AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, here it is, the last chapter *sniffs*. It's been quite an experience putting this on the net, and having you guys review it and respond so positively is quite something…
I'm not done with writing Matrix fanfiction yet, though^^
As for the music that influenced some of the scenes in The Hybrid and The Exodus;
Rage Against The Machine-Know Your Enemy
Unlocö-Bruises
Linkin Park-Session
The Flaming Lips (Fantastic band! I saw them live on Tuesday…amazing gig)...One More Robot/Sympathy 3000-21, In The Morning of the Magicians…almost anything from their album Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots.
Radiohead-Paranoid Android
…There are probably more, but then the list would be too long…
Morithil.
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.
15. Landscape.
The sky seemed to combust, a globe of blistering light exploding and swelling in the aftermath of its detonation, spreading, faster and faster, across the city, the country, the continent. Over the world within the Matrix.
Shockwaves rumbled with deafening baritone voices as they rippled across the surface of the earth, the surface projected by the construct. The huge globe that had appeared and then shattered streaked the clear, simulated sky and tore it into shreds in lightning bolts of power. The tumultuous, shifting, stormy sky of the Real World opening like a colossal envelope across the expanse above the chaos below. Chasms split open in the landscape of the towns and cities painted by the A.I. hands of the machines. The wrecks and ruined skeletons of the war against the machines revealed in all their dark, crumbling grandeur; reminders of times that had passed and would not come again.
Reminders to never let history repeat itself.
Whole blocks disappeared, the ravaged, tormented earth of the world known to Zion's children, born and adopted seeped through into the consciousness of every single human; man, woman and child that the Matrix had convinced and seduced into comfortable familiarity. The lie broken by the power of the truth that swept the territories where sentinels once roamed like steel and electronic predators in a savannah as black and lifeless as the cores of the search-and-destroy legions. The noise was deafening, threatening to obliterate all sound after its departure. The human fields were cut loose by the giant scythe contained by a small, slim disc no bigger than the palm of a woman's hand. Genie-like, the information in the disc swayed from its plastic, synthetic depths and travelling like a bolt of pure, cleansing force through the conductor of Persis' residual self image, purged the world of the threat to all humanity below the surface.
Near the core. Where it's still warm.
Sentinels dropped like stones, their empty, unseeing laser eyes dulled in the cold and clear light of true day in the Real World. All machines and programmes that had been wired into the Matrix were deleted or instantly destroyed. Artificial intelligence became non-existent intelligence. The only machines left were those transporting the crews of Zion and warming the air below the surface. Then, after the initial shockwaves, secondary shockwaves and the noise had blasted itself into relative silence, all eyes were on the scene around them.
The howling echo of the winds that swirled in the air a reminder of the sheer destructive power that was held within the disc. One life cut down, and finally, the item she had transported had lived up to its potential. The Matrix was gone. Wiped off the scarred face of the planet. The large tentacle trailing forms of the decimated sentinels dotting the landscape like carcasses of strange, metallic dinosaurs, obsolete in the face of this new future.
********
Before the nothingness, before the blank space, Persis remembered the scene changing around her as if it was a vivid dream.
In the dream she surveyed the almost infinite change that had occurred. She stared at the apocalyptic landscape around her, the Desert of the Real. The howling winds screeched emptily above her head, the clouds of the scorched sky twisting into new, fantastical structures and adopting whimsical forms. No longer threatening. Her eyes and ears hurt from the impact of the blast. She had been thrown backwards from the force of the explosion. She tucked a stray, floating strand of hair behind her ear and took in the damage that her actions and the disc combined had wreaked on the unsuspecting Matrix.
It was a strange new world she found herself staring at before the world went white.
The eerie scene and the wolf zephyrs that surrounded her added to her shock and gradual comprehension.
A flapping sound above her head caused her to look to the war torn sky, which now seemed like the roof of heaven. A black clad figure swooped some stories overhead, his coat tails moving in undulating waves behind him.
Neo.
In the dream she had watched in fascination as he flew across the shifting sky like some beautiful, alien bird in the stillness and near cavernous silence. So this was what freedom felt like. She half expected him to return with an olive branch, since in her mind now he would always be associated with the dove that flew after the great flood in a biblical age that seemed mirrored in the present, like some wonderful coincidence that made the words rise in her throat. Persis stretched out her arms in a messiah like position and threw her head back in release. The rattle of the winds blowing through the cages of the human fields miles away sounded in her ears. The desolate notes formed by the collapsing sentinels clanged like dissonant cymbals in her brain. The winds, the winds were extrinsic, weird and thrilling in their circling journeys over the land beneath her feet.
Then there was nothing.
*********
The ceiling looks as if its been freshly painted. The tang of newly applied emulsion is still sharp in the air.
Warmth.
When she opened her eyes she was convinced she was dead. Then her senses picked up the soft comforting weight of the duvet covering her. She was lying in a bed in a room she did not know, but seemed strangely right to her, as if it harked back to some forgotten memory from her past.
She moved slightly and sat up, the duvet slipping down her frame. She looked around. The room was large and spacious, but there was something familiar about it, about the soft sheen of the wooden floor and the cream walls. There were boxes, she noticed, not attempting to contemplate why they were there. Cardboard boxes, some slightly open, as if someone had just moved into the house and had not finished unpacking.
She slowly swung her legs from the cheering mattress and realised that there was the sweet whistling of birdsong from somewhere outside the room.
The mattress compressed slightly from a slow movement. She looked back.
The stern face she found hard to place in her new surroundings. Eyes closed, his breathing low and regular in sleep. She feared moving again, as if he would vanish on the heels of the wolfish breezes from her dream and cease to be tangible.
She knew the eyes were striking and blue.
She studied him, laying on his left side, blissfully relaxed, all tension gone from his body, the rise of his chest with every breath. Numb with hope and disbelief she sat paralysed, unable to do anything except take in the form next to her, removed from the formal suit and tie, unbelievably casual in a plain grey marl t-shirt, soft and unstructured from being well worn, visible above the duvet held under one arm.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing, but with every tick of the clock on the mantelpiece the sight became more real to her.
Dazed, Persis mouthed his name.
Smith.
He didn't disappear.
Instinctively her hand moved to her stomach and drew up the hem of the silver-grey satin chemise that clung to her serpentine body. She felt her stomach. The skin was a little tender and vaguely recalled some strenuous assault on it, but otherwise it was fine.
Persis' eyes flickered towards his sleeping form. She carefully stretched out and pulled down the worn neck of the t-shirt between thumb and forefinger. A pale scar stretched a wavy line from below his collarbone to almost the apex of his chest. He shifted slightly and her fingertips grazed his skin.
She reluctantly rose from the bed, determined not to wake him, stealing longing glances back at him as she padded softly across the floor, her grey low slung pants slipping across the finished surface. She somehow made it to the door and ventured out onto the landing.
The window near the stairs was slightly open. She could feel the fresh breeze, redolent of just-cut grass and clear skies waft into the house. Somewhere down the street the laughter of children tinkled in the new air.
Is this the Matrix? Persis questioned the room.
The voice inside her answered in the negative. Absent-minded she felt for the node at the back of her head and could not locate it. If this is not the Matrix, then where am I? She wondered.
Somehow she knew it was not the Matrix, nor was it the desert of the Real she had seen.
She had done it.
She had helped destroy the Matrix, helped free Zion and the enslaved human race. That knowledge meant being absolved from all the sins she'd committed as an agent, meant rest from the fighting and meant it was now the morning after the interminable night of the Matrix. Maybe she was alive.
She pinched herself to confirm it. She was really alive. But she was not convinced, not yet.
Persis walked in a daze into the bathroom. She studied her reflection in the mirror over the clean white sink.
Black hair; which fell in gloriously tumultuous waves, framing her face hanging over one eye alluringly. Her eyes as blue as she had remembered them, unusually set in their slight upturned shape which hinted at some Oriental or Asian background and her trademark cynicism.
She washed her hands gently and methodically in the sink, the flow of cool water at once refreshing and soothing. She dried them carefully on the soft towel hanging from the nearby rail, carefully in case a sudden movement would cause the whole location to vanish.
When she made it back out onto the airy landing a figure rose from a footstool to greet her.
He was still wearing the dark glasses and the hems of his coat swayed slightly as if he'd literally just flown in.
Neo looked at her.
Persis looked down, somewhat abashed, folding her arms in front of her, one hand cupping the back of her neck, suddenly embarrassed by the fact that she stood facing the One in a somewhat low cut, lace edged chemise and looking as if she had just got out of bed. Which was the truth.
Neo grinned knowingly and looked away, almost bashful.
"Morning".
"-Morning", she returned, still dazed, accepting everything she had seen only because she expected to wake up from this wonderful dream.
"Am I dead?" Persis probed.
Neo shook his head.
"If you were, I wouldn't be talking to you", he answered dryly.
She considered this.
"Are you dead?"
Neo snorted quietly, "No-you made sure of that" he responded, his gratitude evident.
"Is this the Matrix? Am I still plugged into the Matrix?", an edge of panic in her voice made him grow serious again.
"No. The Exodus destroyed the Matrix. It no longer exists. But then you knew the answer to that question already".
"Just making sure".
Neo grinned.
"Is this another programme?"
The One shook his head. Persis sighed loudly with pent up relief.
"How-how am I-"
"You were not created by the Matrix, only altered by it. When you set the Exodus in motion, you were undoubtedly still human, and so you were unharmed".
So she was alive. Persis took a moment to take it all in.
"And-", She looked hopefully towards the sleeping form in the bedroom.
"You forget. He was not wired into the construct. You imprinted yourself onto him before, transferred the rest of your humanity into him before the Matrix was destroyed, and the consequences of that must be visible".
Persis relived the enormous globe exploding into rays of piercing light, and though the explosion was contained within her, she swayed from its impact. Joy. She saw their hands linked together and a strong glow of light radiating from them. She had changed Smith. Did that mean that he -
"-Is human", Neo answered for her, anticipating her question, "When you touched him as the Exodus happened, everything the mainframe programmed into him was made void, even his hatred of other humans and only what you imprinted onto him remained, making him- well, human."
Worried, she voiced her concern, "He's not-he won't be angry or-"
Neo shook his head adamantly, "Trust me. I can see he's not. If he had rejected the transformation, rejected becoming human, he wouldn't be here now. You'd have woken up alone. He accepted the change, he accepted what became inevitable."
"I was preparing myself to be destroyed by the disc".
His head cocked bemusedly to one side.
"That makes two of us".
They stood staring at each other through dry eyes. Persis swallowed with effort.
"Where, where is this place?"
Neo surveyed the space around him and met it with approval.
"The world you've created. Between the two of you, that is".
"What?" incredulous, her hand dropped from the back of her neck and hung in front of her.
"The Exodus contained the information to destroy the Matrix. However, it had a double purpose. It also contained the means to construct a new world, for the purpose of holding the new Matrix. However, it seems that you and-", he nodded towards the bedroom, "had designs on that without knowing. Seems you both secretly wanted quiet lives. Freedom".
Persis closed her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Neo set his jaw firmly.
"We feared if you knew, you might use the disc to start a world that would take over both human and machine, replacing the Matrix with something perhaps more terrible. The Council was afraid that you were still not to be trusted, given the influence he had on you and the force that the two of you united would be".
Persis resignedly nodded. Who knows what I might have made if I'd known, she mused. All too quickly the dark vision of what would have happened if she'd helped Smith became a frighteningly potential reality.
"So this is real?"
Neo nodded, "Everything, everyone in this world is real. This is not the Matrix, or another programme. Your mind is not enslaved to a computer simulation. This is not the world where Zion is. But it is real".
He looked towards the window as children's laughter from a neighbour's garden became audible again.
"In time you will forget that you are responsible for creating this. But there are some things you won't forget. Some memories will fade, others will remain".
Persis understood immediately.
"Some things you choose not to forget".
"Exactly".
He turned as if to leave and paused.
"You've earned this. You can start living now".
Living, Persis repeated to herself. So this is how it begins.
"Its a blank canvas. A new beginning"
"Neo -thank you"
"Thank you", he returned.
She made to walk back into the bedroom. Neo halted her with an impulsive movement.
"By the way", he added, "he likes his coffee black, no sugar".
Persis found herself smiling.
"How would you know that?"
Her voice had trembled. Slightly. Persis, still so determined to remain in control.
"I don't", Neo admitted sheepishly, "it's just a feeling. And-he kind of likes you. A lot. Perhaps it's more than 'liking', I'm sure you'd know ".
"I'll keep that in mind". Oh it's more than liking, Persis smiled. Much more.
He spun gracefully around, his coat hems imitating his action. He looked pointedly at her.
"You won't be seeing me again".
"I know. You should be heading home, where you belong."
He nodded respectfully and, walking swiftly down the stairs, opened the front door, and closing it once he'd exited the house, took off like a bolt out into the distant blue.
Persis hesitated for a second, standing on the open landing. She explored the next room, still bare and littered with removal boxes. We're going to have to unpack this lot, she murmured. We'll start after breakfast.
She smiled to herself at the normality of the life ahead of her. Little, everyday things were in it now, no more running and hiding, no more killing, no more fatalistic choices. She pushed the muslin drapes away from the window. A quiet, affluent neighbourhood scene welcomed her. Large white houses, each one different from the next, well kept lawns; but it was not perfect, nor did she want it to be.
It felt like she belonged. Small details that recalled moments, objects in her life, freed and otherwise, were scattered everywhere. Those she did not recognise she assumed were Smith's.
She walked silently back into the bedroom, and his sleeping presence made her heart ache with contentment. Sliding back under the covers and relaxing against the gratifying pillows she turned on her side to look at him. She slipped a slender arm around his waist, under the covers and shifted closer.
She pressed closer to his chest and inhaled the fragrance of his skin and hair, committing them to memory not restricted to files or databases. Real memory.
Persis held him loosely as she practically glowed with comprehension. He was real. He was no longer just a programme with a frowned upon anomaly. The pumping of the circulatory organ in his chest was now operating for a true and necessary reason. The blood needed to reach every part of his body. She saw everything, caught him as he mentally fell from the clinical heights of sentient awareness and plunged into the depth of human emotion and understanding. When he resurfaced there was a new vitality about him, as if he'd been refreshed. Persis cradled his face in her hands as she kissed him softly, drinking in his taste, gently provoking a response. She flicked her tongue into his mouth only to withdraw and then gently seize on his lower lip, provoking a barely audible moan from the back of Smith's throat. Still gradually waking up Smith kissed back, savouring the familiar and new sensations as he registered the pleasure induced by the intimate gesture. His hands automatically moved to her shoulders and waist, pulling her in minutely, his lips parted as he took in his first real breath. An expectant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Define love.
Persis' mouth opened in a knowing smile. Well, Persis, neé Carlisle, she thought, testing out the title in her mind; you're looking at it.
She tensed with anticipation. Persis positioned herself so that she would be the first thing he saw in the world they'd created for themselves.
Smith opened his eyes.
.FINIS.