Ok. I usually don't say this, but for a new genre of fiction that I'm
playing with, feedback really is needed or I'm like hey, and I doing this
right?
Chapter 5
It was raining again. The drops tapped gently against the windowpane in the darkness, one after another without rest.
Smith's eyes were closed behind his sunglasses, his mind drifting away from the task at hand. They were tightly shielded from his comrades, a metal blockade protecting these vile thoughts.
He was tired, again.
He inhaled a breath of air into the matrix representation of his lungs. He turned around, away from the large office window and towards the man sitting chained to a chair. He was a scruffy man, his blond hair jutting out in eighty directions and stubble gracing across his chin and neck. The man's head was leaning backwards in a more grotesque pose, his eyes white and open. Blood dripped up his face, trailing like backwards tears to his hairline. It was making a mess. Jones was unlocking the cuffs while Brown made the appropriate arrangements.
Smith straightened his jacket, the front damp from spittle. This had been a most. crude resistant, and the interrogation had not resulted in any useful information. He made a disgusted face when his thumb brushed past the dampness on his chest. Smith looked sideways to find Jones staring at him with an unearthly glare.
"What?" Smith growled lowly. Jones said nothing, but stood and marched up to the windowpane behind them. Smith stayed put, their backs to each other.
"You've been quiet."
"What do you mean?"
"With the mainframe. Asking less questions than previous months. Involving yourself with the resistance less." Jones turned around, but Smith did not.
"Perhaps you need maintenance," Jones suggested while Smith's jaw locked in a grimace. "You've spent many hours in solitary confinement in your quarters. Many hours. performing diagnostics."
"I'm fine." Smith answered, looking over his shoulder at the other agent, a sliver of his eye visible between his cheek and the frameless glasses. "The mainframe hasn't said otherwise."
With that, Smith abruptly took his leave, leaving a frowning Jones in his wake.
Three buildings down, a standard government door opened to reveal a standard government VIP suite, with a standard VIP bed, desk, and dresser. A standard agent hand reached up and disconnected a standard agent earpiece.
And then the standard agent collapsed on the bed with a groan.
Reveling in the feel of the comforter against his suit, Smith lay there unmoving, until a lethargic hand reached up and removed his sunglasses.
It had been four months since this hell began.
Four months ago, he stumbled upon a resistant named Incarus. Then it all went to hell.
For four long months, Smith had devised ways to encrypt his inner thoughts from the mainframe and the other agents. He'd learned how to separate what was plausible for an agent to think, feel, and know-
And what wasn't. Unfortunately, since his. additions, those new feelings and thoughts corrupted the majority of his logic circuits. Over and over, he tried to rid himself of the cancer that had taken over his life. He'd run self diagnostics and viral scans until he'd literally passed out.
Another new aspect of his life. Exhaustion. Now, his programming required that he be in a restful state for at least 12 hrs per 48 hrs or else his file functions would begin to degrade. He took his leave when he could get it, and usually placed himself in powersave until he "woke", feeling refreshed.
It was most absurd.
Also, he'd actually created new programming and algorithms to cope with the insane amount of information being recorded from his digital self. Every feeling, taste, smell, sense was always active, all the time. It was nauseating., and before he had created the proper filters, his performance had declined considerably, almost earning him a directly linked conference with the mainframe. This was to be avoided at all costs, lest they realize what. mutated virus he had become.
Though he found it quite intriguing. to cope with the newfound algorithms, he'd. created. Created the new filtering program, created the new encryption. And he was not a maker. He'd done it on his own.
Out of all this mess, that was perhaps a small, satisfying thing to know.
If only he could make things be the way they were before. His existence had been more than unpleasant, mostly because of the viruses, but he had not been burdened with all. this. But the new files that had integrated into his programming were seemingly plastered to his hardwire.
He was trapped like this. Smith twitched.
There had been one other option. Find Incarus and make the damned virus fix whatever she had broken.
On perhaps the third day of his infection, he'd returned to Anna Incarus's small apartment to find it empty of the young woman. He'd kept close surveillance on the building for days, weeks. and she never returned. He'd searched her over the entire matrix, and he couldn't find her.
It was as if she had just disappeared, which confirmed his suspicions that she was resistance. Still. if the resistance had this kind of technology to incapacitate agents, why weren't they using it?
The agent sighed, his cheek falling to rest on the comforter. And then all he knew was darkness.
The three agents moved swiftly through the abandoned warehouse, as Smith ground his teeth.
"We've lost him." Brown stated bluntly.
"Again. That was the second time he has managed to evade us," Smith said disapprovingly. The agents made ready to depart when a clanking of metal sounded their attention. Smith sneered.
The machines threw the debris out of the way, rotting planks of wood were tossed aside like toothpicks. There. A small alcove was hidden in the side of the dark wall, and inside was a small figure, curled up on itself and shuddering. Smith knelt, reaching out to yank the resistant out of the hiding space, when his fingers touched the slick heat of blood.
He hesitated, and at a far gentler pace, tugged the human outwards. Brown narrowed his eyes.
They pulled out a small, thin boy, perhaps six years old.
"What is this?" Jones inquired. The boy's eyes were clamped shut, his entire body shaking in fear.
"Who are you?" Smith asked in a soft monotone. The boy's huge eyes opened to reveal two white orbs. The child was blind.
"Are you them?" The virus asked, his voice shrill and pitiful. "They told me you would come for me and. kill me."
"Who told you?"
"The man on the phone."
"Then he was correct," Brown responded, drawing his gun. Smith hesitated again, the boy cowering behind his crouched form.
"P-please, I didn't do anything, I didn't even know what I was doing, I thought the matrix was a new video game, I-" the child stammered, gripping Smith's arm. The AI blinked at the idea of the virus hiding behind him, as if it expected him to protect his life. The child looked up at him, it's shaved head promoting how incredibly large his eyes were. Despite the grim and filth on his body, Smith did not throw him off. The agent swallowed.
"Let's not," He said aloud to the other two AI. Jones blinked.
"Why?" Brown inquired again, confused.
"Lets take to headquarters and see who this "man on the phone" is."
"That is irrelevant. We know who it was."
Smith said nothing. The boy let go of him, trying to stand. His frail arms waved in front of his face frantically-
As Brown fired, the child's head shooting blood all over Smith's glasses and face.
Silence filled the large building, only the night's dripping rain filling the air.
"I will contact the mainframe. You require maintenance that cannot be completed by yourself." Brown tuned, replaced his gun in its holster, and left. Jones, hesitated, then followed. Smith simply sat on the damp floor, blood dripping off his face and wondered. illogically. why the virus had to die. And then he realized. that he would probably be joining his young friend here within the hour. The mainframe would destroy him. It was over.
He looked down at the body for a moment before walking away, one shaky hand wiping the blood from his mouth and face. He didn't need to, for as soon as he swung the old steel door open and stepped into the street, the rain saturated his face and clothing, as if to cleanse him.
Wonderful. The last of his transformations. He was thinking in metaphors.
Smith walked rather heavily down the alleyway as he removed his sunglasses. It was a wonder, everything. The perfection. The system. All a wonder.
He paused, leaning against the side of a brink building, not caring what it did to his suit.
"Hey there, handsome."
Smith jumped, twisting around. Sitting to his left on several stacked creates, was a familiar face.
"Incarus," Smith breathed, a swarm of emotions claiming him. Anger, rage, and perhaps hope. He would have noticed her had she been there ten seconds before. Where did she come from?
Anna chuckled. She was slouched, her hands clasped on her thighs. Clad in a dark outfit, she seemed to meld into the alleyway. Smith checked the urge to run at her and pin her to assure himself she would not get away and leave him to his death.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh. So you can read my mind now, can you? Another side affect of your infection?" He hissed.
Anna raised an eyebrow. "That's not a very effective way to ask for my help, Smith."
Smith growled, looking away. A faint pounding sound could be heard in the distance. He swallowed. He knew that sound. He'd been making it for years.
"Where were you?"
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"You."
Smith looked at her, really looked. He was stunned to realize that she was not wet. The rain seemed to be passing right through her.
She looked down, smiling softly. "I just don't like to get wet. And I didn't think you'd do it, actually. I thought you'd be killed before you felt it."
"Felt what," the AI said lowly.
The girl chuckled, motioning him to approach the crates. "I wouldn't help a selfless bastard, you know," She said, scooting back so she leaned against the damp alley wall. Smith scowled, angered that she dare accuse him of feeling.
"Compassion," She supplied, folding her arms behind her head. "Don't worry. I'll always see you for the murdering heartless agent you are. Now. Do you want to be terminated?"
He hesitated, listening to the approaching pounding of footsteps.
".No."
Anna looked upwards, her short hair fluffy despite the rain. "Do you trust me?"
"No."
"Hmm. Well then I think you're in trouble. Lesson one. You can't survive alone, not anymore. Yet, you now have not only sentience, but an understanding of something greater than the mainframe. You know that if you are terminated, it's all over. And you fear it. Like every other living creature."
He pressed himself against the wall, the urge to run sparking inside him.
"If you run, you'll die."
They stared at each other. "You should know them, Smith. They're agents. They'll catch you."
"What do I have to do?"
"Trust me."
He scowled again, blinking in the wet air. They were almost here.
". I won't harm you, Smith. I never did. I only opened your eyes."
The AI scrambled for ideas. This wasn't just running from agents. This would be running from the mainframe itself. There was no hiding.
"What. do I have to do?"
"Come here."
Anna held out a hand from her reclined position atop the wooden structure.
The footsteps ricocheted over the cement.
Smith jumped, lunging forward and climbing the crates until he was reaching, reaching for that hand.
And when he grabbed it, it was warm.
She pulled him upwards, his momentum carrying him to the top. He slipped, sliding to the crate's edge until Anna tightened her grip and pulled the sopping agent against her. He felt his dampness soak into her dry clothing as Jones and Brown tore into the alleyway. Anna's hand snaked up his cheek to his lips, sealing his mouth. He froze, his sunglasses lying on the pavement below.
They stopped by the discarded frames, Jones leaning down and picking them up. Brown looked around, looked /right/ at them.
"Where is he?"
Smith's mouth fell open behind her hand. She smirked behind him.
"Inquire the mainframe." Jones commanded. Brown obeyed. and looked up.
"He is. gone."
Chapter 5
It was raining again. The drops tapped gently against the windowpane in the darkness, one after another without rest.
Smith's eyes were closed behind his sunglasses, his mind drifting away from the task at hand. They were tightly shielded from his comrades, a metal blockade protecting these vile thoughts.
He was tired, again.
He inhaled a breath of air into the matrix representation of his lungs. He turned around, away from the large office window and towards the man sitting chained to a chair. He was a scruffy man, his blond hair jutting out in eighty directions and stubble gracing across his chin and neck. The man's head was leaning backwards in a more grotesque pose, his eyes white and open. Blood dripped up his face, trailing like backwards tears to his hairline. It was making a mess. Jones was unlocking the cuffs while Brown made the appropriate arrangements.
Smith straightened his jacket, the front damp from spittle. This had been a most. crude resistant, and the interrogation had not resulted in any useful information. He made a disgusted face when his thumb brushed past the dampness on his chest. Smith looked sideways to find Jones staring at him with an unearthly glare.
"What?" Smith growled lowly. Jones said nothing, but stood and marched up to the windowpane behind them. Smith stayed put, their backs to each other.
"You've been quiet."
"What do you mean?"
"With the mainframe. Asking less questions than previous months. Involving yourself with the resistance less." Jones turned around, but Smith did not.
"Perhaps you need maintenance," Jones suggested while Smith's jaw locked in a grimace. "You've spent many hours in solitary confinement in your quarters. Many hours. performing diagnostics."
"I'm fine." Smith answered, looking over his shoulder at the other agent, a sliver of his eye visible between his cheek and the frameless glasses. "The mainframe hasn't said otherwise."
With that, Smith abruptly took his leave, leaving a frowning Jones in his wake.
Three buildings down, a standard government door opened to reveal a standard government VIP suite, with a standard VIP bed, desk, and dresser. A standard agent hand reached up and disconnected a standard agent earpiece.
And then the standard agent collapsed on the bed with a groan.
Reveling in the feel of the comforter against his suit, Smith lay there unmoving, until a lethargic hand reached up and removed his sunglasses.
It had been four months since this hell began.
Four months ago, he stumbled upon a resistant named Incarus. Then it all went to hell.
For four long months, Smith had devised ways to encrypt his inner thoughts from the mainframe and the other agents. He'd learned how to separate what was plausible for an agent to think, feel, and know-
And what wasn't. Unfortunately, since his. additions, those new feelings and thoughts corrupted the majority of his logic circuits. Over and over, he tried to rid himself of the cancer that had taken over his life. He'd run self diagnostics and viral scans until he'd literally passed out.
Another new aspect of his life. Exhaustion. Now, his programming required that he be in a restful state for at least 12 hrs per 48 hrs or else his file functions would begin to degrade. He took his leave when he could get it, and usually placed himself in powersave until he "woke", feeling refreshed.
It was most absurd.
Also, he'd actually created new programming and algorithms to cope with the insane amount of information being recorded from his digital self. Every feeling, taste, smell, sense was always active, all the time. It was nauseating., and before he had created the proper filters, his performance had declined considerably, almost earning him a directly linked conference with the mainframe. This was to be avoided at all costs, lest they realize what. mutated virus he had become.
Though he found it quite intriguing. to cope with the newfound algorithms, he'd. created. Created the new filtering program, created the new encryption. And he was not a maker. He'd done it on his own.
Out of all this mess, that was perhaps a small, satisfying thing to know.
If only he could make things be the way they were before. His existence had been more than unpleasant, mostly because of the viruses, but he had not been burdened with all. this. But the new files that had integrated into his programming were seemingly plastered to his hardwire.
He was trapped like this. Smith twitched.
There had been one other option. Find Incarus and make the damned virus fix whatever she had broken.
On perhaps the third day of his infection, he'd returned to Anna Incarus's small apartment to find it empty of the young woman. He'd kept close surveillance on the building for days, weeks. and she never returned. He'd searched her over the entire matrix, and he couldn't find her.
It was as if she had just disappeared, which confirmed his suspicions that she was resistance. Still. if the resistance had this kind of technology to incapacitate agents, why weren't they using it?
The agent sighed, his cheek falling to rest on the comforter. And then all he knew was darkness.
The three agents moved swiftly through the abandoned warehouse, as Smith ground his teeth.
"We've lost him." Brown stated bluntly.
"Again. That was the second time he has managed to evade us," Smith said disapprovingly. The agents made ready to depart when a clanking of metal sounded their attention. Smith sneered.
The machines threw the debris out of the way, rotting planks of wood were tossed aside like toothpicks. There. A small alcove was hidden in the side of the dark wall, and inside was a small figure, curled up on itself and shuddering. Smith knelt, reaching out to yank the resistant out of the hiding space, when his fingers touched the slick heat of blood.
He hesitated, and at a far gentler pace, tugged the human outwards. Brown narrowed his eyes.
They pulled out a small, thin boy, perhaps six years old.
"What is this?" Jones inquired. The boy's eyes were clamped shut, his entire body shaking in fear.
"Who are you?" Smith asked in a soft monotone. The boy's huge eyes opened to reveal two white orbs. The child was blind.
"Are you them?" The virus asked, his voice shrill and pitiful. "They told me you would come for me and. kill me."
"Who told you?"
"The man on the phone."
"Then he was correct," Brown responded, drawing his gun. Smith hesitated again, the boy cowering behind his crouched form.
"P-please, I didn't do anything, I didn't even know what I was doing, I thought the matrix was a new video game, I-" the child stammered, gripping Smith's arm. The AI blinked at the idea of the virus hiding behind him, as if it expected him to protect his life. The child looked up at him, it's shaved head promoting how incredibly large his eyes were. Despite the grim and filth on his body, Smith did not throw him off. The agent swallowed.
"Let's not," He said aloud to the other two AI. Jones blinked.
"Why?" Brown inquired again, confused.
"Lets take to headquarters and see who this "man on the phone" is."
"That is irrelevant. We know who it was."
Smith said nothing. The boy let go of him, trying to stand. His frail arms waved in front of his face frantically-
As Brown fired, the child's head shooting blood all over Smith's glasses and face.
Silence filled the large building, only the night's dripping rain filling the air.
"I will contact the mainframe. You require maintenance that cannot be completed by yourself." Brown tuned, replaced his gun in its holster, and left. Jones, hesitated, then followed. Smith simply sat on the damp floor, blood dripping off his face and wondered. illogically. why the virus had to die. And then he realized. that he would probably be joining his young friend here within the hour. The mainframe would destroy him. It was over.
He looked down at the body for a moment before walking away, one shaky hand wiping the blood from his mouth and face. He didn't need to, for as soon as he swung the old steel door open and stepped into the street, the rain saturated his face and clothing, as if to cleanse him.
Wonderful. The last of his transformations. He was thinking in metaphors.
Smith walked rather heavily down the alleyway as he removed his sunglasses. It was a wonder, everything. The perfection. The system. All a wonder.
He paused, leaning against the side of a brink building, not caring what it did to his suit.
"Hey there, handsome."
Smith jumped, twisting around. Sitting to his left on several stacked creates, was a familiar face.
"Incarus," Smith breathed, a swarm of emotions claiming him. Anger, rage, and perhaps hope. He would have noticed her had she been there ten seconds before. Where did she come from?
Anna chuckled. She was slouched, her hands clasped on her thighs. Clad in a dark outfit, she seemed to meld into the alleyway. Smith checked the urge to run at her and pin her to assure himself she would not get away and leave him to his death.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh. So you can read my mind now, can you? Another side affect of your infection?" He hissed.
Anna raised an eyebrow. "That's not a very effective way to ask for my help, Smith."
Smith growled, looking away. A faint pounding sound could be heard in the distance. He swallowed. He knew that sound. He'd been making it for years.
"Where were you?"
"Waiting."
"For what?"
"You."
Smith looked at her, really looked. He was stunned to realize that she was not wet. The rain seemed to be passing right through her.
She looked down, smiling softly. "I just don't like to get wet. And I didn't think you'd do it, actually. I thought you'd be killed before you felt it."
"Felt what," the AI said lowly.
The girl chuckled, motioning him to approach the crates. "I wouldn't help a selfless bastard, you know," She said, scooting back so she leaned against the damp alley wall. Smith scowled, angered that she dare accuse him of feeling.
"Compassion," She supplied, folding her arms behind her head. "Don't worry. I'll always see you for the murdering heartless agent you are. Now. Do you want to be terminated?"
He hesitated, listening to the approaching pounding of footsteps.
".No."
Anna looked upwards, her short hair fluffy despite the rain. "Do you trust me?"
"No."
"Hmm. Well then I think you're in trouble. Lesson one. You can't survive alone, not anymore. Yet, you now have not only sentience, but an understanding of something greater than the mainframe. You know that if you are terminated, it's all over. And you fear it. Like every other living creature."
He pressed himself against the wall, the urge to run sparking inside him.
"If you run, you'll die."
They stared at each other. "You should know them, Smith. They're agents. They'll catch you."
"What do I have to do?"
"Trust me."
He scowled again, blinking in the wet air. They were almost here.
". I won't harm you, Smith. I never did. I only opened your eyes."
The AI scrambled for ideas. This wasn't just running from agents. This would be running from the mainframe itself. There was no hiding.
"What. do I have to do?"
"Come here."
Anna held out a hand from her reclined position atop the wooden structure.
The footsteps ricocheted over the cement.
Smith jumped, lunging forward and climbing the crates until he was reaching, reaching for that hand.
And when he grabbed it, it was warm.
She pulled him upwards, his momentum carrying him to the top. He slipped, sliding to the crate's edge until Anna tightened her grip and pulled the sopping agent against her. He felt his dampness soak into her dry clothing as Jones and Brown tore into the alleyway. Anna's hand snaked up his cheek to his lips, sealing his mouth. He froze, his sunglasses lying on the pavement below.
They stopped by the discarded frames, Jones leaning down and picking them up. Brown looked around, looked /right/ at them.
"Where is he?"
Smith's mouth fell open behind her hand. She smirked behind him.
"Inquire the mainframe." Jones commanded. Brown obeyed. and looked up.
"He is. gone."