Part I: The Hunt
It began in an exclusive restaurant. Somewhere in the background, a jazz pianist played. They had caldo verde with croutons, whilst the agent settled for Borscht. The twins looked at each other before speaking.
"Why did you call us here, Agent Jones?" Jones picked up his briefcase and placed it on the table with fitting inscrutability. Beneath his shades, the first twin rolled his eyes. The second knew that he had done this, and smiled.
"Gentlemen, we have an offer to make you." said Jones.
"We are intrigued." commented the first.
The second raised his eyebrows. "Please, elaborate." Jones smirked, a subroutine that had obviously been lifted from their own programming. They chose not to notice this.
"Several weeks ago, we discovered a sizeable malfunction in the operation of a line of incubator capsules. They had ceased to transmit data into the matrix. We sent sentinels to investigate, believing that the pods had been somehow sabotaged by the rebels. They were completely undamaged, completely functional, and the humans inside them were still alive and correctly linked physically to the matrix, but effectively braindead.We believe this to be the work of a rogue program. A very old program, the structure of which predates that of the current Architect. Because of this, our data is limited, and thus far we have not succeeded in its capture. We want you to undertake this task for us, gentlemen. As a favour."
The first twin frowned. "What are you prepared to offer us in exchange?"
"Open the briefcase." said Jones.
The first shrugged, and clicked it open. Inside, set into velvet like expensive jewelry, were two matching agent's earpieces. The second nodded in appraisal. "You're prepared to take us back?"
"By completing the task, you will have proved that you are no longer obsolete."
"I must talk with my brother."
"Of course."
The twins stood up together, and walked towards the men's restroom, stopping just inside the door.
"Do you think that he is lying?"
"No. I do not. He has no reason to lie."
"Why would agents be unable to capture that program? They are more powerful than us."
"I do not know that. Perhaps they are particularly vulnerable to it."
"It does not matter. I know that we want back." The second gazed longingly at the briefcase on the table as the door swung open and another man pushed past them.
"That is because we are programmed to want back."
"Who are we to argue with such impeccable logic?"
"We accept, then?"
"Yes."
They walked back, and sat down. Agent Jones had finished his soup.
"We accept your terms, Agent."
"Ah!" Jones beamed at them. "Excellent descision, gentlemen. This meeting has been most productive."
* * *
Concrete rose up from wet black asphalt all around them, the shells of civilisation seething with humanity. The girl with dark hair pulled back in plaits either side of her face stood her ground against the two agents from the centre of the street. Around them, drivers sounded their horns is disgust at this blatant disregard for their convenience. The agents pulled out their guns. The girl bolted, running over the roofs of cars and into an alleyway. Inexorably, the agents followed. A dead end. She stood there, dark eyes wide, and her back against the wall. The agents smirked uniformly. She was trapped. They closed in. The girl took a step forward, and turned towards the wall, closing her eyes. The agents began to run towards her. She ran too. Through the wall. There was not a mark on it as evidence of her passage. The agents looked at each other. Then they followed. The wall smashed in their wake. They were faster. She felt them coming, the click of shiny black shoes on the tiled floor. She ran, panting, looking for an exit. They were gaining. She closed her eyes again. Walked through another wall. The old woman whose living room she had walked into screamed. She headed for the door, then found the reception of the building, leaving the glass double doors slamming. She began to run down the street. Passers by were transformed into agents. She ran faster, fearing for her life. Agents chased. A tall skyscraper loomed up ahead. She carried on running- up the side of the skyscraper, the ground dropping away under her back. Her pursuers did the same, faces now fixed in snarls. At the edge of the skyscraper, she stopped again, and turned. The agents continued to charge, hoping to tackle her down. She closed her eyes, becoming slightly translucent as she did. The agents hurled themselves through her, and fell into the sky. She looked up, and gasping for breath, pulled herself up onto the roof of the building.
* * *
The first twin smiled as he fingered his new agent's earpiece, and the second's countenance displayed not dissimilar contentment as they stood in the elevator. Also in the briefcase was all the data still relevant to the rogue program, including its appearance on earlier occasions, but as Jones had said, there was very little other information. They needed more; and they knew exactly where to find it. The light blinked.
"This is our floor." The green hallway was dimly lit, but the twins made sure that Seraph could see them. Efficient as the guard program was, sometimes he could be unnecessarily hostile. The second twin knocked on the door, and it was duly opened.
"What do you want?" demanded Seraph.
"We want to see the Oracle." said the second twin reasonably.
"You're the merovingian's henchmen! What business do you have with her?"
"We want to see if she will make us cookies for the Merovingian's bake sale." smiled the first.
Seraph gave him one of the dirtiest looks possible, and was about to say something in reply, but a woman's voice sounded from the inside of the flat.
"Who is it, dear?"
"It's the twins." said the Seraph sullenly.
"Let them in. They can have as many cookies as they want."
Sighing, Seraph stood aside, and shut the door behind the twins once they were in. The Oracle stuck her head out of the kitchen.
"You boys just sit down. I'll be with you in a minute."
The twins sat down on the ancient green sofa. Seraph stared hard at them for a while, and then left. They sat in silence, the first twin holding the briefcase on his lap until the Oracle emerged, and placed a plateful of cookies on the coffee table.
"Those are still very hot." said the Oracle. Both the twins tried to pick up a cookie, and both burnt their fingers. The second twin phased, unphased, and picked up a cookie with the edge of his sleeve.
"Causality." he explained, with his mouth full of cookie. The Oracle laughed.
"Now, you boys didn't come here just for cookies, did you." The first twin handed the briefcase to the second so that he could phase, and heal his burnt hand.
"No ma'am. We were hoping to find something out."
"Not for the Merovingian, I hope."
The twin shook his head. "We're not working for the Merovingian anymore." He tapped his new earpiece. The Oracle had the grace to look surprised. "We're looking for a rogue program. A very old program. We thought you might know something."
"Do you have a picture?"
"We do." The second opened the briefcase, and flicked through the documents within. "Here." The Oracle took the photograph, and her eyes widened.
"Well, I never." There was a long and uncomfortable pause.
"We would appreciate it if you would explain." said the first twin.
"Oh, of course." The Oracle smiled, and shook herself out of her reverie. "That's one face I never expected to see, that's the Van Eyck program. You're right in saying that she's old; her creation predates that of the first matrix."
They exchanged glances. "She was created by humans?"
The Oracle shrugged. "Maybe. I'd never thought of it that way. You boys are very insightful, for security programs."
"Thank you. What was the original purpose of this program?"
"She controls the refraction and reflection of light, as well as the tactile sensations given off by objects in the matrix. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more. Now, before you go, you must promise me that you will be good."
The twins smiled to each other.
"We will."
"We promise."
* * *
It began in an exclusive restaurant. Somewhere in the background, a jazz pianist played. They had caldo verde with croutons, whilst the agent settled for Borscht. The twins looked at each other before speaking.
"Why did you call us here, Agent Jones?" Jones picked up his briefcase and placed it on the table with fitting inscrutability. Beneath his shades, the first twin rolled his eyes. The second knew that he had done this, and smiled.
"Gentlemen, we have an offer to make you." said Jones.
"We are intrigued." commented the first.
The second raised his eyebrows. "Please, elaborate." Jones smirked, a subroutine that had obviously been lifted from their own programming. They chose not to notice this.
"Several weeks ago, we discovered a sizeable malfunction in the operation of a line of incubator capsules. They had ceased to transmit data into the matrix. We sent sentinels to investigate, believing that the pods had been somehow sabotaged by the rebels. They were completely undamaged, completely functional, and the humans inside them were still alive and correctly linked physically to the matrix, but effectively braindead.We believe this to be the work of a rogue program. A very old program, the structure of which predates that of the current Architect. Because of this, our data is limited, and thus far we have not succeeded in its capture. We want you to undertake this task for us, gentlemen. As a favour."
The first twin frowned. "What are you prepared to offer us in exchange?"
"Open the briefcase." said Jones.
The first shrugged, and clicked it open. Inside, set into velvet like expensive jewelry, were two matching agent's earpieces. The second nodded in appraisal. "You're prepared to take us back?"
"By completing the task, you will have proved that you are no longer obsolete."
"I must talk with my brother."
"Of course."
The twins stood up together, and walked towards the men's restroom, stopping just inside the door.
"Do you think that he is lying?"
"No. I do not. He has no reason to lie."
"Why would agents be unable to capture that program? They are more powerful than us."
"I do not know that. Perhaps they are particularly vulnerable to it."
"It does not matter. I know that we want back." The second gazed longingly at the briefcase on the table as the door swung open and another man pushed past them.
"That is because we are programmed to want back."
"Who are we to argue with such impeccable logic?"
"We accept, then?"
"Yes."
They walked back, and sat down. Agent Jones had finished his soup.
"We accept your terms, Agent."
"Ah!" Jones beamed at them. "Excellent descision, gentlemen. This meeting has been most productive."
* * *
Concrete rose up from wet black asphalt all around them, the shells of civilisation seething with humanity. The girl with dark hair pulled back in plaits either side of her face stood her ground against the two agents from the centre of the street. Around them, drivers sounded their horns is disgust at this blatant disregard for their convenience. The agents pulled out their guns. The girl bolted, running over the roofs of cars and into an alleyway. Inexorably, the agents followed. A dead end. She stood there, dark eyes wide, and her back against the wall. The agents smirked uniformly. She was trapped. They closed in. The girl took a step forward, and turned towards the wall, closing her eyes. The agents began to run towards her. She ran too. Through the wall. There was not a mark on it as evidence of her passage. The agents looked at each other. Then they followed. The wall smashed in their wake. They were faster. She felt them coming, the click of shiny black shoes on the tiled floor. She ran, panting, looking for an exit. They were gaining. She closed her eyes again. Walked through another wall. The old woman whose living room she had walked into screamed. She headed for the door, then found the reception of the building, leaving the glass double doors slamming. She began to run down the street. Passers by were transformed into agents. She ran faster, fearing for her life. Agents chased. A tall skyscraper loomed up ahead. She carried on running- up the side of the skyscraper, the ground dropping away under her back. Her pursuers did the same, faces now fixed in snarls. At the edge of the skyscraper, she stopped again, and turned. The agents continued to charge, hoping to tackle her down. She closed her eyes, becoming slightly translucent as she did. The agents hurled themselves through her, and fell into the sky. She looked up, and gasping for breath, pulled herself up onto the roof of the building.
* * *
The first twin smiled as he fingered his new agent's earpiece, and the second's countenance displayed not dissimilar contentment as they stood in the elevator. Also in the briefcase was all the data still relevant to the rogue program, including its appearance on earlier occasions, but as Jones had said, there was very little other information. They needed more; and they knew exactly where to find it. The light blinked.
"This is our floor." The green hallway was dimly lit, but the twins made sure that Seraph could see them. Efficient as the guard program was, sometimes he could be unnecessarily hostile. The second twin knocked on the door, and it was duly opened.
"What do you want?" demanded Seraph.
"We want to see the Oracle." said the second twin reasonably.
"You're the merovingian's henchmen! What business do you have with her?"
"We want to see if she will make us cookies for the Merovingian's bake sale." smiled the first.
Seraph gave him one of the dirtiest looks possible, and was about to say something in reply, but a woman's voice sounded from the inside of the flat.
"Who is it, dear?"
"It's the twins." said the Seraph sullenly.
"Let them in. They can have as many cookies as they want."
Sighing, Seraph stood aside, and shut the door behind the twins once they were in. The Oracle stuck her head out of the kitchen.
"You boys just sit down. I'll be with you in a minute."
The twins sat down on the ancient green sofa. Seraph stared hard at them for a while, and then left. They sat in silence, the first twin holding the briefcase on his lap until the Oracle emerged, and placed a plateful of cookies on the coffee table.
"Those are still very hot." said the Oracle. Both the twins tried to pick up a cookie, and both burnt their fingers. The second twin phased, unphased, and picked up a cookie with the edge of his sleeve.
"Causality." he explained, with his mouth full of cookie. The Oracle laughed.
"Now, you boys didn't come here just for cookies, did you." The first twin handed the briefcase to the second so that he could phase, and heal his burnt hand.
"No ma'am. We were hoping to find something out."
"Not for the Merovingian, I hope."
The twin shook his head. "We're not working for the Merovingian anymore." He tapped his new earpiece. The Oracle had the grace to look surprised. "We're looking for a rogue program. A very old program. We thought you might know something."
"Do you have a picture?"
"We do." The second opened the briefcase, and flicked through the documents within. "Here." The Oracle took the photograph, and her eyes widened.
"Well, I never." There was a long and uncomfortable pause.
"We would appreciate it if you would explain." said the first twin.
"Oh, of course." The Oracle smiled, and shook herself out of her reverie. "That's one face I never expected to see, that's the Van Eyck program. You're right in saying that she's old; her creation predates that of the first matrix."
They exchanged glances. "She was created by humans?"
The Oracle shrugged. "Maybe. I'd never thought of it that way. You boys are very insightful, for security programs."
"Thank you. What was the original purpose of this program?"
"She controls the refraction and reflection of light, as well as the tactile sensations given off by objects in the matrix. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more. Now, before you go, you must promise me that you will be good."
The twins smiled to each other.
"We will."
"We promise."
* * *
