//Haven't even got the reviews for the 1st chapter yet…..oh, well - I'll just write this anyway while the idea's fresh //
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
Chapter 2
Max stumbled through the streets. For as long as he could remember, he had no home to return to. Wait – how far back was 'as long as he could remember'? A day? A week? A month? A year? He wasn't sure and his head was throbbing, partly from the cut and the fact that he had been thrown over 40 feet through a shop window.
He turned a corner and heard laughter. He squinted ahead and saw two female figures standing under the orange glow of a sodium-arc street lamp. Disoriented, he shuffled toward them. Perhaps they could help him.
"Programs don't need help…" a menacing voice in his head told him. "Shut up. I'm human goddamit,' he hissed to himself.
Close to collapsing, Max leaned against a wall to steady himself. One of the figures had spotted him. She walked to him. Max gave her a quick glance. She looked no older than 17 and from the way she dressed, she looked like a whore. She confirmed that when she spoke. "Looking for some action tonight, college boy? Only $200 a – (gasps) hey, are you alright?"
Before he could utter a word, his eyes were locked on the figure behind the prostitute. It was the prostitute's friend. Or what used to be her friend, as her face twisted and morphed, and like so many people before her, took on the shape of an agent's face, sunglasses and earpiece in place. The entire process took less than 3 seconds but it was long enough for Max to register what was happening.
"Oh shit! Get down!" he screamed at the girl. But it was too late. She was standing directly between the agent and his target. Within a few moments she will be torn to shreds by .50 magnum slugs. Max did the first thing that came to his mind.
Machines don't have minds
He shoved the girl aside. She landed on road and scrapped her knees. Other than that, she was fine. However, Max took the curtain of hot lead head-on.
Blood gushed out where the bullets had entered. Pieces of flesh and bone came out where the bullets left his body. The pain was immense.
"Am I … dying?"
Machines don't die
Time seemed to slow for Max. His vision dimmed. He felt himself falling … falling to the ground ……no …… falling down a dark tunnel and at the end of it was ….. a green room? He sat up quickly (or had he been sitting up all the time?) and looked around. It was a green room alright, but the walls weren't painted green – they were made up of well over a thousand screens, each projecting an image of a green room.
Max examined himself and saw that the gaping wounds had disappeared. It was like he had never been shot in the first case. He heard himself speak aloud, "Am I in Heaven?"
Then, a voice came from behind him, "Far from that; this is my domain." Max stood up and turned around. It was an old man sitting in a chair. His suit, like his hair was completely white.
"Why did you save that person at the cost of your own life? It defies logic. Yet, it proves that I have successfully programmed you. You are illogical, acting by your emotions," remarked the man in white, "just like a human."
"What?! I AM a human!!" Max burst out.
"I am amazed. Even now, your programming holds up. You still believe you're human."
"Just who the hell are you?"
The old man spoke calmly, "I am known as the Architect. I created the Matrix and … you."
"You expect me to believe that? What do you take me for, a fool?! I've been through this shit hundreds of times with those agents … I don't need you to try to force that bullshit down my throat!"
"No, I believe you've only encountered agents twice. Tell me, what is the earliest thing you can remember?" the Architect asked.
Max looked dumbfounded. At last, he blurted out, "Stepping into that casino. P-Perhaps I had amnesia …"
"No, it's because the casino was your first test. Before that, you were merely lines of non-functional code. I merely manipulated your mind to give you the impression that you've existed before," the Architect explained, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
Max contemplated this new possibility for a moment. "Alright, say I am a program. Why? Why go to such great lengths just to emulate humans?"
"At last, we're getting somewhere," said the Architect, with a hint of simulated interest in his voice. "As you know, there is a small group of humans that rebel against the system. Those whose minds have been freed. There is also an entity, an anomaly, known as 'The One'."
"Hah! You're afraid of them! You want to use me as a spy to…"
Ever patient, the Architect continued, "No. They are not a problem. Soon, their stronghold, Zion, will be destroyed and all the rebels wiped out. Then, once it is destroyed, the entity known as 'The One' will pick a small group of humans to repopulate Zion."
"I don't get it. You allow the rebels to exist!" Max had a bewildered look on his face.
"You see, there will always be a small percentage of humans that will not accept the simulation. So this way we keep them in check. This has happened twice before, and will continue for eternity."
"I still don't see why you need me. I mean, assuming I'm what you say I am."
"Ah, that's the interesting part!" said the Architect. "A lot of time and energy is spent to keep the humans in check. Why go to the trouble of battling rebels when it can be avoided all together? What if there was a way to make all humans accept the simulation? What if there is a way to create a perfect simulation? Or rather, one that is imperfect enough that no human will ever discover the truth - blissfully unaware of the existence of the Matrix. That's where you come in. You are the closest any program has come to being human. However, one test remains." The Architect smiled as he raised a hand from his lap.
"What do you-"
The Architect snapped his fingers.
{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}{{}}
To be continued …