The

H e c a t e

C  y  c  l  e

Disclaimer: Fan Fiction Inspired by the film The Matrix by Larry and Andy Wachowski © Warner Bros. Entertainment (1999).  The Ghost in the Machine and The Hecate Cycle © oqidaun / M.L. Nicholson (2002)

Credits: Opening lyric taken from Happiness in Slavery (NIN, Halo 5) Additional quote taken from Leave it to Beaver, © American Broadcasting Company (1957-1963)

Rating:

± PG13-R for Language.  Some implied violence and general weirdness. . 

Chapter 3

A Perfect World

Don't open your eyes you won't like what you see

The devils of truth steal the souls of the free

Don't open your eyes take it from me

I have found

You can find

Happiness in slavery

Happiness in slavery

Wally: I tried to fry'em, but they got all messed up, so I scrambled'em.

Beaver: Yeah, it's funny how things can get away from you like that…

A buzz and crackle heralded the death of the old console set and the grinding chorus of the ceiling fan grew louder. The Collected Works of Tennyson slammed down on the nightstand perpetuating a tinkling aftershock through the glass vials and bottles.  Bare feet slipped across the dirty cement avoiding the drains and the dial clicked impotently as it twisted through the channels.   Slow footsteps returned and a ringed finger scraped along the length of the bed rail's cracked mint colored enamel.

"Is that the end of my perfect world or do I bring in another set?" the voice whispered. "What a beautiful false place, everything in perfect order and everyone deluded into thinking they are perfectly happy.  Why can't this world be like that one? I want TV dinners in aluminum trays, black and white television, magazines with casserole recipes that always require hotdogs, family secrets kept secret and a Tuesday night bowling league. I would be content in that world just like the Cleavers in Mayfield.  I would be everyone's favorite neighbor. I'd loan out my new snow shovel, buy raffle tickets, build a patio with a nice brick barbeque and never complain about an errant baseball through my picture window.  I would have a family room with plaid curtains, end tables and wax fruit.  When the newspaper boy vanished, I'd invite everyone into my home to organize the search and serve punch.  The good neighbor would even make the first donation to the memorial scholarship after they found the body. Everyone would laugh and smile, even though they were terrified to take out the garbage after dark." A labored sigh. "Alas, your world is plagued with a festering apathy.  I find it sick and confused, and I do not think it is fair that some refuse to play by the rules."

A slender vial toppled and rolled across the metal tray. Down a wide empty hall a telephone rang.

"I apologize for your head.  I really am sincere about it.  I planned on us having lovely conversations to pass our time together. There were so many questions I wanted to ask you and things I wanted to learn.  I curse my stupidity. I got angry that night, because I wanted to make it home in time to watch My Three Sons.  You made me miss my program. Eleven minutes in the produce section and another six looking at frozen pizzas?  I know that kid in line with the food stamps was not your doing, but you took your time walking out and flirting with those boys. Persephone, you must learn to be more considerate of others."

A nail tapped the glass syringe accompanied by a pleasant laugh.  

"If you live in a world of shadows it is difficult to understand how dark the night can be. I will bloody the crossroads and the greasy smoke from my sacrifice will stain the polluted sky.  I will teach the keeper the definition of evil.  The spirits will learn fear.  And I shall give my stolen fire to the travelers. "

Soft hands peeled the starched sheets back and slipped the hypodermic needle into the cool flesh. The agonized shriek of the ceiling fan slurred and miles away the telephone continued to ring. 

"Float on my gift of sleep and feast on pomegranates. I promise you that the nightmare will be waiting when you wake."

* * *

A dark ring of Colombian coffee saturated the lead story of the arts and entertainment section. The article focused on the local ska band Sun Seer and the perils of outdoor concerts during lightening storms.   Kai took note of the show dates and her attention wandered to the bright world at the edge of the green awning.  A salty breeze propelled a handbill for a 1-900 psychic hotline along the deserted sidewalk. 

"You need refill?" Camus quickly slipped out the door in a vain attempt to keep the refrigerated spirits from escaping. 

"I felt like I was being watched."

"You are so fair skinned.  The bright sun is no good for you." Without respect to any convention regarding personal space, the handsome Moroccan stretched over her and seized the ink-smudged mug.  "Come inside."

She rolled her eyes and tried to wipe the cheap newsprint off her hands with a paper napkin.  "Can't, I'm waiting for someone."

As the afternoon wore on, the sun began to lose its intensity. Camus continued to flirt with reckless abandon and the sea breeze picked up a touch of moisture. Kai drank more coffee and waited. 

"I've been wondering when I was going to see you around. Three days and I've not heard a damn thing about our joint investigation."

"Agent Thoreau," he greeted her with a polite nod.

"Kai."

"What?"

"Call me Kai, Brown. I prefer Kai to Thoreau as I'm not the go-to-the-woods-to-suck-the-marrow-out-of-life type."  She gestured to the empty seat beside her. 

"Right, you have a first name. Smith calls that one of the myriad idiosyncrasies of psych." He sat down and struggled to cultivate a look of ease. 

"Really? I'll have to put together a list of the idiosyncrasies of enforcement and see if there's enough for a myriad or at least a personality or two." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Camus staring maliciously at Brown.  A flash of humor crossed her face. Camus had nothing to stress over.  "What have you brought me on the hanger murder?"

"Nothing. We have not moved on it and have no immediate plans to do so.  It has received a lower priority rating than our other investigations and I have come to tell you that the file will be transferred to the appropriate local authorities."

"What?" She checked herself. "A Void is murdered, we get a message that 'the end justifies the means' and you guys give it a low enough priority to shift it back to local?"

"Yes. To quote Smith, he said that he did not care if all of the Voids were dismembered."

"This is a joint investigation."

"Smith thinks that— "

"A joint investigation means two or more divisions working on the same problem.  Protocol requires a complete investigation of any significant uncontrolled and especially unauthorized anomaly within the Matrix.  That crime scene was nothing but anomalies—the residual energy level alone was high enough for a priority response by both SPOO and ENF protocols.  It's my partial jurisdiction as it involves a Void and it's yours as the perpetrator may have been either a subversive or an agent program in error.  I thought we reached this agreement on Sunday night"

"Smith later decided that the event was an isolated incident.  He says—"

"Stop quoting Smith," she hissed. "That file is not going any where. It will take my authorization in addition to his to transfer it, so I'm going to have to hear all this first hand soon enough."  For an angry moment she lost herself in the uneven texture of the mass-produced piece of lawn furniture. Unexpectedly, she rose to her feet and trotted to the edge of the shade.  Brown materialized at her shoulder.  "Act natural."

"What?"

"It's my informant. Try not to look so…enforcement-like."

"How do I do that?"

It was too late.  "Spaz!"  She sprang on a densely freckled young man in a Sex Pistols tee shirt and baggy plaid shorts.  "You stood me up yesterday."

"I, uh…" The dark eyes behind the wire rim glasses fixed on Brown. "I had an appointment."

"Don't lie to me, Spaz.  Remember, ours is a relationship based on trust and love."

"You scare the fucking shit out of me, Kai, that's what our relationship is based on."

"Fair enough."  She clamped her small hand around his elbow and maneuvered him to her table. "Tell me about what's up."

"Not much."

"You're a bit edgy for 'not much.'"

"You've got an Agent standing behind you, Kai.  That tends to make me a bit more edgy than usual."

"He's on a leash, Spaz." She briefly redirected her attention. "Sit down, Brown and get comfy." Viselike fingers continued to tear into the freckled flesh and Brown watched curiously as he took his seat. "We're going to talk about someone I anticipate you know."

"Who?" Kai was performing in front of an audience and Spaz doubted she would buy him a café latte and want to talk about music afterwards.

"Danh Tù."

"I've heard of him."

"Do you know where he's hanging out these days?" 

"Rumor has it that he's chillin' at the morgue."

"Really?  How do you figure he ended up there?"

"I think it had something to do with his head and whole lot of other important parts getting forcibly disconnected from his body."

"Where did you hear this?" Her voice grew serious.

"Informants have informants, too."

"How many people know?"

"Handful."

"Let's keep it that way.  Now," her tone lightened. "I'd be tickled pink if you would tell me who chopped him up."

"Don't fucking know, wasn't me."

"No shit?" The dangerous look returned to her green eyes, yet she continued to smile. "Give me a hand here, Spaz, so I can write this off and get back to sitting on my ass. Did Tù have any enemies?  Who's he pissed off lately?"

"Ran his mouth a lot and irritated the hell out of everyone. Damn obnoxious, but not in a way that would make you want to murder him."

"How strong?" 

Spaz glanced over his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Tù wasn't a lightweight. He was young, though, and reckless.  He liked to screw around with people and tended to get stupid."

"What'd he go for?"

"Weird shit. I talked to him a couple times when I was pulling together the info on Sean Kelly. He hung out on Adams Street with the heroin kids." A freckled hand disappeared into his pocket and produced a stick of gum. "He liked big men, the strong kind, like Ward Cleaver or some other Mr. American type. Got off on the ones that were all Rotary Club and egg salad sandwiches during the day and cruising Adams Street for a little tail the minute the wife stepped out to a PTA meeting." The gum disappeared into his mouth and he began to intricately crease the foil and wax paper wrapper. "He'd get them all worked up and suck'em dry. Never left any thing coherent behind. Felt like he was doing some sort of public service."

"He probably was.  You say he liked big clean-cut guys, anything more specific?"

"Went for guys over six foot tall.  I don't know the rhyme or reason behind the height fetish."

"Age?"

"I think he liked the older ones."

"We have a possibility that a forty-fifty something sitcom-dad type picked him up for a cheap thrill and chopped him to bits?" She groaned. "How often did he hang out on Adams Street?"

"I suppose once a week depending on the hit.  Probably why he liked the big guys.  I don't think he was addicted, but he had a pretty steady habit."

"Who did he run around with?"

"The only other Void he ever mentioned besides Sean was a guy named Bocky.  I've heard the name before, but I don't know many details. What I do know is that he's real close to the center."

"Very interesting.  How close?"

"I imagine he gets a Christmas fruitcake from Alsace. I don't know how Tù knew him or what he was all about." He paused for a moment in thought. "As far as Tù goes, that's pretty much everything I know."

She nodded pensively and released him, leaving a deep purple bruise reminiscent of her left thumb and forefinger wrapped around his elbow. "Thanks, Spaz, as always you will be rewarded substantially."

"Look, Kai," he lowered his voice.  "I really don't want to be associated with any of this. I don't even want to know anything about it.  From what I heard—oh, fuck it. Please keep me out of this.  I know it wasn't one of us." His eyes darted towards Brown and quickly back to Kai. "I heard what happened in Bangkok," he stammered and stumbled up and away from the table. "I don't wanna die that way."

"Spaz." Kai got to her feet and charged after him. "I'm in control here."

"Shit, I heard about the crime scene." He hurried down the sidewalk refusing to meet her eyes. At the end of the block he stopped and turned to her. "Kai, this will sound stupid coming from me, but watch yourself. There's something out there.  I've felt it."

Brown was waiting at the edge of the awning holding Kai's newspaper, perfectly folded. His soft blue eyes settled on her and a quizzical frown creased the corners of his lips. Straightening the wayward strap of her black camisole with one hand, she seized the newspaper with the other.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Interact.  You are quite proficient in the way you blend in and communicate with them.  Your speech, dress and mannerisms—seemingly everything about you puts them at ease. Your mastery of their slang is also considerable.   He spoke to you as though you were one of them, yet he knew you were definitely not."  Quite openly and innocently, Brown's gaze roved down her body.

"You sound impressed." She smirked, put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest.  If he wanted to be obvious, she could play the same game.  

"I am intrigued, but I do not find such familiarity with them impressive.  It's dangerous to become close to them. They are not to be emulated.  They are to be controlled."

Her hands slipped from her hips into her pockets and her eyes narrowed into an icy squint. "Do not ever presume you can tell me how to do my job. I've been here day one."

"I am not offering instruction," his voice softened.  "Granted I do criticize your method, but I am genuinely intrigued with how your programming has incorporated so many of their behaviorisms without becoming completely corrupted."

"We're evolutionary."

"Yes, I agree.  Fortunately, enforcement does not have to rely on evolution as we are perfect."

The wide-eyed look of incredulity that stole across her face made her look like a disturbed caricature of Lucille Ball. "That's rich, Brown!" Violent laughter rattled her small frame. "That's the funniest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"I do not understand why that is humorous."

"Because it's so far from the truth and you said it with a straight face.  Why don't you put a red rinse in your hair, stick your nose in the air and start calling yourself Smith."

"But my name is Brown."

She continued to laugh. "Maybe we should ditch this whole policing false reality shtick and take our act on the road.  When we hit Vegas, I'll take you to eat pie."

"I like my job." Brown's voice betrayed pride.  "I would, however, like to learn about pie, Agent Thoreau."

"Kai."

"Right."

* * *

Hypnotically, he watched as the setting sun traced its fiery fingertips over her.  Surging toward and cowering from its warm embrace in the same instant, she thrust her figure upwards letting the last rays of sunlight caress her, while keeping her lower expanses coyly enveloped in inviting shadow.  As the flaming sphere crept closer to explore her intimate curves, the twilight trap of her sweet seduction sprang and imprisoned her fiery would-be lover in darkness. 

Fifty-seven stories above the illusion of steel and concrete, drinking in the intoxicating mixture of domination and deception, he reveled in the pain of desire.  Smith pulled his hands back from the cold glass and laced his fingers behind him. A private smile twisted across his lips while his inhuman blue eyes revealed little of the complexities they concealed. As the dying sun succumbed to the night, a rich radium luminescence rose up to take its place. For this moment he lived.   

The labyrinth belonged to the Minotaur.