NOTICE: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the original characters from the Matrix trilogy. HOWEVER: All other characters in this fanfic do belong to me, as they're all products of my overactive imagination.
3. Conversation Piece.
Narada sat in the relative dark of his room, pondering the rumours that were close to driving him to distraction from his work. It wasn't as if he was the only one in Zion who was perturbed by the stories that kept crawling out of the woodwork with every passing day.
An enormously powerful agent who was intent on Zion's destruction through destroying Neo, that rumour was actually closer to the truth. Agent - was it Smith? Or something like that. Another, a female agent (A female agent? Narada mused- was there even such a thing?) What purpose could there be in varying the 'sex' of a sentient programme, creating a single female agent in the Matrix where the familiar but no less chilling figures of male agents dominated the psyches of every rebel entering the world created by the machines? It seemed too fantastical.
But then if someone had told him that a man could be killed, come back to life and then develop the ability to fly-that was another matter altogether.
Sometimes Narada wondered if there was a connection between the seemingly implausible myth of the female agent and the woman that his brother had called out ffor, or called out to in his restless sleep. This particular morning that idea was threatening to drive him insane, not least because there had been mutterings around Zion to suggest the very same.
He got up from his chair where he had been uncomfortably positioned and made his way out of the room and down the corridor to the lifts.
There was only one place where he could get anything approaching an answer, and only a few select people who could possibly give him one.
*********
Smith followed the upgrade, Johnson, down the always bland corridors of a government building. He was suitably mystified, one, by the construct attempting to persuade him to aid the other agents, upgrades, no less; though his opinion of them was slightly less than complimentary. Secondly, by the almost sheepish expression on the other agents who had passed them walking in the corridor, as if they had failed in some way by having to ensure that he, a Smith, an older programme, had to be recruited to deal with a problem that they could not.
"When will I be briefed as to the nature of this, assignment?"
His stress on the last word obviously mocking the fact that it was his, and not the assignment of the allegedly improved upgrade he was following.
Johnson paused at the last door in the corridor and stood in silence until his two compatriots appeared beside him. The regulation three-agent unit was still in use, then. The construct was becoming less inventive, Smith mused, arching an elegant eyebrow in the process. The agents spoke in turn. Three bodies, one stream of thought.
"The situation is that of a test and a report being needed".
"We request your assistance in monitoring a more recently added agent to the Matrix".
"The agent in question shows symptoms of behavioural patterns more assigned to humans".
"More succinctly, the agent in question shows signs of behavioural patterns like that of your own".
"We shall proceed to the subject of this assessment?"
"Yes".
"The agent is waiting to be informed as to its future".
"If the agent is found to be deficient, or unreliable it is to be deleted".
Smith tilted his head in interest. This 'assignment' became more complex and important with each monotone sentence. He rose what he considered to be a relevant question.
"What was the nature of the first symptom this agent displayed?"
The upgrades looked at each other before answering.
It was Johnson who provided the eventual answer.
"The agent displayed signs of having a system anomaly through its unusual adherence to working as a solitary unit".
Smith blinked.
He had assumed that he was, in all the history of the Matrix, the only agent ever to display such uncharacteristic attributes. Sentient programmes were designed to work in co-operation with others of their kind, but only he had ever shown unconscious defiance of this basic function.
Johnson opened the door and he followed the other two upgrades into the box like room facing the city through a large window.
********
Narada knocked politely on the metal door of the quarters. After a few seconds passed the door swung open with a rusty creak and a tall figure emerged in the dimness of the electric morning light.
Narada coughed uneasily and offered his hand.
"Titus, I'm Narada. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Sol's brother. We met at-"
The rest of his hastily compiled introduction was dismissed by the door opening fully and a large hand like a solid slab of flesh and muscle gripped his own in a warm greeting.
"Narada; of course I remember you. I served under your brother for a long time. please, come in, have a seat".
Narada smiled gratefully as he entered the small, but cosy quarters that the former co-pilot of the Apollo shared with his family and simultaneously dwarfed as a result of his imposing physique.
"Now", the tough but open face smiled as its owner eased into a chair, "what can I do for you?"
Narada shifted forward in the offered seat he had just occupied.
"Well, I don't really know how to begin this, Titus - you fought alongside my brother for many years, didn't you?"
The giant nodded in confirmation. Narada, emboldened, continued.
"I never really knew my brother - he was so different from me, and I never asked him anything about his time as Captain other than the usual, polite questions that don't really count for anything. My brother was a difficult man to get to know".
Titus chuckled, a deep, riveting sound that seemed to shake his whole body.
"I'll say. Your brother, Captain Sol; no disrespect to the man, but he could shut his mouth and hold everything inside for all he was worth, you know? Tight as a clam, he could be sometimes, and you wouldn't get an answer that did justice to any question you put to him when the mood took him".
Narada laughed, relaxing as he considered the truth behind Titus's words.
"But why tell me this now, Narada? And why tell me at all?"
The smaller man became aware of the lines of hardship around the fighter's eyes and forehead, the minute strands of grey in his thick dreadlocks.
"The last few days, Titus. What happened onboard before the Apollo docked for the last time? My brother came home a changed man, and I want to know if there was a reason why. He used to- well, he used to call out in his sleep for someone in the days leading up to his-", Narada swallowed the word uneasily, "death, a woman, I think. Now there are rumours all over the place, something about a female agent, a human that was accepted into the Matrix and became, if it's at all possible, an agent. The rumours always seem to go hand in hand with my brother's name. What happened?"
Titus' large frame seemed to tense a little at the repeated question.
"Those were strange days, Narada, before we came home. It'll take more than one person to give you the full story. You want answers; don't just come to me for them. You need to speak with who's left of the original crew. Neso, he's still around. I might miss some things out and then you'd be wanting more information I've forgotten".
"Titus, this woman. What's that all about? What was her na-"
The former co-pilot shifted again in his seat and stared at the wall behind Narada's head as if greeting someone he hadn't seen in years.
"Persis. Her name was Persis".
Narada savoured the depth behind the simple utterance of a name.
"I can see we're going to have a lot to talk about".
* * * * * * *