The next morning was very much like the first: I was finished so quickly that the other family members were bewildered, and in no time I had taken Hugo and was off.

I met Smith at the door, just as on the day before, but this time we headed straight for the nearby park, Hugo merrily leading the way. At this early hour, the whole place was completely deserted, except for an elderly man walking a small white poodle, one of the kind I extremely dislike. Hugo happens to dislike that sort just as well, so there was quite a bit of barking.

As the poodle owner was out of sight, I told Hugo to sit, then positioned myself opposite Smith in what I thought was quite a good fighting stance. "Okay, go ahead, show me."

Smiling dismissively, Smith sauntered up to me, grabbed me by the shoulder, blocked the punch I threw at him easily and sent me sprawling on the grass still wet with dew. Hugo gave a surprised woof and trotted over to me to check if there was anything wrong.

Biting my teeth, I shoved the dog's wet snout away and got to my feet again. There was a dull feeling of pain in my back, but else – except for the hurt pride – I was fine. Once I had heard that when you were the weaker opponent, you better attacked immediately and tried not to give the stronger one the chance to attack himself, so I launched myself at the Agent, letting my fists fly at him blindly. Yet what would have thrown any of my classmates over and made my eighteen-year-old brother Steve at least struggle hard to regain his balance was completely pointless against the Agent. He held me away at arm's length, not even feeling my kicks, and let me fidget in the air a bit, with a barking Hugo running around us, then turned me upside down and dropped me straight down, so that I would have fallen on my head had I not somehow managed to land on my hands and knees. "That was mean", I panted, again fending Hugo's sniffling snout off.

"You still have much to learn, Ian. However, you seem to possess a certain agility."

"I have no chance against you", I admitted – which was not that easy for a boy of my age.

"But you will", Smith said comfortingly, watching me dust myself off and brushing the soil off my knees. Oh dear, what would my mother say to this?

"Are you going to teach me?"

"No, Ian. Not in the sense you hear in the word. I am merely going to train you – after I have let you be programmed."

"What?"

"Since your mind is inside the program known as the Matrix, other programs have access to it. I, for example. I could easily access your entire mind set if I wanted to. But in this case I prefer just to change it. I will work a few things out and you will be something new. What do you say to this, Ian?"

"What do you mean?" I asked in horror, not understanding a word. "Am I… turning into… a machine?"

"Of course not, you silly human! I am merely going to add some extra features. If you just wait a minute…"

I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn't understand a damn word or something like that, but he held up his hand for me to be silent, and I chose to obey and shut my mouth again, feeling like a bullfrog whose voice has just failed. I didn't like this stuff about programs accessing my mind at all. What if some nasty little equivalent of a computer worm entered my head and made me last of my year in maths? What if it erased all my hockey-playing abilities? Or made me have a crush on some horrible girl or, even worse, a boy?

And then something really strange happened. Something touched me. Not in a physical sense, nut it was there, I could feel it, just like something giving me a little poke, opening a tiny hatch somewhere at the back of my head. For a moment my eyesight got clouded, and at the same time I was getting the idea that something was flowing into my mind, filling up some little corner, forming a tiny pool of information among many others – and then it suddenly was over. I drew a deep breath, inhaling the cool morning air as if I had just woken from a dream – and then I remembered.

I launched myself at Smith, feeling like a flurry of motion – whatever a flurry of motion feels like, if it feels at all. But right then, I was getting the idea. My hands and feet moved all of their own accord, punching, kicking, blocking, dodging. I was fighting like never before in my life. And then suddenly I was flying through the air, turning, somersaulting –

As I hit the ground, the air was knocked out of my lungs. I remained lying on my back, panting, wondering what had happened. Had I really…? Had Smith just…? There was a strangely shaped cloud in the sky right above me, I suddenly noticed, looking like a duck on three legs.

Then two more things came into view. One was Hugo's black nose. On my other side, Smith's face appeared. I looked up at the two of them dizzily, not really knowing whom I should address first. Smith was smiling. Hugo was drooling.

"I don't understand", I said to the world in general.

"You will, Ian. You will."

I turned my head a bit to face Smith. "What did I just do there? Was it some program making me do… things?"

"No, Ian, it was you."

"Me…" For a moment I shut my eyes, trying to remember clearly how I had attacked Smith. It was just… crazy. I had never been able to fight properly. I had never learned to. And yet… I knew how to do it. I knew it clearly. As I was lying there, several different attack moves were replayed before my inner eye, moves so elegant and deadly that this just couldn't be me. "How?" I finally managed to ask.

"I downloaded a file on hand-to-hand combat into your mind. Do you like it?"

I gaped at him. So he had just transferred a program into my head, and suddenly I could do things I had never done before? Wow! "Can I keep it?" I asked eagerly.

The Agent gave me a look of amusement. "Certainly. It is saved inside your head."

I beamed up at him. "Gosh, thank you!"

"However", Smith reminded me, "I promised that I would train you. You don't just learn it by storing it, you have to practise. Up you get, Ian."

With a groan, I heaved myself up to a sitting position. I still was dizzy, but otherwise I was alright. Damn, what would my mother say about my trousers if she could see me now? "Did you just throw me?"

"Yes."

"Not that hard the next time, please. You're getting my clothes dirty if I keep falling into the grass."

"Why do humans bother with things like that? Aren't you a dirty race altogether?"

I gave the Agent one of my trademark eyerolls and got to my feet. "Right. Second round." Oh man, that was exciting! I wanted to tell my friends about it – but maybe this was not a good idea, for I would have to explain about Smith and the Matrix, too.

This time I was fully aware of what I did. I attacked, blocked, dodged as if I had been training for years. What was even stranger, I possessed the memories of all that training. It was there, just like the information for the biology test for next week and the hockey rules. And I was good. I knew I was.

But still, Smith was much better. Every time I was so sure to hit him, he blocked so fast that his arm blurred before my eyes. While my pulse was pumping madly already, he showed no sign of strain. "You're still very slow, Ian", he stated, lazily blocking a particularly fine punch. "How fast can you be?"

"Dunno", I panted without desisting from him for a moment.

"You know, I have a certain limit to my speed", said Smith, throwing me back so hard that I almost toppled over. "I'm programmed for a certain maximum. Whereas you…", here he paused thoughtfully, "… technically have no limits."

I stopped short, completely forgetting my new attempt to throw the Agent off balance. "Technically, yes", I answered. "But, hey, you don't mean –"

"I suppose I do, Ian."

"That I can be as fast as…" I sought for a good metaphor and at the moment found none. "… lightning?" I finished somewhat lamely.

"Yes", Smith replied simply.

"How?"

"This is what we are going to work out."

I took a deep breath, trying not to pant that hard. "Do you really think I can?" There was a funny feeling in my stomach, like a knot, and excitement bubbled up through my lungs and hardly let me breathe.

"I think you are the one who can answer that."

"But Smith, I have no idea –"

Smith smiled at me in what I judged to be a rather enigmatic way. "Sometimes you just have to believe."

I nodded eagerly. "And belief is a long and grievous road, isn't it?"

"Indeed. You are a quick learner, it seems. Yet do not forget that you will not walk it alone."

"Thanks", I said, smiling up at him. No, I wouldn't walk that path alone; there was my AI friend to take care of me.

Friend? Was he, a program, at all able to be a friend?

Smith threw another punch at me, and I managed to duck just in time. "How's it done?" I asked while attempting a kick.

"I cannot tell you."

"Why?" I almost managed to hit him in the stomach. But sadly, only almost.

"Because I don't know how it works for a human." He blocked a particularly vicious attack rather lazily. "If I want to be fast, I just am fast, if you understand that."

"No." By now I was getting the feeling that he was making fun of me.

"Like that." His hand shot out in a blur and grabbed me by the collar, while his foot made contact with my ankle, causing me to sway and topple over, yet somehow, instinctively, I managed to grab hold of his jacket and turn my fall into a tumble towards him, bringing my knee up just in time to hit him in the groin. A sharp intake of breath informed me that I had hit a vulnerable spot.

And just then, Hugo attacked. He must have believed that we were playing a kind of game, and he must have decided to join in. And being hit by a snarling, snapping bundle of fur and scrabbling paws at top speed, even if the dog is not too heavily built, probably makes everybody keel over. So did we. Hugo hit me in the back, and Smith and I fell, me wedged between the Agent and the dog, and found ourselves sprawling in the grass, I lying on top of him, with a young Siberian husky bouncing around all over us.

I used my chance to elbow Smith in the ribs for being so much better than me, then desperately tried to avoid Hugo's wet tongue, which he sometimes employed as a weapon. So much for being cool, I thought. Hugo had much to learn about it, and I strongly doubted he ever would. What style was that, attacking a pair of fighters fast as lightning with nothing better than yapping and drooling for an excuse?

But then again, I didn't really manage to be angry with him. And after all, he had helped me throwing down Smith – I had to admit that there was no way I could have done it without my dog.

"This doesn't count", Smith stated, trying to sit up – which was not an easy thing to do, since I was still fighting a crazed husky while lying across him.

"I'm fighting dirty", I grinned. "Ouch, Hugo!"

"You humans are a dirty race indeed."

Twisting around, I gave him quite a thump on the chest. And you Agent buggers are… are… you ought to get a life!"

"A human life? Do you really think we would ever descend to that level?"

"Arrogant git!" I panted, making a rather humorous attempt to throttle him.

"Inferior life form!"

"Bloody hypocritical sugar devourer! Those were my damn sweets!"

"I didn't like them anyway."

"You're a great big liar!"

"Who are you calling a liar?" He had me in a headlock by now.

I bored my forefinger into his side as hard as I could. "YOU!"

"Disgusting little human!" he growled, swatting at me with the hand he didn't right now use to almost crush my windpipe. "I don't lie!"

"You – bloody – do!" I choked defiantly. This was a hopeless fight, and I was at the edge of suffocating, but I've always been a bad loser. I wouldn't give up, even though I by now lay face down on the ground, with an Agent holding me down.

"Little virus", Smith hissed into my ear.

"What was that?" I managed.

"Little virus!"

"Bloody bastard!" I yelped.

"Watch your language, virus."

There was a bit of grass between my teeth, and quite a lot of husky prancing around on my back. "Let me go!" I gurgled.

"Do you give up?"

"No!"

His grip tightened, and my air supplies were suddenly and violently cut.

"Do you give up now?"

I twitched desperately, and the pain drove tears into my eyes. I'm going to die, I thought. Smith is going to throttle me to death. He's just a program, he doesn't know when to stop… Fear drowned out all other senses. For a moment I was painfully aware of one of my elbows being twisted into some shape it wasn't meant to go, then this signal as well as the others were swallowed by a greedy black ocean of fright. I prayed to all the gods in the world that Smith would stop, I wished for my parents and the police to be here, I wished for Aragorn and Darth Vader to come to my rescue… or, as the world around me grew darker, for it all just to end quickly, and to end right now

And suddenly there was a sound like a yelp of surprise and pain from Smith, and I could breathe again. At the same time all the weight was removed from me. Lifting my head with all the strength remaining to me, I saw that Smith had sat up and was clasping his left upper arm, staring unbelievingly at Hugo. The sleeve was torn and soiled with damp spots of red.

As I lay there, right at the edge of consciousness, something like triumph entered my empty mind. And never before had I realized how much I really loved my dog. "It's called affection", I whispered hoarsely, full of scorn. "Something you programs will never muster."

Smith turned away from the dog and stared at me hard.

"Hugo loves me", I croaked. "That's more than you and your kind will ever be able to achieve with all your clever circuits and stuff!" How I hated the Agent, that merciless, soulless creature!

"This is strange", Smith stated, calm as ever. "Because your dog is a program, just like me."

He could as well have banged a heavy club over my head; his word had the same effect. "You're lying!" I rasped desperately.

Immediately he grabbed me and pulled me up roughly, my whole body screaming in agony. "Don't you ever dare say that again!" he hissed, his face very close to mine. "Don't you –" And then he stopped and held me at arm's length. "What's this?"

"What?" I spat, wanting to hurt him so much it exceeded my imagination.

His right forefinger very gently touched my cheek. "You're crying, Ian." I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. "Why?"

"Let me be!" I snarled at him, but it sounded squeaky and rather miserable.

"Why are you crying, Ian?" he insisted.

"You have no idea of humanity!" I threw at him. "You think you're so clever, you think you know everything, and then…" My voice failed, and I sobbed helplessly, wanting to hit myself for showing the Agent so much weakness.

Smith watched me with interest and, as it seemed, utter bewilderment. "You are being illogical", he said at last.

"Yes, and I'm glad I am!" I spat. "I don't want to have an Agent's mind!"

Smith shook his head in disbelief. "You are being very illogical indeed. But I assume that it's not your fault, as it's not your fault that you are human."

"What makes you think machines are so much better?" I yelled at him. "I bet you never read a book in your life!" This was one of the worst insults I could think of, for books have always been a most precious possession to me.

Smith was seemingly trying to work out the logic of this. Now, when I look back on what happened that day, I almost feel sorry for him. This puzzle in human psychology was just too hard for his current state of progress. How should he, the program, understand what world of adventure lies spread before you when reading a good book? They hadn't given him the imagination and emotions to be able to. But back then, this didn't even occur to me. I just lay there in a crumpled heap, the Agent's hand clutching my collar, my whole mind set on hating Smith.

Finally the Agent gave up. "I don't understand", he admitted, and now I know how hard it must have been for him to say so.

"Yes, and this is your mistake", I replied grimly, wiping my face with my grimy hand. "This is where you fail, and I'm afraid you will never learn it."

There was a twitch in his cheek, and for a moment I thought he would hit me again. But he didn't. For several seconds his features were frozen like marble, his circuits doubtlessly buzzing with detest and contempt for humanity, but then he very gently lowered me to the grass and released his grip. "I ask you to teach me", he said softly.

With some bitterness, I felt that my anger was draining away already. I couldn't be forgiving Smith that fast! After all, he had almost killed me! So I decided to pout and pay him no attention – as a thirteen-year-old is still able to; usually there is quite a bit of childish manner remaining to him.

Yet what Smith did then made me stop quickly enough: Reaching out carefully, he awkwardly patted my head. "Don't cry, Ian", he ventured, moving on - to him - totally unknown territory. "Look, the dog wants it, too", for Hugo was nuzzling his cold, wet muzzle against my cheek.

"Why did you call him a program?" I murmured weakly, reaching behind me to scratch the husky's ears.

"Because he is. A sentient program, just like me. A lesser kind of AI. Remember what I told you yesterday, when he came to me wagging? That we had something in common, me and your dog? And that your revelation of how a dog can be a better companion than a human didn't surprise me at all, although it is a very human revelation? I suppose you understand now."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say. "I always thought he was alive",  whispered sadly, feeling the soft texture of Hugo's fur under my fingers, completely unable to believe that he was as soulless as Smith.

"In a way, he is." Smith got up and helped me to my feet, wiping my face with his sleeve, though not wholly succeeding in hiding his disgust at the dirtiness of humanity. "Just as I am. Or would you call me dead?"

I considered it. "Neither", I said at last. My cheeks felt crusted, like always when I have been crying and my tears start drying away.

"Maybe it will help when I tell you that he was programmed to have emotions."

I nodded, almost grateful. Yes, this made it better. "Why do you refer to him as he, though?" I asked, regarding the very alive-seeming dog prancing around us. The idea of living in the Matrix had already sunk in more or less, but the idea of my dog being an AI was a lot more remote to me. "I'd rather have expected you to say it."

"Why? He's male."

I looked at him in surprise. In my opinion, this was almost like admitting that a program was allowed to have a personality. "But you just called him a program."

"Yes, but so am I, Ian", Smith reminded me. "I do hope you wouldn't call me an It, as I am of the male persuasion."

Not that it was so extremely funny, but after what had happened, it certainly seemed so to me. I couldn't help it, I just had to snicker at Smith's explanation. A program of the male persuasion? Fancy that!

Smith watched me, probably trying to analyse my reaction. "This is no laughing matter", he finally stated. "But I assume that it is just the silliness of your age taking over."

No, Smith couldn't possibly understand this. After all the anxiety and pain of only a few minutes ago, I just needed to laugh. "Do you have a sexual identity, Smith?" I giggled, suppressing the little sob that was still stuck in my throat.

Smith sighed. "Probably not in the sense you see in it. Come on now, Ian, you'll be late for school. Hugo, heel."

Only then I realized that I would have to go home in this state, bruised and dirty, and I imagined my mother's face, and I must admit that I started crying anew at the mere idea of having to face my mother.

"What's wrong, Ian?" Smith asked, despite his perfect calm appearing slightly exasperated. "Don't you want to go to school?"

"My mother's gonna kill me if she sees me like that!" I wailed. "How can I explain?"

Again Smith sighed. "Alright, I'll take you home." And already he had gripped me by the shoulder and was steering me towards our house.