II-14
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Aleph did not get a chance to say no. Even as the Merovingian spoke, one of the white-suited henchmen stepped forward, drawing his gun. Aleph stiffened, hand reaching to her side, but the Merovingian turned to her with a reassuring smile.
"Do not be alarmed, ma chère."
Taking the gun from the underling's outstretched hand, he lifted it and aimed carefully at the ceiling. The shot's deafening report rang out, echoing and re-echoing down the corridors for what felt like minutes, and with a shower of sparks and shattered glass the nearest fluorescent panel went black. Aleph's eyes widened as she stood frozen in place. The Merovingian must have hit a wire—the next panel flickered and hissed, turning itself off, then the next, then another. To both directions, shadow surged like gigantic wings across the sky. When she blinked again they were already enveloped in the utter darkness of an unbroken midnight.
A click. A beam of dusty yellow light switched on, sweeping across the walls with their endless lines of doors, now weirdly distorted. Holding up a flashlight, the Merovingian made a beckoning gesture with his other hand.
"After me, please."
They wove their way down the maze, turning a corner now and then. The Merovingian went first, his form an outline among the shadows, and the two tall albinos once more flanked her, one on each side. Beyond the flashlight's dim glow, the blackness stretched away, broken only by an occasional glimpse of pallid wall and green door caught in the arc of illumination, flitting in and out of sight. No one spoke for a long while—hours, it seemed to Aleph. Tense as she was, nevertheless a curious mood began to steal upon her as she followed the program, as if she was walking away from life itself, away from the illusory worlds behind all those unseen doors, away from the clanging metal and messy human relationships of the real world. The rhythm of their footfalls turned into a hypnotic chant.
"Watch your steps, mademoiselle," said the Merovingian pleasantly.
A gust of wind blew against her face. The temperature sank, and there was a damp scent in the air, like that of a deep cavern. Beneath her feet, the floor, too, felt oddly uneven, no longer the perfect smooth tiles across which they had begun the trek. Soon she had to take care not to stumble over the bumps and depressions in the ground, though she never got a chance to glance downward. It was impossible to see what was going on in any case.
Tunnels. That was what it reminded her of. The labyrinth of tunnels beneath the charred earth, through which the Hyperion was at this very moment flying, carrying her immobile and unconscious body...
The path shifted, bending to the left, and suddenly the wavering flashlight was no longer the only source of illumination. A tiny light bulb was affixed to one of the walls, glimmering with a faint electrical buzz. With a start, Aleph saw the doors were gone, and the walls were no longer straight and sterile, but had turned into rough concrete, heavy gray in color, vaulting upward to replace the rectangular grid of ceiling panels. Both sides were covered with skeins of thick black wires. Lowering her gaze, she barely made out tracks in the gloom, two dusky lines of metal stretching interminably into the distance.
They were in a subway tunnel, or what looked remarkably like one.
"Where is this?" she asked. The reverberations of her voice were hollow in the chill air.
"As you humans would say, there are more things in heaven and the Matrix than dreamt of in your reality, no?" The Merovingian sounded mildly amused and only half mocking. "Or in between, in this case, shall we say?"
Aleph rolled her eyes. Not that he would see it, but she made sure it showed in the tone of her reply.
"I was kind of hoping to get a break from your speeches, Mister Merovingian."
"Ah, impatience." The other remained unperturbed. "A human trait, but not an entirely unattractive one."
"Wow, I'm flattered," snorted Aleph. "Never guessed I'd hear that from a program. I thought all your kind despised everything about humans."
"That agent knows nothing. None of them do." The Merovingian was suddenly sharp as a blade, but almost instantaneously the mood passed again. "They never can, for it is not their purpose."
Only now did Aleph realize they had stopped. The pair of henchmen hovered at her back, voiceless yet menacing. Straightening herself, she peered into his face with a boldness she did not feel.
"You haven't answered my question," she said.
"You shall see, you shall see." The program waved a dismissive hand. It made huge fluttering shadows against the walls. "For now, let's just say there are places both within the world and outside of it, shall we? Places where connections can be made that are impossible anywhere else. A kind of...nexus, if you will. Be careful here, please."
He began walking away once more. Following the tracks, the little group made another couple of turns, and eventually split off from what looked like the main line into a side tunnel. Squinting a little, Aleph saw a speck of white far ahead, nothing more than a single star upon the horizon in an endless midnight. And now she heard it: an incessant rumble off by the invisible horizon.
"Oncoming train, monsieur?" asked Aleph.
"Have no fear, dear lady." The Merovingian hardly missed a beat. "It's the ventilator. We're coming close to the station."
"Station?" It was a stupid question; she knew that as soon as the word was out of her mouth. They were on train tracks: what else should she expect? The flashlight's beam was pointed away for the moment, so she could not see the Merovingian's face, nevertheless she was certain he must be grinning like a Cheshire cat by now.
"Patience, ma petite amie."
The white light grew gradually closer, resolving from spark to patch to a wide opening on one side, some dozens of yards ahead. The tunnel widened, the tracks multiplying under their feet, and a small ladder by the wire-laden wall led up to a narrow catwalk above ground. And then suddenly there they were. They emerged into the empty brightness of a subway station, the floors and walls made of polished tiles, even whiter than the corridors through which they had come. Stepping onto the platform, Aleph blinked against the light, scanning the hall. The place was completely and eerily empty. It reminded her of something, another place. A familiar place. But she could not quite figure out where.
"Well, what do you think?" The Merovingian spread his arms in an expansive gesture.
"A bit deserted, isn't it?" commented Aleph.
The program chuckled as if she had just told the most delightful joke.
"You've caught us in a quiet moment, I fear. But on other days—" He rolled his eyes knowingly. "People come and go through here—come and go. Nevertheless this place is not for everyone."
"Not for humans, you mean."
The Merovingian smirked. He came closer to stand next to her.
"But for you, dear young lady, I am making an exception."
"No kidding," muttered Aleph. She turned her head, staring at the pillars along the platform, the immaculate field of square tiles, the unoccupied benches beneath the wall. The black letters above one of the benches, faded and barely noticeable. MOBIL AVE. Yes, the station definitely reminded her of another place, somewhere troublingly familiar. But her mind was drawing a blank.
"So this is the nexus you were telling me about?" she ventured to ask.
"Not completely without loveliness, wouldn't you say?" For all she could tell, the pride in the other's eyes could very well be real.
"Well, it's impressive." Aleph replied casually, testing the waters. "Of course, I have yet to see an actual, y'know, train going anywhere. Given that the entire point of a train station—"
"Bear with me for just a little longer, ma chère; our train will be here shortly." The smile on the Merovingian's face did not dissipate. "But no, that is not the entire point of this place." He paused, making sure he had her undivided attention. Once more he lowered his voice, though they were alone in the station with the exception of the twins. "The trains here lead in and out of the Matrix. But it is a nexus in another sense, for there are doors here, too, secret doors. Doors that go where the trains cannot."
"That's funny." Aleph turned her head, making a show of looking about them. "I don't see any doors here, Mister Merovingian."
"The door stands before you, my dear Aleph. Yet its form is perhaps not what you are accustomed to. And—how shall I explain this? It is not made for ordinary eyes."
Aleph stared at him for a heartbeat, then abruptly she let out a small derisive laugh. Nevertheless she did not miss the fact that the word had turned from the generic plural to singular. Doors. Door. A cool breeze rose from the tunnel, and she shivered inwardly.
"An invisible door. That's wonderful." Her tone remained sarcastic.
"It is invisible because it hasn't been opened. Not yet."
"So we've finally come to the point, huh? I have an idea what you mean by going where the trains cannot, I think. It's up to me to get that door open, that's what you've been trying to tell me all this time?"
"You have the key," said the Merovingian in the same quiet voice.
Aleph shrugged.
"Why don't you open the door yourself?" she asked.
"An excellent question." The program looked, if anything, pleased. "To answer, mademoiselle: a key must be fitted to the door. Then and only then can it be of any use. The walls of Zion were designed for humans, hence only a human hand has the power to turn the key in the lock. One who has seen the desert, so to speak..."
He let his voice trail off mysteriously. Aleph decided to make one more effort.
"I was rather surprise to see what was on the disk," she said. "Frankly, I was expecting something a little more...unusual, you know."
"Oh?" The Merovingian pretended not to understand.
"Something other than a hacking routine."
She kept her gaze level on his face, but the Merovingian, to her disappointment, simply laughed. There was no real merriment in the laughter, however.
"If that is the case, than you have nothing to worry about, do you? Why the qualms?"
"Oh, it's not qualms," returned Aleph coldly. "Just like to know whom I'm dealing with, that's all."
Another guffaw from the program.
"Oh, really? Is that why you chose to talk to that...agent?" The scornful emphasis resurfaced when he spoke the term. "I can assure you—"
"Yes, yes, they are not individuals, they can't understand anything because they're incapable of emotions or feelings or—" Aleph gritted her teeth, cutting herself off in mid-sentence. "Or whatever else."
"Who said anything about emotions? I am sure you don't need me to tell you about agents." The Merovingian arched an amused eyebrow. "They are soulless," he added anyway, after a pause.
"Right. And I need a program to tell me about souls."
"I am saying this to you precisely because I am a program, mademoiselle."
That made no sense, but Aleph knew it would be useless to ask for an explanation by now. For a few seconds neither spoke, watching each other in a silent contest of wills. Finally Aleph took a deep breath.
"How have you done this?" she asked. "All this?"
"As I have told you before—it is magic. Magic born of knowledge."
"Magic," parroted Aleph. "As in spells scribbled in virgin's blood by the light of a full moon, you mean?"
"Spells, yes. Something like that." The Merovingian grinned. But then before she could think of a suitable retort, he said, apparently in deadly earnest, "The code you see on your screens are shallow things, nothing but the outward clothing of the Matrix. But there is also code of a different sort, running in hidden places buried far within, through the very spirit of the world. Now what are spells but—"
"I've had enough of your games, Mister Merovingian."
The program took another step closer. The light gleamed phosphorescent in his eyes.
"Turn the key for me," he whispered. "Open the door, and I will teach you."
Aleph opened her mouth to reply, but at that instant she was interrupted by a deep basso growl in the distance. It drew nearer, followed by a rhythmic rattle, then the shrill scream of a steam whistle. A sudden glow flooded the tunnel.
"Ah, here's our train."
"Where are we going?" asked Aleph, squinting into the windows from the platform as the train screeched to a stop. The doors slid open before them soundlessly.
"Why, back to the Matrix, of course." The Merovingian stepped forward lightly. "Aren't you coming, chère mademoiselle?"
From the inside, the carriage was completely ordinary, with its sickly yellow-white fluorescent lights, torn seat covers made of drab vinyl, and faded line of advertising posters above the windows, covered here and there by scrawled graffiti. The only other occupant was a disheveled homeless man lying stretched out at the very end of the compartment, on the farthest seat in the corner. As the train began to move, he lifted his head off the bench and glared up at the little group with a pair of wild bloodshot eyes behind a mess of greasy hair. It occurred to Aleph that the Merovingian had to be an unlikely sight in a subway, and the matched albinos were an unlikely sight anywhere. But the man only grinned, revealing a great deal of yellow and rotting teeth, and laid his head back down once more.
Of course, she realized. The bum could not be merely what he appeared to be, but another of the Merovingian's creatures. Nothing was what it merely appeared.
The train roared on, swaying with the tracks. The Merovingian did not take a seat, but led the way down the compartment, opposite to where the homeless man lay. The panel of the door at the very end of the carriage was covered with an whiskey advertisement, frayed at edges, a long jagged crack slanting across the glass. The program stopped, turning to the pair of underlings behind them, neither which had said a word all the while. Yet there must have been some silent command, immediately understood, for the twin on the left stepped forward past them. He already had a key in his hand.
"Shall we, dear young lady?"
As soon as he spoke, the high-pitched whine of the brakes filled the air. As if in response, the train lurched, shrieking to a sudden stop, and Aleph barely had time to throw out an arm to brace herself against the jolt. The pale henchman pushed the key into the door, and threw it open with a flourish.
There was light across the threshold, too, but it was not the dirty ashen light of the subway train. The space on the other side was luminously and perfectly still, so still that it hurt her eyes after the constant rocking motion of the train. Immaculate whiteness, except for a dark green door directly across. Almost automatically, Aleph went forward, following the Merovingian.
They were in the white corridor once more.
"It is time to return," said the Merovingian softly. For the first time, he was looking away from her.
Another turn, another snowy hallway. But this one, unlike any she had seen so far, was a dead end, only a few dozens of doors on each side. There was a door, too, at the end of the corridor, and unlike any others she had seen so far, it was already open.
A beautiful woman leaned against the doorframe, her head tilted at them questioningly, seductive shadows flickering at the corners of her eyes. At her back, Aleph caught a glimpse of the elegant tall windows and sumptuously painted walls of the Merovingian's restaurant.
"Had fun, darling?" drawled Persephone.