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 Xavier
(Dead Can Dance, Within the Realm
of a Dying Sun). Closing lyric taken from Advances in Modern Technology
(AFI, Very Proud of Ya)
Rating:
± PG13 for Language and Violence.
Chapter Six
Nine Nights Nothing
Deep in the heart where the mysteries emerge
Eve bears the stigma of original sin
freedom so high when we all are bound by laws
etched in the scheme of nature's own hand
unseen by those who fail in their pursuit of fate.
The delicious melody woke her and carried her to the window. Through the gauze curtains, she peered down into the backyard past the empty swimming pool and overgrown rosebushes to the dilapidated swing set. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming as she watched the small child thrust his legs forward and back pushing the swing higher and higher. Inviting laughter pierced the silence. Shaking away the dream and overcome by the hunger, she wrapped a silk shawl around her narrow shoulders and hurried into the blue night.
The night can be an unreliable witness.
"Who are you?" The little boy in white was not there.
"I'm nothing and everything you want."
"What?" She clutched the patterned silk. "You need to leave my backyard."
"This is no backyard."
"You are unwelcome here. I don't want to have to call the police."
"My lady, I should think not, they might bring shovels." His staccato whisper assaulted each syllable.
"What?" She sputtered, yet drew herself up and began to focus on him.
"Don't even think of it." He laughed and allowed the swing's momentum to die. "What would a shovel uncover here?" He pointed to the end of the slide and exposed his teeth. "It's funny, you would think we'd get on swimmingly as we have some of the same tastes. Too bad I despise you like I despise myself."
"I don't know who you are. I've powerful friends—"
"I have no need for friends. I need nothing."
A wrenching chill clawed its way through her. "What are you?" She looked into his impassive eyes as he began to swing again.
"You know what I am, my sweet Nephilim."
"Please," she gasped and fell to her knees as the melodic childlike laugh sang a hymn to her agony. "Please. I'll tell them where they are and why I did it. I can't fight it. Please." She cried in desperation as she watched the child swing happily over her. "Anything you want…"
"I'm getting closer to what I want everyday." He leapt from the swing and knocked her to the ground. Full-grown hands crushed against the sides of her head. "Do you believe in genetic evil?"
* * *
The cigarette dropped to the asphalt as the car door slammed and a small foot crushed the smoldering carcinogenic concoction of tobacco and fillers. Pulsating blue and red lights set the rhythm and yellow tape established the parameters of the suburban nightmare unfolding at 2390 Cedar Crest Drive. An audience of curious neighbors in bathrobes huddled together against the first breeze of autumn.
A pair of clear, yet old, eyes followed her as she ducked under the tape, joked with a pair of reporters, scored a styrofoam cup of coffee and finally vanished through the faded red door of the Victorian style house. Everyone knew that house. It was the place parents hoped their children would fear. The dingy windows concealed the secrets and the elaborate wrought iron fence sequestered them. Ruined newspapers rolled up with rotten rubber bands littered the unkempt yard. The paint peeled around the windows. The neglected shrubs choked out the grass. No one needed to imagine what the inside looked like, everyone knew from the nightmares. She was the witch: the hungry old woman who stole children and whose shadow lurked behind the tattered curtains. She had been the worst parody of mothers. The old eyes turned towards home and cloth soled shoes shuffled away.
Irritable officers clogged the narrow hall and she pushed her way through the jumble of dark blue uniforms holding her badge in front of her as a talisman. A brief pause in the kitchen disposed of the styrofoam cup and straightened her dark glasses. The screen door snapped shut behind her and she stepped out onto the broad porch. Without warning, an icy unseen hand slapped across her face and artificial instinct warned her. The trace energy signature was still fresh. The blue night could not conceal it.
"You're late, Agent Thoreau."
"Always a pleasure, Agent Smith."
The body swung in the breeze and the swing set creaked innocently. Strong hands had wrapped the thin steel chain around her neck no less than four times suspending the corpse three feet from the ground. A disinterested, but well-fed tabby balanced on the teeter-totter licking its paws. Agents Brown and Jones stood on the soft dirt at the bottom of the old slide, hands in the their pockets.
"Tell me, Smith." She took a step forward and looked up at the body. "Are there any chunks of Flight 858 around here or are you going to admit that we have a problem."
"This is an independent anomaly. It is minor and of little concern. We have contacted EC and the problem will be remedied."
"You know I am truly astounded by the way you can not know anything about something and still try to pass yourself off as a bloody expert. You don't have a clue any more than I do. What do you know about anomalies—especially 'minor' ones? All that information is buried and classified out of our reach."
"Thoreau." Smith swung the naked body around to reveal a bloody patch missing from the lower back. "You are supposed to be the expert here. Apparently, one of your Voids has developed some issues and I now have the misfortune of dealing with it."
"One of my Voids? What are you talking about? We don't know that it is a Void."
"You have allowed one to get strong enough to cause an energy disruption such as this and because of your incompetence I have been ordered to take care of the problem and eliminate the Void in question."
Her persistence continued. "When did the murderer become a Void?"
"I got my orders from the Mainframe ten minutes ago. Put in your hardwire, Thoreau, and you can join our little club." He lowered his voice. "You think I want to waste my time this way?"
"Waste your time?" She laughed. "What would you rather be doing? There is something out there capable of leaving a trail of energy of this magnitude and you call it 'wasting your time?'" She bit her lip. "Something is preying on Voids—that makes no sense. Voids are vicious creatures. They feed off of strong sleepers to fuel a residual energy trace left inside of them by us when we used them as hosts. They suck the life out of their victims and use that energy to manipulate The Matrix. Occasionally, they have some great personalities, but under it all they're little more than ruthless murders. I guarantee you that they are no weaklings, but the strongest Void I've ever known couldn't leave half the energy trace that's left here. There's something bigger and more powerful behind this."
"You have let one get away from you. You have failed to take note of one capable of this." Smith jabbed the body with his finger. The swing set groaned as the body swung around.
"I have failed to notice a Void capable of creating an anomaly like this? I know you think very little of me, but Smith I am not an idiot. Besides, any anomaly greater than a seven comes from outside of the system. Voids are still plugged-in and, thus, within the system. I'm not in Energy Conservation, but I know what a seven feels like and this is bigger, even if you erroneously call it minor. We have two murders separated by nine days. It is imperative that we put a stop to this before it gets completely out of hand. This could be just the beginning. This thing knows what it is doing. We can't narrow our search based on uncertainty. I will not accept that this is the doing of a Void until I have proof."
Smith looked to Brown and shook his head. "Thoreau, we have our orders. The Mainframe has identified the problem as a Void. It is a Void. The Mainframe is never in error."
* * *
Kai pounded up the stairs and jammed her key into the lock. Grumbling, she scooped a pile of messages off Mira's desk and checked the thermostat. Patting the steel door, a sigh escaped her lips. "The things we get ourselves into, Kathleen." She pulled her glasses off and rested her head against the cool metal.
The satchel landed on the couch and glasses skidded across the desk. "I hate that bastard," she informed the goldfish on top of the file cabinet. "I know, you don't have to tell me about it. Kai, you're not supposed to hate anyone, oh no, I'm supposed to be indifferent to them. That's true. I buy into that completely. I'm supposed to be indifferent to them, but not my own kind. I will not be indifferent to my own kind, so I hate that bastard." She collapsed in the chair, scooted forward and began to rummage through the data disks. "Let me tell you this, Mr. Fish, we're going to learn everything there is to know about anomalies, which isn't a lot, but—"
Listening.
"Louie?" Calmly, she rose to her feet and her hand slipped to her weapon.
The waiting room was empty, save for the hum of the communications server. Her eyes scanned the room. "Shit, I'm going nuts." Louie's light was off and the office was empty. Putting the gun back in its holster, she double-checked the lock and the thermostat. Satisfied, she headed back to her files and stopped. The energy trace was very faint, but present nonetheless and the message was clear, just like the fresh words scratched in black marker across the frosted glass of her office door.
Nihil ageNdo homines male agere discuNt
"The devil finds mischief for idle hands," she breathed the translation. "Indeed, I think it's time that I went speak with the devil himself."
Every night I walk the streets,
awake while everyone else sleeps…
Take nothing from nothing
and you'll have nothing left…
Everyone avoids my stare
and no one cares to ever dare
to look into my eyes of what they most fear.
And they're taught to fear, to fear no evil.
And they know no fear,
they've learned to love themselves.
Forever unlucky, 'cause I'll own tomorrow.
Forever unwanted, outcast today.
I'm not mislead, I've got no one to follow.
Everywhere to go, no place to stay.
End of Cycle I