an intimate level. And for some reason, that chilled her to the bone.

A small girl, pale with hair like frost fuzz, looked up from levitating building blocks and sent one over to Kezia, who caught it. K, it said with red painted on wood grain. She hefted it in her hand. "But it's so solid. How do you make it float?"

The child smiled at Kezia in an uncondenscending manner. "You can't make them sit on air, and you can't force them to float with your hand, that is, unless you throw it." Kezia squatted down in front of the girl, tilting her head in confusion. "Instead, you see that it has no mass in this world, and once your mind ceases to acknowledge that it has mass held in its hand, it's only natural for the block to rise."

Kezia tilted her head at the child and looked at the block in her hand, but she didn't decompose it into code. She focused not on the feeling of the block, but its very presence, the essence of a construct in the Matrix, the shell designed to fool human minds.

And she parted her lips and gasped quietly as the block floated upwards from her palm, rotating slowly.

A hand on her shoulder tapped her back into the moment. The block dropped softly back into her hand, and she handed it back to the girl with a faint smile before following the other child into the kitchen.


She didn't know what she had expected the Oracle to look like, but it certainly hadn't been this. The elderly black woman turned away from the cookies cooling on the stove to face Kezia, a generous smile lighting up with aged wrinkles. "Well, would you look at that! It's been a while, dearie." Kezia couldn't help but smile and abandon her insecurities in the Oracle's warm embrace. The program smelled like the bakeries Kezia frequented, and also held a quaint smoky scent. The difference unsettled her briefly, but she saw only well-meaning in the program's eyes as she held Kezia out at arm's length and gave her a critical once-over. "Mmm. So nice to see you again."

"Have-have I met you? Before now?" Kezia asked, confused. The ease of their greeting was much different from the impersonal consultation she had imagined. The Oracle smiled mysteriously.

"I've met everybody; most of them don't remember the first time." She gestured to the table. "Come on, child, have a seat. We have quite a lot to talk about."

Kezia sat opposite the program, hands fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket. The Oracle lit a cigarette with a discreet whirr of her lighter, and looked at Kezia expectantly. "Well, go on. Ask it."

The girl was taken aback, and gave the program an apologetic look. "So do you get anything out of it?"

"Not in a human sense of chemistry, no. But it's an interesting motion. Conveys peace and ease. And yes, a certain sort of nonchalance. And now you're going to ask me…"

"Why do you care anymore? And I don't really like smoke." But the Oracle was already stubbing out the cigarette in the small porcelain ashtray before Kezia even requested.

"I care because it's my job. The rapport I establish with the inhabitants of the Matrix is invaluable to the Machines. They keep it running because humans let them." Kezia frowned and considered the statement.

"Um. I guess I can see that. My dad's explained to me how the Matrix works. And why he thinks it works. But apparently your views differ slightly?" The Oracle replied with a good-natured chuckle.

"Ah, yes. How is your old man doing? I can assure you my invitation for you was received with some strange looks."

"He's alright, I guess. He looks a little more stressed than before, but my mom's there for him and I'm not in his way too much." Unless I'm busy getting shot, she thought darkly, with some embarrassment.

The Oracle gave Kezia a knowing smile. Kezia gave a half-hearted nod and left the topic there.

A silence enveloped them like the thin film of smoke.

"So…why am I here?" she began awkwardly.

The Oracle raised her eyebrows, the same genial smile never leaving her face. "You know why. You're here to figure out what to do with that information." Kezia sighed at the cryptic answer.

"I dunno. Weird things are happening."

"I know. The Merovingian and his wife care very much for you, Kezia." Kezia shrugged. "But you've found other pursuits and people."

Kezia had the good grace to flush slightly, thoughts of the Twins running through her head. The Oracle didn't seem to notice.

"It's sad, really," the Oracle continued. "Such a life ahead of you. Such an interesting life." She shook her head wistfully. "You know, some people see an interesting life as a curse."

"I don't believe in magic."

"Of course not. But your faith in machines is astounding."

"That's different. I know how machines work. I know what the code means when I read it. I can take them apart and fix them or destroy them completely."

The Oracle smiled broadly and leaned into the table. "Power is the ability to disassemble and repair. But what's to say something destroyed can't come back? The parts are still there, even if the new model's put together differently. And chances are, if you put it back together properly, some of the old functions will remain."

"Yeah, that's true. It's like creating a scrap pile."

"And if the scraps are layers of code that happen to build a sentient entity?"

"Scientifically it's impossible to replicate a person completely."

The Oracle raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You're missing something quite significant. I never said it had to be a person."

Kezia paused. "You mean, like a program?" Her brow knitted in confusion and sudden apprehension. "Like Smith."

"Bingo."

"But what about Neo?"

"A positive means nothing without a negative." Kezia pondered the Oracle's strange order of words.

"But which one's which?"

"Absolutes are not so easily defined within this world." The Oracle leaned back in her chair, regarding Kezia critically. "You've got a long way to go, but there's a very important you must make soon."

"Like how important?"

The Oracle sighed, cleaning her glasses momentarily. "Very important, I'm afraid. The consequences could reconcile the imbalance caused by the reformation of the forces, or it could possibly destroy the Matrix and renew the war between the Machines and the Humans."

Kezia gasped in disbelief. "B-but…I'm just the Mechanic. I wear my name on my shirt. This makes no sense. I would never be faced with anything that huge. My dad, maybe, but never me."

The Oracle's smile faded for the first time. She indicated the plaque hanging above her kitchen doorway. "You see that? It means 'Know thyself'. You may think your sense of identity is infallible, but you will be severely challenged in the coming weeks. And when you discover yourself, the truth, it is imperative that you make the best of this precious time. You have a lot of potential, but you and I both know that something is changing. You are more than you know, and you've got to establish that belief before you're ready to face the consequences."

Kezia pressed her hands to her face, trying to process the meaning. "I-…what consequences? I haven't done anything yet."

"You've already made the choice," the Oracle told her matter-of-factly. "You made that choice the moment you entered that alley to investigate. Curiosity killed the cat…"

"But satisfaction brought it back." So this had something to do with Smith. "What am I supposed to do with him? I don't even know if I'll see him again."

"You'll be getting your sunglasses back in no time, dearie," the Oracle reassured here, standing. "But I'm afraid we're out of time. Seems like there's always more bad news in the world." Kezia stood, pushing the chair neatly up to the table, and readjusted her leather jacket. The Oracle took Kezia's face in her callused warm hands and gave her a longing look. "I think you'll be just fine. You've got a good head and a good heart. They'll come in handy."

"Uh, thanks. For everything."

"Here," the Oracle lifted the tray of cookies to Kezia. "Take one. I promise it'll make everything feel better." Kezia grinned. Cookies! "Take two more for your friends. I can imagine you have your ways of getting them to eat."

Kezia thanked the Oracle again, and met the Twins outside the door of the apartment, wishing she could stay longer with the wonderful old program and her delicious cookies and comfort.

Twin One simply said he couldn't drive with a cookie in hand, and Twin Two took his cookie by the fingertips hesitantly. Kezia shrugged and polished off her cookie, closing her eyes at the still-gooey chocolate chips, and began to nibble at Twin One's forsaken cookie as they headed for the elevator. For a moment, all was right in the world.


In the world outside, pixel rain was rushing down in roaring torrents from the static grey of the sky. Former Agent Smith stood stoically in the shadows of an alley, beside the brick wall of an apartment building on the opposite side of town. He stared from behind the stolen sunglasses, glaring at the passerby huddling under umbrellas on the other side of the street. He stood straight, as if he didn't feel the rain dripping down onto his head and face. One arm rested at his side, the comforting curve of a handgun pressed to the inside of his forearm. The other was raised to his head, his hand idly feeling his ear, where the earpiece, center of oppression, had been for so long.

But he didn't even hear the static of the Matrix anymore. He couldn't smell the stench of those damn viruses called humans. His sense of entrapment, however, had been intensified since his waking. He had wandered, aimless. It was impossible to find Mr. Anderson in this place.
And in the end, all he had to go on was the word of a child. A virus child with strange powers. And the supposed "daughter" of the Merovingian program as well. Another intriguing incident.

Why do you persist, Mr. Anderson? For the first time, he found himself adding, Why do I persist? The thought shook him, the mere presence of doubt awakened the terrible memories of that darkest night. He narrowed his eyes. Something was very different about him, and the change made him feel…vulnerable.

"Hey, buddy." Smith clenched his teeth at the raspy voice of a chainsmoker. He slowly turned his head to look to his left, at the bum huddled under the shelter of a box. "Yeah. Didn't I see you that other day with that girl? And the scary black guy."

"I highly doubt that, Mr. Monroe," was Smith's clipped response. He briefly contemplated removing himself from this human's vile presence. There were heavier things on his mind.

"Naw, I think it was you! Yeah, and you were having ice cream, right there down the road." The bum gestured towards the left outside the alley. "What are you, a lost g-man?"

Smith didn't dignify the question with a response. The bum rambled on. "I heard you was lookin' fer someone, and I can't really help you there. But that girl seemed to know what she was doin'. I heard of her father before. A real big man, or somethin'."

Smith couldn't help but give a cynical smirk. "So I have heard. But his reaches only extend to things unseen. The rogue program cannot control the obvious."

The bum looked up at Smith strangely, and then gave him a gap-toothed smile. Smith raised a disgusted eyebrow at the raggedy man's salute.

"Lookatchoo, man," the bum slurred. "All out in the rain. Jayzus, you could use someone like her."

Smith bit back a retort. An interesting thought wormed its way into his calculating mind, hatching a plan with astonishing clarity. There was more than one way to skin a certain Mr. Anderson. And now that he was, as they said, off the Grid, there was no reason why he too shouldn't participate in things unseen. "Yes, Mr. Monroe, I could. I coud use someone like her."

The bum had a feeling he had just started something terrible by the way he spoke the words. A shudder ran through him, which he blamed on the chill from the rain. But the tall man's thin lips had pulled themselves taut in a joyless semblance of a smile, a positioning of muscles with nothing but sheer intent. It was inhuman, disturbing, Stuff straight from the uncanny valley. I wish I could see his eyes. But maybe I don't want to know what's behind those sunglasses. He almost sighed in relief when the man in the suit turned heel mechanically and began to walk off slowly in the rain, as if he was stalking prey.

He didn't know what made him say it. "Hey, man, nice shades, by the way."

Smith stopped. He turned to look down at the bum, head tilted in a condescending way of acknowledgement, the same cold halfsmile on his lips. "Thank you, Mr. Monroe. They were a gift." The expressionless voice held some unspeakable terror in its undercurrent.

Without blinking, Smith fired three quick shots into the man and reholstered his gun, hands swinging at his sides with the steady calibration of pendulums as he headed for the east side slums.


AN: There you have it. The plot thickens. I loved writing the Oracle. Please let me know if Kezia is heading too far into Marysueville. Thanks for reading! Please review.