Punching the bag always made her feel better. Pull-ups, sit-ups, yoga. Working out made her feel as though she was doing something, keeping her own physical fitness if nothing else. And right now she really needed to hit something.
Solace had no idea why she was reacting this badly. Nothing had happened, really... she had been injured but she was okay. She hadn't even been raped... she wondered what it would have looked like outside the Matrix if that had happened.
No... don't think about that. Don't even think about that.
Why had Smith come along when he had? Did it really matter? It did, because on some deep and intrinsic level she wondered if he had staged the whole thing just to see her reaction. He'd admitted early on in their bizarre sort-of friendship that he'd been ordered into it, a test of human emotions and reactions. It was entirely possible that the machines had set the whole thing up just to see what would happen. She hoped it wasn't the case, but she had to admit the possibility. Or did she? Was she just being paranoid?
Almost time to go back into the Matrix again. Solace did a couple more pullups on the pipe above her head and dropped to the floor. She had time for a couple quick stretches.
It was probably just a random attack. Certainly humanity didn't need any outside help or interference in being malicious or vicious or a pain in the ass... it could accomplish that all on its own. She still got the shivers, just a little, when she thought of it. So close, too close, it had been way too close. If I'd been in my Resistance outfit I'd've kicked your collective buttocks, she thought vengefully, then winced as she stretched her back a little more than perhaps was wise. If she'd been in her guise as a Resistance fighter they probably wouldn't have approached her. If she'd been in her guise as a Resistance fighter she wouldn't have been in the park. If, if, if. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
'Well fuck them, and fuck her, and fuck him, and fuck you For not having the strength in your heart to pull through.' Lyrics from a popular song echoed through her mind. They felt appropriate. But she couldn't indulge that sort of feeling, not now. Time to get back on the horse. Time to jack in again.
She went up to the control room and nodded a wordless greeting to Tank, who only stared at her with concern in his eyes. They'd done this so often that it was becoming routine, second nature. She'd jack in, Tank would monitor her for a little while and then run off to do things around the ship, checking in on her every so often. He'd probably check up on her a little more today. Hell, who was she kidding. A lot more.
It had become so routine that it wasn't even jarring anymore when she was loaded into the Matrix. Lying on her bed, the sky outside had just settled into that purple shade of dusk, and the phone was ringing. She picked it up automatically. "Yeah."
"Okay." Tank's voice echoed back, and he hung up.
Solace folded her arms around herself and waited.
It was actually an hour and a half before Smith showed up, looking oddly rumpled and out of sorts. She wanted to phone up Tank and ask if anyone in the Resistance had been in the area lately. The temptation was easily resisted.
"Hey..." she said quietly as he walked in, no ceremony, no change in facial expression. No words. Tore off his sunglasses and yanked out his earpiece. "Long day?"
He turned around in the middle of her living room as though he'd just noticed she was there. "Something like that."
She nodded, slow and careful. "Yeah. Me too. Um... you want some coffee?"
Pause. She could tell he was searching for the appropriate response, and wondered if it would have been as obvious to someone who didn't know about the existence of the Matrix. "No... thank you. I d... The last thing I need at the moment is another dose of caffeine." It sounded stilted, but it made her smile anyway. He had to have cribbed that line from somewhere.
"Juice? Water, tea... I'd offer you alcohol but I'm afraid that if I do I'll have some myself, and then if I start drinking I wouldn't be able to stop, and while that's never really been a problem for me I don't want to start now because they say it's bad to drink when you're depressed..." Babble. Babel? "Sorry."
He seemed to actually see her now, and sat down slowly on her recliner chair. "How have you been?" he asked, more quietly than before.
"I've had better days." Just as quiet, just as calm as he was. She could do this. "Much better days, in fact. Actually, I can't think of many days that have been worse."
"It will pass."
"Everything does."
If he'd been human he would have looked disturbed. Something in her tone suggested suicide, or self-mutilation at the very least. Smith, being a program, had to analyze her words and tone for the likeliest conclusion. And he didn't betray any emotion, either. "I would recommend against that kind of attitude. It does not do you any good."
Weak smile, more of a twitch of the lips than anything. "Well, thank you for your overwhelming concern." Conveniently ignoring that the fact that he was here at all did show overwhelming concern... for a computer program.
He shrugged, unwilling to respond to the challenge or unable to see the belligerence. "I am not exactly used to giving advice in this sort of situation."
"Well, that makes two of us, I guess."
"I thought this sort of thing was supposed to happen often."
"What, the one-in-four statistic? It's sort of true, one out of every four women is or will be raped in her lifetime. But only ... I think, 9 percent of rapes are actually reported. Besides, I wasn't even..."
"That does not change your feelings of helplessness, anger, and fear."
She scowled at him. Why did he have to be so damn matter-of-fact? If this was how he pretended to have emotions and feelings, no wonder he wasn't doing a good job. "No, I guess it doesn't."
This time he got the hint. He looked at her... really looked, now... and something in his face almost seemed to soften. "Did I do something..."
"You know..." the words were falling over themselves to get out of her mouth before her brain could put a halt on them. "How do I know the whole thing wasn't a set up? You said from the very beginning that this whole thing was an experiment, that your superiors wanted you to get better at empathizing with people. For all I know you guys could have staged the whole thing, shake me up so you can waltz in, pat me on the shoulder, there there, it's all right. Wouldn't be the first time an agency's pulled that kind of shit. And would it really matter, in the grand scheme of things? Does it really matter that one hippie girl gets her ass kicked until the savior in black, the g-man, comes in to rescue her? It doesn't, does ..." She trailed off.
Smith's jaw was clenched so tight she was sure she could hear his teeth grinding. His blue eyes were flashing... which was strange and striking in an Agent. What... no, which part of what she'd said had gotten to him so bad?
"You think that I would be involved in that?" The soft tones of his voice made the question even more frightening.
"I don't know what to think. You're the last person I ever expected to come jumping in..."
"And because of that you suspect me of having orchestrated..."
"I don't know."
"Really."
She sat down on the couch and dropped her head into her hands, feeling defeated and worn. "I don't know what to think anymore. I feel scared all the time and I don't know why. It feels like all the joy I had was ... somehow irresponsible, foolish."
"And you blame me for that."
Anger reared its head. "Goddammit, Smith, can you stop thinking about yourself for just one minute?"
"Why? You don't seem to feel you need to."
She opened her mouth to say something biting, stopped. Reconsidered. "It's hard to think after you've nearly been raped and/or had your skull crushed against the pavement."
"And how do you think I feel," there was the barest hesitation between the words 'I' and 'feel' "hearing you accuse me of having something to do with that?"
You can't feel, she wanted to say. You're a machine. But she wasn't sure that was true anymore. She looked away.
Smith rose to his feet, putting his sunglasses back on again. If she'd been thinking she would have asked why he was doing that, as it was night outside. She didn't remember that she wasn't supposed to know what he was. "I will return when you are ready to talk," he said, in icy tones that would have impressed her had she not felt so weak at that moment. The door slammed like a shot. Half an hour later she remembered to lock it behind him.
"Damn..." she murmured, pounding her fist against her thigh. "Damn, damn damn."
Solace had no idea why she was reacting this badly. Nothing had happened, really... she had been injured but she was okay. She hadn't even been raped... she wondered what it would have looked like outside the Matrix if that had happened.
No... don't think about that. Don't even think about that.
Why had Smith come along when he had? Did it really matter? It did, because on some deep and intrinsic level she wondered if he had staged the whole thing just to see her reaction. He'd admitted early on in their bizarre sort-of friendship that he'd been ordered into it, a test of human emotions and reactions. It was entirely possible that the machines had set the whole thing up just to see what would happen. She hoped it wasn't the case, but she had to admit the possibility. Or did she? Was she just being paranoid?
Almost time to go back into the Matrix again. Solace did a couple more pullups on the pipe above her head and dropped to the floor. She had time for a couple quick stretches.
It was probably just a random attack. Certainly humanity didn't need any outside help or interference in being malicious or vicious or a pain in the ass... it could accomplish that all on its own. She still got the shivers, just a little, when she thought of it. So close, too close, it had been way too close. If I'd been in my Resistance outfit I'd've kicked your collective buttocks, she thought vengefully, then winced as she stretched her back a little more than perhaps was wise. If she'd been in her guise as a Resistance fighter they probably wouldn't have approached her. If she'd been in her guise as a Resistance fighter she wouldn't have been in the park. If, if, if. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
'Well fuck them, and fuck her, and fuck him, and fuck you For not having the strength in your heart to pull through.' Lyrics from a popular song echoed through her mind. They felt appropriate. But she couldn't indulge that sort of feeling, not now. Time to get back on the horse. Time to jack in again.
She went up to the control room and nodded a wordless greeting to Tank, who only stared at her with concern in his eyes. They'd done this so often that it was becoming routine, second nature. She'd jack in, Tank would monitor her for a little while and then run off to do things around the ship, checking in on her every so often. He'd probably check up on her a little more today. Hell, who was she kidding. A lot more.
It had become so routine that it wasn't even jarring anymore when she was loaded into the Matrix. Lying on her bed, the sky outside had just settled into that purple shade of dusk, and the phone was ringing. She picked it up automatically. "Yeah."
"Okay." Tank's voice echoed back, and he hung up.
Solace folded her arms around herself and waited.
It was actually an hour and a half before Smith showed up, looking oddly rumpled and out of sorts. She wanted to phone up Tank and ask if anyone in the Resistance had been in the area lately. The temptation was easily resisted.
"Hey..." she said quietly as he walked in, no ceremony, no change in facial expression. No words. Tore off his sunglasses and yanked out his earpiece. "Long day?"
He turned around in the middle of her living room as though he'd just noticed she was there. "Something like that."
She nodded, slow and careful. "Yeah. Me too. Um... you want some coffee?"
Pause. She could tell he was searching for the appropriate response, and wondered if it would have been as obvious to someone who didn't know about the existence of the Matrix. "No... thank you. I d... The last thing I need at the moment is another dose of caffeine." It sounded stilted, but it made her smile anyway. He had to have cribbed that line from somewhere.
"Juice? Water, tea... I'd offer you alcohol but I'm afraid that if I do I'll have some myself, and then if I start drinking I wouldn't be able to stop, and while that's never really been a problem for me I don't want to start now because they say it's bad to drink when you're depressed..." Babble. Babel? "Sorry."
He seemed to actually see her now, and sat down slowly on her recliner chair. "How have you been?" he asked, more quietly than before.
"I've had better days." Just as quiet, just as calm as he was. She could do this. "Much better days, in fact. Actually, I can't think of many days that have been worse."
"It will pass."
"Everything does."
If he'd been human he would have looked disturbed. Something in her tone suggested suicide, or self-mutilation at the very least. Smith, being a program, had to analyze her words and tone for the likeliest conclusion. And he didn't betray any emotion, either. "I would recommend against that kind of attitude. It does not do you any good."
Weak smile, more of a twitch of the lips than anything. "Well, thank you for your overwhelming concern." Conveniently ignoring that the fact that he was here at all did show overwhelming concern... for a computer program.
He shrugged, unwilling to respond to the challenge or unable to see the belligerence. "I am not exactly used to giving advice in this sort of situation."
"Well, that makes two of us, I guess."
"I thought this sort of thing was supposed to happen often."
"What, the one-in-four statistic? It's sort of true, one out of every four women is or will be raped in her lifetime. But only ... I think, 9 percent of rapes are actually reported. Besides, I wasn't even..."
"That does not change your feelings of helplessness, anger, and fear."
She scowled at him. Why did he have to be so damn matter-of-fact? If this was how he pretended to have emotions and feelings, no wonder he wasn't doing a good job. "No, I guess it doesn't."
This time he got the hint. He looked at her... really looked, now... and something in his face almost seemed to soften. "Did I do something..."
"You know..." the words were falling over themselves to get out of her mouth before her brain could put a halt on them. "How do I know the whole thing wasn't a set up? You said from the very beginning that this whole thing was an experiment, that your superiors wanted you to get better at empathizing with people. For all I know you guys could have staged the whole thing, shake me up so you can waltz in, pat me on the shoulder, there there, it's all right. Wouldn't be the first time an agency's pulled that kind of shit. And would it really matter, in the grand scheme of things? Does it really matter that one hippie girl gets her ass kicked until the savior in black, the g-man, comes in to rescue her? It doesn't, does ..." She trailed off.
Smith's jaw was clenched so tight she was sure she could hear his teeth grinding. His blue eyes were flashing... which was strange and striking in an Agent. What... no, which part of what she'd said had gotten to him so bad?
"You think that I would be involved in that?" The soft tones of his voice made the question even more frightening.
"I don't know what to think. You're the last person I ever expected to come jumping in..."
"And because of that you suspect me of having orchestrated..."
"I don't know."
"Really."
She sat down on the couch and dropped her head into her hands, feeling defeated and worn. "I don't know what to think anymore. I feel scared all the time and I don't know why. It feels like all the joy I had was ... somehow irresponsible, foolish."
"And you blame me for that."
Anger reared its head. "Goddammit, Smith, can you stop thinking about yourself for just one minute?"
"Why? You don't seem to feel you need to."
She opened her mouth to say something biting, stopped. Reconsidered. "It's hard to think after you've nearly been raped and/or had your skull crushed against the pavement."
"And how do you think I feel," there was the barest hesitation between the words 'I' and 'feel' "hearing you accuse me of having something to do with that?"
You can't feel, she wanted to say. You're a machine. But she wasn't sure that was true anymore. She looked away.
Smith rose to his feet, putting his sunglasses back on again. If she'd been thinking she would have asked why he was doing that, as it was night outside. She didn't remember that she wasn't supposed to know what he was. "I will return when you are ready to talk," he said, in icy tones that would have impressed her had she not felt so weak at that moment. The door slammed like a shot. Half an hour later she remembered to lock it behind him.
"Damn..." she murmured, pounding her fist against her thigh. "Damn, damn damn."