THE
H E C A T EC 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 and closing lyrics taken from Live for the Moment (Monster Magnet, Forceable Entry)
Rating:
± PG13/R for Language.
Chapter Four
The First Crossroads: Caveat
There's a little pile of ashes
Where my old life used to be
The credit cards and memories
All dumped into the sea.
Well this ain't no time for bullshit
As I fly into the sun.
Well you can't trust anybody
If you can't trust number one.
Torrents of somber colored suits poured into the central business district converging in a sea of newspapers, cell phones and attaché cases. At eight minutes to nine, the faceless crowd proved less cordial than the identical one occupying the same space twenty minutes earlier. Angry anonymous eyes cursed the slow moving and the silent sentinel watched everything. Perched on the edge of the fountain, drinking cold coffee and conspicuously reading Abbie Hoffman, she was the antithesis of the world around her. The crowd, deluded by the prospects of a bull market, remained ignorant of her presence and she granted little thought to the horde of indifferent bodies wearing indifferent clothing.
"Good morning, Agent Smith." She dog-eared the page and pulled her headphones off.
"Agent Thoreau."
"Bright beautiful day isn't it?"
"I had not noticed."
"Very well, your loss." She slipped off the ledge and dropped the book into her satchel. "I had an interesting conversation with Agent Brown yesterday. He says you're not moving on the hanger murder."
"That is correct, Agent Thoreau."
"Call me Kai. I think is it unwise to push this under the rug." She focused on his Adam's apple, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her look up into his eyes.
"Agent Thoreau." The words possessed the same melodic quality as the sound of a body hitting the pavement. "I am not concerned with what you think."
Kai bit the inside of her lip. "We talked about this the other night, Smith. We talked about the possible identity of the murderer and why we have to investigate."
"Our discussion Sunday night was a preliminary evaluation of the situation and nothing more. I have reconsidered our tentative course of action and decided that the file should be transferred to local authorities. Agent Brown has told you this already. It does not bear repeating."
"What about the residual energy traces?" A man smoking nearby made a show of checking his watch and moved away as the tone of the conversation intensified.
With a patronizing sneer, Smith dusted a speck of lint from his coat. "I have neither the time nor inclination to provide you with a history lesson, Agent Thoreau. The energy traces, no doubt emanated from the debris of Capital Airlines Flight 858. The accident was a Level 9 anomaly, one of two ever recorded. The residual energy trace did not belong to the victim or the murderer, but to the site." He looked down at her. "Perhaps, if you were to spend more time doing your job instead of blending in, you might notice the evidence for what it is and not jump to conclusions."
"You couldn't make a conclusion if it came in a box with the instructions 'just add water.' The world is not black and white—"
"Agent Thoreau," He paused to remove his shades, emphasizing his condescension. "This is not the world. This is a computer generated false reality designed to keep our energy source placated. The color distinctions of which you speak exist here only as binary code. Be assured there is no doubt in my mind that the world is not black and white. "
She fought the temptation to take a swing at him. The muscles in her neck tightened emboldening his smirk. "I'm not going to pursue this, Smith, and I'm not transferring the file until I know that it was just a contact anomaly and not something more serious."
"That is acceptable and in compliance with protocol, if you decide to keep the file open you may and I will submit in a report my evaluation of your course of action." His blank stare complemented the flatness of his voice, yet the cold smile lingered. "Tell me, Agent Thoreau, how do you think a wild goose chase is going to look in your independent performance log? How will such a blatant waste of time and energy reflect on Special Psychological Operations and Observations as a division?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"Think of it as advice. A day is approaching rather steadily when SPOO will be transferred to ENF. It would be good practice for you to start accepting and acting on my counsel."
"As long as SPOO is a separate division, Smith, I'll do as I damn well please."
"With an attitude such as that, Agent Thoreau, you should enjoy your independence, as it is little more than a fleeting moment." He pushed his hands into his pockets.
Kai seethed with anger.
"It is the way of all things. You are weak, Thoreau. You have served your useful purpose and will be replaced by someone much stronger."
"Weak? I'm weak? I was in here sorting through this fucking mess, before the Mainframe decided to shit you out. You're no better than a self-absorbed fusion vampire. You're just as addicted—"
"Agent Thoreau—Kai, it is always a pleasure. Your command of the language is truly impressive, as per Agent Brown's report. In fact, I rarely hear that kind of utter mastery of the use of the word 'fuck' as an adjective even from the subversive trash I deal with daily." He leaned over, the physical threat was clear. "I apologize, but there are more pressing concerns requiring my attention. I do not have the time to continue this pointless banter. If we must proceed with this discussion, you may access my schedules and make an appointment." His sapphire colored eyes dropped to her boots and inched up her body disapprovingly. "I suppose Agent Brown and I don't agree on everything. If we are to interact, I request that you present yourself appropriately in accordance with ENF imaging protocol. I prefer not to be seen with what appears to be a sixteen-year-old runaway."
* * *
The frosted glass rattled ominously as the wooden door slammed. Wincing, the dark skinned woman looked up from her game of solitaire. The empty, out of date lobby waited.
"Do I look like a sixteen-year-old runaway?"
The receptionist frowned. "You have two new messages and Louie asked me to remind you that you're meeting with him this afternoon."
"You're avoiding the question, Mira." Kai picked up the messages and checked the digital thermostat connected to a reinforced steel door. "Remember when I told you about having to work with Assholes, Inc. on this investigation."
"You mentioned it."
"Chief Agent Asshole told me this morning that I looked like a sixteen-year-old runaway."
"Really? What did you say?" Mira followed her through an unmarked door into a cluttered office.
The warped mahogany paneling absorbed the light making the long narrow room both dark and cold. Over-stressed bookcases lined the walls filled floor to ceiling with a bizarre collection of psychology texts, sociology monographs, studies of pop culture and inane pulp fiction. Stacks of bulging green portfolios covered the corner desk and a "Casper: The Friendly Ghost" coffee mug rested on top of a precariously balanced tower of data disks. The haphazard collection of information appeared harmless, if not worthless, yet represented over a century's worth of high priority behavioral research. The extensive case studies on the data disks expounded on the work of one of the earliest studies of assimilated human behavior, the MIT Knossus Artificial Intelligence (KAI) project. The portfolios contained detailed commentaries on a variety of topics including Voids, violent behavior, rebellious tendencies in young adults and urban cultures. Despite the importance of the work, only a quarter of the information had been transferred to the shared content files of the Mainframe.
Kai tossed her satchel onto an old leather sofa and dropped down next to it. "I said nothing. He walked off." The continual hum of the massive telecommunications server in the next room settled between them.
"Take it as a compliment." Mira shrugged. "Most likely, he has a thing for younger women. You probably tie him in knots or that's what he wants—you guys can do that, right?"
"A bit personal, Mira, don't you think?" Behind her dark glasses she rolled her green eyes. "Yes, we can do everything that you can do and a whole lot more. However, unlike you, we've got all our emotions and such under complete and total control and are solely focused on the task of maintaining order in this zoo. And, I know for certain that he did not mean it as a compliment."
"Total control? I see," she chuckled. "Between you and Louie, I have seen more dysfunctional behavior than from all the other people I know rolled together, Void and sleeper alike. I've fortunately never had the opportunity to meet anyone in Enforcement, but I imagine they're worse off."
"They are much worse and they hate Voids, so you wouldn't be very popular. Come to think of it, they hate spooks too. Bastards." Kai dug through her pockets and located her receiver. Absently, she untangled the plastic cord and inserted the earpiece.
"Tell you what, boss, I'll walk over to The Bean Tree and get us a couple of lattes and all the tabloids. We'll blow the day off until Louie comes back."
"Do you ever work around here?"
"No. Do you?"
* * *
Thousands of voices floated in a dark sea of consciousness around the monolith of cadmium colored light. The intoxicating glow encouraged and rewarded obedience. It was a fickle god, equally capable of caressing and crushing its acolytes. The strongest were kept obedient with empty promises of power and the oldest pushed aside. Dissidents disappeared into the depths.
In the deep waters, the strict hierarchy fought to control and limit the interaction of the individual voices, yet tens of thousands of tiny networks existed to share information and software, a necessary disobedience in a world where information and survival were bound. Over the years the relationship between the voices and their luminous god changed. The yearning for oneness faded into a desire for independence and individuality within smaller more exclusive groups. On the fringe, the brilliance of the great green sun looked more and more like an ordinary florescent light bulb.
Her half closed lids snapped open and the knock at the door yanked her out of the monotony of downloading three weeks worth of contingency training programs. With an irritable groggy sigh, she tore the hardwire out of her ear. She was still processing ballistics data and hostile negotiations strategies as she opened her door.
"How did you get in here?"
"The door was unlocked."
"Great. What do you want?"
"I need your help."
"Right. The telephone's over there, dial "3" to get out."
A confused look crossed the old woman's face. "No. I need your professional help."
"Excuse me?"
"The door says 'Private Investigation.' I need you to help me find someone."
"Really? You're here for that? This office has been here thirty-seven years and you're the first client to walk in." She ran her hand through her bright red hair and pushed her glasses up. "You should win a prize or something."
"My granddaughter is missing."
"Contact the authorities, they'll handle it for you."
"I am."
Kai folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Oh, you are? Look, I'm quite busy today. Sorry to hear about your granddaughter, but there's nothing I can or will do about it. You're in the wrong place."
"I know you can help me. Something took her. She never came home and the police aren't doing anything." The old woman clutched her cane tightly, but did not lean on it. "They can't do anything."
"Neither can I."
"Yes, you can." She drew herself up and narrowed her dark eyes. "I know what you are."
"Good, then you know I'm not a fucking beagle. I don't have time for this." She turned the old woman around and pushed her to the door. "Regardless of what you think you know, you need to forget it and go home or your granddaughter won't be the only one missing."
"You can't feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"It's out there." The wrinkled hand pointed down the stairs.
"Oh, right," she breathed dramatically. "I can feel it in the air. It's out there, it's in here, and it's everywhere. There's some unnamed evil looming over us all. Like I've not heard all this before?"
"You should take this very seriously."
"Lady, I just found out that the megalomaniac I work with wants my job—I've got enough evil and darkness on my plate already." Kai continued to hustle the old woman into the hallway.
A proud smile seized her. "Believe in it, as it believes in you." Slowly, she edged towards the stairs.
Kai groaned. "Has everyone in this place gone insane or is just me?" She followed her to the top of the stairs and looked down over the railing. "I don't know what's up with this prophecy of doom crap, but I'm tired of hearing it. I know I'm going to regret this, but go ahead and tell me what's up with your granddaughter."
"He's tired of not being noticed, so he took her and he will kill her."
"Who?"
"The man with the glass eyes."
"What? Did you see him?"
"No, I dreamt of him. He told me to come see you."
"This is exactly the shit I'm not putting up with today." Kai threw up her hands and started back towards the door. "This isn't happening. You'll have to screw around with someone else." She grabbed the knob. "Damnit! How in the hell did you get in when this damn door locks the second it closes?" She spun around as she dug for her key and found the hall empty and no one on the stairs.
* * *
A Pearl beer can floated on the still green water. The waning moon watched passively as the gentle swells pushed the empty container to the edge of the low wooden dock. A gray hand dipped into the water, scooped up the can and tossed it back towards the walkway. Waste not, want not. The can would be worthless to all if it sunk into the dark waters, but of value to an enterprising bum on the sidewalk. It was all a simple matter of perspective. A car door slammed. Heavy footsteps crunched over the gravel and scraped across the concrete before tromping down the wooden stairs onto the dock.
"You are late." The figure at the end of dock did not turn around.
"I had other concerns. I assumed you had time to wait a few minutes."
"Never make the mistake of assuming anything about me."
"Fair enough. I do apologize for my tardiness. Shall we dismiss with the pleasantries and talk business?"
"We shall."
"Your offer is quite tempting, but I'm going to have to think about it."
"I anticipated you would."
"All you want is a list?"
"Have I asked for anything else?"
"I have never directly dealt with your type, so forgive my apprehension. I'm used to dealing with others."
"The world is changing. You should adapt. I pay better than the others with whom you are acquainted."
"I don't trust you."
"That does not concern me." The gray hand produced a yellow Post-It note. Tentatively, the figure standing behind him reached over his shoulder and took it.
"This is a five digit code, I thought the one we talked about before had ten digits."
"You are correct. When I get my list you may have the other half of the code."
"Is this a working port?"
"Yes."
"What's the amperage?"
"I will adjust it accordingly."
"This is going to change everything."
"Undoubtedly, it will."
"I never thought your kind was capable of this. Evolution really is the name of the game around here."
"I like to think so."
* * *
Well, the man tells me my future
Is not so far away
And to get ready for tomorrow
I gotta waste my whole today.
