Well, third chapter. Hope you like it. If people don't hate me too much,
I'll continue.
For disclaimer, see first chapter. . . . . . .
Years passed. With the passage of time, I became a faster, more accurate killer. Zion said I was helping the war. They said that the people I killed in the Matrix hadn't been alive to begin with. I disagreed. I had been one of those people, and I had most certainly been alive. I still longed to be one of them. I disgusted myself. I was an assassin. I killed on command. I killed the innocent, the young, and the weak, and Zion rewarded me for it. Why did I do it? Because I was afraid. I was still too afraid to do something. And so I killed to keep my fear at bay. I hated myself. I wanted to kill myself. To free myself of this living death, but I was too afraid of the pain. I was pathetic.
I thought of sabotaging the Resistance, but still I was too afraid. What could I, one person do anyway? Nothing, really. I used that to justify my cowardice.
I stayed on board Morpheus' ship, the Nebuchadnezzar. At one point, I remember catching myself thinking of the Neb as home. That almost made as violently ill as I had been during my training. I refused to accept this cold, dead, unfeeling piece of scrap metal as my home. The Matrix was my home. Sometimes I had to remind myself of that. Then, I had to remind myself nearly every day. I was getting too used to the world around me. I didn't want to. My mind protested. It screamed, trying to reject the Real World, but it couldn't hold on forever, no matter now much it wanted to.
And so I came to realize my next Truth. No matter how much I hated it, the Real World was home. Somewhere, in the back of mind, I had always believed that eventually I would somehow return home to the Matrix. I looked at the Real World, seeing not death as I had before, but life and I hated myself for it.
I accepted the Real World as my home, but I did not accept Zion. I did not accept the war. I would never go that far.
Every time we unplugged another person, I felt just like when I killed those innocents in the Matrix. I was ripping their life away from them, plunging them into the darkness of the Real. Once they were unplugged, I wanted to help them all go home. But none of them wanted to go. I watched as one by one, the new ones rejected their lived. I watched as they developed a loathing for the Matrix, for their homes. I watched as they all turned faithfully toward Zion, their eyes filled with the traitor, hope, as they too became blinded assassins. Every time another one's eyes filled with that ridiculous hope, I felt as though I was being punched in the stomach. hard.
I remember one person in particular. When we unplugged her, I thought that I had maybe found one like me. I thought that maybe I'd found a person who would want to go home, and I'd help her. I felt that by returning just one home, I could stop the constant guilt I felt.
Trinity. When Morpheus unplugged her, she just like me refused to believe. She seized up, closing herself off. She wanted to shelter herself from the sheer horror of the world around her. I remembered what that felt like. And so I told her I understood. She would have to remain in the Real World until people stopped worrying about her training, and her adjusting. Then, when the crew returned to constant thoughts of the war, I would tell her of my plan, and I would help her escape. First I would have to get close to her. So I trained her. I took her under my wing, teaching her everything I knew of control over the System. She became strong, very strong, stronger than I was. A lot stronger. I taught her to understand the System, so that she could hold onto her love of it. But before I knew it, the disgust in her eyes turned to hope, the fear of the Real turned to faith, confidence, and worst of all, love of Zion. And so it was that I gave Zion the strongest fighter it had ever seen. The day that I looked into her eyes, and realized that she too had turned into a killer, I felt my first failure. Trinity had been my hope. I had vowed to never be blinded by hope, but I had been. I hadn't seen the signs of Trinity's change until it was too late, until I had molded her into the very things that I hated. I had failed her. I had failed myself.
After my failure, I assured myself that should I ever find another that I could liberate from the prison of the Real, I would never, ever hope. I would never put as much of my heart (what was left of it) into that person. I continued to beat myself up over Trinity. She had been my chance for redemption. I might never get another chance.
A year passed. In that year, I orphaned countless children, made widows of countless women, destroyed countless homes, and unplugged many warriors for Zion. Then, finally, I found another. Another like Trinity. He was my second chance. I would not make the same mistakes with him as I had with her. As soon as we unplugged him, I knew. He recoiled from everyone. Just as I had, he tried to yell, but out of his mouth came quiet moans. I leaned in trying to hear what he said. " Let me go home," he whispered.
'I will', I thought. 'I will'.
'Don't worry, Cypher, I'll help you get home.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'
Loved it? Hated it? Tell me! I don't want to carry on if this story's crap. Review! Please.
For disclaimer, see first chapter. . . . . . .
Years passed. With the passage of time, I became a faster, more accurate killer. Zion said I was helping the war. They said that the people I killed in the Matrix hadn't been alive to begin with. I disagreed. I had been one of those people, and I had most certainly been alive. I still longed to be one of them. I disgusted myself. I was an assassin. I killed on command. I killed the innocent, the young, and the weak, and Zion rewarded me for it. Why did I do it? Because I was afraid. I was still too afraid to do something. And so I killed to keep my fear at bay. I hated myself. I wanted to kill myself. To free myself of this living death, but I was too afraid of the pain. I was pathetic.
I thought of sabotaging the Resistance, but still I was too afraid. What could I, one person do anyway? Nothing, really. I used that to justify my cowardice.
I stayed on board Morpheus' ship, the Nebuchadnezzar. At one point, I remember catching myself thinking of the Neb as home. That almost made as violently ill as I had been during my training. I refused to accept this cold, dead, unfeeling piece of scrap metal as my home. The Matrix was my home. Sometimes I had to remind myself of that. Then, I had to remind myself nearly every day. I was getting too used to the world around me. I didn't want to. My mind protested. It screamed, trying to reject the Real World, but it couldn't hold on forever, no matter now much it wanted to.
And so I came to realize my next Truth. No matter how much I hated it, the Real World was home. Somewhere, in the back of mind, I had always believed that eventually I would somehow return home to the Matrix. I looked at the Real World, seeing not death as I had before, but life and I hated myself for it.
I accepted the Real World as my home, but I did not accept Zion. I did not accept the war. I would never go that far.
Every time we unplugged another person, I felt just like when I killed those innocents in the Matrix. I was ripping their life away from them, plunging them into the darkness of the Real. Once they were unplugged, I wanted to help them all go home. But none of them wanted to go. I watched as one by one, the new ones rejected their lived. I watched as they developed a loathing for the Matrix, for their homes. I watched as they all turned faithfully toward Zion, their eyes filled with the traitor, hope, as they too became blinded assassins. Every time another one's eyes filled with that ridiculous hope, I felt as though I was being punched in the stomach. hard.
I remember one person in particular. When we unplugged her, I thought that I had maybe found one like me. I thought that maybe I'd found a person who would want to go home, and I'd help her. I felt that by returning just one home, I could stop the constant guilt I felt.
Trinity. When Morpheus unplugged her, she just like me refused to believe. She seized up, closing herself off. She wanted to shelter herself from the sheer horror of the world around her. I remembered what that felt like. And so I told her I understood. She would have to remain in the Real World until people stopped worrying about her training, and her adjusting. Then, when the crew returned to constant thoughts of the war, I would tell her of my plan, and I would help her escape. First I would have to get close to her. So I trained her. I took her under my wing, teaching her everything I knew of control over the System. She became strong, very strong, stronger than I was. A lot stronger. I taught her to understand the System, so that she could hold onto her love of it. But before I knew it, the disgust in her eyes turned to hope, the fear of the Real turned to faith, confidence, and worst of all, love of Zion. And so it was that I gave Zion the strongest fighter it had ever seen. The day that I looked into her eyes, and realized that she too had turned into a killer, I felt my first failure. Trinity had been my hope. I had vowed to never be blinded by hope, but I had been. I hadn't seen the signs of Trinity's change until it was too late, until I had molded her into the very things that I hated. I had failed her. I had failed myself.
After my failure, I assured myself that should I ever find another that I could liberate from the prison of the Real, I would never, ever hope. I would never put as much of my heart (what was left of it) into that person. I continued to beat myself up over Trinity. She had been my chance for redemption. I might never get another chance.
A year passed. In that year, I orphaned countless children, made widows of countless women, destroyed countless homes, and unplugged many warriors for Zion. Then, finally, I found another. Another like Trinity. He was my second chance. I would not make the same mistakes with him as I had with her. As soon as we unplugged him, I knew. He recoiled from everyone. Just as I had, he tried to yell, but out of his mouth came quiet moans. I leaned in trying to hear what he said. " Let me go home," he whispered.
'I will', I thought. 'I will'.
'Don't worry, Cypher, I'll help you get home.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'
Loved it? Hated it? Tell me! I don't want to carry on if this story's crap. Review! Please.