I am Lydia, but my name does not matter. I am a Rebel, and that is all they want to know. "They," as in the Agents. If you are still hooked into the Matrix and you do not know the truth, they don't bother with you. If you're a Rebel, on the other hand, they'll track you down. They want to prevent us from freeing people.
The people must know, though. Their bodies are being grown, their minds manipulated. It is my mission to take that blindfold from their eyes.
The Agents are very good, though. Of course they are, they are programs. They aren't told to do or think anything else except kill. Kill, kill, KILL. We've lost thousands of Rebels to them. I admit it, they are too strong for us. But we have determination. They cannot knock us into submission, for we shall come back with a vengeance.
I detest the Agents for what they have done. You see, I once cared for a man. He set me free, physically, mentally, spiritually. His name was Greg. We met on our ship, the Odysseus. We loved each other. Not romantically, but as family. Even though we weren't biologically family, we referred to each other as brother and sister. I always thought of Greg as my older brother, with his tall stature, shaggy brown hair and sparkly green eyes. He always protected me, he was always so strong.
We were in the Matrix one day. We had gone to find someone. We were supposed to free the person. But we didn't get that far. It seems that immediately after we entered the Matrix, we were pursued by Agents. We ran down the streets and led them on until we found ourselves in a bad situation. The Agents were going to catch up, and our only way out was to go down into the sewers and move through the tunnels until we got closer to the exit. We couldn't get that far on the surface. We were navigating through the stench-swamped passageways when we heard the footsteps of the reapers. They sounded like they were walking slowly, while we were scrambling to get our minds together.
Did we go left? Did we go right? Did we pass this bit of graffiti before? I think I remember this. That's what we thought. Greg finally found a manhole that we could escape through. He climbed up the ladder and pushed away the cover. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up with him. He said, "Lyd, let me push you up." He always liked calling me 'Lyd'. I accepted and he hoisted me up. I crawled onto the pavement and turned around to reach for him. He reached for me, and I reached for him. In that instant, I saw them. The Agents had caught up.
They didn't say anything. Greg didn't know they were right behind him, and they riddled him with bullets. I didn't hear the gunshots, I didn't see them. I just knew they had hit their mark, for Greg's eyes were large and his mouth was open in a daze. I thought I saw his lips moving, saying, "I love you, Lydia." He began to fall back. I seized his wrist, but it was limp and his body was heavy. I began to slip, to fall back into the hole. I didn't want to let go. I knew they would get me too if I didn't hurry, and I knew Greg wouldn't want that. He would want me to survive.
I let him fall, and I got to my feet. With tears streaming from my eyes, I sprinted to the exit. I escaped the Matrix.
When I got back to the ship, I was wounded. Not physically, but emotionally. Greg was the only one who was really concerned for me out of anyone I knew. I felt empty. The rest of the crew knew about the relationship that Greg and I had, and they let me stay in my room for however long I needed to. They knew I needed to heal.
But I'm still not entirely healed.
I know this: We are all rabbits, white rabbits with nowhere to hide.
I have tried over and over to forget Greg's death, but I cannot. There has never been anyone else like him in my life. I am alone.
Each time I am in the Matrix and I encounter an Agent, I am told to run. Run away, find an exit. There's an exit near you, I hear from the operator. Run, run. I do what I am told, and I find that exit, I find that little hole in the wall and I climb through.
I cannot do this forever. I don't want to do this forever. I want to be able to stay still, to stand up to an Agent. I want to say, "Hello. I am Lydia Harper. You killed my brother." Not that the Agent would care. I wish they could feel pain and emotion, though. I want to take from them what they have taken from me, at any cost.