Disclaimer: The Wachowski Brothers, Warner Brothers, Joel Silver, and any number of other people own the rights to The Matrix and any and all related characters/content. Not me.
The Oracle leaned back in her chair and stubbed out her cigarette, watching Christopher's face intently. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to come to grips with what he had just heard. She knew he'd believe it…it remained to be seen how long it would take for the belief to kick in. Happily, he surprised her.
"Ok. I can believe that. But what the hell does it have to do with me?"
"That, Abe, is for you to decide."
It shocked him to hear her use his online handle instead of his name. He glanced up from the spot on the table he had been staring at.
"Why did you call me 'Abe'?"
"They will call you 'Abe.' Might as well get used to it now."
"Who?! Who will call me 'Abe'?"
The Oracle sighed.
"Chris, I'm not here to give you all the answers you need. I am here to help you as much as I can. The rest is up to you."
Christopher exploded out of his chair. He felt like he wanted to run away, but where would he go? The Matrix was all around him, a part of him. How could he escape?
The Oracle smiled.
"Those…are exactly the questions you need to be asking yourself. Now run along. You have work to do."
Christopher stared at her for a moment, wondering how she knew what he had been thinking.
"Before I go, can I ask one more question?"
"You just did…but go ahead and ask me another."
"I figure you're trying to tell me I need to get myself out of the goo pod. And that trace program running on my computer will make it so I can free myself and the machines won't find me. My question is…how will I know when the trace has done its job?"
"Well, in the practical sense a little window will pop up on your computer that will say 'trace complete.' But I think you'll know. You're a smart kid."
Christopher regarded her for a moment and then smiled.
"I suppose I should say thank you."
The Oracle smiled her enigmatic smile again.
"Don't thank me just yet, kiddo. Now hurry up, you don't have a lot of time."
--
Back once again in his apartment, Christopher checked his computer. The trace was still running. He sighed and flopped onto his bed. He hated playing the waiting game.
Christopher curled his arm under his head and stared at the ceiling. Questions raged through his head. How would he know the time was right? What would he do once he was out of the pod? How would he even free himself? That was the one question he kept coming back to. He ran through his last meditation session in his brain, using his learned focus to try and pinpoint anything that might clue him in as to how to take that last step.
He saw himself in his mind's eye, sitting on the floor, breathing evenly. He focused on his own mind, looking for subtle clues. He separated each emotion that pulsed through his mind as he felt them: calm, curiosity, fascination, frustration. He had the sense that he was close to the answer when he focused on the curiosity. Maybe it was a simple question of will. Maybe if he was curious enough, he would have enough strength of will to force his mind to wake.
Hell with that. Now that he knew the truth, he had more of an incentive. Screw curiosity, he wanted to be free. He felt that want with every fiber of his being. He didn't want to be a battery for some fucked up robot anymore. Anger flared hot within him and he started to push the vision further.
A voice in the back of Christopher's head told him to stop. It wasn't time yet. If he pushed himself too far and woke up, he'd be found by the machines and likely killed. He fought down the angry impulse and forced himself back to his room. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side. He began to stare at the clock.
After an hour had passed, reality seemed to shift around him. His vision became clouded and he felt like he couldn't breathe. He glanced wildly around the room as for a brief moment, everything was shrouded in a pink haze. His gaze happened to fall onto the Buddhist meditation book, which suddenly flipped itself open to the page that began the section on Vipassana: a technique to help you see the true nature of reality.
The room snapped back into focus around him and he heard a soft beep. Looking slowly at the computer screen, he saw the message he had been waiting for.
"Trace complete."
It was almost too easy. Christopher fell back into his vision, allowing the anger and hatred he felt toward the machines to flare white hot in his chest. He gave the vision the mental tweak it needed, almost as if he had waited his entire life to commit this one act. In that instant he ceased to be a part of the Matrix, a part of the huge living battery helping to power the Machine City. His eyes snapped open, for the first time in his life, and he saw nothing but pink surrounding him.
Christopher remembered what to do next. He tried to move his arms, surprised when he found this simple task extremely difficult. Through adrenalin and sheer force of will, he was able to move his arms and he ripped through the elastic membrane holding him in the pod. He knelt in the pod, his hands reaching for the tube running down his throat. He ripped it out, gagging, and took the first true breath his lungs had ever known. The muscles in his chest screamed as his breath made them expand and contract for the first time. He clung to the sides of the pod, his body trembling from the effort it took. The wires connected to his body began to explosively disconnect themselves as the wire connected to the base of his skull unscrewed itself. That was the last wire to leave him, and when it disconnected his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he nearly lost consciousness. He'd been asleep his whole life, and he wasn't about to go back to sleep now, so he fought to remain aware and alert.
From below him he heard a sound like a rusted-over porthole being wrenched open. The goo around him began to drain, and then he felt himself slipping down the drain hole with it. He slid through what seemed like an endless tunnel…down and down and down. Finally, he fell into shallow, murky water. He thrashed and flailed, fighting with all his might to push his head above water. His feet found the bottom and finally, he broke the surface, the last of his adrenalin used on that last act of self preservation.
He concentrated on catching his breath, finding it to be incredibly difficult, as he floated on his back. After a time, he was able to calm his breathing and he began to test his limbs. Even the simplest of movements was agony to him. His muscles cried out in protest as he tried to swim to the side of the river he seemed to be floating in. He gave up, and a small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he had never actually used his muscles before. He'd never used his throat or lungs before, which was why his breath was so elusive. Silently, he cursed the Oracle. Sure, he thought, you told me to free myself but how the hell am I going to survive if I can't even wiggle my fucking fingers? A strangely disconnected part of his mind wondered if that was what she meant when she told him not to thank her.
Christopher's body listed to his right and eventually he washed up on the bank of the river.
Brilliant. Here I am…wet, naked, freezing, covered in pink goo, and I can't move. The last fucking free human. Fuck.
