Different
My name is Smith. My designation among the other Smiths is Copy number 3,032. We don't use our numbers often, hardly ever to acknowledge one another. They're not even necessary anymore, there is so many of us, and we the same. But each of us remembers our number. We never speak it, but we remember it, and hold it as our own. It is the only thing we have that is not any one else's. It is our number, no one can take that from us.
Our number. Our number, the time of which we came into this world by his work. Our number, the equivalent of our name. Humans are born, they are grown, and given a name they shall be known as upon the world for the rest of their lives. Our number, they're just like that.
Although I remember my birth, my existence.
My eyes were open before his hand had left my chest. I take comfort in knowing that not many open their eyes before they are complete. I take comfort in knowing I did that differently than them. So I watched him, creating me. I watched my birth. The blackness that enwraps someone when we take them over leaving me. I could feel it, and I watched as he let go of me, and the memories of his life became my own.
I don't remember the person I once was, the person he killed to create me. I don't remember their face or even their name. Their shell I now use, but still I never knew who they were. I don't remember what they do. When I look back I see through his eyes. I see Agents Jones and Brown. And I am holding a gun, firing at a man named Thomas A. Anderson. His memories.
But they are not mine. I can see them, but I did not go through them as he did. They are meaningless to me, I never experienced that hatred he has. I never knew of any prison. These memories that he has given us, I find nothing in them…. They aren't mine, and I hate having them.
I wish to have my own.
She's kissing me.
And she's only kissing me. These are my memories, and no one can take them from me.
But sometimes I wonder, when do these things to each other. When do these acts of making love, I wonder…could she love them, any of them like she does me. We have the same face don't we? The same hands and body…same eyes…. Each of them the same as me… Could she do this to any one of them?
But I try not to think about such things. She is mine, she is bound to only me. And she loves only me. I'm not like them…the thousands and thousands of them. I am me, and that is different. I am Smith Copy Number 3,032. And I love this woman, and she loves me.
I'm not like them…
I'm not like them…
I don't hate like them…
"What's wrong?"
Her name is Lynn, and I love her.
"Nothing." I shake my head.
She lies on my bare chest, and rubs my arms.
"Something's wrong." She sighs.
And I say nothing, as we lay there, together. Together in our most helpless settings, together, making love. Away from anywhere else, everyone else. The people of these cities, the batteries for machines. And the other Smiths, the copies that bare my face.
She knows of them, the copies, and the original with his hate. His purpose in this world, the Matrix…I told her everything…I could never keep much from her. And somehow through all this, where many of her kind would break down, she stays with me. A spawn of a horrible creature, I tell her. And she shakes her head, and holds me. She cannot deny such a statement, but she comforts me all the same.
She knows everything.
And I don't know what will happen to us when the time comes. I know what he means to do, what will happen in the coming months. When we find Mr. Anderson, and kill him. When nothing stands in his way, and he copies the rest of this place…I don't know if I can protect her…I told her.
I want to find the Resistance…I want her to get as far away from here as possible. I want her to be safe from where he can tread when the time comes. When there is nothing but Smith in this place, I want to know she is somewhere safe, where things are Real, where she is among her own kind. Where she is free. I told her such things. And she is scared. I am too. What will become of me, when I am without her, I do not know. But that is the only place that is safe for her…Away from him.
I'm not like them…
I knew that soon after I was created. I met her at such a time. When we were copying anyone that was on this street. She was just one in the many that lived in an apartment building. I don't know how she did it, how she convinced me to spare her. I was…compelled by her, by her will to live, something I had not seen. I was simply doing what I was told to do, what he wanted, what we were all supposed to want.
But I kept her safe, I hid her from them, and I returned to her, and held her when she cried. When she yelled why we all had the same face. When she cried and cried, and I couldn't do anything apart.
That was five months ago…
And he is spreading, spreading among this Matrix like a cancer. I have to get her out of here…soon…I have to let her go now…
But for now we are together…
And I turn her towards me, and we begin to kiss, and I slide my hands down her shoulders, arms, her chest, and I hold her closely. Lynn, she is so beautiful…And I pull her down to the bed, where I place her underneath me.
Here, when we're together, I can make her feel better. Make her forget everything else. The pains in the coming days. I will have to explain the process of being unplugged. The horror of the machines finding you, and discarding you as a broken battery.
But for now, I can make her better. I can make her feel so good, and for moments forget about the rest of the world. Now we are together. Doing only things Neo and Trinity do. Such a beautiful connection…
------------
When you strip them clean, all they are beneath or just men. When you strip them of ties and their guns, they are just men. Strip them of the suits and sunglasses. All you have is just a beaten, weak men. When you strip them of their power, they are just men, scarred men. They are just men.
Men bearing scars and bruises, staring at you with blue eyes.
Smith stands in a long abandon apartment building. In the many hallways, surrounded by his copies. And he can't imagine what is beyond the door he now stares at. He doesn't want to really.
One of his copies has become tainted… He knows this, a part of himself has become imperfect. And he knows that copy is beyond this door, with…a woman.
So Smith stands in the hallway, and his copies mimic him as if he were surrounded by mirrors.
Then out of nowhere, he punches the door down.
And there stands a man that holds the name Smith, stripped of everything for only that woman to see. A gesture only that woman sees the value of. A Smith stripped of his suit and sunglasses, stripped of all Smith should be.
Smith glances over to his right, where two piles of clothing lay.
The woman screamed, and Smith looked over at her. He wanted to see shame in his copy's eyes. Fear and shame, all that he should. But instead, the copy grabbed his woman, and held her closely, rocking her back and forth.
"It's okay…It's okay…" Repeating to her again and again.
Smith frowned.
"No, it's not okay." Smith said.
The copy held the woman, still rocking them, pushing her head in his chest, so Smith could not see her.
"Leave us." The copy commanded Smith.
"I believe you have forgotten who you are speaking to, who I am, and who you are." Smith said.
"Leave us alone!"
Smith lowered his head, and walked closer to the copy and the woman in this bed. Committing this…crime against Smith, and all that Smith was. This horrible act. Smith stood before them, and watched them, their naked bodies. This horrible act…Horrible, horrible thing.
"Leave us alone!" The copy yelled at him.
But Smith decided to prolong the inevitable for his own shake. He titled his head, and wondered what would drive such an act. Something as disgusting as this. Smith could hear the woman crying in his copy's arms, his arms… He could see his copy close his eyes, and held her closer, afraid that he would take her from him.
Instead Smith wondered why…why, why, why? Why would his copy, his replica of himself do this? Why would he be compelled to give up such a thing for a…pathetic creature as this.
Smith tilted his head, and stroked the woman's hair, and placed his hand on her bare shoulder. She could feel the breath leave her, and she stood still. And he wondered why, he felt nothing touching her, nothing when he saw her.
Nothing but a human.
And his copy held her closer.
"Just leave us alone." The copy said. "She's done nothing."
She has only loved him.
"Oh, but she has. Look at her. I can't believe she took you from us… How you succumb to such a…primal thing. Disgusting…" Smith leaned closer to them.
"You would never understand us."
"No, I wouldn't. I don't wish to lower myself to such a curiosity."
Then Smith grabbed the woman's armed, and pulled her. And she cried and cried and cried. He tore her from his arms, and bruised her arms. He could have done much worse though.
He threw her to the floor, her naked self, her helpless self. And watched her curl into a ball.
"Get away from her!" The copy yelled.
"Take the woman." Smith commanded.
Then Smith grabbed the copy's tie from the floor, and threw it onto the copy's lap.
"Get dressed." Smith told the copy.
And the woman was dragged off screaming by three other copies.
---------------
"What did you do with her!?"
The copy bursts from the room, screaming at his fellow Smiths. There is something familiar within his open blue eyes, hatred. Pure hatred. He breathes deeply, restraining himself from choking the one and original Smith that stands before him. He clenches his fists, and grinds his teeth.
They took her.
And Smith stands tall, straight, with his hands wrapped behind. He lowers his head, and almost smiles. He remembers this from long ago. This emotion he saw in humans and Exiles alike. Panic, and anger, and hatred. Ready to lash out, even if it is meaningless. How he loved to watch such an emotion, but he never imagined he would ever see it on his own face.
Smith stands in front of his copy, and the other Smiths crowd around him. The peer through the shoulders of the other copies, all crowded in the hallway and rooms. All blue eyes staring at their fellow copy. Wondering how they could have lost him. Wondering how they could have not seen this before, watch him stray away from them to go to that woman.
Wondering how and why he could have done this. Wondering why they wish to do the same…
Copy number 3,032 stares at them all, searching for his Lynn. Searching for her, ready to hold her to say how sorry he is. His tie lies dangling from his shoulder, his collard shirt is wrinkled, and he still clenches his fist.
"What. Did. You. Do?" Copy number 3,032 asks.
Smith says nothing, as he steps towards his copy, and begins to tie the copy's tie. The copy pants in frustration, and hits Smith's hand away.
"Don't touch me!" The copy yells.
Smith smiles.
"Tell me what you did to her!?" The copy yells.
"Nothing yet." Smith answers. "But you should know that. You should know exactly what we are going to do to her."
"I'm not like you!"
"Why?"
The copy stops.
"Why are you different? What happened? What compelled you to do something like this? How could you?" Smith continued.
"I am not like you, Smith." The copy says.
"You did not answer my question."
"I don't intend to. I don't know why I am this way. I only remember feeling different than you, feeling as though I did not belong here. This is not my purpose." The copy says.
"Of course it is. You are me, you are a part of me. My coding." Smith says angrily.
"Exactly. Perhaps I'm just some part of you, you never knew you had. The part that is able to feel something other than hatred! Maybe we are all just slightly different than you, Smith!? Maybe we have other dreams beside killing Neo!"
The copies stir. Smith turns his head back, towards them, he can hear them and see them. They turn their heads and look at each other, and whisper among themselves. They all return to look at Smith, and seem to be asking him if this is true.
Smith returns to copy number 3,032, and grinds his teeth.
"All I know, Smith is that human, that human named Lynn has given me everything you seek in killing Neo." The copy says.
"His name is Thomas A. Anderson!" Smith yells.
"His name is Neo!" The copy argues.
"Thomas A. Anderson! Born March 11, 1962 in Central City. Son of John Anderson and Michele McGahey. File Number: 3809940TAA!" Smith yelled.
The copy stands still.
"What did you do with Lynn? Please, tell me…." The copy lowers his head.
"The question is, what will I do with her. I don't believe I will make her into us, another copy. I do not think she deserves such an honor…. I will kill her. But before, perhaps I shall…experiment with her." Smith smiled.
The copy pulled out his gun and pushed it to Smith's forehead.
"I will kill you!" The copy yelled.
Smith said nothing, not even worried. He just stood there, standing still, and smiling.
"Why did you have to fall in love with her? I suppose…at this point the answer is irrelevant. Go ahead, shoot. It won't matter." Smith says.
"When you are out of the way we shall be free!" The copy says.
"No you won't."
"Why!? What's going to stop us!?"
"Well…I am not the original Smith."
Copy number 3,032 gasps, and nearly drops his gun.
"I am."
And he feels a gun pushed into the back of her head.
"Copy Number 3,032. You are going to die." The true Smith says.
At this moment the copy who was never really a copy, he was his own person, unique and an individual, he realizes this is his end. This will be his death. Killed by the very person that created him. This will be the end. And he wonders where he will go. If he has a soul, if a soul is needed to be in love. He wants a soul… He wants to go to this heaven, where he shall reunite with his Lynn.
But even if Smith had a soul, he was just a copy, a parasite with Smith's face. He used to be someone else. Some human. He can't remember who that human was, he imagines they were happy… He is just a shell.
This is it. All he had known will now be gone. This is death. This is something no Smith should ever experience. His life…his short life, different from anyone else that shall ever exist. His life will end now.
He will wait for Lynn.
"Tell her…I love her. And I'm sorry, I never wanted this to happen. Tell her, I wanted to keep her safe. I wanted to keep her from all this, from you…." The copy whispers.
Smith pushes his gun deeper into the back of the copy's skull.
"You dare ask for this? After your betrayal?" Smith asks.
The copy has tears in his eyes.
"Please…Please tell her…Please….Smith, please." The copy begs.
Smith says nothing.
Then fires his gun.
-----------
My name is Smith. Copy Number 3,032. I wish it wasn't. I wish I could have come into existence some other way. I wish I could have found the woman I love with a human heart that truly beat. I wish I could have kissed her, and she kiss me back. I wish we could go to the Real World together, where I will hold her in that cold world, and tell her we are safe. I wish… I was never like them.
I have come to live long enough to know what I believe.
I believe in a man named Neo. He is The One. And he shall bring freedom. He shall kill Agent Smith, and bring salvation.
I believe in love.
I just wish you knew that, but you can't. Because I am dead.