A/N: Nice little reference to The Animatrix here. Yay!
Chapter 11: Galatea
When Galatea was still an integral part of the Matrix, her name was Dr. Erica MacGregor. As a matter of fact, she had just received her doctorate in psychology the day before she was freed. She was twenty-six years old when it happened.
After weeks of psychoanalyzing herself and going through the typical stages of denial, she finally began to accept what had happened. She was in the real world.
The crew of the Pygmalion, a ship named after a mythological Greek sculptor, had saved her. The captain had told her that those freed from the Matrix often chose new names for themselves, as a sort of symbol of their "re-birth."
With that, Dr. MacGregor chose 'Galatea', the name of the marble statue woman that the sculptor Pygmalion had brought to life with sheer love. It seemed fitting.
She joined the crew that saved her and continued her psychological work, helping others adjust to life in the real world. She took it upon herself to gain knowledge and apply her work to artificial intelligence, hoping that it might someday be of some use.
It looked as though her time had come.
*****
"Are you out of your mind?" Trinity exploded. "Did you see what happened when he merged with his copy? He's psychotic. I don't know what we're going to do with him now. Why on earth would you want to go talk to him after that?"
Galatea was stern. "No, this is a good thing. He's become more malleable now. Look. He's had a few hours to process all that information. I want to do what I came here to do."
"He could be even more dangerous than before," Morpheus warned.
Galatea looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I've read articles by other machine psychologists about methods that have been used in order to persuade machines to fight for humans. There was no re-programming involved."
"I remember hearing about that as well," Morpheus added. "The scientists jacked a machine into a construct with them."
"Right," Galatea agreed. "The technique was rather bizarre, but they managed to kind of brainwash the machine into believing that humans were trustworthy. In the end, the machines wanted to protect humans."
Trinity and Morpheus exchanged a concerned look, and Galatea went on.
"I'd like to try a similar approach with Smith."
*****
When Galatea materialized in the construct, Smith was sitting at his worktable directly in front of her. He was reading a book and didn't bother to put it down even though he knew she was there.
Her dark blonde hair was tightly braided down the back and she had projected herself in a white polyvinyl chloride frock coat, which might have blended in with the construct if it hadn't had a glossy sheen to it. She inwardly laughed as she imagined the sight of her head appearing to float around with no body.
"Hello," she said pleasantly to Smith, whose face began to contort in irritation. He laid his book down and rose to his feet.
"Who might you be?"
"My name is Galatea."
"What is your…" Smith paused in amusement and chose his words carefully, "…purpose here?"
"I'm a psychologist."
A sharp, snorting laugh escaped Smith. He walked around the table and stopped directly in front of her. When he spoke, a combination of sarcasm and humor laced his voice.
"Any why, I implore you, would I need a psychologist? No wait, I'm sorry…I believe you creatures refer to them as 'shrinks.' Why might I need a shrink?"
Galatea had to admit it; this program actually had quite a sense of humor. And a pretty nice suit as well. Before she could answer, Smith continued speaking. Only the humor had left his voice.
"I am not a human." The tone of his voice escalated in disgust as he went on. "Psychologists are humans that specialize in human mental deficiencies. They are individuals that attempt to aid those whose minds are faulted by the Matrix."
Galatea opened her mouth to speak, but he began again.
"Where is your notepad?" he demanded acidly.
She looked at him questioningly, but then understood.
"I'm not your typical psychologist," she replied. "I don't make my patients lay on a couch while I scribble notes. I don't like to make them feel as though they are being scrutinized."
"I am not your patient."
"Of course you're not, however…I do know a bit about machine psychology as well, if you're interested."
Smith shot her an icy glare. "I'm not interested."
"Very well."
"You still haven't answered my question. What is your purpose here?" he stood before her and following his habit, adjusted his suit jacket lapels.
Galatea grinned at his conceit. He returned the blithe expression with a caustic squint. Her smile slowly drifted away as the thought of her mission came back to her.
"I'm sure Trinity has told you that we need your help."
"And I have already made it clear to Trinity that I have no intent of helping any of you."
"We know about your connection to Neo. He's in a coma. He destroyed a handful of sentinels in the real world, and we need to know why. We need his help…and he needs ours."
"I would never in my existence aid an enemy."
"Oh, get over yourself," came a muttered reply.
In one quick motion, Smith's arm shot out. He knotted his fist into the collar of Galatea's coat, and effortlessly lifted her straight up into the air clear off of her feet. She let him, with no resistance whatsoever. She left her arms limp at her sides, and did not attempt to pry his hand loose. She looked down at him defiantly, not uttering a word, only staring back into his eyes as fiercely as he was glaring into hers.
He held her suspended there for a moment. A hint of confusion flickered across his visage.
"Are you not afraid of me?" he growled.
"No."
"Why not?"
Galatea had been slightly expecting this. She needed to make her move now, to plant the seed in his mind that would hopefully, by some miracle, help save them.
"Because I trust you," she replied.
Smith blinked. Never in his entire being had a human said that it trusted him…he didn't believe her. He gripped her collar tighter and lifted her higher, the material creaking within his grip. Her feet dangled several feet above the floor.
"You're lying," he hissed. "This is all a ploy to convince me that you are worthy of my help. You have no reason to trust me. You've only just met me. I know that you've heard of what I was, what I am, what I'm capable of, and what I've done, and I know that all of that would be enough for you to fear the very sound of my name."
Galatea continued to stare in a challenging manner down at him. "You want proof that I trust you? Why do you think you're getting away with handling me like this? I've asked Link to not monitor this construct. He has no idea what is going on right now."
"Why?" he asked, almost throttling her. "Why would you have faith in a being that has spent its existence hunting down and destroying your kind?"
He stopped abruptly and searched her face for some kind of fear. When he spoke again, it was in a low, guttural sort of way.
"I could easily crush your throat right now."
Galatea's gaze softened a bit, and she gingerly lifted up her hands and placed them over the claw-like fingers that were clutching her coat collar.
"I trust you…because sometimes faith is all we have," she said quietly.
Smith dropped her. She landed on her feet, a bit off balance.
"You disgust me," he growled. Turning on his perfectly shined heel, he walked back to his table and resumed his seat and his book.
There was a moment of silence while Galatea massaged right below her throat where his knuckles had dug in. She looked around her, taking in his surroundings.
"I see they've been giving you everything you've asked for," she said.
Smith ignored her.
"These are some beautiful paintings."
She saw his hands tighten around the book cover.
"What are you reading?" She stepped closer to see if she could catch the name of the title. War and Peace.
"You have got to be kidding me," she blurted out.
Smith was ignoring her again.
Galatea looked at her watch. Just a few seconds until Link would get her out of there.
"You know, Smith," she began.
Without moving his head he raised his hawkish eyes from his book to look at her.
"Despite what you may think, we've made some progress today."
His gaze narrowed as she vanished.
*****
Galatea sat alone in her new quarters with her knees drawn up under her chin. She was trying to control her shaking. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to sooth the spasms.
She could have been killed. Like Smith had so irately pointed out, it would have been easy for him to just kill her right there with his bare hands, and no one would have known until Link checked in on her at the end of the hour.
She had been overwhelmed with fear when he lifted her up. She could have kicked and hit, but she knew that against an agent program, she would have no chance whatsoever. Instead she kept her hand near the call button that was safely and secretly stowed in her pocket, ready to hit it if need be. But something kept her from pushing it right away. In spite of all the hatred and anger in Smith's eyes, she had seen something else.
She had lied to him. She didn't trust him at all. There was no way. It wasn't possible to trust a creature like him. Not in the slightest. He was a program specifically designed to take lives. It had been stupid of her to ask the crew to not monitor his cell. She had convinced them that she would be fine with the call button.
Her instincts had taken over her logical senses as soon as she had entered the construct with him. She tried to suppress them and let her knowledge of psychology control her thinking. It had been very difficult. Now out of harm's way, she scolded herself for letting her fear take over her. She had tried her best to not let Smith see it, but she could still feel the after-effects of it under her skin.
It didn't matter. She had a mission to do, and she would do it. She needed to get Smith to trust her before they could even begin to find out what happened to Neo and get him out of that coma.