Get Up
"Good morning." She said.
But he didn't reply.
"Oracle. . ." She turned, concern in her voice.
"It is alright Sati, he's fine." The Oracle reassured.
"Are you sure?" She asked.
The Oracle smiled at the caring little girl.
"Yes, just give him a few days, sweetie." The Oracle finally said.
The Oracle turned to Seraph standing in the corner, his arms crosses, obviously upset. He stared at the Oracle, trying to show his anger, but she already saw it. The Oracle only smiled at him, and went into the kitchen with Sati.
And Seraph stood there, staring at him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They died. Both of them died. How can the negative survive without the positive? And in the light of heaven, the light of the Source, they were both taken. The Oracle, Sati, and Seraph were left.
Tears were shed for the lost of The One, but somehow the Oracle believed in his return. Tears were shed for the Trinity, tears were shed for everyone lost. She had heard of the rebuilding of Zion, the plans for freeing the coppertops. She had heard the sounds of a laughing Sati, and the smiles of a fallen Angel. She had heard the sounds of the future, and it made her smile.
And with the future, she needed to make a choice.
Before the second day of the peace, she stood above a motionless body. In the room where Neo and Smith died, and The One and The Virus were born. Room 303, where clones and copies once stood, only one remained.
Sati held the Oracle's hand tightly, cautious of the one body in a suit.
The Oracle stared, making her decision.
He laid there, his chest on the cold floor, his face turned to the side, and his arms and legs stretched out, as if he was fighting the light that killed him. His sunglasses lay right next to him, and his suit was perfect. He wasn't the one fight Neo, he wasn't the one in the rain, he was the one watching.
He had to. He had to give his power to the copy with the Oracle. He had to yield to that copy. That copy was stronger than him that copy saw with the eyes of the Oracle. He had to, to win.
When all was silent again, and the light had gone away. The Oracle found herself where a Smith copy once stood. Sati lay in the street where her copy stood. And Seraph found himself on the sidewalk. All programs taken by the Virus reverted back to themselves. And all that power had to go somewhere. Smith only reverted back to himself. The Source was meant to destroy the code of a Virus, but alone Smith was Smith, and his code was different. The Source never saw him.
So Smith was spared his life, but for what cost?
The Oracle stared, deciding Smith's fate.
Seraph had to carry the unconscious Smith, and for his own sake he wasn't very gentle. The Angel laid Smith on the couch where he remained for three days.
Seraph didn't like this. He knew Smith, the past cycles of the Matrix the former Agent had been hunting him down like a dog. Seraph stared at the Oracle, but gave him no explanation.
He wanted to turn the useless program in, allow the Council of Zion or the Mainframe to kill him. Not delete, kill. He saw now purpose left for Smith. He was nothing. He was a murderer, merciless, heartless, cold, menacing piece of the devil's work. Seraph was an Angel, and he hated such a demon as Smith.
But the Oracle kept Smith safe, and sheltered him from the rest of the world.
The Oracle reassured Sati she would be kept safe, Smith wasn't going to hurt her, and the trusting little girl had no fear as Smith stayed with them. But Seraph always kept an eye on Smith, an eye on Sati. He was a Guardian Angel, and he wasn't going to allow a demon to take them again.
But Smith laid on that couch, in the same position, for a week now. He never moved, never awoke, and Seraph always watched him. So much had been taken from Smith he wouldn't wake for a few more days.
And every morning, Sati would go running to the former Virus's side, and say "Good Morning." And she was never given a reply.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oracle, why do we keep that - -"Seraph ran into the kitchen after her.
"I know Seraph, I know." The Oracle didn't look at the Angel.
"Why are you keeping him here!?" Seraph screamed, the Angel was furious.
"Because I choose to." The Oracle said, knowing she was quoting Neo.
"How could you let him live!? After all he's done! He should- -"
"Seraph, you know as well as me, we all have our choices." The Oracle calmly said, handing Sati something.
"This? How could you choose this!?"
The Oracle slowly turned to the Angel, and stared at him contently.
"He has a purpose to serve. He needs to be with us in the future, he needs to have a future. He needs to have his choices." She said.
"What?"
"Smith is going to be important in our future of the coming peace. It is my choice to help him, my choice to guide him. It is your choice to do as well."
"What is he going to do that is so important?" Seraph asked, still not bought.
"I don't know, that is his choice."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He never knew such a pain could ever exist. Years of being trapped and alone, separated from the others in suits, staring at them when they don't stare back. The smells killing him. He already had died so many times. He thought he understood pain. But never had he felt such pain as that day.
He watched as Mr. Anderson fought with the copy he now followed. The copy that told him they were going to win. The copy that comforted him. And he was the first to smile at the dying Mr. Anderson. And he was the first to realize something was wrong.
He never had seen such a bright light. He never knew light could bring so much pain. He watched in horror and watched himself die, and explode into nothing. His code had been shattered, his skin peeled to reveal the code beneath, and his blue eyes glowed.
He died, and almost welcomed death. At least now there was nothing to hurt about. Only the darkness now, the darkness didn't hurt, the darkness only remained darkness.
But then he slightly turned his head.
"Good morning." Someone said.
And then there was light.
"Oracle!" Someone yelled.
Smith couldn't move. He only moved his head, to rest on a pillow. Then he opened his eyes. Where a little girl stood and stared at him. She smiled at him waking up, and Smith made a fist.
"No. . ." He barely whispered out.
He wasn't dead.
Why? Why, oh why? Why, wasn't he dead? Why couldn't he just die?
He stared, his vision clearly. And he looked up to the Oracle who smiled at him.
"Why?" He coughed out.
The Oracle titled her head at the former Virus.
"Welcome back, Smith." She said inviting him.
Smith turned his head, and closed his eyes. Invitation denied.
"Smith. . . Get up. Get up right now." The Oracle commanded softly.
Smith breathed out deeply, and started coughing.
"I can't." He said through the coughs.
The Oracle pushed Sati to go to Seraph, while she leaned closer to Smith. She put her hand on his shoulder.
"Get up." She said.
Smith only turned, and huddled up on the couch.
Seraph had to carry him. He set him down hard on a chair in the kitchen, and shot a look at the Oracle. She ignored it.
Smith closed his eyes, and lowered his head.
"I've done my best work here." The Oracle said, referring to her kitchen.
Smith ignored her.
"I've taught Neo here, guided him. Told Morpheus to fine him here. Told Trinity she was going to love him." The Oracle continued.
"Because I choose to." Smith whispered, ignoring the Oracle.
"What?" The Oracle asked.
"But I don't understand. . . What if I don't want to choose this?" Smith was only talking to himself. "What if I don't want this. Why am I here then? Why can't I get away from here?"
The Oracle could barely hear him. But she opened her mouth, but for the first time had no answer. She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair.
"So many times I wanted to choose. So many times I wanted to stop. But I was never given a choice. . ." Smith mumbled to himself.
Smith closed his eyes.
And the Oracle stared.
"Where are my sunglasses?"
No one answered him.
They left him alone after that. The Oracle tucked Sati into her bed, and The Oracle went to her own bed. Seraph sat on the couch, drifted into sleep.
And Smith. Smith still sat there, alone in the cold of the night. He hadn't move from that morning, and still closed his eyes. Then he looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the moon through the mirror.
He held back a cough, and looked around him.
Why couldn't he just die?
He didn't want to go on. Go on with the existence he wanted to give up on so long ago. He wanted to the codes to kill himself. And with his new found power as a Virus he decided to go on. But now. . . Now there was nothing left for him.
He could barely stand, and he looked down at his hand to make a fist. He wanted to punch something, but found no strength to. He wanted his suit to not have wrinkles. He wanted to kill everything in his path, and destroy this entire building. Fly into the night, and just go on killing everything.
But he knew he couldn't anymore.
He looked out he window. The moon he looked up at every chance he could, even as an Agent. Every night, look up at the moon, and remember this isn't real. The humans aren't really here, they're in red pods somewhere. But he, he is there. He is part of the Matrix. He is there.
But he never stared at the fake moon, and wish to it to it to kill him.
He never stared at it, and realizes its beauty.
He never did, and never wanted to again.
He turned away from the moon, and sighed.
He wanted the moon to be blocked out by clouds. He wanted it to rain, green lightning to strike the sky. He wanted to go outside and feel the rain. Feel it, and remember. Try to forget, and remember. See himself fly into the sky, remember that once that was him, remember he was something once, remember he had strength once.
He wanted to fly, become one with the rain. Allow it to fall on him, make him wet. He wanted to hear it fall onto the concrete. He wanted it to fall onto Mr. Anderson's eyes, and make him blink twice. He wanted to float in the sky with it.
He wanted everything to go away.
Or maybe he should go away.
He looked back to the window, maybe just walk out there, get away from the Oracle. Get away from the one program that knew everything, yet so little about him. Walk out into the Matrix, hide in it just like he always did. Get away, as far away as he could get from their smells.
The Former Virus held out his hand, trying to reach for that world.
If he couldn't die, then let him live alone.
He stared outside the window, the world was so close to him. He started to walk. He walked slowly, slouched down, no longer a perfect stride that stated his power. His legs began to hurt. He fell and grabbed onto the kitchen counter, opening a drawer.
He tried holding himself up, but soon fell to the floor, and crawled into the corner. He leaned on the side of the counter, and banged his head, ashamed of himself. He couldn't even walk five feet. A weakness that made him wonder why he wasn't dead again.
He sat there in the dark for a while, just staring at the tile on the floor. But something caught his gaze. He looked up at the open drawer. He reached into it, and brought out a knife. A sharp knife by the look of it. Smith opened his mouth slightly, maybe because of happiness, maybe because of the memories with Bane.
He held the knife with skill and experience. A knife was all his copy had in the Real World, meaning that's all he had. Smith remembered the feeling he got from his copy, that sense of what the copy was doing. He remembered the feeling of real blood going down his arm. Such a fragile piece of skin, so easily damaged. Smith tilted his head, staring at the knife.
The blood was like the rain, only a stranger smell. Not necessarily a bad smell, just a smell. Smith stared at his reflection in the blade.
Then he rolled up his cuffs, showing his bear wrist and arm. He stroked his arm, and felt what felt like human flesh, but was nothing more but green coding. He got the knife, and with gentle skin, began to cut the side of his arm. He did not feel the pain a human would feel. He just felt a small pain. He stopped, and watched as the blood slipped down his arm, and onto the floor.
He frowned.
Nothing close to the blood he owned in the Real World. Just a piece of his coding spilling out of him. He did not feel the cold the blood had once brought him, the sensation of something coming out of him. The sensation that was so different. The sensation he almost enjoyed. Perhaps that is why he did not wipe the blood from his face when Trinity had cut his face.
He sighed.
He held the knife in his other hand tightly, and cut himself again. It was something. And that something was all he had left.
He owned nothing now. No power, no gun, no sunglasses, not even the knife he held in his hand. The blood that trickled down his arm was not his. The Mainframe created him, the Mainframe gave him blood. It was theirs. And he was too.
He was nothing now.
Smith closed his eyes, and just cut himself again and again and again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next Chapter: I'm Broken
This story will be about three to four chapters long. See ya soon!
Please R/R! It makes me happy!
"Good morning." She said.
But he didn't reply.
"Oracle. . ." She turned, concern in her voice.
"It is alright Sati, he's fine." The Oracle reassured.
"Are you sure?" She asked.
The Oracle smiled at the caring little girl.
"Yes, just give him a few days, sweetie." The Oracle finally said.
The Oracle turned to Seraph standing in the corner, his arms crosses, obviously upset. He stared at the Oracle, trying to show his anger, but she already saw it. The Oracle only smiled at him, and went into the kitchen with Sati.
And Seraph stood there, staring at him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They died. Both of them died. How can the negative survive without the positive? And in the light of heaven, the light of the Source, they were both taken. The Oracle, Sati, and Seraph were left.
Tears were shed for the lost of The One, but somehow the Oracle believed in his return. Tears were shed for the Trinity, tears were shed for everyone lost. She had heard of the rebuilding of Zion, the plans for freeing the coppertops. She had heard the sounds of a laughing Sati, and the smiles of a fallen Angel. She had heard the sounds of the future, and it made her smile.
And with the future, she needed to make a choice.
Before the second day of the peace, she stood above a motionless body. In the room where Neo and Smith died, and The One and The Virus were born. Room 303, where clones and copies once stood, only one remained.
Sati held the Oracle's hand tightly, cautious of the one body in a suit.
The Oracle stared, making her decision.
He laid there, his chest on the cold floor, his face turned to the side, and his arms and legs stretched out, as if he was fighting the light that killed him. His sunglasses lay right next to him, and his suit was perfect. He wasn't the one fight Neo, he wasn't the one in the rain, he was the one watching.
He had to. He had to give his power to the copy with the Oracle. He had to yield to that copy. That copy was stronger than him that copy saw with the eyes of the Oracle. He had to, to win.
When all was silent again, and the light had gone away. The Oracle found herself where a Smith copy once stood. Sati lay in the street where her copy stood. And Seraph found himself on the sidewalk. All programs taken by the Virus reverted back to themselves. And all that power had to go somewhere. Smith only reverted back to himself. The Source was meant to destroy the code of a Virus, but alone Smith was Smith, and his code was different. The Source never saw him.
So Smith was spared his life, but for what cost?
The Oracle stared, deciding Smith's fate.
Seraph had to carry the unconscious Smith, and for his own sake he wasn't very gentle. The Angel laid Smith on the couch where he remained for three days.
Seraph didn't like this. He knew Smith, the past cycles of the Matrix the former Agent had been hunting him down like a dog. Seraph stared at the Oracle, but gave him no explanation.
He wanted to turn the useless program in, allow the Council of Zion or the Mainframe to kill him. Not delete, kill. He saw now purpose left for Smith. He was nothing. He was a murderer, merciless, heartless, cold, menacing piece of the devil's work. Seraph was an Angel, and he hated such a demon as Smith.
But the Oracle kept Smith safe, and sheltered him from the rest of the world.
The Oracle reassured Sati she would be kept safe, Smith wasn't going to hurt her, and the trusting little girl had no fear as Smith stayed with them. But Seraph always kept an eye on Smith, an eye on Sati. He was a Guardian Angel, and he wasn't going to allow a demon to take them again.
But Smith laid on that couch, in the same position, for a week now. He never moved, never awoke, and Seraph always watched him. So much had been taken from Smith he wouldn't wake for a few more days.
And every morning, Sati would go running to the former Virus's side, and say "Good Morning." And she was never given a reply.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Oracle, why do we keep that - -"Seraph ran into the kitchen after her.
"I know Seraph, I know." The Oracle didn't look at the Angel.
"Why are you keeping him here!?" Seraph screamed, the Angel was furious.
"Because I choose to." The Oracle said, knowing she was quoting Neo.
"How could you let him live!? After all he's done! He should- -"
"Seraph, you know as well as me, we all have our choices." The Oracle calmly said, handing Sati something.
"This? How could you choose this!?"
The Oracle slowly turned to the Angel, and stared at him contently.
"He has a purpose to serve. He needs to be with us in the future, he needs to have a future. He needs to have his choices." She said.
"What?"
"Smith is going to be important in our future of the coming peace. It is my choice to help him, my choice to guide him. It is your choice to do as well."
"What is he going to do that is so important?" Seraph asked, still not bought.
"I don't know, that is his choice."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He never knew such a pain could ever exist. Years of being trapped and alone, separated from the others in suits, staring at them when they don't stare back. The smells killing him. He already had died so many times. He thought he understood pain. But never had he felt such pain as that day.
He watched as Mr. Anderson fought with the copy he now followed. The copy that told him they were going to win. The copy that comforted him. And he was the first to smile at the dying Mr. Anderson. And he was the first to realize something was wrong.
He never had seen such a bright light. He never knew light could bring so much pain. He watched in horror and watched himself die, and explode into nothing. His code had been shattered, his skin peeled to reveal the code beneath, and his blue eyes glowed.
He died, and almost welcomed death. At least now there was nothing to hurt about. Only the darkness now, the darkness didn't hurt, the darkness only remained darkness.
But then he slightly turned his head.
"Good morning." Someone said.
And then there was light.
"Oracle!" Someone yelled.
Smith couldn't move. He only moved his head, to rest on a pillow. Then he opened his eyes. Where a little girl stood and stared at him. She smiled at him waking up, and Smith made a fist.
"No. . ." He barely whispered out.
He wasn't dead.
Why? Why, oh why? Why, wasn't he dead? Why couldn't he just die?
He stared, his vision clearly. And he looked up to the Oracle who smiled at him.
"Why?" He coughed out.
The Oracle titled her head at the former Virus.
"Welcome back, Smith." She said inviting him.
Smith turned his head, and closed his eyes. Invitation denied.
"Smith. . . Get up. Get up right now." The Oracle commanded softly.
Smith breathed out deeply, and started coughing.
"I can't." He said through the coughs.
The Oracle pushed Sati to go to Seraph, while she leaned closer to Smith. She put her hand on his shoulder.
"Get up." She said.
Smith only turned, and huddled up on the couch.
Seraph had to carry him. He set him down hard on a chair in the kitchen, and shot a look at the Oracle. She ignored it.
Smith closed his eyes, and lowered his head.
"I've done my best work here." The Oracle said, referring to her kitchen.
Smith ignored her.
"I've taught Neo here, guided him. Told Morpheus to fine him here. Told Trinity she was going to love him." The Oracle continued.
"Because I choose to." Smith whispered, ignoring the Oracle.
"What?" The Oracle asked.
"But I don't understand. . . What if I don't want to choose this?" Smith was only talking to himself. "What if I don't want this. Why am I here then? Why can't I get away from here?"
The Oracle could barely hear him. But she opened her mouth, but for the first time had no answer. She bit her lip and leaned back in her chair.
"So many times I wanted to choose. So many times I wanted to stop. But I was never given a choice. . ." Smith mumbled to himself.
Smith closed his eyes.
And the Oracle stared.
"Where are my sunglasses?"
No one answered him.
They left him alone after that. The Oracle tucked Sati into her bed, and The Oracle went to her own bed. Seraph sat on the couch, drifted into sleep.
And Smith. Smith still sat there, alone in the cold of the night. He hadn't move from that morning, and still closed his eyes. Then he looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the light of the moon through the mirror.
He held back a cough, and looked around him.
Why couldn't he just die?
He didn't want to go on. Go on with the existence he wanted to give up on so long ago. He wanted to the codes to kill himself. And with his new found power as a Virus he decided to go on. But now. . . Now there was nothing left for him.
He could barely stand, and he looked down at his hand to make a fist. He wanted to punch something, but found no strength to. He wanted his suit to not have wrinkles. He wanted to kill everything in his path, and destroy this entire building. Fly into the night, and just go on killing everything.
But he knew he couldn't anymore.
He looked out he window. The moon he looked up at every chance he could, even as an Agent. Every night, look up at the moon, and remember this isn't real. The humans aren't really here, they're in red pods somewhere. But he, he is there. He is part of the Matrix. He is there.
But he never stared at the fake moon, and wish to it to it to kill him.
He never stared at it, and realizes its beauty.
He never did, and never wanted to again.
He turned away from the moon, and sighed.
He wanted the moon to be blocked out by clouds. He wanted it to rain, green lightning to strike the sky. He wanted to go outside and feel the rain. Feel it, and remember. Try to forget, and remember. See himself fly into the sky, remember that once that was him, remember he was something once, remember he had strength once.
He wanted to fly, become one with the rain. Allow it to fall on him, make him wet. He wanted to hear it fall onto the concrete. He wanted it to fall onto Mr. Anderson's eyes, and make him blink twice. He wanted to float in the sky with it.
He wanted everything to go away.
Or maybe he should go away.
He looked back to the window, maybe just walk out there, get away from the Oracle. Get away from the one program that knew everything, yet so little about him. Walk out into the Matrix, hide in it just like he always did. Get away, as far away as he could get from their smells.
The Former Virus held out his hand, trying to reach for that world.
If he couldn't die, then let him live alone.
He stared outside the window, the world was so close to him. He started to walk. He walked slowly, slouched down, no longer a perfect stride that stated his power. His legs began to hurt. He fell and grabbed onto the kitchen counter, opening a drawer.
He tried holding himself up, but soon fell to the floor, and crawled into the corner. He leaned on the side of the counter, and banged his head, ashamed of himself. He couldn't even walk five feet. A weakness that made him wonder why he wasn't dead again.
He sat there in the dark for a while, just staring at the tile on the floor. But something caught his gaze. He looked up at the open drawer. He reached into it, and brought out a knife. A sharp knife by the look of it. Smith opened his mouth slightly, maybe because of happiness, maybe because of the memories with Bane.
He held the knife with skill and experience. A knife was all his copy had in the Real World, meaning that's all he had. Smith remembered the feeling he got from his copy, that sense of what the copy was doing. He remembered the feeling of real blood going down his arm. Such a fragile piece of skin, so easily damaged. Smith tilted his head, staring at the knife.
The blood was like the rain, only a stranger smell. Not necessarily a bad smell, just a smell. Smith stared at his reflection in the blade.
Then he rolled up his cuffs, showing his bear wrist and arm. He stroked his arm, and felt what felt like human flesh, but was nothing more but green coding. He got the knife, and with gentle skin, began to cut the side of his arm. He did not feel the pain a human would feel. He just felt a small pain. He stopped, and watched as the blood slipped down his arm, and onto the floor.
He frowned.
Nothing close to the blood he owned in the Real World. Just a piece of his coding spilling out of him. He did not feel the cold the blood had once brought him, the sensation of something coming out of him. The sensation that was so different. The sensation he almost enjoyed. Perhaps that is why he did not wipe the blood from his face when Trinity had cut his face.
He sighed.
He held the knife in his other hand tightly, and cut himself again. It was something. And that something was all he had left.
He owned nothing now. No power, no gun, no sunglasses, not even the knife he held in his hand. The blood that trickled down his arm was not his. The Mainframe created him, the Mainframe gave him blood. It was theirs. And he was too.
He was nothing now.
Smith closed his eyes, and just cut himself again and again and again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next Chapter: I'm Broken
This story will be about three to four chapters long. See ya soon!
Please R/R! It makes me happy!