AN: Hiya everyone! I'm very sad to say that the New York Mets will not be going to the World Series this year. They lost to the St. Louis Cardinals in Game Seven of the National League Division Series. Just to make their loss that much worse, they lost with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth inning with Carlos Beltran (our All Star Centerfielder who'd, up until that point, had been eating Cardinal pitching for breakfast) up at the plate. He just had to strike out to end our World Series dreams! Ah well….as the old saying goes "We'll get'em next year." As for the delay on this chapter, I'm afraid it had less to do with post-season baseball and more to do with Midterms. I just had my Midterm for my Genomics and the Human Race class. The test was open book/notebook/whatever else you wanted to bring in but, I'm convinced, my professor made it harder because she allowed us out books. Anywho, thanks for all the reviews for this little misadventure. The ride, for this part anyway, is coming to a close relatively soon but I promise there's more to the story! Stay tuned and please keep reviewing. I'm always open to advice or criticisms!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the characters I made up and their Real World alter egos. I don't own The Matrix, The Animatrix, or any of that cool stuff. I'm broke and in graduate school studying biology. All I own are my Pointe shoes.
"Some
kind of moving thing.
Something unseen.
Some hand is
motioning
to rise, to rise, to rise…" (from "Super Bonbon"
by Soul Coughing)
Going into the Matrix was something Pixie had half been looking forward to and half dreading. She knew it was going to be nothing like going into the Construct to a certain degree- The danger factor in the Matrix was much higher than what it was in the Construct for all intents and purposes- but she knew there were going to be certain similarities.
Case in point….she was dressed in what someone had started, jokingly, referring to as her "spandex ninja" outfit. It was an outfit coming to almost every training program, save the Dojo. There she usually donned her white on white karate outfit, despite the fact Mouse and Hawk both seemed to have black belts now.
The outfit she was wearing- A high collared black bodysuit under a flat black unitard that zippered up the front and flared out at the ankles. On her feet she wore light weight boots and, over everything, she wore a short leather jacket- stood in sharp contrast to her surroundings. Truth be told, the clothing of everyone in the room stood in contrast to their surroundings.
Everyone was clad in blacks and grays of various shades, save Switch. Much to Pixie's confusion, she was wearing white. For some reason, the medic-in-training felt that wearing white was like painting a huge target on one's chest. White wasn't exactly a color conductive to hiding. Pixie, of course, had no plans on saying anything. She'd keep her thoughts to herself lest saying it get her beaten silly in a training program.
The lot of them stood in what had once been some sort of factory. Old, rusting machines hung from the ceiling like the giant claws of so many boiled crabs. It would have been amusing if not for the fact that the claws were more menacing than friendly looking. They were bent at angles that might have been considered threatening.
Leaving Switch, Apoc, and Cypher behind to guard the exit- an old rotary phone that sat in a spider web infested office- Pixie followed Morpheus, Trinity and her fellow rookies out of the factory. The boots everyone appeared to be wearing made a muffled sound against the dirty floor as they left ghostly looking prints in the layers of dust and grime that covered the ground. Pixie could hardly tell what color the floor had once been, so covered was it in years worth of dirt and grime. It was plain to see that no one had been in the factory in a very long time.
The sun burned Pixie's eyes something fierce, making her glad for the sunglasses that were conveniently stowed in a pocket of her leather jacket. This was the first time since her freeing that she'd seen the once familiar sun and blue sky of the Matrix. Part of her missed it since there was no sun or sky in her world.
Her world had views of gray metal and brown stone. As the story went, the sun and sky of her world had been destroyed in a vain attempt to stop the machines from taking over the world. Fat lot of good it did them since the machines still won that war.
Sitting in the vacant and rubbish strewn factory parking lot was something about as out of place as their clothing. There was an obviously new black car of some type- Though she knew how to drive thanks to a few programs Tank had downloaded into her eager mind; Pixie didn't know much else about cars. - waiting for them in said parking lot. Even with her lack of knowledge about car makes and models, Pixie had a funny feeling this car was both brand new and very expensive.
"Whoa! That's some car," Hawk exclaimed, shading his eyes with one long fingered hand, "is that our car?"
"It is, indeed, Hawk," Morpheus replied, not bothering to turn his head to face the young man.
"Looks like Pixie's going to have to take the hump seat," Hawk commented as Morpheus opened the driver's side door for Trinity, "Mouse and I'll just have to sit on either side of her."
Mouse, opening one of doors that lead to the back seat of the car, peered inside and pointed out, "There's plenty of room back there. Any of us could sit in that middle seat."
Hawk leaned around Mouse and, petulantly, stated, "Yeah but her legs are shorter and it's an unwritten rule of cars that the one with the shortest legs has to take the middle seat."
Pixie was really trying not to listen to Hawk's banter. She was too busy staring around at the false world through black tinted lenses anyway to listen. The young woman could hardly believe this world was the fake world she knew it to be. It still looked and felt completely real to her.
Wasn't that the mean trick being played on humanity, though? It felt real but it wasn't.
"Maybe we should ask Pixie if she wants to sit in the middle," Mouse suggested.
"Mouse," Morpheus stated, stopping the squabbling over seating arrangements, "you take the middle seat. Pixie can sit on which ever end she wants."
Mouse didn't complain, just nodding his head that he understood what he was supposed to do. Pixie gave him what amounted to a thankful smile as she slipped into the back seat behind the driver's seat. She hadn't, really, wanted to sit next to Hawk. She'd sat next to him once or twice in cars during their Matrix days and the experience wasn't exactly enjoyable, to say the least. Hawk had the very annoying habit of tormenting- By tormenting, Pixie meant poking and prodding- the people sitting around him once he got bored.
With everyone, finally, piled into the car, they set off for wherever the Oracle was located. Pixie's imagination was running a thousand miles an hour as she tried to figure out just what the Oracle's home might look like. For some reason she kept thinking of the ancient Greek temples with their white columns and large statues that might be considered creepy at night.
That image, certainly, didn't fit it with their surroundings. Weaving through traffic like some sort of serpentine creature, the black car passed through the heart of a bustling city. The streets were lined with shops selling a wide variety of goods and fast food restaurants from every chain under the sun. People jostled each other along the narrow sidewalks, bunking into each other as the speedy walkers encountered the lazy strollers.
There'd be no great ancient Greek temple in this place. It would stand out too much and Pixie figured that if the Oracle was part of their rebellion against the machines, she probably adhered to the same rules they obeyed. The sort of rules that dictated hiding in plain sight, moving against the machines but not letting them get wind of that fact.
Much to Pixie's surprise, the black car pulled up in front of a dirty looking apartment building. Many of the windows were scratched or grimy looking and the bricks on the lower levels were spray painted with a multitude of colors and in many designs.
Pixie slipped out of the car and looked up. The brown bricked building they were parked in front of seemed to extend far beyond what her eyes could see. Peering to the left and right, Pixie noticed that all the buildings in the area bore an almost clone like resemblance with each other. All were made of brown bricks and covered in graffiti.
Being a city girl during her time in the Matrix, Pixie recalled that this building was part of something called a housing development. These buildings weren't unlike the ones that surrounded the group home she'd lived in. Many of her schoolmates, when she could go to school, called buildings such as the ones that rose up before her home.
Like a dutiful child, Pixie followed Morpheus into said building. Hawk and Mouse followed close behind, the latter looking around with wide eyes. The former, well, he didn't exactly seem bothered by the building in the least.
The lobby was a testament to how far the building had gone into decay. The walls were sprayed with multicolored graffiti and several of the plastic chairs had been ripped from their locations on the walls. The few that were still attached were cracked and broken or covered in still more graffiti. The corners and most of the floor was covered with litter of all kinds despite the fact there were several garbage pails in the space. Most of them, though, were lying on their sides, their contents spilling out and onto the ground like some sort of strange vomit.
She followed Morpheus onto an elevator that smelled like stale urine and fried food. Wrinkling up her nose, trying her best to ignore the rancid odor and not be forced to hold her nose, the young woman watched as the captain pushed a button for one of the higher floors of the building.
As the elevator started it's painfully slow ascent, a small frown crossed Pixie's face. The four of them were going to be on this elevator for quite some time. She just hoped that it wasn't going to stop on any other floor so people could ride along with them. Pixie doubted there'd be room enough for very many more individuals anyway.
"So what's the deal with this Oracle person? She going to read our minds and tell us our future or something?" Hawk asked, looking none too pleased with his surroundings.
He had the sleeve of his leather jacket in front of his nose, trying to keep the smell out. It was a losing battle as the stench permeated everything, no matter what one used to block it out.
"The Oracle has been with the resistance for a very long time. There will be no reading of minds. Just be wary and do not take her words as being right or wrong. She is, in a way, a guide," Morpheus intoned, speaking in riddles and confusing the trio following him.
"You know," Hawk spat, "you could try not to speak in riddles. This whole riddle thing is getting kind of old. Right, guys?"
Mouse pretended not to hear Hawk, turning his attention to the lettering scratched into the metallic elevator walls. Pixie, simply, shook her head. The riddles could be annoying at time but she didn't really mind them. Then again, she liked thinking so she might have been a bit biased.
Getting off after what seemed like an age, Pixie followed Morpheus to a green door. One large fist came up to knock on the door.
Before it could make contact, though, the door opened just a crack. An eye stared out from the space, taking in the quartet standing there. The door was quickly shut and Pixie recognized the sound of multiple locks being undone. Whoever lived in the apartment understood the dangers of their neighborhood and was taking steps to prevent something bad from happening to them.
The door opened to reveal a dark skinned woman with curly hair. She looked from Mouse to Pixie to Hawk and, finally, to Morpheus and gave them all a rather friendly looking smile. Pixie wasn't sure who this person was, whether she was the Oracle or not, but it wasn't what the young woman was expecting.
At the very least, part of her was expecting white togas and wreaths of laurel or olive leaves. Something to signify that this was where the Oracle lived. Something that harkened back to the ancient Greeks and their Oracle at Delphi.
"Morpheus, it is a pleasure to see you. Come in, you are expected," she said in a kindly voice as she ushered the quartet into the apartment.
Morpheus sat on a bench in the front hallway without any preamble, taking off his sunglasses and unbuttoning some of his coat. The three young people stood looking around and at each other, all unsure of what to do.
If the appearance of the woman at the door baffled Pixie because of her lack of toga or other traditionally Greek trappings like that, the appearance of the apartment was even more confusing. Pixie was expecting something Grecian in design but what she saw in the small space they were standing in was far from that. It looked like whoever decorated the apartment hadn't changed a thing since, perhaps, the sixties.
"She will see Hawk first. Mouse can wait with the children," the curly haired woman said, leading the two young men away.
Morpheus said nothing to the woman, his silence being taken as an affirmative answer. Pixie was left standing in the small room, looking about. She hadn't been given a specific order so she wasn't exactly sure what to do.
For lack of anything better to do, Pixie sat down next to Morpheus. She was trying not to look nervous, trying not to show how she was feeling inside. Morpheus seemed to be staring up at the ceiling, paying no attention to what was going on around him. In truth, he was watching the young woman sitting next to her. He was curious to see how she would react when placed in an unknown environment in a situation she did not understand without any specific orders to follow.
If there was anything Morpheus could say for Pixie- other than the fact she was eager to learn things- was that she was very good at following orders. More often than not, she followed them to the letter but Pixie did improvise when need be. Pixie's taking a seat and trying not to look nervous was expected. Morpheus figured she wasn't the type to go wandering through the rest of the apartment to see what was happening to her fellow rookies.
The pair sat in silence, just the clicking of the hallway clock making any noise and marking just how long it was. Pixie wasn't bored- She rarely ever got bored as she counted thinking as one of her hobbies- but the waiting was making her tense. It was making her more nervous and it was getting harder and harder not to show that fact to her captain. As it was, Pixie had started playing with her hands in a vague attempt to release some of her nervous energy.
It seemed like an age or so had passed before Hawk, escorted by the same curly haired woman Pixie had seen earlier, was brought back to the hallway. He seemed to be munching on something that looked vaguely like homemade chocolate. A fleeting thought ran through the medic's mind, brining a slightly nervous smile to her face.
The chocolate Hawk appeared to be eating with relish was not real. It was just the computers telling him that the chocolate he was eating was real. She wondered if he would feel full when they returned to their ship because he was eating something.
Pixie figured she could ask later when they got back home.
"Come, you can sit with the children while you wait to speak with the Oracle," the curly haired woman informed Pixie, breaking the medic-in-training out of her reverence.
Pixie followed the woman to an old fashioned looking living room. Old fashioned in the fact that is seemed to match the rest of the apartment. A small TV sat in one corner playing Disney's animated version of "Alice in Wonderland" and nearly all the furniture was covered with plastic. The only word Pixie could think of to describe the room's overall appearance was "retro."
Around the room, incongruous with its décor in a way, sat children of various ages and races. Two of the older looking ones in the room were reading books in what Pixie could only assume was their native languages. The covers and spines were in a language Pixie couldn't readily identify. Two were playing checkers, the black and red pieces hovering above the board. Three smaller children were parked in front of the television, transfixed by the images flickering on the screen. One of the children- a little boy with bright green eyes that seemed a bit too large for his head- was surrounded with a pale light that flickered in time with the images on the screen.
"You're scared," said a small voice from near Pixie's elbows, "it's alright to be scared. Everyone is scared when they meet her."
Pixie looked down to a small child standing at her side. The little girl was clad in a long white nightgown, making her nearly white hair and very pale skin seem all the whiter. She looked like a small ghost, standing next to the black clad Pixie. It was only because Pixie couldn't see through her that the young woman figured the pale child was real.
Kneeling down to the child's level as not to scare her or anything, Pixie asked, "How do you know I'm scared?"
Pixie had always hated when adults talked down to her. It came from a Matrix lifetime of doctors standing over her and speaking to her as if she wasn't intelligent. They had looked down their noses at her because she was a kid. Pixie didn't want to make the little ghostly girl feel the same way so she kneeled down so the two of them could speak eye to eye.
"I feel it in here," the little girl replied, pointing to her head, "I can feel what everyone else feels. It's my gift but I don't like it. It makes my head hurt."
Pixie was about to inquire further when the curly haired woman appeared next to her. Truth be told, Pixie was more intrigued about the strange children in the living room. She wanted to know how they were doing what they were doing. Even by Matrix standards, this was strange to her.
"She'll see you now," was all she said, pointing over to a doorway just off the living room.
Bidding the child a farewell while trying to keep her nerves in check, Pixie crossed through the threshold and entered the other room. She didn't know what to expect- Hawk's face had been impassive and Mouse, who had passed her on the way in, looked sick- from this Oracle person but she knew she couldn't turn back now. Not just because Morpheus had said that she was to speak with the Oracle. No, turning back meant she'd probably hear it from Hawk about how she was too chicken to go through with it. Nervous as she was, Pixie was no chicken. At least, not about this sort of thing.
