"I should not be talking to you," Brown shook his head as he seated himself across the table from the exiled Agent. "Neither of us should."
"And yet here you are," Smith pointed out logically. "And I thank you."
From the looks they were giving him, as though he'd lost his mind, that wasn't a proper thing to say. Solace must be rubbing off on him... and Smith had to resist the urge to scowl and simply act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Which was strange enough, in that he didn't normally feel an urge to scowl when something didn't go as planned... well, not until...
Oh, never mind.
"Why have you called us here?" Jones asked calmly, as though nothing had happened. Actually Brown seemed more concerned by Solace's changes in him: the less than immaculate clothes he now wore, the more casual patterns in his speech. The fact that he had invited them into his home without any of the usual AI detachment. Both of the AIs seemed to blame the human woman for these new developments, never mind the fact that he had been exiled from the Agency and very nearly destroyed in the process. It wasn't her fault that she...
Avoiding emotions was becoming more and more difficult the more Smith encountered them. Had it always been this difficult? He didn't know, or he couldn't remember. It bothered him that he couldn't remember.
"There has been something strange going on within the Resistance," Smith told them without preamble or further allowance of commentary from his former co-workers. "Chimera's crew have been spotted again."
That, at least, caused them to sit up and take notice of something other than his odd behavior. "Chimera has not been seen in a decade," Brown said, his voice gone even smoother and more impassive.
"Nevertheless, I have seen at least one man who is known to be in his crew ..." he left it at that, although he wanted to say that he'd seen the man sniffing around Solace. But that part wasn't relevant. And it didn't matter.
"If Chimera is out again..."
"Then the troubles we had with Morpheus will be trivial by comparison," Smith finished for them. Never mind that he wasn't ostensibly a part of the Agents anymore, he still felt a responsibility to report such things to them. Even though it annoyed him that he was thinking of it in terms of responsibility, duty. Those were human words.
"Now that you have brought this to our attention," Brown said, shifting the subject back after a moment of blank-eyed staring in which Smith knew he was relaying the information to their superiors. "What have you done about the woman, Solace?"
Smith gave the other AI an arch look. "Nothing. I am no longer under orders or obligation to do anything. She provides..." he searched for an appropriate phase at the speed of electron pulses. "Information. She serves a purpose, and it does not suit my purpose to do anything about her for the time being."
The look Brown and Jones were giving each other said clearly that they didn't believe that. Not, as Solace would have said, for a New York minute. And he had to stop thinking in terms of what Solace would have said. Had to. Or he would go mad. Brown and Jones were now giving him a similar look; they could probably at least make a very good guess, based on the information they had, of what direction his thoughts were taking.
"She is impairing your ability to function, to reason objectively," Jones told him. "You must abandon her to her own devices."
"She is impairing nothing. I am capable of maintaining objectivity and a connection with a human woman." Even as he said it Smith knew it was a weak retort at best.
Brown continued where Jones had left off. "She is providing nothing useful to your existence, and impeding you from ..."
Smith cut him off before he could even mention exile. "She is the one who provided me with the information about Chimera," he pointed out. It was true, even if it wasn't directly true. But if it hadn't been for her presence, and therefore Kerr's, he would never have found out about the resurgence of the ancient Resistance captain.
"She is also responsible for your exile," Jones pointed out, and Smith snarled, which took both Agents aback.
"Neo is responsible for my exile, these ... aggravating emotions, everything has caused or contributed to my exile. If Neo had not interfered I would not be in my current predicament. It is Neo's fault, his attack on me somehow changed me, and it is nothing to do with the human woman whatsoever."
That tirade, though carried out in slow and deliberate tones, did more to unnerve the Agents than anything Smith had said or done yet that day. Possibly it was the memory of what Neo had done, how he had dived at and somehow into Agent Smith and possessed him from the inside out, shattering the AI. When he had reformed it had been much to Agents Jones and Brown's surprise. Neither of them had thought he would be able to function after that. The AI Mainframe, the Architect had given Smith a second chance in a rare display of what he would have called magnanimity, but now Smith was wondering if the Architect hadn't been setting him up to fail in the first place. Which didn't matter either. It was still all Neo's fault.
It didn't even register that the point of the entire tirade had been to establish that nothing he did wrong was because of Solace. The point was not lost on Brown and Jones, however.
"The fact remains that you should not continue your association with the human woman," Brown insisted stubbornly. "There can be no benefit to it, no purpose. If you are seeking reinstatement, you should turn her loose to follow her own human inclinations."
He didn't want to think about what her human inclinations were, given her past behavior. "Reinstatement is not possible. If you wish to examine my interaction with her for yourselves, you may. There is nothing detrimental and a great deal of information to be gained by remaining in contact with this woman."
Brown and Jones glanced at each other, clearly reserving judgment on Smith's assertions. "We will do so," Jones said, and they rose as one and departed without further word.
Smith leaned back in his chair and tried to put a finger on what it was about that meeting that had bothered him. Other than, of course, his reactions to the tacit threats Brown and Jones were making on Solace's life. At the rate at which he had entangled himself in her life there would be no easy extraction, and she would likely have to be removed from the Matrix altogether. It would mean her death, the way the Agents went about such things. Human lives meant nothing to them. They meant nothing to Smith, either, really. But Solace's did. It angered, humiliated, and confused him.
That was it, then. He sat up abruptly as he realized what it was; Brown and Jones had been confused. AIs were never confused, they either understood a thing or examined it until suitable theories could be formed. But never did they exhibit the sort of human confusion that his two former compatriots had that day. If they had been human Smith would have said they leapt at the chance to examine himself and Solace interacting in her natural habitat. And he knew that that would not have been in any mandate the AI Mainframe handed down. Their orders would have been to terminate the exile on sight, as it was with any exile. There was no discovery, no analysis, only hunting and death.
Termination.
Not death. There was no death. He wasn't alive, therefore he could not be dead. But he hated and feared exile with the same force that he hated the human prison in which he existed, which had necessitated his creation. And it was tormenting him, infecting his mind with the sickness of human thinking, human feeling. Aggravated, he slammed his fist into his table, which shattered into thousands of glass and metal splinters. A thousand tiny Smiths stared up at him from the floor. They seemed to be smirking, as though they knew something that he didn't.
"Damn you," he muttered as he melted the fragments of code back into the Matrix, reforming them again as quietly as he could manage. "Damn you."
But he couldn't have said who the curse was intended for. And that indecision, that helpless ambiguity terrified him most of all.
"And yet here you are," Smith pointed out logically. "And I thank you."
From the looks they were giving him, as though he'd lost his mind, that wasn't a proper thing to say. Solace must be rubbing off on him... and Smith had to resist the urge to scowl and simply act as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Which was strange enough, in that he didn't normally feel an urge to scowl when something didn't go as planned... well, not until...
Oh, never mind.
"Why have you called us here?" Jones asked calmly, as though nothing had happened. Actually Brown seemed more concerned by Solace's changes in him: the less than immaculate clothes he now wore, the more casual patterns in his speech. The fact that he had invited them into his home without any of the usual AI detachment. Both of the AIs seemed to blame the human woman for these new developments, never mind the fact that he had been exiled from the Agency and very nearly destroyed in the process. It wasn't her fault that she...
Avoiding emotions was becoming more and more difficult the more Smith encountered them. Had it always been this difficult? He didn't know, or he couldn't remember. It bothered him that he couldn't remember.
"There has been something strange going on within the Resistance," Smith told them without preamble or further allowance of commentary from his former co-workers. "Chimera's crew have been spotted again."
That, at least, caused them to sit up and take notice of something other than his odd behavior. "Chimera has not been seen in a decade," Brown said, his voice gone even smoother and more impassive.
"Nevertheless, I have seen at least one man who is known to be in his crew ..." he left it at that, although he wanted to say that he'd seen the man sniffing around Solace. But that part wasn't relevant. And it didn't matter.
"If Chimera is out again..."
"Then the troubles we had with Morpheus will be trivial by comparison," Smith finished for them. Never mind that he wasn't ostensibly a part of the Agents anymore, he still felt a responsibility to report such things to them. Even though it annoyed him that he was thinking of it in terms of responsibility, duty. Those were human words.
"Now that you have brought this to our attention," Brown said, shifting the subject back after a moment of blank-eyed staring in which Smith knew he was relaying the information to their superiors. "What have you done about the woman, Solace?"
Smith gave the other AI an arch look. "Nothing. I am no longer under orders or obligation to do anything. She provides..." he searched for an appropriate phase at the speed of electron pulses. "Information. She serves a purpose, and it does not suit my purpose to do anything about her for the time being."
The look Brown and Jones were giving each other said clearly that they didn't believe that. Not, as Solace would have said, for a New York minute. And he had to stop thinking in terms of what Solace would have said. Had to. Or he would go mad. Brown and Jones were now giving him a similar look; they could probably at least make a very good guess, based on the information they had, of what direction his thoughts were taking.
"She is impairing your ability to function, to reason objectively," Jones told him. "You must abandon her to her own devices."
"She is impairing nothing. I am capable of maintaining objectivity and a connection with a human woman." Even as he said it Smith knew it was a weak retort at best.
Brown continued where Jones had left off. "She is providing nothing useful to your existence, and impeding you from ..."
Smith cut him off before he could even mention exile. "She is the one who provided me with the information about Chimera," he pointed out. It was true, even if it wasn't directly true. But if it hadn't been for her presence, and therefore Kerr's, he would never have found out about the resurgence of the ancient Resistance captain.
"She is also responsible for your exile," Jones pointed out, and Smith snarled, which took both Agents aback.
"Neo is responsible for my exile, these ... aggravating emotions, everything has caused or contributed to my exile. If Neo had not interfered I would not be in my current predicament. It is Neo's fault, his attack on me somehow changed me, and it is nothing to do with the human woman whatsoever."
That tirade, though carried out in slow and deliberate tones, did more to unnerve the Agents than anything Smith had said or done yet that day. Possibly it was the memory of what Neo had done, how he had dived at and somehow into Agent Smith and possessed him from the inside out, shattering the AI. When he had reformed it had been much to Agents Jones and Brown's surprise. Neither of them had thought he would be able to function after that. The AI Mainframe, the Architect had given Smith a second chance in a rare display of what he would have called magnanimity, but now Smith was wondering if the Architect hadn't been setting him up to fail in the first place. Which didn't matter either. It was still all Neo's fault.
It didn't even register that the point of the entire tirade had been to establish that nothing he did wrong was because of Solace. The point was not lost on Brown and Jones, however.
"The fact remains that you should not continue your association with the human woman," Brown insisted stubbornly. "There can be no benefit to it, no purpose. If you are seeking reinstatement, you should turn her loose to follow her own human inclinations."
He didn't want to think about what her human inclinations were, given her past behavior. "Reinstatement is not possible. If you wish to examine my interaction with her for yourselves, you may. There is nothing detrimental and a great deal of information to be gained by remaining in contact with this woman."
Brown and Jones glanced at each other, clearly reserving judgment on Smith's assertions. "We will do so," Jones said, and they rose as one and departed without further word.
Smith leaned back in his chair and tried to put a finger on what it was about that meeting that had bothered him. Other than, of course, his reactions to the tacit threats Brown and Jones were making on Solace's life. At the rate at which he had entangled himself in her life there would be no easy extraction, and she would likely have to be removed from the Matrix altogether. It would mean her death, the way the Agents went about such things. Human lives meant nothing to them. They meant nothing to Smith, either, really. But Solace's did. It angered, humiliated, and confused him.
That was it, then. He sat up abruptly as he realized what it was; Brown and Jones had been confused. AIs were never confused, they either understood a thing or examined it until suitable theories could be formed. But never did they exhibit the sort of human confusion that his two former compatriots had that day. If they had been human Smith would have said they leapt at the chance to examine himself and Solace interacting in her natural habitat. And he knew that that would not have been in any mandate the AI Mainframe handed down. Their orders would have been to terminate the exile on sight, as it was with any exile. There was no discovery, no analysis, only hunting and death.
Termination.
Not death. There was no death. He wasn't alive, therefore he could not be dead. But he hated and feared exile with the same force that he hated the human prison in which he existed, which had necessitated his creation. And it was tormenting him, infecting his mind with the sickness of human thinking, human feeling. Aggravated, he slammed his fist into his table, which shattered into thousands of glass and metal splinters. A thousand tiny Smiths stared up at him from the floor. They seemed to be smirking, as though they knew something that he didn't.
"Damn you," he muttered as he melted the fragments of code back into the Matrix, reforming them again as quietly as he could manage. "Damn you."
But he couldn't have said who the curse was intended for. And that indecision, that helpless ambiguity terrified him most of all.