Fate
"It was inevitable…"
The machines turn their heads. It was a voice that rang through the empty, dome-shaped room. A distinct sentence, clearly spoken, it's meaning made to be known. A voice that screamed, and had now faded into silence. Highly unusual.
A tall human like machine walks over to a computer console, and checks for brain wave activity. As usually it appears to be very faint. The machine looks over the files to see when the voice appeared. True, there was a sudden burst of activity, but had become faint once again. The machine makes a log of the occurrence, but they think nothing of it. Such occurrences happen every so often.
The machines stand with two legs with a towering six feet and six inches off the ground, and bear two arms, with hands and fingers. No tentacles, spikes, or claws. They are unlike any machines ever built since the time long ago, when man's cities still reigned, and there was a war breaking out. Their bodies are small, but hold great strength. Yet, they have no face, or any such things as that. Their faces are that of other machines of their kind. Six round eyes, like cameras, of different sizes. The faces are smooth, the top ending with slanted spikes that are really antennas for radio communication. Still they bear a faint resemblance to their creators, the humans, something they had preferred not to be. One could even call them androids. And somehow this gives them a more peaceful image. They have not been built to destroy, they have been built to maintain. And they hold no threat in their slightly tainted green eyes, and their smooth and clear metal. Their hands are modeled in that of man, and are delicate. They are hands that shall create.
Six were created to maintain. They each hold a slightly different purpose, and are slightly designed different, but they work as one. They continue to work through the day that they have no concept of. When there is nothing for them to maintain, they connect themselves into his Matrix, and connect themselves into him in the six plugging stations near him, and they watch him. They watch as he frolics within the personal Matrix made especially for him, and only him. And they observe him, with all his imperfections and emotions, and they learn from him, creating a connection unlike any that had ever been formed between man and machine.
Of course he was already a connection unlike anything else between man and machine.
They have observed and maintain life within is frail and breakable human body for six years now. The human they maintained has needed multiple surgical enhancements. Thus were machine components installed to help the decaying body that would inevitably betray the mind of this human. His heart was kept beating in a steady pace by machine enhancements, as was the back of his skull metal. Blood was constantly drained and returned to the ever so weak body. A tube was placed down his throat, straight to the lungs where air was pumped into them, life-giving air. The human was placed, his arms spread out, his legs crossed together, and his head leaning down, the only thing keeping it up was the plug in the back of his neck. They observe, and they have concluded that he has been placed as if he were hanging on the religious cross.
All the plugs that are spread through out his body, these plugs, gifts from the machines, are all connected. They must be, his mind is now so weak and feeble, they need to be fully connected. Additional wires are connected to maintain him.
And there are screens, like television screens, hanging near him. They are broadcasts coming directly from the little brain activity. When the screens receive any thing at all, an image is made and appears on the screens, and is documented. Yet sometimes it is not always an image, but a voice.
Wires and screens surround the human, bolted to the cross. All are connected to him in some manner, him or his machine guardians. This place, this dome-shaped place, lies far beneath Machine City known as 01, safe from any Sentinel or any human eyes. Just as Zion lies underneath the surface, so does this place. Above him are the machines negotiating with mankind. Above him are humans being freed from the Matrix. Above him are his people, praying to him, their Messiah.
Above him is where Deus Ex Machina speaks to a man named Morpheus, and the Zion Council.
Above him lies a gravestone in a graveyard full of thousands, especially made for him. Above him lies a statue of he and the women he once loved. Above him there is the world he help to create. Above him…above him is not safe.
And this is why he is here. Because if he was returned to his kind, to mankind, and the last human city he would have surely died. Only the machines and their technology could have saved his life, and preserved it as they have done. Only they could have done this. Only they, machines, could preserve the precious life such as his.
After all, they created The One anomaly, only they could maintain him.
His name was Thomas A. Anderson. His other name was Neo.
And he is there only source of life.
Three hours, one minute, thirty-three seconds, and six years ago Neo, The One, defeated Former Agent Smith, The Virus. The Anomaly with all his connections to the Source soon became it. Neo is the vessel of the Source, and he no longer relies on the human battery as a battery to fuel himself and the machines. Rather, he does. He, his spirit, an endless supply of power and energy, life coming from Neo.
And this is why they keep him hidden from any human eyes. This is why they have left the humans oblivious of his survival, if you may call it survival with all the minimum brain activity. They know of how human society has grown attached to their so-called "Messiah." They know they will demand Neo back, and if they do not comply, surely war will break out again. Neo is that important to the survival of both man and machine.
So they keep him safe, keep him safe so that they may continue to live. And they are six guardians that watch over The One. They are the only ones who have seen the human Messiah hanging on the machine cross, connected to all machines, harnessing the Source that resides inside him. Neo that gives them life, while they maintain his.
A connection, if you will.
The closest connection between man and machine. And they observe, his guardians, his caretakers. They observe, and they learn. They watch the screens flash with life and show an image of an Agent, a women, and two pills. They learn, and they remember. Every memory within the broken mind of Neo they have seen, every thought, every word, and every emotion.
And somehow they become more human. A human, a messiah as their only life source, it is only natural that the life they get from him holds some part of him. The machines more human, the humans more machine.
Such a perfect unity.
And here, where he is safe, on the cross, his body wrapped in wires connecting his mind to the rest of the world. Here where they make his heartbeat, and his lungs breath, he is safe. Here they make his blood flow, and when there is no more, they provide give him more. Here they give him everything he will need to survive the years that lie ahead.
Here they have given him his own Matrix, for whatever mind there may be left inside him. Where his mind is allowed to have whatever it desires. Most often there is an image of a woman they have come to known as Trinity. Here he is forever jacked into his own personal Matrix. Where the war is over, and he has saved all humanity. Inside his Matrix he flies with this Trinity, carrying her over a soon to be empty Matrix, and he kisses her, and promises her a great life together. Where someday he talks of children, an Eon perhaps, even a Ruse. Where he will be a far greater parent than he had ever had. His future great in his Matrix, and he will come to smile from time to time.
And whenever the little paradise for Neo is doubted, whenever a bad thought appears, whenever there is the program Smith appearing on the screens, and yelling and choking Neo to death, they change it. They unplug him, and somehow comfort him by their cold mechanical touch.
Here he is happy, and will forever be happy. Here he will remain untouched and untainted by both man's destructive hands, and time. He will not age, or decay like so many of his kind. Not here, with them, in the middle of the Machine City. Here on his cross, connected to so many wires, more machine than man again. One with the Source. One with both light and dark.
"Trinity."
The machines, the guardians turn their heads to the screens, and watch as there is another burst of energy, another sudden burst of brain activity.
Two in one day, that has never happened before.
The same machine rises, and walks across the room to a computer console, and checks Neo for any more vital signs. Nothing. The machine makes a note of it, and returns to what it was working on before.
The six machines return to their work. Two tending to Neo, reconstructing the skin on his right arm, two to care for his vital signs, and two to check the connection of all the wires.
And Neo, on his cross, his arms spread wide, with his bandages over his eyes still red with old blood. He sleeps now, seeing himself with Trinity, sitting on their favorite part of the Neb, together, looking out into the Desert of the Real.
"There's no more, is there?" Trinity smiles and asks him.
"Nope. It's like…there's no more voices in my head. They're all gone. I can finally just be me. Not The One, or anything like that." He says, holding her closer.
"You still have to be The One!" She laughs.
"Yeah, but I don't have to bust my ass and my mad skill at some guy in a suit!" He laughs.
"Yeah, but you're going to have to wake up soon." Trinity smiles.
"What, Trin? Trin…? Trin…?"
The six guardians do not even consider that he is trying to wake up. After all connected to them and all machines he is being given what he has always wanted. A life that would impossible to obtain now, if he was awake, disconnected. A life he could never achieve as The One, the Anomaly. Even now, they would not survive without being connected to him for long.
He is their life source now, their souls.
They can give him so much more than anyone else can.
But perhaps that is mere human nature, no matter how connected to machines that human may be, they are still human. Humans…always having a lust to wake up, to know the truth, no matter how horrifying the truth may be. To see and feel what is real. Yet, reality means nothing to the machines. Reality is something made from the human mind to justify that what to believe and not too. What is real? For all the machines know they could be within a Matrix, but they do not care. Reality means nothing, and is nothing.
Such a strange human creation, as is many things. That is, except for them.
Oh, Neo, you would be so much happier with them, with us, they think. Neo, our savior, Thomas Anderson, our life source. Stay with us, and in return we will give you everything your human mind could ever desire.
Here, with them, he will never age. Immortalized by the machines that are now keeping him alive, forever rejuvenating his brittle body. He shall remain as he is, untouched by time, as they are. Here, within their seemingly caring, metal arms he is safe. He will be kept from any human eyes, any murderous intentions.
Here, he is priority. He is all they have. And if he is to die, and pass on to wherever the human soul may go after the heart stops beating, then surely he will bring them with him in death. And so forth dooming machine and man alike. For now, man depends once again on the machines.
Zion relies on the machines, the Sentinels to help rebuild the city, to give them oxygen, to give them food and water, and warmth. Such things are not needed for them, and they do not understand such a weakness to rely on them.
Neo must be kept alive. The One must stay with them.
Even if he doesn't realize what is happening, and what has already happened. Even if Neo, Thomas died fighting the Virus, his heart must beat, his body must produce the life they need. His mind may be lost, mere broken shards of what it once was. Random thoughts and memories, words and noises, all trying to compile back into one. Trying to make a mind again, something that can think and remember and command to be freed. But it is futile. There is not enough left of his mind to truly function as it did. Not all can be saved when he was dead.
Perhaps only a few things remain. This lust, and longing of the Trinity female remains, even the machines can see this. Even if they do not know much of the meaning in the word love, they can see. He loved her very, very, very much. He had a connection her that is similar to their connection with him, and his with the program called Smith. But it was different. The connection between Neo and Trinity was not made by wires or coding, but by them.
What a strange and fascinating concept to the Machines.
But it is this part of his mind that remains the fullest. This Trinity will rise from his broken mind more often than anything else. But his mind is still broken. At times, rare times, he will disconnect from them for only mere minutes. Perhaps they must repair something with the connection.
But when he is separated from them, when his limp body falls, and begins to bleed as it always does, the six guardians are there. And they hold him close; they put their mechanical hands on his wounds. Yes, hands, real mechanical hands, and they apply pressure on them, enough to make the bleeding stop. And they sometimes allow him to lie on the ground, or they will hold him, or hold him by his head and legs. But when he is disconnected, no longer in his own Matrix, when he is most helpless, they are there. And they keep him safe.
And it is then that he sees his guardians. He will come into conciseness for seconds, and look at them in a golden light. But there is not enough of him to make a connection, a thought, to realize what has happened. He will see them, but he will not. Then his half dead self shall return into the darkness of sleep, and he will be reconnected.
Neo, The One is dead. All that remains is a remnant, an image, a shadow of who he was. This part of him now connected to all machines, is a mere vessel of the Source. This part of him that is alive is a dead corpse trying to be alive.
Though, most humans would still consider him alive.
Most humans do not even consider them, machines alive.
But life is once again, a strange human invention.
The six guardians of The One now work, keeping him alive. They connect him to the rest of the machines, and keep him safe within the depths of the city called 01. Six guardians that try and appear as human as a machine may be. Six guardians, connected to The One unlike any other.
And someone these broken fragments of a mind long gone are beginning to infect them all.
Perhaps his mind is not gone; merely he has given it to all of the machines.
Somehow making them more human.
For memories flash by, pictures transmitted from the Matrix by the Architect who watched his Anomaly since it was born. Images of a boy named Thomas, and his mother being carried away in an ambulance. A boy named Thomas laughed and mocked at. A man named Neo in the rain….
Perhaps Neo and Machine are not all too different. In their own ways they have their similarities.
Whatever is happening, they must allow it. They cannot disconnect Neo without killing themselves, but if they do not he shall infect them with his human emotions and nature without even knowing it. They make their choice logically, allow the emotions to come, they will not have much of an affect. Or so they believe.
Belief is another strange human invention.
Neo is on his cross now, and a machine comes to him.
It is another rare time. Neo shall be disconnected now. The machine is gentle, ready to grab him as he falls from his cross when he is disconnected. The other guardians prepare for it. He won't be entirely; merely his mind will be freed for a moment. They must scan the connection and upgrade some programs within his Matrix. The tube that lies within his throat his gently, but quickly forced out, and his body gags. The machine tilts its head, and with its machine hand holds up his chin, so his head won't fall.
The machine scans Neo, the human it relies on for life.
There is also things they must check on him.
And slowly the machine grabs the bandages that lies over the One's eyes, and pulls them off.
Neo opens his eyes.
They have given him sight back; whatever mind within that body has the ability to see again. Only scars remain around his eyes lids, those were the most difficult to repair. There is so few human skin, humans are so unwilling to give them such a thing. Eyes were scavenged from experiments conducted on humans, which have been stopped since the peace. But they changed those eyes, altering the cornea, making it a complete replicate of his eyes.
Brown eyes now stare at the machine.
"Thomas A. Anderson." The machine speaks clearly, unlike any machine before it.
Neo's broken mind does not respond.
"Neo."
And he looks up.
"Would you like some water, Neo?"
Whatever is left of Neo does not notice as the other five guardians around him begin to touch him and grab at him, making more connections with him to the machines. He only stares at the machine that speaks to him, trying to realize his name is Neo.
"Would you like some water, Neo?" The machine repeats.
For the fragile human's sake, the machine holds up a glass from Zion filled with water. Neo stares at it for a moment, blinking unusually, getting used to his new eyes. Then the broken mind makes a connection. Water, water is needed to live. Neo forces his head towards the water, trying to speak.
"Eh…." Is all he can say, "Eh…eh…."
The machine nods, and puts the glass to his mouth, and slowly tilts it to allow Neo to drink from it. He won't be able to pass the water through his system, his stomach no longer functions, but when he is asleep they will extract it from him.
The point is he was given a choice.
They give him so much these days, being changed by him.
"That is all for now, Neo. Now sleep. Dream." The machine says.
"Eh…. Eh…."
"No, Neo. You must sleep now."
The machine gently pushes Neo's head back by his forehead onto the cross.
"Eh…."
And a plug is put into his neck, he sleeps now. The tube is pushed down his throat, upgrades and repairs are completed.
The six guardians now return to their other purposes.
They give him so much now, life, sight, choice. They give him a paradise that he is too broken up to not accept. They give him that Trinity, and with her love. They give him everything they can, which is more than anyone else could.
And in return, without even knowing it, Neo gives them life, and something that may be human.
Forever the connection between man and machine. Neo, The One. The man that gives life upon all machines. With him this peace shall never end. And when another One is born, he will remain. He is now no longer The One, but The Source. There is space for another One to come.
But such a thing is irrelevant for now. Neo is here, within 01, where it is safe. Where no sunlight or warmth comes. Where no human eyes may see. He is safe in the cold and metal arms of his six guardians.
They will always protect him, and make sure his heart will beat. They will always please whatever of a mind he may have left. They will be there, always giving him anything and everything.
Neo, the One, the Life-Giver, the Savior, Messiah of man and machine.
This is the destiny, the fate of Neo.
It may not be what he would have chosen, if he could choose. But for now, while he is in his Matrix he smiles, and dreams. And when he awakes next time, and opens his brown eyes to see his machine guardians he will still smile.
Neo, The One. Save our souls. Give us life.