My second attempt to define Morpheus, which came out considerably darker. Quotations from O Captain! My Captain!, written by Walt Whitman.
We have not yet come to any conclusions. He is tall and dark and handsome in his newfound world where racial prejudice does not exist. He will never again beg in the streets. For the first time in his life he is doing things right, he is useful. He is happy.
He is fallible. Beneath the burnished bronze exterior and solid muscle he is a man. Ranking officer. Best flier the league has ever seen. Quickest promotion in a hundred years of history.
I am but a man, he says.
And sometimes he chooses to be noble and sometimes his subconscious creeps in and alters the situation to his own advantage. He is a Jekyll and Hyde and a jack-in-the-box.
And along there comes a time, a trial, a test. A new situation, never encountered, where he has to think on his feet. His sheer strength and will has saved his crew from the Matrix. His captain has been captured. A cliffhanger in code, she is led away. He grasps her hand as if to pull her back. Her eyes remain closed. Her entire body flickers.
As if a jolt of electricity clawed at her spine. The crew shrieks, bring her back, you can¡¯t let them take her, they¡¯re torturing her, you have to do something, wishes and commands and commands. Going after her will result in all of then being picked off one by one, for all the enthusiasm they show now. Useless deaths, just more raw meat lining the streets.
There is only code to prove that she has something, knows something the machines want. Her heartbeat goes wild, striping scrolling screens. A slow delicious line of blood licks at her damp face. Her entire body spasms now, and he still cannot decide. He is suddenly filled with a fear of those dentists¡¯ chairs those barbers¡¯ chair that protrude into your head and possess you and eat your soul and you are only pain-
Underneath the whites of his eyes and the trembling fingertips he cannot bear to leave his captain. Standard operating procedure one-one dictates that rescue mission should never¨C
Medic frantically sponges at her forehead, as if that will ease her suffering. Green Coppertop wails, and Motherly Old Crewmember tries to comfort her. Rebel One and Rebel Two have began to play with their deck of cards, which only comes in black. There had always been fierce debates on whether diamonds were red or black.
She is staring to quiet down. They will have what they want of her soon enough.
His thoughts are his own as he motions for the chop. The executioner¡¯s blade swishes, a pair of scissors in the dark barbershop days. What must it be like, to have your life wrenched out of your head? One quick decisive moment of being sucked out inexorably elsewhere? His hands shake. It is not an easy death for either of them.
And as he stands there he recites his eulogy, to life, to death, to the first friend he ever had in life, to his mentor, to his teacher, to her. ¡°It is some dream¡ that on the deck, you¡¯ve fallen cold and dead.¡±
They roll her up, and her body is short, reverent work.
They need a fresh start. The bad blood has been expectorated, and new growth must germinate. The evils of the time must end. He is not satisfied with his actions.
They are short of a new crewmember.
Of course he thinks of Niobe, but she is already of high rank of The Logos. It would not do to borrow her and never return her. For he knew he could not.
His own crew is weary, forlorn and dejected. Still the fearful trip is done. The ship is anchored safe and its voyage over. They are all still alive. Yet he ponders. What is the game of chess without a king?
The queen is the most powerful player on the board. She can move either vertically, horizontally or diagonally, and in the number of squares of her choice.
He directs his next question at the nearest random crewmember. ¡°That new one we were looking at the other day. Hacker. Trying to crack the IRS-d? What was his name?¡±
Crewmember wants to smile at him, but in the turn of the tides she is not sure if she knows him altogether well enough to call him a stranger. ¡°Trinity. Smart girl.¡±
¡°Notify Zion of¡ the loss. You might as well go to look out for this Trinity. She has potential.¡± He nods to Crewmember. ¡°Thank you, Ghost.¡± Yessir.
Crewmember Ghost exits along with the rest of them. For they are merely players on this stage. He is left alone, alone as he has ever been, with a ship, a crew and a corpse. And he shatters his silent torment, screaming aloud, vowing to put things right the next time. The next time.
This man is to be captain. You may now wish to judge if this man is a good captain.