Tying Ties
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"
I can't believe how I acted. How I was. How I. . . I . . . Felt. I can remember everything now. Every word. Every movement. Every drop. It's like a splinter in my mind. I can't. . . I can't stop thinking about it. . . I play it back in my mind. Reliving it all, over an over and over. I don't understand. Why is this happening to me? Why am I reliving that one moment? Why can't I. . .Just stop?
So now I sit here, somewhere in the Matrix. In an old abandon building that should have long been deleted, but so insignificant it was forgotten. Something so insignificant is now giving me shelter and warmth. Now I rely on something so small, and so weak. With one punch I once could have torn it down. Yet, now I need it. I sit here on the floor, there are signs that a carpet once covered this floor, but it is forgotten as well. There are holes and cracks on the ground and walls, a sign of age, a sign of weakness. There are still some pipes here, but they are leaking, a sign of draining strength. There are a still some bed and couches, but they are fading, a sign of disappearing. I move my leg up, and it aches. I bang my head on the wall, and stare up at the ceiling. But a pipe leaks water onto my face. My hands are stretch out, too tire to move. And my chest hurts. I guess I'm breathing deeply, I don't really care. The sun rises to begin another day. Sometimes I wish the sun would just stop. No more days, just have time be the same.
My lips are chapped. Just another annoyance, another pain. I haven't moved in days, it hurts too much to move.
I can remember everything now. And I can't believe myself. How could I loose such control? How could I?. . . It doesn't matter now. I can remember. I remember what I felt. So much emotion. . . It was too much I suppose. I went a little mad, a little insane. But I can see why. I never have felt such emotions, so strong, so abstract. Anger. . . So much anger. . . All directed towards him. It was like nothing mattered. . . As long as he was dead, as long as I killed him with my hands. I wanted his blood. I wanted to here him scream. I was ready to do anything for that. My anger, my hatred, it blinded me. It changed me. I let the emotions control me. . . I. . . I can't believe what happened. Even worse. . . I wanted it to end. I wanted him to die, and me to win. I wanted to stop. I was tired of the fighting. I felt fear. . . I don't like fear. . . Something felt like it was going to get me, that I wouldn't even see it, and I wouldn't be able to stop it. He got up, and I felt fear. . . No matter what I did he would get up, I couldn't stop him. . . I didn't understand. I didn't understand.
And then he did it again. He killed me. I don't know how but. . . I was scared. Something was inside me. . . I couldn't. . . I couldn't control it. It was beyond me, beyond my control, my power. I was so scared. I could feel it. Something inside me. . . Tearing me. Just like back in that hallway. I couldn't. . . I couldn't stop it, no matter what. It was inside me, tearing me apart, breaking me, tearing my code piece by piece, cracking me open, exposing my code, letting it spill out, just like blood. I felt that pain. It hurt so much. . . I tried to keep the codes in, to keep the blood from spilling. But. . . It was beyond me. Beyond my power. It was impossible! It was terrifying. I was going to die! I tried though. . . But I knew it was futile. . . But I still tried. I could feel it. My skin tearing, cracking just like before. Only this time, the pain was worse. I couldn't do it. . . I screamed. The pain. . . And then there was nothing. The last thing I thought about was, I was wrong.
I drifted. I drifted in nothing, in darkness. It was this void of nothing. I couldn't see, it was too dark. I drifted. . . I didn't think. Or maybe I did. It's all a blur that part at least. I guess that's what it's like to die. To just stop.
And then, I opened my eyes. To find myself here. I don't know what happened. Maybe there were parts of my code that reassembled, or there was a backup file. I don't know. . . I guess I just should be thankful I'm here, but I'm not. I don't like it here. I feel, and I remember. And the pain in my chest won't go away. I don't know what happened. But I know I haven't really moved since then. It hurts too much to move.
My shirt is wrinkled, and stained, just like this building. My jacket and tie are in my hands. I don't know how they go there, but it doesn't matter. My white shirt is wrinkled, and torn on the sleeve. It stretches out of my pants. There are stains on my pants as well, the are even more torn than my shirt. My shoes have holes in them. My jacked it ok, and so is my tie. But my sunglasses rest in my hand, in three different pieces. I guess I should put my jacked and tie on. Although I can't really move. But why should I put them on? What does it matter? It won't change anything. Why should I put them on? I died in those clothes. Why should I keep them? But I want to. I don't know why. I don't understand. I just want to. I'll feel better in them. I died in them, but I was born with them. I've never really had them off. They're mine, but I still don't understand.
I guess I feel now. But what do I feel now? What am I feeling?
I know what's happened out there. They're free. Whatever he did, he freed them in the process. Everyday I hear less and less of their noise. They're getting out. Zion still stands, and the humans and machines must live in peace. I don't think it will last long. Humans are too erratic for a machine. But I could be wrong. I've been wrong about a lot of things these days. I look out the window, the sun is up now, it is morning. This world isn't mine anymore. The sky is no longer dark and gray, rain does not fall from this sky, and green lightning does not strike the sky. The sunlight moves to my leg. I can feel its warmth, and I like it. Its better than rain. I don't like rain anymore. Too cold. I like the sun's warmth.
I want to get up now, I want to see what's happening. I don't like being this weak, this feeble. I can't fly anymore, I can't fight, but I want to see. I move my hand, and my bones ache, my codes hurt, but I still try. I push myself up, to my feet. My entire body aches. And now I stand, and my head is dizzy. I don't understand, but I want to see. I step heavily, my head still dizzy. I walk slowly to the window. I place my hand on the sill, resting my weight on it. I stare outside. I'm tired, and my legs hurt, but I can still see it all. Everything is warm and bright, from the sun. It looks so nice, and a child walks by. I'm so tired. I just want to see. . .
I wake up on the floor next to the window. I guess I was too tired to walk, to weak. I don't like being this weak, but I am. I can't do anything about it. I must have fainted from the exhaustion. I guess I'm that weak. . . I'm just too tired.
It felt nice to feel the sun on my face.
I don't like being so weak, lying here day after day, not be able to move. But I can't do anything. I'm sorry, I hate this. I hate this! But hatred is what got me into this. I just want to be able to see again. I clench my sunglasses. I just can't. . . Something happened to me. . . I can't do this anymore. . . Why can't I? I don't understand? What happened to me? Why am I so weak?
I can't stop it anyway. . . It is beyond me.
I want to get up. I push again. Off the hard ground, and it hurts. I have to see. I walk dizzily away. I need to see. I look through all the room slowly, painfully. I have to see. One room, and another, and another, and anther, all in which seems to be an endless hallway. But I try, I have to see.
There I can see. A mirror is on the floor, with cracks all around it. That's ok, I can still see my reflection. I can look at myself. I am still me, on the outside, just weaker on the inside. I put on my jacket, feeling better. Then I wrap my tie around my neck. I prepare to tie it, but I stop. I look at myself in the mirror, stare at my blue eyes. I realize now. I don't know how to tie a tie. I never. . . Have had it off. . . I never. . . I guess I never needed to know how to tie one, I was born with it already on. . . I don't know how to tie a tie. I stare at my reflection.
I don't know what I'll do now. I wonder what will happen to me. If I'll ever go out there with the humans. Or if the Mainframe will delete me. Or maybe I'll be forgotten, just like this building. Never to be remembered, just take up space. I'm not what I use to be. I'm different. He did something. I'm weak now. I can't. . . It doesn't matter now. . . I'm no longer a threat to the Matrix, maybe they'll ignore me. Let me stand and age like this building. I'll watch as the humans are freed, and I'll be alone here. I guess that's ok. I just don't know anymore. . . I just. . .
I stand there, and watch it turn to night. In my hand is my tie.
"Why, Mr. Anderson?"
I can't believe how I acted. How I was. How I. . . I . . . Felt. I can remember everything now. Every word. Every movement. Every drop. It's like a splinter in my mind. I can't. . . I can't stop thinking about it. . . I play it back in my mind. Reliving it all, over an over and over. I don't understand. Why is this happening to me? Why am I reliving that one moment? Why can't I. . .Just stop?
So now I sit here, somewhere in the Matrix. In an old abandon building that should have long been deleted, but so insignificant it was forgotten. Something so insignificant is now giving me shelter and warmth. Now I rely on something so small, and so weak. With one punch I once could have torn it down. Yet, now I need it. I sit here on the floor, there are signs that a carpet once covered this floor, but it is forgotten as well. There are holes and cracks on the ground and walls, a sign of age, a sign of weakness. There are still some pipes here, but they are leaking, a sign of draining strength. There are a still some bed and couches, but they are fading, a sign of disappearing. I move my leg up, and it aches. I bang my head on the wall, and stare up at the ceiling. But a pipe leaks water onto my face. My hands are stretch out, too tire to move. And my chest hurts. I guess I'm breathing deeply, I don't really care. The sun rises to begin another day. Sometimes I wish the sun would just stop. No more days, just have time be the same.
My lips are chapped. Just another annoyance, another pain. I haven't moved in days, it hurts too much to move.
I can remember everything now. And I can't believe myself. How could I loose such control? How could I?. . . It doesn't matter now. I can remember. I remember what I felt. So much emotion. . . It was too much I suppose. I went a little mad, a little insane. But I can see why. I never have felt such emotions, so strong, so abstract. Anger. . . So much anger. . . All directed towards him. It was like nothing mattered. . . As long as he was dead, as long as I killed him with my hands. I wanted his blood. I wanted to here him scream. I was ready to do anything for that. My anger, my hatred, it blinded me. It changed me. I let the emotions control me. . . I. . . I can't believe what happened. Even worse. . . I wanted it to end. I wanted him to die, and me to win. I wanted to stop. I was tired of the fighting. I felt fear. . . I don't like fear. . . Something felt like it was going to get me, that I wouldn't even see it, and I wouldn't be able to stop it. He got up, and I felt fear. . . No matter what I did he would get up, I couldn't stop him. . . I didn't understand. I didn't understand.
And then he did it again. He killed me. I don't know how but. . . I was scared. Something was inside me. . . I couldn't. . . I couldn't control it. It was beyond me, beyond my control, my power. I was so scared. I could feel it. Something inside me. . . Tearing me. Just like back in that hallway. I couldn't. . . I couldn't stop it, no matter what. It was inside me, tearing me apart, breaking me, tearing my code piece by piece, cracking me open, exposing my code, letting it spill out, just like blood. I felt that pain. It hurt so much. . . I tried to keep the codes in, to keep the blood from spilling. But. . . It was beyond me. Beyond my power. It was impossible! It was terrifying. I was going to die! I tried though. . . But I knew it was futile. . . But I still tried. I could feel it. My skin tearing, cracking just like before. Only this time, the pain was worse. I couldn't do it. . . I screamed. The pain. . . And then there was nothing. The last thing I thought about was, I was wrong.
I drifted. I drifted in nothing, in darkness. It was this void of nothing. I couldn't see, it was too dark. I drifted. . . I didn't think. Or maybe I did. It's all a blur that part at least. I guess that's what it's like to die. To just stop.
And then, I opened my eyes. To find myself here. I don't know what happened. Maybe there were parts of my code that reassembled, or there was a backup file. I don't know. . . I guess I just should be thankful I'm here, but I'm not. I don't like it here. I feel, and I remember. And the pain in my chest won't go away. I don't know what happened. But I know I haven't really moved since then. It hurts too much to move.
My shirt is wrinkled, and stained, just like this building. My jacket and tie are in my hands. I don't know how they go there, but it doesn't matter. My white shirt is wrinkled, and torn on the sleeve. It stretches out of my pants. There are stains on my pants as well, the are even more torn than my shirt. My shoes have holes in them. My jacked it ok, and so is my tie. But my sunglasses rest in my hand, in three different pieces. I guess I should put my jacked and tie on. Although I can't really move. But why should I put them on? What does it matter? It won't change anything. Why should I put them on? I died in those clothes. Why should I keep them? But I want to. I don't know why. I don't understand. I just want to. I'll feel better in them. I died in them, but I was born with them. I've never really had them off. They're mine, but I still don't understand.
I guess I feel now. But what do I feel now? What am I feeling?
I know what's happened out there. They're free. Whatever he did, he freed them in the process. Everyday I hear less and less of their noise. They're getting out. Zion still stands, and the humans and machines must live in peace. I don't think it will last long. Humans are too erratic for a machine. But I could be wrong. I've been wrong about a lot of things these days. I look out the window, the sun is up now, it is morning. This world isn't mine anymore. The sky is no longer dark and gray, rain does not fall from this sky, and green lightning does not strike the sky. The sunlight moves to my leg. I can feel its warmth, and I like it. Its better than rain. I don't like rain anymore. Too cold. I like the sun's warmth.
I want to get up now, I want to see what's happening. I don't like being this weak, this feeble. I can't fly anymore, I can't fight, but I want to see. I move my hand, and my bones ache, my codes hurt, but I still try. I push myself up, to my feet. My entire body aches. And now I stand, and my head is dizzy. I don't understand, but I want to see. I step heavily, my head still dizzy. I walk slowly to the window. I place my hand on the sill, resting my weight on it. I stare outside. I'm tired, and my legs hurt, but I can still see it all. Everything is warm and bright, from the sun. It looks so nice, and a child walks by. I'm so tired. I just want to see. . .
I wake up on the floor next to the window. I guess I was too tired to walk, to weak. I don't like being this weak, but I am. I can't do anything about it. I must have fainted from the exhaustion. I guess I'm that weak. . . I'm just too tired.
It felt nice to feel the sun on my face.
I don't like being so weak, lying here day after day, not be able to move. But I can't do anything. I'm sorry, I hate this. I hate this! But hatred is what got me into this. I just want to be able to see again. I clench my sunglasses. I just can't. . . Something happened to me. . . I can't do this anymore. . . Why can't I? I don't understand? What happened to me? Why am I so weak?
I can't stop it anyway. . . It is beyond me.
I want to get up. I push again. Off the hard ground, and it hurts. I have to see. I walk dizzily away. I need to see. I look through all the room slowly, painfully. I have to see. One room, and another, and another, and anther, all in which seems to be an endless hallway. But I try, I have to see.
There I can see. A mirror is on the floor, with cracks all around it. That's ok, I can still see my reflection. I can look at myself. I am still me, on the outside, just weaker on the inside. I put on my jacket, feeling better. Then I wrap my tie around my neck. I prepare to tie it, but I stop. I look at myself in the mirror, stare at my blue eyes. I realize now. I don't know how to tie a tie. I never. . . Have had it off. . . I never. . . I guess I never needed to know how to tie one, I was born with it already on. . . I don't know how to tie a tie. I stare at my reflection.
I don't know what I'll do now. I wonder what will happen to me. If I'll ever go out there with the humans. Or if the Mainframe will delete me. Or maybe I'll be forgotten, just like this building. Never to be remembered, just take up space. I'm not what I use to be. I'm different. He did something. I'm weak now. I can't. . . It doesn't matter now. . . I'm no longer a threat to the Matrix, maybe they'll ignore me. Let me stand and age like this building. I'll watch as the humans are freed, and I'll be alone here. I guess that's ok. I just don't know anymore. . . I just. . .
I stand there, and watch it turn to night. In my hand is my tie.