He had to drag the words out of himself. Standing in front of quite possibly the most powerful creation in the Matrix (always excepting the Architect), needing a favor that brought no clear benefit to either of them and presented quite a possible risk… who was he fooling. He didn't know what was involved. He didn't even know why he was doing this. His thoughts had been chasing themselves in very unproductive circles for the last five hours, ever since he'd left Solace asleep in her bed with all the papers tucked up safely and locked in the file cabinet.
The image calmed him. He snarled inwardly at the fact that the image of a young woman curled up in a fetal position under a sky blue comforter that matched her one blue eye… dammit!
The Merovingian stared at him with that faintly amused, very smug expression on his face. His lips were upturned ever so carefully, just enough of a smirk to register. His wife, Persephone… the creature he called his wife, at any rate, none of them were really human or subject to human laws or customs… she lounged in her chair at his side, looking bored. Smith had never understood the point. What was the purpose these AIs served, emulating the humans so carefully and so correctly? Perhaps that was why they had been exiled.
Perhaps that was why he was now rendered obsolete.
He would have shook his head in disgust with himself if he dared show any sort of expression or sign of weakness in front of the Merovingian. That line of thinking was irrelevant, it was not germane to the necessary task at hand, and it was entirely unproductive. Better to drop it at once. Close proximity to humans, prolonged proximity to Solace was making his thought processes sloppy. And yet here he was putting himself at great risk to help her. How remarkable.
"I have a favor for you," Smith said.
"Really," said the Merovingian.
Communication, Smith thought then, was highly overrated. Talking, verbal or written communication, it was all imprecise and should have been done away with long ago, especially between AIs. There was simply no way to properly convey ideas or concepts with the limitations of the forms into which they had been thrust. With the end result, of course, being that Smith was now entirely at a loss for words. Damn the Matrix. Damn the humans, and damn the Architect. And damn that incompetent, paranoid ex-husband of Solace's for necessitating the whole damn thing.
"I have a problem," Smith started, and then swore at himself for starting it out that way. As if the Merovingian hadn't already gathered that from the fact that a disaffected Agent was standing in front of him asking for help. "A human has begun threatening…" my safety? The safety of… what was Solace to him? Dammit. "the woman with whom I was here the other day." That was at least somewhat safe. It was a reference to her, a definition that did not include any frame of reference to him. "I told her that I had begun an investigation into his background and whereabouts." Now why in the name of the Matrix had he said that? "Now I would like that investigation to actually take place."
The Merovingian looked thoughtful. "The woman who accompanied you to the restaurant… the human woman?" It was phrased as a question, and yet Smith had no doubt that the Merovingian knew exactly who she was, and quite possibly had discovered more about her in the last few days than Smith had in the last several weeks.
"Yes… the human woman."
"Now… if I am understanding you correctly…" If I am un-der-stan-dink zhou correkt-ly… The Merovingian's assumed accent grated on Smith's nerves like the squeaking of Styrofoam. "You wish for me to gather information on this human woman's ex-husband and give it to you… so that you may protect her?"
"Yes." The Merovingian had spoken very nearly each word as though each word mattered in and of itself, enunciating each syllable. The delay was aggravating, and solely so that the Merovingian could watch him squirm or roll around the sounds of words in his mouth or whatever damn thing he wanted to do.
"Why?"
Smith snarled inside himself, his hands clenching into fists. "Why …?"
"Why do you want to protect her?"
It was the question that Smith had been asking himself ever since he had made the offer, and he hadn't yet come up with a reasonable answer. "It is in my interest to do so," he said curtly, stalling for time. He was certain the Merovingian would either discover why or come up with his own reason that might actually be correct, and he didn't want to spend any more time in the restaurant than absolutely necessary. The damned Twins were already smirking at him. "You do not need to know why, you only need to know that it is my request."
"If I am to pry into the life of this man, this human, I will be engaging in activity outside my normal spectrum, the habits of my daily life." His voice was almost a purr, a sure sign that something bad was going to be said. "I will draw the attention of les gendarmes, the authorities over us all, and while that will not endanger me or mine in the slightest it will be bad for business. Before I take such a risk for myself, I would like to understand it so that I may mitigate the circumstances. To do this, I must need to know the cause of your inquiry, so that I may understand the effects it will have." He smirked, and a scowl flickered over Smith's face before it smoothed back into the usual impassive lack of expression. "I'm sure you understand."
"I do not understand why you need to pry into my own affairs," Smith said calmly, betraying none of the inner turmoil. He was still himself, still in control enough for that at least.
"Because they are his affairs as well. Through the human woman…"
"Solace," Smith said then, and he couldn't have explained why it irritated him so to hear the Merovingian refer to her as one of the nameless, faceless cattle that burbled their existence in the pods. "Her name is Solace."
"Solace…" The Merovingian lingered on the name too long; even his wife heard the tone in his voice and rolled her eyes in such a way that bespoke consequences for his actions. "I see."
"What do you see?" Persephone asked, her voice deceptively mild. Smith saw, too.
"My dear woman, I see many things." If the Merovingian saw, he gave no outward sign of it. "Solace, then. Through Solace you and this man…"
"Desmond Kerr."
"Are connected. What affects him will undoubtedly affect you, and through you it may affect me. I cannot have that."
"It will not happen."
"I have your assurances of this?"
"Yes."
Smith realized he was committing himself to the security of the Merovingian. He didn't care; actually, in a way, he was relieved. It gave him at least something like a purpose again, and one that was similar to his previous existence as an Agent. Protect the status quo.
The Merovingian straightened again and steepled his fingers, smiling in a way that Smith did not at all like. Then again, Smith liked none of the man's smiles. "Then there is only the matter of payment between us."
Smith nodded slowly, prepared and yet at the same time wondering just what sort of coin the Merovingian would demand for his services. His wife traded in attention, his minions in blood, but the Merovingian himself was rumored to demand strange things, bizarre and seemingly irrelevant things, bits and pieces at random that made no sense to anyone else. If they made sense to him beyond the whims of the moment, no one save perhaps his wife was aware of it.
"What is the payment?"
"Why."
Smith blinked. It wasn't a question, and yet he didn't understand the word as the other, older AI had intended it. "Why?"
"By the time you come to me again, when I have summoned you here to tell you all that I know of this Desmond Kerr, then you will tell me why it is that you want to know. Why you are so protective of this particular human woman, Solace…" He threw in her name before Smith had a chance to correct him again.
"Why do you want to know?" It sounded too easy. It sounded too much like a trap. And then again, Smith knew that he couldn't have answered the question at the moment. Given time, perhaps he could come up with a plausible story that even the Merovingian would accept as truth. He knew the AI would accept nothing less.
The Merovingian gave a very Gallic, very obscure shrug. "Call it my insatiable curiosity," he smirked, "O best beloved."
Smith wrinkled his nose and would have taken offense if he hadn't been warned about the AI's strange sense of humor. "Very well."
"You agree?"
"I do."
"Excellent!" He clapped his hands unexpectedly, a child being allowed to open one present before Christmas. It was disturbing to the normally emotionless AI. The Merovingian bounded to his feet, seeming intent on personally escorting Smith to the door. "I will have something for you very soon, I think."
The interview was concluded. The rest of the conversation consisted of a few exchanged pleasantries, and Smith was at the door almost before he knew what had happened to him, what he had committed to. It ran through his thought processes like water over a stone, smooth and gone before he could register it. He walked down the street, got into his car, drove to Solace's house almost automatically. This, he decided with a sort of pragmatic detachment, must be the equivalent of shock. Perhaps he could make sense of what had happened as he helped Solace to pick up the pieces of her life again.
Perhaps she could help him to pick up the pieces of his own life, which he was only now starting to realize were scattered further than he had ever imagined.
-
-
-
-
The black SUV stayed far away from the Shelby, and yet both driver and passenger within took turns spying on the occupant of the other car. It was easy enough to follow Smith; he had no idea that he was going to be tailed, and he'd been slammed and slammed hard by the Merovingian's obscure ways. He was, as had been predicted, going to the home of his human pet, probably in order to tell her some version of what had just transpired and to seek her advice about what to do.
White lips curled upwards in identical sneers. The former Agent was so very, very whipped.
"The Merovingian believes his answer will be …"
"… desire…"
"… attachment…"
"But we know better."
Two different words for the same thing; it was one of the strengths of the Twins that they were just different enough to provide some versatility in their functions, and just alike enough to function as a seamless pair.
"He is alone, confused, casting about for something to do. He'll come around eventually."
"And we will find other things to do with him."
"Yes, we will."
One Twin glanced at the other, winked. The other Twin winked back, eyes on the road, doing what they did best. Paired programs, sword and shield, search and destroy. They had been together for so long that neither of them retained any memory of what life had been like apart. Thoughts echoed from one mind to the other, memories of the lost look that Smith had had when he had first come to them, specifically, for help. Thoughts that perhaps that was what it was like to lose a Twin, to lose one's sense of the world and suddenly be left with nothing solid to stand on. Thoughts that were uncomfortable, and easily pushed away.
"The Architect will pay in good trade for the rogue Agent delivered for deletion," one Twin thought aloud, replacing sympathy for the former Agent with contempt. It was an easier emotion to stomach, easier to maintain.
"The Merovingian wouldn't like it," one Twin warned.
"The Merovingian doesn't have to know."
Identical handsome, frightening lips. Identical smiles. Identical hands smoothed out over dashboard and steering wheel. Identical sighs of contentment and pleasure.
The image calmed him. He snarled inwardly at the fact that the image of a young woman curled up in a fetal position under a sky blue comforter that matched her one blue eye… dammit!
The Merovingian stared at him with that faintly amused, very smug expression on his face. His lips were upturned ever so carefully, just enough of a smirk to register. His wife, Persephone… the creature he called his wife, at any rate, none of them were really human or subject to human laws or customs… she lounged in her chair at his side, looking bored. Smith had never understood the point. What was the purpose these AIs served, emulating the humans so carefully and so correctly? Perhaps that was why they had been exiled.
Perhaps that was why he was now rendered obsolete.
He would have shook his head in disgust with himself if he dared show any sort of expression or sign of weakness in front of the Merovingian. That line of thinking was irrelevant, it was not germane to the necessary task at hand, and it was entirely unproductive. Better to drop it at once. Close proximity to humans, prolonged proximity to Solace was making his thought processes sloppy. And yet here he was putting himself at great risk to help her. How remarkable.
"I have a favor for you," Smith said.
"Really," said the Merovingian.
Communication, Smith thought then, was highly overrated. Talking, verbal or written communication, it was all imprecise and should have been done away with long ago, especially between AIs. There was simply no way to properly convey ideas or concepts with the limitations of the forms into which they had been thrust. With the end result, of course, being that Smith was now entirely at a loss for words. Damn the Matrix. Damn the humans, and damn the Architect. And damn that incompetent, paranoid ex-husband of Solace's for necessitating the whole damn thing.
"I have a problem," Smith started, and then swore at himself for starting it out that way. As if the Merovingian hadn't already gathered that from the fact that a disaffected Agent was standing in front of him asking for help. "A human has begun threatening…" my safety? The safety of… what was Solace to him? Dammit. "the woman with whom I was here the other day." That was at least somewhat safe. It was a reference to her, a definition that did not include any frame of reference to him. "I told her that I had begun an investigation into his background and whereabouts." Now why in the name of the Matrix had he said that? "Now I would like that investigation to actually take place."
The Merovingian looked thoughtful. "The woman who accompanied you to the restaurant… the human woman?" It was phrased as a question, and yet Smith had no doubt that the Merovingian knew exactly who she was, and quite possibly had discovered more about her in the last few days than Smith had in the last several weeks.
"Yes… the human woman."
"Now… if I am understanding you correctly…" If I am un-der-stan-dink zhou correkt-ly… The Merovingian's assumed accent grated on Smith's nerves like the squeaking of Styrofoam. "You wish for me to gather information on this human woman's ex-husband and give it to you… so that you may protect her?"
"Yes." The Merovingian had spoken very nearly each word as though each word mattered in and of itself, enunciating each syllable. The delay was aggravating, and solely so that the Merovingian could watch him squirm or roll around the sounds of words in his mouth or whatever damn thing he wanted to do.
"Why?"
Smith snarled inside himself, his hands clenching into fists. "Why …?"
"Why do you want to protect her?"
It was the question that Smith had been asking himself ever since he had made the offer, and he hadn't yet come up with a reasonable answer. "It is in my interest to do so," he said curtly, stalling for time. He was certain the Merovingian would either discover why or come up with his own reason that might actually be correct, and he didn't want to spend any more time in the restaurant than absolutely necessary. The damned Twins were already smirking at him. "You do not need to know why, you only need to know that it is my request."
"If I am to pry into the life of this man, this human, I will be engaging in activity outside my normal spectrum, the habits of my daily life." His voice was almost a purr, a sure sign that something bad was going to be said. "I will draw the attention of les gendarmes, the authorities over us all, and while that will not endanger me or mine in the slightest it will be bad for business. Before I take such a risk for myself, I would like to understand it so that I may mitigate the circumstances. To do this, I must need to know the cause of your inquiry, so that I may understand the effects it will have." He smirked, and a scowl flickered over Smith's face before it smoothed back into the usual impassive lack of expression. "I'm sure you understand."
"I do not understand why you need to pry into my own affairs," Smith said calmly, betraying none of the inner turmoil. He was still himself, still in control enough for that at least.
"Because they are his affairs as well. Through the human woman…"
"Solace," Smith said then, and he couldn't have explained why it irritated him so to hear the Merovingian refer to her as one of the nameless, faceless cattle that burbled their existence in the pods. "Her name is Solace."
"Solace…" The Merovingian lingered on the name too long; even his wife heard the tone in his voice and rolled her eyes in such a way that bespoke consequences for his actions. "I see."
"What do you see?" Persephone asked, her voice deceptively mild. Smith saw, too.
"My dear woman, I see many things." If the Merovingian saw, he gave no outward sign of it. "Solace, then. Through Solace you and this man…"
"Desmond Kerr."
"Are connected. What affects him will undoubtedly affect you, and through you it may affect me. I cannot have that."
"It will not happen."
"I have your assurances of this?"
"Yes."
Smith realized he was committing himself to the security of the Merovingian. He didn't care; actually, in a way, he was relieved. It gave him at least something like a purpose again, and one that was similar to his previous existence as an Agent. Protect the status quo.
The Merovingian straightened again and steepled his fingers, smiling in a way that Smith did not at all like. Then again, Smith liked none of the man's smiles. "Then there is only the matter of payment between us."
Smith nodded slowly, prepared and yet at the same time wondering just what sort of coin the Merovingian would demand for his services. His wife traded in attention, his minions in blood, but the Merovingian himself was rumored to demand strange things, bizarre and seemingly irrelevant things, bits and pieces at random that made no sense to anyone else. If they made sense to him beyond the whims of the moment, no one save perhaps his wife was aware of it.
"What is the payment?"
"Why."
Smith blinked. It wasn't a question, and yet he didn't understand the word as the other, older AI had intended it. "Why?"
"By the time you come to me again, when I have summoned you here to tell you all that I know of this Desmond Kerr, then you will tell me why it is that you want to know. Why you are so protective of this particular human woman, Solace…" He threw in her name before Smith had a chance to correct him again.
"Why do you want to know?" It sounded too easy. It sounded too much like a trap. And then again, Smith knew that he couldn't have answered the question at the moment. Given time, perhaps he could come up with a plausible story that even the Merovingian would accept as truth. He knew the AI would accept nothing less.
The Merovingian gave a very Gallic, very obscure shrug. "Call it my insatiable curiosity," he smirked, "O best beloved."
Smith wrinkled his nose and would have taken offense if he hadn't been warned about the AI's strange sense of humor. "Very well."
"You agree?"
"I do."
"Excellent!" He clapped his hands unexpectedly, a child being allowed to open one present before Christmas. It was disturbing to the normally emotionless AI. The Merovingian bounded to his feet, seeming intent on personally escorting Smith to the door. "I will have something for you very soon, I think."
The interview was concluded. The rest of the conversation consisted of a few exchanged pleasantries, and Smith was at the door almost before he knew what had happened to him, what he had committed to. It ran through his thought processes like water over a stone, smooth and gone before he could register it. He walked down the street, got into his car, drove to Solace's house almost automatically. This, he decided with a sort of pragmatic detachment, must be the equivalent of shock. Perhaps he could make sense of what had happened as he helped Solace to pick up the pieces of her life again.
Perhaps she could help him to pick up the pieces of his own life, which he was only now starting to realize were scattered further than he had ever imagined.
-
-
-
-
The black SUV stayed far away from the Shelby, and yet both driver and passenger within took turns spying on the occupant of the other car. It was easy enough to follow Smith; he had no idea that he was going to be tailed, and he'd been slammed and slammed hard by the Merovingian's obscure ways. He was, as had been predicted, going to the home of his human pet, probably in order to tell her some version of what had just transpired and to seek her advice about what to do.
White lips curled upwards in identical sneers. The former Agent was so very, very whipped.
"The Merovingian believes his answer will be …"
"… desire…"
"… attachment…"
"But we know better."
Two different words for the same thing; it was one of the strengths of the Twins that they were just different enough to provide some versatility in their functions, and just alike enough to function as a seamless pair.
"He is alone, confused, casting about for something to do. He'll come around eventually."
"And we will find other things to do with him."
"Yes, we will."
One Twin glanced at the other, winked. The other Twin winked back, eyes on the road, doing what they did best. Paired programs, sword and shield, search and destroy. They had been together for so long that neither of them retained any memory of what life had been like apart. Thoughts echoed from one mind to the other, memories of the lost look that Smith had had when he had first come to them, specifically, for help. Thoughts that perhaps that was what it was like to lose a Twin, to lose one's sense of the world and suddenly be left with nothing solid to stand on. Thoughts that were uncomfortable, and easily pushed away.
"The Architect will pay in good trade for the rogue Agent delivered for deletion," one Twin thought aloud, replacing sympathy for the former Agent with contempt. It was an easier emotion to stomach, easier to maintain.
"The Merovingian wouldn't like it," one Twin warned.
"The Merovingian doesn't have to know."
Identical handsome, frightening lips. Identical smiles. Identical hands smoothed out over dashboard and steering wheel. Identical sighs of contentment and pleasure.