Chapter Four: Big City
The Northern California sector headquarters is located in downtown San Francisco. It is a challenging first assignment. The bay area has a much higher concentration of rebels, due to the fertile recruitment grounds for young hackers in the high schools of San Jose and Silicon Valley, and a larger than normal percentage of people 'with a splinter in their mind'. This place seems to attract them. The city additionally has a large population of exiles and a tendency towards minor glitching. All of which means steady work for us agents.
The world snaps into focus as I transfer in to a human security guard patrolling the agency building. The security guard is alone, but even if there had been other humans around they would not have noticed my arrival for more than a brief moment. This is due to a handy little subprogram built into the pods at the power plant that does not let humans put memories of 'impossible' actions by agents into their long-term memories. Distract them, and humans forget.
Except for rebels, broadcasting from their ships in the sewers. They just run, if they're smart. If they don't, they die.
I turn and head directly for the elevator in a building I've never been in before in my life, as a program or human. Building schematics were included in the last information upload.
I'm on my way to the third floor meeting room, to meet the other two agents in my group, along with the six other agents, two groups, who work in this sector. A dramatic and steady increase in disruptive activity in this area throughout the last few years precipitated the assembly of a new team.
Through my earpiece, my link to the agency mainframe I already know the names and faces of my fellow agents. I am the only one among them that used to be human. My partners will be Agent Williams and Agent Harris. Harris is also a new agent, one born a program. He is only a few weeks old. But then, I am technically only a few hours old. Williams will be the leader. He has been transferred from assignment in another sector, and is quite an experienced agent. He has been around through a number of cycles and reloads of the matrix.
As soon as I think this, I realize that there is indeed a cycle of ones as was shown in the movies. I resolve not to become like Smith, in either movie. I briefly wonder what will happen in Revolutions and how much will be real, and find with a shock I have access to that movie through my link to the agency. Naturally, programs were involved in the entire process of the Matrix franchise, controlling from behind the scenes exactly what the Wachowski brothers were allowed to show.
For a brief second I hesitate, tempted, and decide I'd rather wait and watch it the theater in a week's time. I knew the real history of the matrix anyway, now.
The elevator stops with a ding. The door opens and I walk down the hall, decorated just the same as the other agency buildings I visited in Arizona. I turn and open the door to the meeting room. All eight other agents are there, calmly awaiting my arrival. A rebel dropped into this room, (if stopped from freaking out and running like hell) wouldn't be able to tell any of us apart at first, second, or even third glance without some kind of a scorecard. It is a common misconception among rebels that agents are identical. Not true. We all look very similar, certainly, and wear identical suits and sunglasses, of course, but there are slight differences in height and build.
The two older teams are seated at a large oval table made of dark wood. Williams and Harris stand at the side nearest the door, watching me and waiting for me to take my place to Williams' right. Harris stands at his left. I nod in acknowledgement to the other agents as I move forward and fall into position. Everything feels absolutely perfect.
"Good morning, agent." Agent Thomas speaks. He is team leader for the oldest team of the three, and thus the head agent in this sector. The two other agents of his team are Agent Martin and Agent Lewis. The other team leader is Agent Moore, the only other female agent working out of this agency. Her partners are Agent Hall and Agent Taylor.
"Welcome to the agency, Agent Lee," says Agent Moore. "You are adjusting well? I am sure you will be happy here."
"Thank you, and yes," I say, "I am sure I will."
"Now that we have all met," says Thomas, "You three will be going out on a short assignment, to acquaint Lee with our methods of operation."
I put a hand to my ear as information streams in over my earpiece. An exile going by the name of Joe has been making a nuisance of himself in Golden Gate Park. We are to asses the level of threat to the matrix his actions are creating and either warn, detain or terminate the exile based on that threat level. Well within my new abilities.
"It will be done," says Agent Williams. He has a calm, steady voice, but then we all have calm, steady voices.
The three of us, Williams, Harris, and I, turn in unison. I open the door and we leave the room. The mission is not critical at this point, so we will take our car, the standard black Lincoln, to the park rather than transfer hosts.
In the hall, Williams and Harris pause and turn to face me.
"You used to be human," says Harris.
"My past life is irrelevant," I say, "I am a program. I have a purpose. I am an agent of this system."
"Your creation and assignment here was unexpected, but-" says Harris.
"Know that you are welcome and now our equal, despite your beginnings." says Williams. He smiles ever so slightly. "You will adjust quickly."
"I will." The conversation is over. I have a feeling that I have passed some test.
We go directly to the elevator and file in. The parking garage for the agency is below the main building, so as to conserve space.
I do not need to be told to sit in the front passenger seat when we get to the car. The protocols the Compiler transplanted into my brain included exactly who does what and who sits where when Williams, Harris, and I are working together. We have to move as a team, without confusion, in any and all circumstances.
Harris gets into the driver's seat and Williams into the back. Harris starts the car and we pull up out of the garage and into a foggy San Francisco morning.
I stare intently through my sunglasses and out the front window as we head towards the park. The drifting white fog adds another layer of unreality to the world. Humans walk down the sidewalk and drive around us in their cars, going about their lives, unquestioning, oblivious to the agents who drive past them with a purpose.
Amazing, isn't it, Harris says over our earpiece link. Anyone glancing in through the car windows would just see three people in suits, completely still and staring straight ahead.
Yes. I respond in the same manner, though until Harris had transmitted those words, I had not known it was possible. I was still busy trying to fully integrate and explore the files uploaded into me by the Compiler. It's as if I see the world through new eyes. And I see everything. That is true, too. I can get immediate in-depth information on anything I see through my link to the agency.
Amusement comes in over our link from Williams in the back seat. New agents are so entertaining, he says. Don't worry, you both will get used to it after a while.
I hope not, says Harris. I feel connected. I like it.
I agree with him, and that thought is transmitted through our link.
Harris turns into the entrance of the park and stops the car by the curb. The exile is close. A constant stream of reports and updates on the disturbance to the matrix he is causing comes through my earpiece. Car doors open and shut, and I take my place to the right and slightly behind Williams.
I put two fingers to my earpiece. "The exile is eighty-five meters north of this position," I say out loud. My programming tells me is best to communicate certain information out loud in situations like this, if there is enough time to.
We step forward in unison, striding purposefully over the grass in our shiny black shoes. There are a few humans around us in the park, but they take no notice of us and I take no notice of them. I am focused in on the disturbance signals radiating from a group of humans on the other side of a row of small trees.
The disturbance signals are markers that humans give off when they see something contrary to their idea of reality. The most critical signals are connected to rebel activity; jumping across rooftops, disappearing into phones, and any type of terrorist activity.
I briefly access the history files of the agency on a whim as we are walking, and find that September eleventh was a major headache of a day for all agents of the matrix. Disturbance signals going off everywhere, all because of something that had absolutely no rebel activity whatsoever associated with it. I am not especially surprised to find this out. Humans will be humans.
I drop the file back into the agency system as we come around the row of trees. There is a small crowd gathered, watching a nondescript person in a ruffled green poet shirt and ripped jeans. He is doing card tricks. But not by slight of hand. The exile Joe is manipulating the matrix with his tricks, and that is not allowed under the terms of the Truce. He could have gone off and done something productive, but here he is, causing a disruption.
He looks up from his cards, stares straight at me, and cracks a smile. His eyes don't seem to quite point in the same direction, but he stares all the same.
"That's all for today, folks. It looks like these nice people want to have a talk with me," the exile says as he shuffles the cards and slides the pack up one of his sleeves. The crowd notices our presence for the first time, and disperses rather quickly. Being seen as human authority figures has its uses.
The exile leans down and scoops up a top hat with a wide purple silk band sitting by his feet. He had obviously been using it as a collection plate. The hat clinks and rustles audibly. The exile, still staring at me (more or less), scoops this money up and makes it vanish up his other sleeve. Then he puts the top hat on.
Agent Williams steps forward, closing the last few meters, Harris and I following close behind.
"What you are doing is not permitted," says Williams. In most cases only the lead agent talks to our targets.
"Hey, I'm sorry, a guy's gotta make a living," the exile says, "She's new, right?" He is still staring at me. Then he winks.
I become acutely aware of the gun hanging by my side. I would very much like to shoot this exile. I keep my face as emotionless as possible, and as an agent, that's very easy, and very emotionless.
"That is not of your concern," says Williams. "If you persist in breaking the rules we will be forced to terminate you."
The exile finally stops trying to concentrate on me, and instead focuses his attention on Williams.
"Aw, man, what about the Truce? It was harmless, I swear." The exile turns his hands up helplessly."You are breaking the terms of the Truce. This is your final warning. Break them again and we will terminate you. Now hand over the cards."
The exile pauses for a long moment, and then sighs. "Oh, fine." The cards appear in his left hand. "Take them."
This is where I come in. I reach forward and pick up the deck, watching carefully for any malicious move by the exile. I pass the deck to Williams as I step back into place. He slips the deck of cards into a pocket.
"That is all," says William. "For now."
The exile tips his hat at us, cracks another nervous smile, and backs away slowly. Then he turns and runs. The three of us stand still and watch him go.
I catch Harris' eye as we turn and start walking back towards the car. Are all exiles like him? I ask over our earpieces.
Only the crazy ones.
How nice. I remember something strange that I can't quite find in my files from Williams' conversation with the exile. What is the Truce?
Williams answers me. You were a fan of the movies. Have you accessed the third one yet?
No... And I'd like to wait these last few days and see it for the first time in a theater. To give my former life a kind of final closure.
Ah. The Truce is somewhat involved with the third film. You must be subconsciously blocking spoilers for the movie. He is obviously (to another agent, at least) amused by this.
Hmm. I had thought my former life as a human would not influence me now that I was an actual agent. All the more reason for closure. Will it impact my performance to stay like this until next Wednesday?
I can tell Williams is thinking hard. Probably not. Due to your circumstances I think you can have a little leeway. Though I would suggest reviewing the true history of the matrix. It is likely you will be exposed to very broad spoilers along the way. Remember, the movies do not show the world exactly as it is.
Yes, I know. And I did.
The three of us reach the car. Harris studies a parking ticket that has appeared on the car in the short time it has sat there.
Williams notices the parking ticked and touches his earpiece briefly. There is a flicker and the ticket is not there. Whoa, déjà vu.
We should all go to the opening together, in our normal attire, Harris suggests impulsively. Humans would just assume we are dedicated fans.
An interesting suggestion, says Williams as we get into our car and start driving back to the agency.
I think it would be fun, I say over the earpiece link. And it would enforce the idea that the matrix is just a movie. Like those power-aid ads do.
Well, fine, says Williams from the back seat. If the mainframe agrees it is a good idea, we can go. I've put in a request.
Happiness from Harris and me floods our network. It seems as if we're both Matrix fans, as well as matrix agents.
"You were assigned an office, Lee?" asks Williams out loud.
I focus, and realized that I have been. "Yes," I say, and call up a schematic of our building. "The office to the right of yours. Room 608." Williams' office is in 606, with Harris just to the left in 604.
Williams nods. "Very good. When we return to the agency you should visit it and request anything you feel you need from the mainframe."
"I will," I say.