NOTICE: I do not own the following characters: Agent Smith, Agents Jones and Brown, Neo, or the location Zion. HOWEVER: I do own the characters Persis, Calyx, Priest, Aei, Seefa, Sol, Titus, Neso, Echo, Syenes, Syllis and the ships Antigone and Apollo.
7. The Kiss.
Persis exhaled slowly as she sat up. Titus and Sol stood, both of them with their arms folded, looking at her with a mixture of shock and respect. Persis slid off the seat, bemused at their reaction.
"I told you I'd be fine".
"You didn't tell me you could do that", Sol muttered, almost accusingly.
Persis shook her head.
"I knew you wouldn't understand if I told you. I thought that letting me back in the Matrix would prove two things at once".
"How did you learn to do that? You moved faster than the agents-and there were three of them. How did you become so fast?".
Persis saluted Sol as she made her way back to her cabin.
"Persephone".
Sol looked questioningly at Titus. He shook his head and unfolded his powerful arms as he spoke.
"Don't look at me, sir, I just spent the last five minutes with my mouth open".
Some way up the corridor, Persis smiled.
* * * * * * *
Smith walked down the corridor, his computer produced mind working like a finely tuned engine. He hadn't wanted to see the human again. Not after the last time she had looked at him and sent his complex equilibrium into near chaos. What was wrong with him? His body temperature, normally cool and equal to that of the area around him was at least 5ยบ higher than it should be. And there was a breeze blowing. He had placed the human's sunglasses in his pocket-why?
Smith was worried. But he was also excited, in a passive, electronic way. He considered the possibilities of the girl entering the Matrix again. He had watched her fight the three agents. They had been upgrades, the new versions of the sentient programme. And still no match for her. He inadvertently smiled with a curious sense of...pride. Some part of him had been imprinted onto Persis while they had been crushed together in the booth, that much had become obvious. Not all of his composition, admittedly, but enough to render her almost as powerful as...himself. The difference was that she lacked the singularity of purpose that he had.
He decided to conduct a little experiment the next time she plugged in.
Smith smiled his self-assured smile.
Surprise, he thought, was the most effective form of attack.
* * * * * * *
Persis was exercising her body in an effort to prevent herself thinking about fighting Smith. She was suspended above her bunk, her legs bent round the metal pole in the ceiling while she did sit ups, her hands held firmly behind her head as she drew her chin up to her knees. She could hear only two things; her breathing and the sound of her heart pumping. She could see only one thing.
Smith.
Goddamn the machines, she thought viciously. Who the hell instructed them to design agents so...there was the rub. It wasn't agents that she'd been thinking about; it had been an agent. Singular. Very singular.
Persis increased the speed of her sit ups. Her breathing dragged. Sweat gathered in the hollow of flesh behind her knees. They slowly slid from the pole. She increased her speed even more.
It hurt. It hurt when he hit her. It hurt like someone hit her with a crowbar. One with knuckles and a warmth in his voice barely detectable-no, shut up Persis what are you
thinking why are you so psyched up about Smith? He's just an agent, a sentient
programme he's not real nothing is real you should know that more than anyone everything that was real you've just lost and now you're getting fucking heart palpitations over someone that is unable to feel-something, someTHING THING HE ISN'T A PERSON HE ISN'T A PERSON HE'S A KILLER WHAT KIND OF TRAITOR ARE YOU PERSIS HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN CALYX HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN PRIEST AEI SEEFA HE'S A KILLER A KILLER AND SO ARE YOU SO ARE YOU PERSIS YOU'RE THE SAME AS EACH OTHER EVEN MORE SO NOW YOU'RE A KILLER YOU MURDERED YOUR CREW YOU BURIED THE ANTIGONE CAPTAIN PERSIS SMITH IS YOUR EQUAL YOU'RE PART OF HIM
BOTH OF YOU YOU'RE LIKE TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN JUST ADMIT IT PERSIS YOU LIKE HIM YOU THINK HE'S SOMETHING MORE THAN A MACHINE YOU THINK HE'S SPECIAL DIFFERENT YOU WANT TO FIGHT HIM AGAIN BECAUSE IT MAKES YOU FEEL ALIVE IT MAKES YOU FEEL THAT YOU'RE NOT ALONE-
Persis slipped from the pole and landed unceremoniously on her bed, panting heavily and thinking wildly. She calmed down as the sound of the lights being turned off on the Apollo interrupted her thoughts.
She lay on her side in a foetus like position. She studied the metal bolts in her arms, running her fingertips over the cold surfaces. I'm not completely human. We're all part machine. All of the freed minds are.
The fleeting image of Smith's face made her knit her brows in contemplation.
His eyes. They were so almost human it make her shudder to think of them. He had faltered then, he had hesitated at her touch and at her look. Smith was different. He wasn't like other agents. She wasn't like other humans. She had made him pause, she had made him react differently. He hadn't killed her because he didn't want to. He didn't want to. Smith had developed the capacity to want something. Because of her? Maybe. It was certainly a possibility. She had affected him. If part of Smith could be imprinted on her, then part of her could be imprinted onto him, couldn't it?
Could she make Smith feel?
Persis fell asleep clutching at her blanket in her dreams of falling. Always falling.
She decided to conduct an experiment of her own.
* * * * * * *
It was some weeks later.
The sky had turned grey and overcast, the clouds a sulky hue the colour of gun metal. Persis breathed the simulated air. It would soon rain, she thought, gazing at the heavy formations on the horizon. She glanced at the package in her hand. She needed to get to the drop-off point. Zion needed to be warned. Sentinel activity had been picked up all too close to the fifth junction, one of the nearest passages in terms of distance from the perimeters of Zion's defences. Persis jumped from rooftop to rooftop as spots of rain began to fall.
She slid down the fire escape of one of the buildings and landed on street level. Espying the post box she ran towards it and inserted the package into the blue metal mouth, hearing it land on top of a mass of paper. Letters no-one really wrote. The thought of it made her suddenly sad. It wasn't fair, she mused, but yet it was darkly ironic that humanity had created the means to its own demise. Sighing, Persis walked down the street. It was then she noticed Smith, pausing in front of the government building off the main street. He looked at her before entering through the rotating doors. Persis ran across the street, passing oncoming cars as she did so.
Smith heard the car horns as he approached the lift. It's working, he smiled to himself. She's following me. He pressed the button on the side of the wall.
Persis emerged from the rotating doors, droplets of water running off her coat and the rims of her shades. She saw him standing by the lift at the end of the marble floored hallway. The security guards looked at her suspiciously, before glancing at Smith. He nodded wordlessly. Persis strode over to him and stood next to him waiting for the lift, silently.
The lift doors parted.
Smith gestured with his hand. When she didn't move, he went in and stood, his hands clasped behind his back. Persis then stepped inside and did likewise.
The lift doors closed.
Smith spoke as the lift shifted into motion.
"As you can see, I've decided to take your matter further".
"To other agents?" Persis became fearful. She knew of the torture sessions that agents performed to extract information from their prisoners. Was she wrong? Was Smith using her to get the codes to Zion's mainframe?
Smith turned his head a fraction towards her without looking at her, " No. I've decided to investigate the matter further myself."
He noticed the look of mild confusion in the girl's face.
"Don't be alarmed, Miss. Carlisle, I'm not going to attempt to kill you. You're far too interesting to me".
"I'm flattered by your interest in me".
Smith didn't have an answer to this. He simply nodded his head in reply. The lift doors opened to reveal the outside of an office door. Smith stepped out, and opening the door, beckoned her in.
Back outside the building, agents had picked up Persis' signal as one of their own. Instructed to group together to formulate new strategies, they travelled from the far corners of the city to the government building, growing ever closer with each minute.
It was a spacious room. The farthest wall was all glass, giving the inhabitant a spectacular view of the city skyline. The carpet was taupe. The walls a bland grey. A simple desk. A metal chair. A metal cabinet similar to a locker. A small table.
So this was where agents brought their prospective informants.
Persis set up a communications block around the room without thinking. The picture on the screens of the Apollo blurred and flickered. She didn't want Sol and Titus seeing the events of the next few minutes.
"Have a seat, Miss. Carlisle".
She glanced at the metal chair.
"I'd prefer to stand".
Smith crossed to the table and leaned on it, his hands on the edge of the wood, looking disturbingly relaxed and almost casual.
"But your sunglasses, Miss. Carlisle, your coat; you're drenched. Shouldn't you remove them? You might contract a cold".
When she was younger and her mind was still slave to the Matrix, Persis thought with a tinge of irony, and a guy had said those words to her; she'd have mentally accused him of finding a petty reason for her to remain in a state of undress. But with
Smith it was different-she wasn't sure how-it just was. She decided to humour him. Better make him confident in himself before she tried her experiment.
She took her sunglasses off and placed them on the desk. She slipped the trench coat off her shoulders, folded it in half and placed it on the back of the chair. Droplets of water trickled off it onto the chair.
She stood there like an alabaster statue in her kimono like top and slick leather trousers.
Smith rose from his position and took gradual steps towards her.
"I have come to the conclusion that contact with me has imprinted certain features onto you. That combined with the inefficient connection you had to the Matrix resulted in your becoming a fusion of two very opposing natures".
Persis considered this. It fitted hers and Sol's diagnostics of what had happened to her. She accepted it as truth.
"However, this does not explain your continued existence outside the Matrix. Therefore, I have decided that contact must be made again to determine the full
extent of this-imprint, this -transaction.".
Smith concentrated. He needed to determine how much of a danger the girl could be with her enhanced abilities within the Matrix. He needed more information to conclude what process had taken place which had enabled her to live as human and semi-agent, in and out of the Matrix. And yes, he admitted to himself, he wanted to see how this prolonged contact would affect her.
Persis regarded Smith with something akin to suspicion and a hint of expectation. She needed to work the situation to her advantage if she wanted to surmise the power she had on Smith's reactions, his equilibrium, damned impassive agent that he was.
Smith was close now. So close she could feel his breath on her face. She restrained herself from inhaling the warm, mildly plastic scent.
"This won't hurt", Smith practically purred.
He removed his glasses and placed them on the desk near hers. Then he brought her hand up in his, and clasped the two together. Their fingers intertwined. Persis could feel the tingling sensation in her fingertips that she'd felt before on the roof of the apartment building.
Smith looked at her and pressed his palm closer to hers.
Persis reduced her eyes to slits to watch his expression.
Then, as if on impulse, a sensation washed over her like a cold wave on a warm beach. Like a spray of droplets it rushed through every part of her being. She could feel Smith searching for the answer to his question, the solution.
Smith marvelled. Such a complex procedure, this fusion of human and machine, almost every molecule of her conjoined with one identical to his. Another programme was behind this, he concluded. He looked at Persis, trying to read her. He studied her face. By accessing the numerous databases on every aspect of the human psyche, he concluded that by those standards that the girl was unusually beautiful. He examined her features; eyes, nose, skin, hair, before alighting on her mouth. He had never explored the sensation of a human's mouth. Skin, yes, during his many battles with numerous rebels he had made contact that way. But not in the intimate, prolonged fashion that humans had christened a kiss. He narrowed his eyes at the prospect. He could access simulations of the action, yes, and experience a machine's interpretation of the emotional feeling. But how did machines know what a kiss felt like? He could not envisage his contemporaries engaging in similar activity, so how did they know? And he desperately wanted to know if and how the human would respond-in the same way that the databases read if she found the experience pleasurable? How would the machines know the extent of these details? Smith did not yet appreciate the extent to which these sentiments were alike to every human's thoughts regarding the machines. How did they know?
Persis acknowledged his face drawing nearer to hers. He's experimenting too, she thought wryly, but he actually wants to find out what a human feels like, he wants to touch me.
Their hands were still clasped together. Persis noticed with a strange thrill, that Smith's hand was growing warmer.
She parted her lips slightly for the kiss. Smith leaned in and pressed gently with his mouth. Persis revelled in the touch-keep a hold of yourself, she thought-now's the time to find out if Smith is different, if he is becoming more human. She moved her mouth sideways to make him respond.
Smith did. Accessing the information he needed to carry out the kiss, he slipped his tongue into Persis' mouth. It was as warm and moist as he anticipated, and strangely familiar. The kiss built up. The two leant in closer to each other. Smith's arm curved around her waist in his vice-like grip.
Persis released some of the pent up tension in her mind by kissing back, subtly sliding her tongue along his. Smith was warm, with a taste like a peculiar mixture of
plastic and metal that was not wholly unpleasant. She accidentally exhaled in pleasure.
Acknowledging her reaction, Smith continued with his exploration of her mouth, caressing her lips and then covering her mouth in his, seeking to increase the sensation she was experiencing. To his horror and yet excitement, he lightly gasped at the sensation of Persis' mouth moving under his. Was this pleasure? He searched the database to see if it was possible that he could feel it. No available entries.
Persis pulled away to find a smouldering look in Smith's hard, blue eyes.
Smith was still in shock, but now he was angry. Angry with himself for letting that gasp out. Angry at the girl for instilling that feeling in him, that aching. He stepped
back, and releasing her hand, plunged his own into her torso and let forth the beginnings of the cloning process he had developed not so long ago.
Persis let out a small cry, throwing her head back. The pain was almost unbearable, numbing in its intensity. Smith's hand was embedded into her chest, a black, moving liquid like substance covering her body, green Matrix characters flowing within it. It was a paralysing experience. Persis felt almost frozen to the ground, feeling herself give in to the process. It was a horrifying pain.
It felt like dying.
She cried out as the substance reached her neck. Then, grasping Smith's wrist, she fought the spreading liquid like substance and tried to pull his hand out of her.
Smith grimaced as she slowly tore his hand out of her torso. Surprised by her strength and her growing will to stop him, he relaxed and watched her recover, his hand now completely out of her skin. He let it fall to his side, not knowing why he did so..not having a reason perturbed him. He felt a hollow, dark sensation that the databases had described as an emotion..it was guilt. Smith shook his head slowly. What was happening to him?
Persis opened her eyes. They blazed in fury at Smith. She noticed he looked almost troubled by his action. Gritting her teeth she decided to try to reciprocate the gesture and thrust her right hand into his chest.
Smith blinked slowly. He looked down at her hand, lodged up to the wrist in his body. He saw the similar liquid like substance flowing from her hand, only it was all
streams of figures, no black substance with it, just stream upon stream of codes. He felt them penetrate his structure and recognised them as the codes that Persis consisted of. No, he thought, she can't be doing this. She can't imprint herself onto me, its not-
"Possible?" Persis whispered. Drawing closer to him, she pressed her cheek to his as he shuddered, the streams from her hand flowing up to his neck.
"You can feel what its like, the torture of being trapped here, Smith. But then you've always felt it, haven't you-but now you can feel me like I can feel you and you'll want to see me again Smith. You'll want to. Because now there's an emotion present that you can feel ."
Smith heard this thought reverberate in his head. Persis pulled her hand out. Smith looked at her, half aghast, half longingly. She could barely pull herself away from him, but she grabbed the metal chair and threw it at the window. The glass shattered
and a gaping hole stared out at the city. Persis yanked her phone out of the coat on the floor, and without looking back-which hurt her more than she'd expected-she dived straight out of the window and shot down to the street below.
Hitting the ground running, she called the Apollo for the nearest exit.
Smith blinked. Walking over to the window, he espied the tiny figure of Persis in the street below. He watched her leap from street to street, finally running into a tv repair shop and disappearing from view.
He turned back. Her coat lay forgotten on the floor. He picked it up, rubbing its smooth texture between his thumb and index finger. He felt himself grow frustrated. Seizing a sleeve of the garment, he tore it violently in half, letting the two shreds drop to the floor. Grabbing Persis' sunglasses, he crushed them in his palm, the cracking sound amplified by the silence. He felt disgusted with himself and yet invigorated. He threw the pieces in the bin next to the desk.
He was changed. He hated the human. He hated her. He wanted to tear her in two like the coat, to crush her in his hands-he had felt the complex and varied emotions in her when she'd showed them to him and the anomaly within him began fashioning new codes in his construct with the ability to reciprocate one of them-he wanted to see her again yes again he wanted her he wanted her-
HE WANTED PERSIS.
The door opened and Jones and Brown stepped in. Smith looked up, his face contorted in a snarl.
"What have you been doing?" Jones blandly asked.
Smith looked away, choking back what was vaguely recognisable as the beginnings of a sob.
"What is wrong?"
Smith glanced at them, their heads tilted in incomprehension.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. But in the strangest juxtaposition, one he was quite defeated by, it was also very right.
* * * * * * *