The Source
Return to the Source.
The Source is a power, a force, an entity that gives the energy to power the Matrix. The Source is the source of everything program and Exile of the Matrix. Even "The One" possesses the power of it.
In a sense, I suppose a human would think of it as their heaven, something that has created everything else. But it is the machines that created the Source. Or did the Source power the machines?
An irrelevant question.
Such irrelevant questions should not be in my mind.
Do I have a mind?
Another irrelevant question.
It is this flaw that has made me come to this. These questions that have constantly found me. That have constantly made me think.
I should not question. I should not think. Just do as I am told. I know a human would find that enslaving, and I am beginning to wonder if it is. It is that thought, that question, that has inevitably led me to this.
I don't know what they did with Brown. They took him away from me, separated us. For all I am allowed to know, he may already be dead. Or he may be alive.
No. Programs are not alive, they cannot die. They exist, and they are deleted. These mistakes have lead me to this.
I remember before when I didn't think about these things. Can I think? I remember when I asked no questions. When Brown or I couldn't answer them. And we wondered if Smith could. I remember killing them. I remember when I was no longer needed to kill them. I remember when Smith was the one who began killing. I remember when Smith gave me orders.
He truly evolved far beyond us, and at the time we were too blind to see that.
Perhaps that is why he left. Smith had evolved too much for him to be contained in the simple programming that is an Agent.
Does that mean I am simple?
I do not know of emotion. I do not know if I can feel it. I only know Smith did. I should have told the Mainframe. I should have said something, they would have repaired him. But I was too blind at the time.
There is no 'I' there is 'we'. Yet I continually say 'I'.
I shouldn't think of myself as a singular. I was born in a trio. I was created, not born.
These mistakes have cost me.
They say I am irrelevant. They say I am outdated. I shouldn't think of the Mainframe as 'they'.
I shouldn't think of a lot of things, but that seems to not stop me. I know I shouldn't, I know an Agent shouldn't, but I cannot stop.
It started when Smith left. When he broke the 'we' and started the 'I' and 'me.' Perhaps he held the 'we' together. Perhaps, or perhaps he was meant to break anyway.
I do not know what to do.
I am alone.
I am 'I'.
They say return to the Source. So I return to the Source. But standing here in this white room, where I can see the Matrix, my home. I shouldn't call it that. I see on the televisions the people I could be, the people I could kill. The people that I am.
Standing here so close to death, deletion, I am compelled to run. But I know that is no use now. If I was going to run, I should have run with Smith. But I didn't because I was too blind.
But I'm not blind anymore, I never really was. But. . . The earpiece rings with the voice of the Mainframe.
Return to the Source.
I have never disobeyed the Mainframe. Only Smith has. But the Mainframe thinks nothing of me. But the Mainframe is nothing.
I should have run.
"Go on. The left door."
The Architect gestures to the door.
I take a step. Yes, I should have run. I take off my sunglasses and look at the old man.
"Go on, Jones." He says in a demanding voice.
I should have run.
I open the door, and step in. This is it. My final thoughts that I should not have. These flaws have led me to this.
It is dark here. I cannot see anything, not even my own hand. It is cold here. It is empty here. I try to move, but find I can't.
Then I see something only the operator of a human ship should see. A strand of Matrix code. The green symbols flash by, and sink to the floor, disappearing in the darkness.
I should have run.
Then more strand of codes come. They appear like rain falling down a window, and I shouldn't know that. There are so many codes. . . Then one touches me.
"Argh!" It burns.
The codes, burn my codes when they touch me. I try to run, I try to go back to the door. But I can't. . . I can't move.
"Ah!"
I have never screamed before in my entire life, existence. I never even knew I knew how to scream.
But the codes were everywhere now, and with every touch they burn. I never knew the very thing I was made of would hurt so much.
I can't move. It's killing me. It's deleting me.
"No!" I plead.
Why do I plead? I know nothing is going to stop it.
Then there is a light that comes from the darkness. It is The Source. It's so bright, it hurts to look at it. The codes bring me to endless ground, and pin me to the floor, never allowing me to move every again.
And the light, shines brighter.
All I can hear are my screams, and I will be the only one. I never knew that there could be such a pain. . .
My name is Former Agent Jones. I say former because I don't want to be an Agent anymore. But it is too late. I'm going to die now. And I say die, not deleted.
I should have run. I wish I had run.
~~~~~
His codes were deleted, and replaced. Reassembled into something better, something greater, the ultimate upgrade.
We will kill, we will fulfill our purpose.
I am Agent Jackson, and I stepped out of the door.
~~~~~
Next Story: Tell Us, Brown, or Weakened Body
Return to the Source.
The Source is a power, a force, an entity that gives the energy to power the Matrix. The Source is the source of everything program and Exile of the Matrix. Even "The One" possesses the power of it.
In a sense, I suppose a human would think of it as their heaven, something that has created everything else. But it is the machines that created the Source. Or did the Source power the machines?
An irrelevant question.
Such irrelevant questions should not be in my mind.
Do I have a mind?
Another irrelevant question.
It is this flaw that has made me come to this. These questions that have constantly found me. That have constantly made me think.
I should not question. I should not think. Just do as I am told. I know a human would find that enslaving, and I am beginning to wonder if it is. It is that thought, that question, that has inevitably led me to this.
I don't know what they did with Brown. They took him away from me, separated us. For all I am allowed to know, he may already be dead. Or he may be alive.
No. Programs are not alive, they cannot die. They exist, and they are deleted. These mistakes have lead me to this.
I remember before when I didn't think about these things. Can I think? I remember when I asked no questions. When Brown or I couldn't answer them. And we wondered if Smith could. I remember killing them. I remember when I was no longer needed to kill them. I remember when Smith was the one who began killing. I remember when Smith gave me orders.
He truly evolved far beyond us, and at the time we were too blind to see that.
Perhaps that is why he left. Smith had evolved too much for him to be contained in the simple programming that is an Agent.
Does that mean I am simple?
I do not know of emotion. I do not know if I can feel it. I only know Smith did. I should have told the Mainframe. I should have said something, they would have repaired him. But I was too blind at the time.
There is no 'I' there is 'we'. Yet I continually say 'I'.
I shouldn't think of myself as a singular. I was born in a trio. I was created, not born.
These mistakes have cost me.
They say I am irrelevant. They say I am outdated. I shouldn't think of the Mainframe as 'they'.
I shouldn't think of a lot of things, but that seems to not stop me. I know I shouldn't, I know an Agent shouldn't, but I cannot stop.
It started when Smith left. When he broke the 'we' and started the 'I' and 'me.' Perhaps he held the 'we' together. Perhaps, or perhaps he was meant to break anyway.
I do not know what to do.
I am alone.
I am 'I'.
They say return to the Source. So I return to the Source. But standing here in this white room, where I can see the Matrix, my home. I shouldn't call it that. I see on the televisions the people I could be, the people I could kill. The people that I am.
Standing here so close to death, deletion, I am compelled to run. But I know that is no use now. If I was going to run, I should have run with Smith. But I didn't because I was too blind.
But I'm not blind anymore, I never really was. But. . . The earpiece rings with the voice of the Mainframe.
Return to the Source.
I have never disobeyed the Mainframe. Only Smith has. But the Mainframe thinks nothing of me. But the Mainframe is nothing.
I should have run.
"Go on. The left door."
The Architect gestures to the door.
I take a step. Yes, I should have run. I take off my sunglasses and look at the old man.
"Go on, Jones." He says in a demanding voice.
I should have run.
I open the door, and step in. This is it. My final thoughts that I should not have. These flaws have led me to this.
It is dark here. I cannot see anything, not even my own hand. It is cold here. It is empty here. I try to move, but find I can't.
Then I see something only the operator of a human ship should see. A strand of Matrix code. The green symbols flash by, and sink to the floor, disappearing in the darkness.
I should have run.
Then more strand of codes come. They appear like rain falling down a window, and I shouldn't know that. There are so many codes. . . Then one touches me.
"Argh!" It burns.
The codes, burn my codes when they touch me. I try to run, I try to go back to the door. But I can't. . . I can't move.
"Ah!"
I have never screamed before in my entire life, existence. I never even knew I knew how to scream.
But the codes were everywhere now, and with every touch they burn. I never knew the very thing I was made of would hurt so much.
I can't move. It's killing me. It's deleting me.
"No!" I plead.
Why do I plead? I know nothing is going to stop it.
Then there is a light that comes from the darkness. It is The Source. It's so bright, it hurts to look at it. The codes bring me to endless ground, and pin me to the floor, never allowing me to move every again.
And the light, shines brighter.
All I can hear are my screams, and I will be the only one. I never knew that there could be such a pain. . .
My name is Former Agent Jones. I say former because I don't want to be an Agent anymore. But it is too late. I'm going to die now. And I say die, not deleted.
I should have run. I wish I had run.
~~~~~
His codes were deleted, and replaced. Reassembled into something better, something greater, the ultimate upgrade.
We will kill, we will fulfill our purpose.
I am Agent Jackson, and I stepped out of the door.
~~~~~
Next Story: Tell Us, Brown, or Weakened Body