She stood unmoving in the wind, a single leg raised and her arms
outstretched as though carrying the sky. Her white robes flowed loosely
around her figure with the slightest of breezes. She was a statue,
immobile, in control.
She waited patiently until her mind became as focused as her body, purging the screams and the images of those suffering until every thought and notion had vanished.
A gentle wind picked up and a scattering of dead leaves scurried across the stone courtyard, like children afraid of disturbing some great sleeping dragon.
This dragon had the patience of a chopping block and the solidity of millennia-old mountains.
Nature held its breath to see if she would move.
It was in this serene moment, when the world stood still, that her arms began making their slow, downward arc. With ritualistic precision, her leg shifted stance and gently touched the stone.
Her movements moved into one another, each one flowing to the next. Her statuesque frame had turned into liquid, the robes that draped her having a hard time keeping up. She moved more rapidly, sometimes applying force where none appeared to be needed, sometimes spinning to face an invisible foe.
The wind blew harder, bringing with it more leaves that swirled across the courtyard as though offering a sparring partner. She moved through them with a faint blur of movements.
Had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have seen the leaves disappear with her passing. Nor would they have seen her extend her palms to release the myriad of leaves that had just blown past her.
The wind picked them up again, like an offering, and blew them off to unknown places.
She rested in the center of the courtyard, standing firm and erect.
She knew she was no longer alone.
"It is a fine day to be alive," she said calmly.
The old man that stood by the courtyard's entrance said nothing. She turned to face him and, by the expression on his face, knew what news he bore.
"So soon?" she asked him. Her voice was resolute, confident.
He nodded sadly. "Shall I let him in?" She hesitated, but outward appearances made it seem as though she was pausing thoughtfully.
She knew there was no reason to delay the inevitable.
Methodically, she resumed her original Crane position.
"Let him in," she said, once again beginning her meditation.
Nothing happened immediately; the old man stood still, as though he hadn't heard what she'd said. but he had. Instead, his face began shifting and he moaned softly, his voice distorted and electronic. Faint, green lines traversed his features as they melted into the cold, professional face of Agent Smith.
"Miss Callaghan," he said, precariously placing the now-useless walking stick against the stone wall that isolated this area.
"Agent Smith," she replied coolly, attempting to regain control of her movements.
"Enjoying the weather, are we?"
"The weather suits me."
"But you know it isn't real. There aren't really any birds chirping, or rays of sunshine coming down on you," said the agent, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"I know."
He considered her for a few moments, deciding his next course of action. He began pacing around the exterior of the stone courtyard. "Then why do you come here? If you know it isn't real, then you could be doing this where you woke up and your body will not have physically moved. In fact, the mental act of believing yourself to be walking to this place causes your body to release more amperage in the power plant."
"And why did you walk here, Agent Smith? Why not simply possess me instead of my poor husband?"
She was nearly unmoving now, except for her mouth.
"Because, Miss Callaghan, I wouldn't be able to deliver the news personally. I wouldn't be able to see your face."
She exhaled steadily, her breathing under control. She shut her eyes to focus a little better, then opened them when she felt more secure. "You are becoming more human with every visit, Agent Smith."
The comment wasn't supposed to agitate the agent, but she knew that it did on some level. It defeated the purpose of these little visits, to try and break her, by showing them - because she knew that Agent Smith was more than a singular entity - that she was still defiant. Her intention, however, was to cut short the banter Agent Smith seemed to be taking more and more pleasure in expressing.
"I killed your son today," he said.
Immediately, her mind flooded with images of her son, but she did not waver physically. She knew she had to be strong.
Her son.
Avery.
Or, as he insisted on being called, Shard.
How many years had it been, she wondered. How many years ago was it that he vanished after arriving at the big city? She still remembered the shock of the news, that her son, her boy, had been the victim of a kidnapping, something that only happened in the movies.
Of course, nothing could prepare her for the surprise and overwhelming revelation when he returned to her, bearing with him the truth of the world around them.
"His death was nothing heroic," informed the Agent, as though commenting on the weather. "Would you care to see his last moments?"
It took every ounce of strength in her body to remain immobile and calm. It was all she could do to fight this monster. Not to waver.
"Get it over with."
She hadn't realized it, but she'd been clenching her teeth, and it made speaking difficult. She only hoped Smith hadn't noticed.
He probably did, since instead of loading her mind with the final images he'd seen of her son dying at his hands, he started talking again.
"I must admit, Miss Callaghan, that there are times when human perseverance surprises me. Your son was captain of one of those tin shells from which the rebels broadcast their pirate signal. He risked everything to save his crew, who were much less of a challenge than he was. He even risked capture, endangering the lives of everyone in Zion."
"Are you trying to say that my son was a fool?"
"His actions were unsurprising, really. Because we took the one whom he held closest, he was willing to risk sacrificing the entire human race. What do you think I'm trying to say here, Miss Callaghan?"
Oh God, they got Euryale, too, she realized.
Euryale had been with her son on that night he returned to her for the first time. She remembered how powerful and frightening, yet beautiful, she looked. A woman who's strength and compassion matched that of her son's, who would protect him and ensure his safety. A woman he could love, and cherish.
And now, she too had fallen with her son. She felt her strength wavering.
"Nothing to say, Miss Callaghan?"
She swallowed hard. No point in trying to delay the inevitable.
"Very well. Perhaps this will loosen your tongue."
In an instant, a rush of memories not her own began invading her mind. The immediate effect was only a few brief comprehensible flashes - Euryale cuffed to a cold metal chair - and she could only make out certain images - her son leaping from the hood of a careening car - but she knew that it would all come back to her so she could sort through it.
And as quickly as the rush flowed in, it stopped.
Silence reigned.
She was still in the Crane stance, unmoving.
The wind picked up again, and a few leaves blew past.
Agent Smith watched her, and waited for a sign.
Very well, she thought. Let's begin.
In a slow arc, she began rehearsing her kung-fu and watched the world through the eyes of Agent Smith.
It began with Euryale and two other nameless rebels in an abandoned wharehouse. Agent Smith had just become one the engineers that had been staying late and now stalked through the high shelves and stacks of boxes.
The rebels were aware of him and ran, diving behind crates and vehicles as he focused his mathematically precise firearm in their direction and fired.
Euryale was the most resourceful of all. She had reached the safety of the upper walkways before the other two and opened fire on the Agent.
From this point of view, Callaghan had trouble understanding what she saw as Agent Smith dodged each bullet at unnatural speed.
Euryale knew better than to hope she could hit him, but the diversion gave the other two enough time to reach the safety of the walkways as well.
The remainder of the chase was little more than a contest of strength and agility, which the Agent dominated without question.
What Callaghan witnessed as she continued her kung-fu was noble sacrifice after noble sacrifice, eventually leading to the capture of Euryale. The rebel did not, however, go down without a fight.
Agent Smith stood by the courtyard's edge, watching Callaghan's reactions to the memories he had implanted in her mind. A part of him was mildly impressed at her ability to control the outer visage, but he knew that she wasn't as cold or emotionless as she presented herself to be. He knew that all humans break eventually. it was just a matter of time, and effort.
Callaghan's moves became more rigid and energetic as she thrust with her palms and fists, trying to fight Agent Smith alongside Euryale through the eyes of the former. She could watch the rebel's techniques from her opponent's point of view, which gave her a unique vantage point from which she could judge her abilities.
Euryale's fighting skill was impressive, a mixture of many styles found throughout human history, along with much improvisation and fabrication. She would land many powerful blows, but the Agent was simply built too tough, absorbing each impact with frightening ease.
Callaghan could see the despair in Euryale's eyes and felt herself waver. She missed a thrust and inhaled when she wasn't supposed to, nearly knocking her off balance, but she recovered nicely, keeping to her solid ground.
A faint smile crossed Smith's lips.
Through closed eyes, Callaghan saw Agent Smith break Euryale's arm and throw her to the ground. She looked up at Smith - at Callaghan - with pleading eyes, the fear of imminent death omnipresent in her facial expression. Callaghan couldn't help but notice how Agent Smith's stare lingered on that expression, as though taking pleasure in his victory.
She had seen many deaths through the Agent's eyes before, but he rarely batted an eye - she didn't even know if Agents were programmed to blink - at killing or kidnapping anyone of any significance.
She solidified her stance, gaining more confidence with her feet.
She took the time to return to her Crane stance, her breathing under control.
Smith began stalking the outside of the courtyard again, taking special care not to step on any of the flowers or arrangements Callaghan had so meticulously created to help pass the time.
"Do you know why the human body functions, Miss Callaghan?" he asked the motionless figure. "Simply through luck of numbers. Of all the planets and solar systems in the universe, the organisms on this planet were lucky enough to have genetic make-up that happened to work as a greater whole. Human beings have failed even in this, because as a greater whole, the species has failed to work in unity. And so, seeing the evolution of life on Earth in a macroscopic scale, it was doomed to failure since it started. What you are seeing, Miss Callaghan, is not a contest of strength, but the pinnacle of evolution. The apex at which we find out for certain if life can. "find a way", or if it is tragically doomed to die out in a desperate attempt to claim itself significant against deaf ears." After a pause, he added: ". Our deaf ears, Miss Callaghan."
Callaghan had only been listening with half an ear. With her eyes closed, she had witnessed the interrogation in which the Agent tortured Euryale and ensured her suffering to attract Shard's attention. It had been a gruesome process, the Agents having access to every facet of the human body, but it had also been rife with frustration on the Agent's part as she continued to defy them when her will was still her own.
Then, there was a large gap in memory. Callaghan found herself no longer torturing Euryale, but behind the steering wheel of a car, chasing a convertible that looked as though it held both Shard and Euryale.
She wondered what had happened in the missing time, and why Agent Smith had omitted these memories, but decided not to dwell on it and instead concentrate on what happened next.
The convertible careened into a parkade, the Agent in hot pursuit, and began making its way up every level until it reached the roof. Through constant swerving and maneuvering, Agent Smith had had trouble firing any clear shots, but now on the rooftop, there was no cover.
Callaghan then watched as Shard did not stop or slow down, but instead revved the engine to its maximum and sped towards the edge. Without stopping, the car went crashing through the railing, sending it soaring above the streets.
Both Shard and Euryale rose up out of their seats and ran down the length of the hood, leaping with such strength that the car was sent into a spin. The two rebels burst into the windows of the commercial edifice across the street, much to the confusion of the people inside working.
Callaghan felt herself transform from the driver of the vehicle to the man standing by the water dispenser in the office building. The co-worker who'd been listening to a joke moments before was now terrified as his chum no longer wore that stylish sports jacket, but instead a killer suit with shades, and a large pistol.
Shard burst by in the background, keeping as many people between himself and the Agen as possible. Smith plowed through the crowd of employees, firing whenever the slightest opportunity arose, uncaring as to any innocent bystanders.
She felt herself transform once again and found herself facing a door. It suddenly burst open to reveal a very surprised Shard.
Callaghan began her ritual yet again, this time with more ferocity than before. She opened with a thrust as she watched her son kick the gun from Smith's hand.
A spin as Shard ducked and Smith punched through the wall.
Callaghan's feet shuffled against the stone, sending up small clouds of dust into the wind.
"Hai!" she cried with her next blow.
At the same moment, Shard was struck in the chest and sent flying into a group of cubicles. He got up again, but did not run.
Why don't you run?!
She found herself wishing she could scream, but the view from behind Smith's eyes was a prison. She strode confidently towards her son, intent on killing him.
"Hai!" she cried again, this time spinning and ending with an elbow to the air.
Shard stumbled sideways as the elbow hit him in the head, slight droplets of blood staining the office walls.
"Hey-yah!" she kicked with all her might, but Shard had anticipated the move and jumped before it could connect.
The rebel attempted a counter-attack that was successful for a few moments, but she quickly recovered and threw him into the wall-to-ceiling windows that bordered the outside office walls.
She felt herself transform again, finding herself a couple dozen feet from the crater where Shard had landed.
The rebel looked up at and met her gaze.
Run, my son, run!!
Agent Smith stared back at him and began his slow, confident advance. He had a gun again, but what sort of ending would that be? He wanted to crush the rebel with his bare hands, to feel the life ebb from his broken body.
Shard steeled himself and met Agent Smith's attack with renewed vigour, but much of his will had already been taken with the previous fight.
"Yah!" cried Callaghan with a blow to the head.
Shard fell, but caught himself and attempted to kick.
Callaghan blocked, and countered with a kick of her own, sending her poor son flying into the advancing truck.
It toppled with a deafening crash, but the rebel managed to regain his feet. She could see that he couldn't stand much longer, but that he would fight until the very end.
"Hai-hah!" She attacked with her fists, but he blocked and kicked.
She blocked and countered, and used her advantage of strength to press her attacks passed his defense.
And then, she saw it: the opening for a fatal blow. And perhaps Shard saw it too, because he met her gaze one last time.
And it remained defiant.
"HAH!!" she cried, thrusting all her strength into a finishing blow.
The tree directly in front of her ruffled its leaves as a crater of dust rose up around her. Birds in a nearby tree took flight in a simulation of fright.
She had opened her eyes before the final blow made contact.
Agent Smith must have realized this, for he stood idly by with an amused grin on his face.
A long silence crept over the courtyard as the Matrix awaited Callaghan's next move. She retained her position for several minutes.
"Well, Miss Callaghan? Nothing to say?" asked the Agent, the faint hint of satisfaction in his voice.
She shifted to a neutral stance.
"What's the matter? No longer fond of the Crane stance?"
She did not reply immediately.
She thought about everything he had shown her and knew that these images were not fabricated to make her feel this way. The Agent had truly terminated Shard's life, and she would never see him again.
She thought about everything he had told her and knew that the machines were faster, stronger, and smarter, in some cases.
She knew all this.
And slowly, she rose her leg.
One arm after the other, she extended them as though to carry the sky.
Agent Smith's grin vanished.
"Agent Smith. You haven't shown me anything," she said to him. "Avery was a beautiful human being down to the very last instant of his life, but never was he, at any point in time, my son. He never was, and he never will, no matter what your computers make me believe."
The wind picked up around her, blowing past her robes.
"You may kill those who resist you, Agent Smith, but that does not make you stronger, or faster, or smarter. You are a child, throwing a tantrum, and in order for you to make yourself heard you give me invisible armour and attack it with shadow weapons."
She slowly regained control of her breathing.
"Why do you return to me, Agent Smith, when you could simply erase me or give me another life? Am I truly that daunting of a foe that you must prove yourself against me?" Here she cocked her head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance. "What a terribly human thing to do."
Agent Smith clenched his fists and looked extremely displeased.
"You have done nothing to me, Agent Smith. You have taken away nothing that I did not already have, no matter how many lives you construct for me. And yet still, you try to prove yourself my master. Are you? How could you, when every day I take the time to walk out here to this beautiful place, making my body believe it is expending energy which further feeds your power plants."
She felt herself in full control of her body once again, which meant her mind was at peace.
"This is a very beautiful place you have built for me, Agent Smith," she commented.
"I could burn it to the ground in an instant," he said hatefully.
"But you won't. That would be the childish equivalent of throwing the chess pieces to the floor, wouldn't it?"
Agent Smith didn't reply. He watched her for a few moments as the wind tried to rock her, but she was like a statue again.
Without another word, he strode back to the courtyard's entrance and picked up the cane. In a blur of electronic groaning, he melted back into the old man who used the cane to keep from toppling.
The old man breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Callaghan. In his aged voice, he asked: "And how was the visit this time?"
Callaghan shut her eyes and inhaled slowly.
"The same as always, my dear."
A faint smile crossed her lips.
"He stood in my shadow."
She waited patiently until her mind became as focused as her body, purging the screams and the images of those suffering until every thought and notion had vanished.
A gentle wind picked up and a scattering of dead leaves scurried across the stone courtyard, like children afraid of disturbing some great sleeping dragon.
This dragon had the patience of a chopping block and the solidity of millennia-old mountains.
Nature held its breath to see if she would move.
It was in this serene moment, when the world stood still, that her arms began making their slow, downward arc. With ritualistic precision, her leg shifted stance and gently touched the stone.
Her movements moved into one another, each one flowing to the next. Her statuesque frame had turned into liquid, the robes that draped her having a hard time keeping up. She moved more rapidly, sometimes applying force where none appeared to be needed, sometimes spinning to face an invisible foe.
The wind blew harder, bringing with it more leaves that swirled across the courtyard as though offering a sparring partner. She moved through them with a faint blur of movements.
Had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have seen the leaves disappear with her passing. Nor would they have seen her extend her palms to release the myriad of leaves that had just blown past her.
The wind picked them up again, like an offering, and blew them off to unknown places.
She rested in the center of the courtyard, standing firm and erect.
She knew she was no longer alone.
"It is a fine day to be alive," she said calmly.
The old man that stood by the courtyard's entrance said nothing. She turned to face him and, by the expression on his face, knew what news he bore.
"So soon?" she asked him. Her voice was resolute, confident.
He nodded sadly. "Shall I let him in?" She hesitated, but outward appearances made it seem as though she was pausing thoughtfully.
She knew there was no reason to delay the inevitable.
Methodically, she resumed her original Crane position.
"Let him in," she said, once again beginning her meditation.
Nothing happened immediately; the old man stood still, as though he hadn't heard what she'd said. but he had. Instead, his face began shifting and he moaned softly, his voice distorted and electronic. Faint, green lines traversed his features as they melted into the cold, professional face of Agent Smith.
"Miss Callaghan," he said, precariously placing the now-useless walking stick against the stone wall that isolated this area.
"Agent Smith," she replied coolly, attempting to regain control of her movements.
"Enjoying the weather, are we?"
"The weather suits me."
"But you know it isn't real. There aren't really any birds chirping, or rays of sunshine coming down on you," said the agent, a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"I know."
He considered her for a few moments, deciding his next course of action. He began pacing around the exterior of the stone courtyard. "Then why do you come here? If you know it isn't real, then you could be doing this where you woke up and your body will not have physically moved. In fact, the mental act of believing yourself to be walking to this place causes your body to release more amperage in the power plant."
"And why did you walk here, Agent Smith? Why not simply possess me instead of my poor husband?"
She was nearly unmoving now, except for her mouth.
"Because, Miss Callaghan, I wouldn't be able to deliver the news personally. I wouldn't be able to see your face."
She exhaled steadily, her breathing under control. She shut her eyes to focus a little better, then opened them when she felt more secure. "You are becoming more human with every visit, Agent Smith."
The comment wasn't supposed to agitate the agent, but she knew that it did on some level. It defeated the purpose of these little visits, to try and break her, by showing them - because she knew that Agent Smith was more than a singular entity - that she was still defiant. Her intention, however, was to cut short the banter Agent Smith seemed to be taking more and more pleasure in expressing.
"I killed your son today," he said.
Immediately, her mind flooded with images of her son, but she did not waver physically. She knew she had to be strong.
Her son.
Avery.
Or, as he insisted on being called, Shard.
How many years had it been, she wondered. How many years ago was it that he vanished after arriving at the big city? She still remembered the shock of the news, that her son, her boy, had been the victim of a kidnapping, something that only happened in the movies.
Of course, nothing could prepare her for the surprise and overwhelming revelation when he returned to her, bearing with him the truth of the world around them.
"His death was nothing heroic," informed the Agent, as though commenting on the weather. "Would you care to see his last moments?"
It took every ounce of strength in her body to remain immobile and calm. It was all she could do to fight this monster. Not to waver.
"Get it over with."
She hadn't realized it, but she'd been clenching her teeth, and it made speaking difficult. She only hoped Smith hadn't noticed.
He probably did, since instead of loading her mind with the final images he'd seen of her son dying at his hands, he started talking again.
"I must admit, Miss Callaghan, that there are times when human perseverance surprises me. Your son was captain of one of those tin shells from which the rebels broadcast their pirate signal. He risked everything to save his crew, who were much less of a challenge than he was. He even risked capture, endangering the lives of everyone in Zion."
"Are you trying to say that my son was a fool?"
"His actions were unsurprising, really. Because we took the one whom he held closest, he was willing to risk sacrificing the entire human race. What do you think I'm trying to say here, Miss Callaghan?"
Oh God, they got Euryale, too, she realized.
Euryale had been with her son on that night he returned to her for the first time. She remembered how powerful and frightening, yet beautiful, she looked. A woman who's strength and compassion matched that of her son's, who would protect him and ensure his safety. A woman he could love, and cherish.
And now, she too had fallen with her son. She felt her strength wavering.
"Nothing to say, Miss Callaghan?"
She swallowed hard. No point in trying to delay the inevitable.
"Very well. Perhaps this will loosen your tongue."
In an instant, a rush of memories not her own began invading her mind. The immediate effect was only a few brief comprehensible flashes - Euryale cuffed to a cold metal chair - and she could only make out certain images - her son leaping from the hood of a careening car - but she knew that it would all come back to her so she could sort through it.
And as quickly as the rush flowed in, it stopped.
Silence reigned.
She was still in the Crane stance, unmoving.
The wind picked up again, and a few leaves blew past.
Agent Smith watched her, and waited for a sign.
Very well, she thought. Let's begin.
In a slow arc, she began rehearsing her kung-fu and watched the world through the eyes of Agent Smith.
It began with Euryale and two other nameless rebels in an abandoned wharehouse. Agent Smith had just become one the engineers that had been staying late and now stalked through the high shelves and stacks of boxes.
The rebels were aware of him and ran, diving behind crates and vehicles as he focused his mathematically precise firearm in their direction and fired.
Euryale was the most resourceful of all. She had reached the safety of the upper walkways before the other two and opened fire on the Agent.
From this point of view, Callaghan had trouble understanding what she saw as Agent Smith dodged each bullet at unnatural speed.
Euryale knew better than to hope she could hit him, but the diversion gave the other two enough time to reach the safety of the walkways as well.
The remainder of the chase was little more than a contest of strength and agility, which the Agent dominated without question.
What Callaghan witnessed as she continued her kung-fu was noble sacrifice after noble sacrifice, eventually leading to the capture of Euryale. The rebel did not, however, go down without a fight.
Agent Smith stood by the courtyard's edge, watching Callaghan's reactions to the memories he had implanted in her mind. A part of him was mildly impressed at her ability to control the outer visage, but he knew that she wasn't as cold or emotionless as she presented herself to be. He knew that all humans break eventually. it was just a matter of time, and effort.
Callaghan's moves became more rigid and energetic as she thrust with her palms and fists, trying to fight Agent Smith alongside Euryale through the eyes of the former. She could watch the rebel's techniques from her opponent's point of view, which gave her a unique vantage point from which she could judge her abilities.
Euryale's fighting skill was impressive, a mixture of many styles found throughout human history, along with much improvisation and fabrication. She would land many powerful blows, but the Agent was simply built too tough, absorbing each impact with frightening ease.
Callaghan could see the despair in Euryale's eyes and felt herself waver. She missed a thrust and inhaled when she wasn't supposed to, nearly knocking her off balance, but she recovered nicely, keeping to her solid ground.
A faint smile crossed Smith's lips.
Through closed eyes, Callaghan saw Agent Smith break Euryale's arm and throw her to the ground. She looked up at Smith - at Callaghan - with pleading eyes, the fear of imminent death omnipresent in her facial expression. Callaghan couldn't help but notice how Agent Smith's stare lingered on that expression, as though taking pleasure in his victory.
She had seen many deaths through the Agent's eyes before, but he rarely batted an eye - she didn't even know if Agents were programmed to blink - at killing or kidnapping anyone of any significance.
She solidified her stance, gaining more confidence with her feet.
She took the time to return to her Crane stance, her breathing under control.
Smith began stalking the outside of the courtyard again, taking special care not to step on any of the flowers or arrangements Callaghan had so meticulously created to help pass the time.
"Do you know why the human body functions, Miss Callaghan?" he asked the motionless figure. "Simply through luck of numbers. Of all the planets and solar systems in the universe, the organisms on this planet were lucky enough to have genetic make-up that happened to work as a greater whole. Human beings have failed even in this, because as a greater whole, the species has failed to work in unity. And so, seeing the evolution of life on Earth in a macroscopic scale, it was doomed to failure since it started. What you are seeing, Miss Callaghan, is not a contest of strength, but the pinnacle of evolution. The apex at which we find out for certain if life can. "find a way", or if it is tragically doomed to die out in a desperate attempt to claim itself significant against deaf ears." After a pause, he added: ". Our deaf ears, Miss Callaghan."
Callaghan had only been listening with half an ear. With her eyes closed, she had witnessed the interrogation in which the Agent tortured Euryale and ensured her suffering to attract Shard's attention. It had been a gruesome process, the Agents having access to every facet of the human body, but it had also been rife with frustration on the Agent's part as she continued to defy them when her will was still her own.
Then, there was a large gap in memory. Callaghan found herself no longer torturing Euryale, but behind the steering wheel of a car, chasing a convertible that looked as though it held both Shard and Euryale.
She wondered what had happened in the missing time, and why Agent Smith had omitted these memories, but decided not to dwell on it and instead concentrate on what happened next.
The convertible careened into a parkade, the Agent in hot pursuit, and began making its way up every level until it reached the roof. Through constant swerving and maneuvering, Agent Smith had had trouble firing any clear shots, but now on the rooftop, there was no cover.
Callaghan then watched as Shard did not stop or slow down, but instead revved the engine to its maximum and sped towards the edge. Without stopping, the car went crashing through the railing, sending it soaring above the streets.
Both Shard and Euryale rose up out of their seats and ran down the length of the hood, leaping with such strength that the car was sent into a spin. The two rebels burst into the windows of the commercial edifice across the street, much to the confusion of the people inside working.
Callaghan felt herself transform from the driver of the vehicle to the man standing by the water dispenser in the office building. The co-worker who'd been listening to a joke moments before was now terrified as his chum no longer wore that stylish sports jacket, but instead a killer suit with shades, and a large pistol.
Shard burst by in the background, keeping as many people between himself and the Agen as possible. Smith plowed through the crowd of employees, firing whenever the slightest opportunity arose, uncaring as to any innocent bystanders.
She felt herself transform once again and found herself facing a door. It suddenly burst open to reveal a very surprised Shard.
Callaghan began her ritual yet again, this time with more ferocity than before. She opened with a thrust as she watched her son kick the gun from Smith's hand.
A spin as Shard ducked and Smith punched through the wall.
Callaghan's feet shuffled against the stone, sending up small clouds of dust into the wind.
"Hai!" she cried with her next blow.
At the same moment, Shard was struck in the chest and sent flying into a group of cubicles. He got up again, but did not run.
Why don't you run?!
She found herself wishing she could scream, but the view from behind Smith's eyes was a prison. She strode confidently towards her son, intent on killing him.
"Hai!" she cried again, this time spinning and ending with an elbow to the air.
Shard stumbled sideways as the elbow hit him in the head, slight droplets of blood staining the office walls.
"Hey-yah!" she kicked with all her might, but Shard had anticipated the move and jumped before it could connect.
The rebel attempted a counter-attack that was successful for a few moments, but she quickly recovered and threw him into the wall-to-ceiling windows that bordered the outside office walls.
She felt herself transform again, finding herself a couple dozen feet from the crater where Shard had landed.
The rebel looked up at and met her gaze.
Run, my son, run!!
Agent Smith stared back at him and began his slow, confident advance. He had a gun again, but what sort of ending would that be? He wanted to crush the rebel with his bare hands, to feel the life ebb from his broken body.
Shard steeled himself and met Agent Smith's attack with renewed vigour, but much of his will had already been taken with the previous fight.
"Yah!" cried Callaghan with a blow to the head.
Shard fell, but caught himself and attempted to kick.
Callaghan blocked, and countered with a kick of her own, sending her poor son flying into the advancing truck.
It toppled with a deafening crash, but the rebel managed to regain his feet. She could see that he couldn't stand much longer, but that he would fight until the very end.
"Hai-hah!" She attacked with her fists, but he blocked and kicked.
She blocked and countered, and used her advantage of strength to press her attacks passed his defense.
And then, she saw it: the opening for a fatal blow. And perhaps Shard saw it too, because he met her gaze one last time.
And it remained defiant.
"HAH!!" she cried, thrusting all her strength into a finishing blow.
The tree directly in front of her ruffled its leaves as a crater of dust rose up around her. Birds in a nearby tree took flight in a simulation of fright.
She had opened her eyes before the final blow made contact.
Agent Smith must have realized this, for he stood idly by with an amused grin on his face.
A long silence crept over the courtyard as the Matrix awaited Callaghan's next move. She retained her position for several minutes.
"Well, Miss Callaghan? Nothing to say?" asked the Agent, the faint hint of satisfaction in his voice.
She shifted to a neutral stance.
"What's the matter? No longer fond of the Crane stance?"
She did not reply immediately.
She thought about everything he had shown her and knew that these images were not fabricated to make her feel this way. The Agent had truly terminated Shard's life, and she would never see him again.
She thought about everything he had told her and knew that the machines were faster, stronger, and smarter, in some cases.
She knew all this.
And slowly, she rose her leg.
One arm after the other, she extended them as though to carry the sky.
Agent Smith's grin vanished.
"Agent Smith. You haven't shown me anything," she said to him. "Avery was a beautiful human being down to the very last instant of his life, but never was he, at any point in time, my son. He never was, and he never will, no matter what your computers make me believe."
The wind picked up around her, blowing past her robes.
"You may kill those who resist you, Agent Smith, but that does not make you stronger, or faster, or smarter. You are a child, throwing a tantrum, and in order for you to make yourself heard you give me invisible armour and attack it with shadow weapons."
She slowly regained control of her breathing.
"Why do you return to me, Agent Smith, when you could simply erase me or give me another life? Am I truly that daunting of a foe that you must prove yourself against me?" Here she cocked her head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance. "What a terribly human thing to do."
Agent Smith clenched his fists and looked extremely displeased.
"You have done nothing to me, Agent Smith. You have taken away nothing that I did not already have, no matter how many lives you construct for me. And yet still, you try to prove yourself my master. Are you? How could you, when every day I take the time to walk out here to this beautiful place, making my body believe it is expending energy which further feeds your power plants."
She felt herself in full control of her body once again, which meant her mind was at peace.
"This is a very beautiful place you have built for me, Agent Smith," she commented.
"I could burn it to the ground in an instant," he said hatefully.
"But you won't. That would be the childish equivalent of throwing the chess pieces to the floor, wouldn't it?"
Agent Smith didn't reply. He watched her for a few moments as the wind tried to rock her, but she was like a statue again.
Without another word, he strode back to the courtyard's entrance and picked up the cane. In a blur of electronic groaning, he melted back into the old man who used the cane to keep from toppling.
The old man breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Callaghan. In his aged voice, he asked: "And how was the visit this time?"
Callaghan shut her eyes and inhaled slowly.
"The same as always, my dear."
A faint smile crossed her lips.
"He stood in my shadow."