The Matrix: Reverberations
Disclaimer: I did not create the Matrix. However. It is a
marvelous place to visit! See the monumental skyscrapers!
See the majestic Agents...
(an Agent once bit my sister. It's true. She was carving
her initials in the side of the Agent with...)
(we apologize for the fault in the disclaimer and would
like to notify the reader that those responsible have been
sacked.)
(mind you Agent bites can be very painful...)
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-Part 2-
Brad Johnson watched as his ball arced high into the air, coming to land gracefully inches away from the cup on the 15th hole.
The former Agent had taken up golf during his run for the Senate as a relaxed way of meeting with his campaign staff.
He was waiting for the pastor who was golfing ahead of him to finish playing when he felt his cellphone vibrating in his pocket. Reaching in, he saw a couple approaching behind him.
Looking at the number, he recogized Neo's phone number and motioned at the party behind him to play through.
"Yes?"
"Smith had the baby," Neo told him. "Just thought you'd want to know."
"I'll be there around four or so," Johnson told him, hanging up after said a polite goodbye.
"Anyone I know?" the campaign advisor he'd been playing this round with him asked.
Johnson shook his head. "a guy I knew from work just became a dad. I think I'm going to beg off lunch and pay him a visit."
Benjamin Pierce had been a political advisor for many years. He knew when a candidate was holding something back, and Brad Johnson was no different.
"Brad," he said, finally, "these are the days when your opponent is going to try to find anything he can about you that he can dig up to use against you. Now, I don't want that insipid Frenchman to win this election. God knows how badly he'll screw things up. So first off, I need to know more about this friend of yours. Is he in any kind of legal trouble, anything that could give your opponent a chance to say that you're making friends with unsavory people?"
"Are you saying I should just dump my best friend?" Johnson asked, as he tapped the ball into the cup. "I can't do that, Pierce. Sorry." He handed his walking stick to Pierce as he bent down to retrieve his ball.
"Don't apologize for being true to your friends," Pierce tapped his own ball into the cup and joined Johnson as they headed to the next hole.
"I took a bullet for him," Johnson told Pierce. "He's a good man, and I was more than willing to die for him."
"You weren't in love with him, were you?"
"I was," Johnson admitted, setting his ball down on the tee. "But nothing ever came of it. His heart belonged to another and still does to this day."
"So why do I get the feeling you're still hiding something?" Pierce asked him. "Who is this friend of yours anyhow?"
"His name's Smith," Johnson said, simply, hitting the ball.
"That helps," Pierce rolled his eyes as he set his own ball on the tee. "Have you any idea how many Smiths there are in this world?" He hit his own ball and followed Johnson onto the green. "Brad, I want to know what it is you're not telling me. Who is Smith?"
Johnson remained silent for the rest of the game, which he lost by 4 points. "You're very good," he said, getting into the car.
"Thanks," Pierce smiled as he dropped their bags into the trunk, and then jumped into the driver's seat. "Now, I'd like an answer to this question. Who is Smith?"
"Ashton Smith," Johnson knew he could trust the man, and his car was rigged to keep any conversation held within from being overheard by the Mainframe.
"Ashton Smith is dead." Pierce remarked, pulling out of the parking lot and began driving toward their campaign headquarters.
"No, he's not," Johnson said matter-of-factly. "He was badly hurt, but he survived. He let people think he was dead so he could go back to having a normal life.
"Ashton Smith is alive?" Pierce sounded like he'd just been handed the news of the century. "Do you have any idea what kind of news this is?"
"It's not news," Johnson told him. "It's my former colleague and best friend. And you will not go blabbing to any reporters."
"But Ashton Smith, alive," Pierce exclaimed, almost rear-ending the Jetta in front of them.
"Ashton Smith has a child now," Johnson pointed out. "And he does not want a bunch of thugs disrupting his family. So you will not go running off at the mouth about him the next time some reporter asks you about this campaign."
Pierce nodded in agreement, though somewhat reluctantly, as he drove into the parking lot at the campaign headquarters.
(tbc...)
Brad Johnson watched as his ball arced high into the air, coming to land gracefully inches away from the cup on the 15th hole.
The former Agent had taken up golf during his run for the Senate as a relaxed way of meeting with his campaign staff.
He was waiting for the pastor who was golfing ahead of him to finish playing when he felt his cellphone vibrating in his pocket. Reaching in, he saw a couple approaching behind him.
Looking at the number, he recogized Neo's phone number and motioned at the party behind him to play through.
"Yes?"
"Smith had the baby," Neo told him. "Just thought you'd want to know."
"I'll be there around four or so," Johnson told him, hanging up after said a polite goodbye.
"Anyone I know?" the campaign advisor he'd been playing this round with him asked.
Johnson shook his head. "a guy I knew from work just became a dad. I think I'm going to beg off lunch and pay him a visit."
Benjamin Pierce had been a political advisor for many years. He knew when a candidate was holding something back, and Brad Johnson was no different.
"Brad," he said, finally, "these are the days when your opponent is going to try to find anything he can about you that he can dig up to use against you. Now, I don't want that insipid Frenchman to win this election. God knows how badly he'll screw things up. So first off, I need to know more about this friend of yours. Is he in any kind of legal trouble, anything that could give your opponent a chance to say that you're making friends with unsavory people?"
"Are you saying I should just dump my best friend?" Johnson asked, as he tapped the ball into the cup. "I can't do that, Pierce. Sorry." He handed his walking stick to Pierce as he bent down to retrieve his ball.
"Don't apologize for being true to your friends," Pierce tapped his own ball into the cup and joined Johnson as they headed to the next hole.
"I took a bullet for him," Johnson told Pierce. "He's a good man, and I was more than willing to die for him."
"You weren't in love with him, were you?"
"I was," Johnson admitted, setting his ball down on the tee. "But nothing ever came of it. His heart belonged to another and still does to this day."
"So why do I get the feeling you're still hiding something?" Pierce asked him. "Who is this friend of yours anyhow?"
"His name's Smith," Johnson said, simply, hitting the ball.
"That helps," Pierce rolled his eyes as he set his own ball on the tee. "Have you any idea how many Smiths there are in this world?" He hit his own ball and followed Johnson onto the green. "Brad, I want to know what it is you're not telling me. Who is Smith?"
Johnson remained silent for the rest of the game, which he lost by 4 points. "You're very good," he said, getting into the car.
"Thanks," Pierce smiled as he dropped their bags into the trunk, and then jumped into the driver's seat. "Now, I'd like an answer to this question. Who is Smith?"
"Ashton Smith," Johnson knew he could trust the man, and his car was rigged to keep any conversation held within from being overheard by the Mainframe.
"Ashton Smith is dead." Pierce remarked, pulling out of the parking lot and began driving toward their campaign headquarters.
"No, he's not," Johnson said matter-of-factly. "He was badly hurt, but he survived. He let people think he was dead so he could go back to having a normal life.
"Ashton Smith is alive?" Pierce sounded like he'd just been handed the news of the century. "Do you have any idea what kind of news this is?"
"It's not news," Johnson told him. "It's my former colleague and best friend. And you will not go blabbing to any reporters."
"But Ashton Smith, alive," Pierce exclaimed, almost rear-ending the Jetta in front of them.
"Ashton Smith has a child now," Johnson pointed out. "And he does not want a bunch of thugs disrupting his family. So you will not go running off at the mouth about him the next time some reporter asks you about this campaign."
Pierce nodded in agreement, though somewhat reluctantly, as he drove into the parking lot at the campaign headquarters.
(tbc...)