Chapter Two: Confustication
I walk down the hallway, watching the dirty Phoenix skyline out the windows, following the agents. I nearly think of them in my mind as the other agents, and then realize with a slight chill that very shortly they will be the other agents. Miller leads me down the hall and into an elevator. Davis and Clark file in behind me. We rise four floors in silence. The doors open with a clunk and I follow Miller off to the right.
The two other agents turn left, Davis still carrying my backpack. I let it go without looking back.
"So, uh," I say to Agent Miller, "I thought the matrix was supposed to be all shaded green, or something."
"You haven't seen the third movie yet, have you?" he says enigmatically. "Anyway, if the matrix was tinted green, you would be unable to tell, having nothing to compare it to."
"Oh. That makes sense, I guess."
Miller nods, and comes to a stop in front of one of the office doors. He opens it, gesturing at me to enter.
This room is obviously some kind of office. There is a metal desk with an expensive looking black leather chair behind it. On the desk is an even more expensive looking laptop set into a docking station. The cords that should be trailing off it are hidden somewhere. The desk, computer, and chair are the only things in this room, except for another door in the wall left of the one we just came in.
"This is a basic agency office. Discounting regional differences, it is identical to any in all major cities of the matrix." Miller then crosses the floor of the office in a few steps and opens the second door.
Inside is a room about twice as large as the exterior office. This room is a bit more comfortably furnished, with a window looking out over the cityscape and smoggy sky of Phoenix. Below the window is a long thin black lacquer bookcase and minifridge, with a small sink and a few glasses hanging on a rack above the fridge. Hanging beside the window is a flatscreen television, and opposite that a white leather couch. A remote, presumably for the television, is lying on a small black endtable next to the couch. Nice.
"This is a basic agent's private room," says Miller. "It is customizable, to a certain extent, depending on the agent's preference. This specific one does not belong to anyone at the moment. You may wait here for now." He pauses and pulls a small silver cellphone from a pocket. "I and the others will return at nine thirty this evening for your final briefing and transport to the rebel meeting place. If you should need to contact us before then, press 'talk' on this." He hands the cellphone to me. I flip it open. The cell is new and shiny, with a fancy color screen.
"It is connected to our network," he indicates his earpiece, "and nothing else."
I guess that's a warning to not try and call home. A slight prickle runs down my back. With that, Agent Miller turns and leaves the room, shutting the first door behind him. I don't hear a lock click, but then with the agent tracer serum stuff in me, there isn't anywhere I could run, even if I wanted to, without them finding me.
All right then. Nothing to do until nine thirty and it's only a little after three. I kick my flip-flops off into a corner and drop the cellphone onto the endtable, picking up the remote. I flop down onto the couch, which is quite comfortable; for all that it looks like a chilly block of ice. I start looking over the remote, finding the 'on' button for the television.
The tv clicks on and I start flipping channels. Nothing, nothing, nothi-wait. A guy in a suit clinging to the outside of a high-rise and looking terrified. I put the remote down and with a weak smile settle back to watch The Matrix.
I wake up slowly. Wow, that was a funny dream. Something about agents with syringes and backdoors and... I open my eyes. Uh. Not a dream. After the first movie was over Reloaded had come on, neither movie with commercials, and I had surprisingly fallen asleep during one of the scenes in the real world. Now the screen was dark and so was the room.
"Mpfl." What time is it? I scrabble around for the cellphone. Eight thirty-three. That means one more hour.
My stomach growls, and I suddenly realize that I'm very hungry. I climb off the couch and feel my way over to the door, flipping up the switch for the overhead light. It comes on, and I go raid the well-stocked minibar for snacks. I gobble down an energy bar and have a glass of water, wondering if agents get hungry. I decide maybe, as Miller did say this room was some kind of a standard.
As I sit musing this, the door clicks open. It is (probably) Agent Davis. Hard to tell who exactly if all three aren't together.
"A situation has come up," he says. "The rebels have become aware their potential recruit, whom you were to impersonate tonight, is in our custody. He is currently in interrogation room three, and your presence is requested."
"Uh, all right. Right now? Wearing this?" I am still in the clothes I put on for class this morning, in what might now be a different life. I wasn't wearing skanky clothes or anything, but still felt extremely underdressed in my jeans and t-shirt when compared to the agents' suits.
"Yes." Davis pauses for a moment. "Your clothes are fine for now. Come." He turns and walks through the outer office and into the hall, me trailing behind him.
We take an elevator down below ground level to get to the interrogation rooms. No opportunities for busting anyone out with a helicopter here. Miller and Clark are waiting in the hall.
"You will be shown into the interrogation room by us," says Miller. "Converse with the young man and attempt to discover where he was to meet with the rebels tonight. We have received information that the location was changed."
Davis speaks. "Should he ask, tell him you were contacted by a rebel called Epeus."
"Are you ready?" Clark speaks this time. The tall one.
"I guess so." I try to recall the frightened and defensive look Neo had before meeting Morpheus in the first movie. "Okay."
Miller nods and Davis reaches out and grabs my shoulder, unlocking and opening the very solid door to the interrogation room. Agent Davis pushes me into the room in front of him, closely followed by Miller and Clark. The quickly and efficiently turn around and leave without speaking. I hear the deadbolt lock click shut, trying to stay in a defensive posture.
"Well, who're you?" I focus and see a guy, quite a bit younger than me, kicked back in a chair in the room, which could be almost a carbon copy of the interrogation room set in the movie. The kid has spiked, purple tipped hair and is wearing a petulant expression along with his black tee-shirt and studded arm bands.
"Uh, I'm Renee," I stammer, thinking quickly, "Did you see those guys? They said they were uh, FBI or something but-" I shake my head. "This is crazy." I take a deep breath and grab the other chair in the room and sit down, all the while trying to act even more nervous than I actually am.
"You got that right." He waves once at me. "I'm Mike. You got any idea why they grabbed you?"
"Well," my brain goes into overdrive, "I was doing some uh, things on the internet that I probably shouldn't talk about in here, and these people contacted me an' wanted to meet. I email them that I would, and a few hours later those guys came busting into my ecology class over at the university and grabbed me."
Mike sat up, interested. "That's kinda what happened to me. You say someone contacted you? Who?"
"Said his name was Epeus."
Mike's eyebrows go up. "Me too. Was 'sposed to meet them tonight, too."
"Yeah? Where? Maybe we woulda ended up at the same place, if it wasn't for them." I point a thumb back towards the door.
"Van Buren and 4th at midnight. Some old building."
"Really? Thanks." With that the locked door clicks and starts to open, making me jump. The agents walk in.
"Good work, Miss Ackerman," says Miller. I nod, get up from the chair and move to stand by them.
A look of dismay comes over Mike's face. "You're with them. You tricked me!" And then his fact turns angry. "Why? They're Agents, and don't pretend you don't know that. Machines! You're betraying your own kind!" With a snarl of rage he lunges out of his chair towards me, hands outstretched and fingers curled like claws.
Agent Clark's hand snaps out and grabs Mike's wrist, twisting it backwards and forcing Mike to a stop. Clark forces him backwards and down into the chair again. "Please remain seated."
Agent Miller opens the door and shows me out, Davis following close behind and Clark a moment later.
"What was all that about?" I say.
"The rebels learned that we had Mr. Mitchell detained and cancelled their activities tonight. We moved to make the best of the situation and discover another of their meeting locations." Miller is impassive as he speaks.
"But I thought you said you knew where they were meeting.""We knew where they were going to pick up Mr. Mitchell. Not where they were taking him."
"Oh." I suddenly remember something. "Wasn't I supposed to get caught in some crossfire tonight or something? Is that cancelled too?"
"Yes. We will have to revert to the initial plan for the release of your mind from that shell." He gestures down the hall. "If you would come this way, we can continue the process immediately."I nod and follow him. The tingling feeling from the injection earlier today is back, stronger than before. The four of us walk past a few doors before stopping and entering one. It is another interrogation room, empty this time.
Miller pulls out his extremely large gun. He cocks it and points it at me. I suddenly find myself becoming very focused, as one can only be when faced with the business end of any weapon, much less a gigantic Desert Eagle.
"This will hurt quite a bit," says Miller. "It always does, the first time."
He squeezes the trigger twice, and I jerk backward as the bullets hit, falling to the floor. The noise of the gun makes my ears ring. Feeling as if I'm trapped in ice, I put a hand to my chest and manage a look at my fingers. They are stained bright red, and I dully wonder why. Then the pain starts, radiating out from my chest and intensifying until I can't feel anything else. I feel my heart spasm, and then stop. I try to say something witty in response to Miller's 'first time' comment to the three agents standing motionless above me, but I'm just so tired, and then the room fades to black, and then I'm not there anymore.