Samuel Magdalene lay on his side, curled up in his small bed. He had a
small apartment, three rooms; a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom. The
blankets were all bunched up at the foot of the bed. He was sleeping. It
was blissful. He hadn't slept in such a long time. Even so, he didn't look
content. It was a stressful, tense sleep. His face was plastered with a
look of despair, and almost distrust. He looked like a broken man.
Samuel's skin was pale, partly naturally, partly from the fact that he had been sickly lately. He had red hair and although it was fairly bright, or it least it would have been if there had been any light in the room to reflect off of it, but it probably would be a reach to describe it as flaming. His face was covered in faint freckles, giving him a boyish look. He was in his mid twenties, but he looked slightly younger, maybe twenty or twenty-one. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a baggy black t-shirt. He had a thin, slightly scrawny frame, and an expressional face.
His room was relatively dark. The only light was the homely glow of his computer, which was sitting innocently on the desk, which was jammed up next to his bed. It was open to some random search engine with nothing typed into the box. He'd left it like that about five hours before, when he'd decided that he had a chance at sleep and dropped everything. He drifted off almost immediately, and it was a beautiful thing to him. Even the five hours he could get could give him some restoration. The glow shone dully on his face, casting eerie shadows around his features.
He gave a slight twitch in his sleep, as if he was having a dream. He looked uncomfortable, or at least somewhat frustrated about something. Next to him, the computer flashed momentarily black, then almost immediately was back to normal. Except for one word. "Matrix." It was typed into the search box. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe something important. What had created it? Samuel's mind. Did he know? Maybe, somewhere deep down inside.
The form of the man stirred, slightly. He felt it. A tug at something inside of him. Just a slight pull at some kind of power that was contained in him. And it felt so good.
Something compelled him to wake up a few seconds after the computer flickered. Maybe it was the warm surge of power he felt flowing through him, even in his slumber. Maybe it was a coincidence. Whatever the reason, groggily he opened his eyes - the first thing he saw was the computer. No longer on a search page at all, the screen was completely black. Slightly confused, he blinked once to get the tiredness out of his eyes, which shone a brilliant green, even in the semidarkness.
While he was thinking about it, his computer answered his question for him. A green message slowly scrolled across the screen. "Matrix, eh?" it asked casually. "Is that what you're calling it?"
As suspicious as it may seem, he knew exactly what the hacker meant. After a moment's pause, he gave a slight flex to his fingers, placed them on the keyboard and began to type. They flew across the keys, clicking away at an alarming rate. "Not really," he admitted in his reply. "But it's as good a term as any. What word have you employed for it?" He didn't know who it was that was contacting him, but he figured if he just went along with it, he might learn something important.
"I've been calling it the Astral Plane," the words informed him. "My friend Ira calls it a Splinter." They paused for a moment; apparently the hacker was thinking. "You say you didn't use the phrase Matrix, but you just typed it into a search box, minutes ago."
Samuel was puzzled. "I did no such thing," he protested weakly, even though he suspected the hacker had it right. They knew about the thing, the fact that the world was wrong, and also that he knew about it as well. "Okay, I give up. Who are you?" he typed instead, rubbing the back of his neck as he waited for an answer.
"Angel Cadens," the computer said. "Hieroglyphic. Glyphic for short. But maybe the real question is, who are you?"
He didn't answer at first. She made first contact. Why was she asking about his identity? "Shouldn't you already know?" he asked, purposely not giving too much away.
"No," the answer was short, sweet and to the point.
"Then why are you contacting me?"
A pause.
"Because I think you're important." Again, this Glyphic person got the best of his tired mind.
Slightly frustrated, he glared at the computer screen. "Explain," he demanded. It sounded harsh in his head, but he knew that typed text was impersonal in that respect.
She got the message well enough. "I can't..." she admitted. The dots made it seem somewhat sheepish in Samuel's mind. "I just had this sudden urge to hack. I don't quite remember... Next thing I knew, I was in your system. When I saw the word 'matrix', I know why I was in; you knew about it too. So I contacted you."
He considered each word carefully, finally deciding it was a fair answer. He'd had the same feeling many times lately, things he couldn't explain and didn't understand. Before he could express any of this to the woman on the other side, she spoke again.
"What's your name?"
"Samuel."
"But what can I call you?"
"Voltage."
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Samuel's skin was pale, partly naturally, partly from the fact that he had been sickly lately. He had red hair and although it was fairly bright, or it least it would have been if there had been any light in the room to reflect off of it, but it probably would be a reach to describe it as flaming. His face was covered in faint freckles, giving him a boyish look. He was in his mid twenties, but he looked slightly younger, maybe twenty or twenty-one. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a baggy black t-shirt. He had a thin, slightly scrawny frame, and an expressional face.
His room was relatively dark. The only light was the homely glow of his computer, which was sitting innocently on the desk, which was jammed up next to his bed. It was open to some random search engine with nothing typed into the box. He'd left it like that about five hours before, when he'd decided that he had a chance at sleep and dropped everything. He drifted off almost immediately, and it was a beautiful thing to him. Even the five hours he could get could give him some restoration. The glow shone dully on his face, casting eerie shadows around his features.
He gave a slight twitch in his sleep, as if he was having a dream. He looked uncomfortable, or at least somewhat frustrated about something. Next to him, the computer flashed momentarily black, then almost immediately was back to normal. Except for one word. "Matrix." It was typed into the search box. Maybe it meant nothing, maybe something important. What had created it? Samuel's mind. Did he know? Maybe, somewhere deep down inside.
The form of the man stirred, slightly. He felt it. A tug at something inside of him. Just a slight pull at some kind of power that was contained in him. And it felt so good.
Something compelled him to wake up a few seconds after the computer flickered. Maybe it was the warm surge of power he felt flowing through him, even in his slumber. Maybe it was a coincidence. Whatever the reason, groggily he opened his eyes - the first thing he saw was the computer. No longer on a search page at all, the screen was completely black. Slightly confused, he blinked once to get the tiredness out of his eyes, which shone a brilliant green, even in the semidarkness.
While he was thinking about it, his computer answered his question for him. A green message slowly scrolled across the screen. "Matrix, eh?" it asked casually. "Is that what you're calling it?"
As suspicious as it may seem, he knew exactly what the hacker meant. After a moment's pause, he gave a slight flex to his fingers, placed them on the keyboard and began to type. They flew across the keys, clicking away at an alarming rate. "Not really," he admitted in his reply. "But it's as good a term as any. What word have you employed for it?" He didn't know who it was that was contacting him, but he figured if he just went along with it, he might learn something important.
"I've been calling it the Astral Plane," the words informed him. "My friend Ira calls it a Splinter." They paused for a moment; apparently the hacker was thinking. "You say you didn't use the phrase Matrix, but you just typed it into a search box, minutes ago."
Samuel was puzzled. "I did no such thing," he protested weakly, even though he suspected the hacker had it right. They knew about the thing, the fact that the world was wrong, and also that he knew about it as well. "Okay, I give up. Who are you?" he typed instead, rubbing the back of his neck as he waited for an answer.
"Angel Cadens," the computer said. "Hieroglyphic. Glyphic for short. But maybe the real question is, who are you?"
He didn't answer at first. She made first contact. Why was she asking about his identity? "Shouldn't you already know?" he asked, purposely not giving too much away.
"No," the answer was short, sweet and to the point.
"Then why are you contacting me?"
A pause.
"Because I think you're important." Again, this Glyphic person got the best of his tired mind.
Slightly frustrated, he glared at the computer screen. "Explain," he demanded. It sounded harsh in his head, but he knew that typed text was impersonal in that respect.
She got the message well enough. "I can't..." she admitted. The dots made it seem somewhat sheepish in Samuel's mind. "I just had this sudden urge to hack. I don't quite remember... Next thing I knew, I was in your system. When I saw the word 'matrix', I know why I was in; you knew about it too. So I contacted you."
He considered each word carefully, finally deciding it was a fair answer. He'd had the same feeling many times lately, things he couldn't explain and didn't understand. Before he could express any of this to the woman on the other side, she spoke again.
"What's your name?"
"Samuel."
"But what can I call you?"
"Voltage."
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.