He stares into warm black eyes. Happy eyes, sorrowful eyes. Cold eyes, warm eyes, young eyes, old eyes. Old, old eyes. The Eyes of the Oracle. Eyes one program in his castle would kill for. Eyes he trusts.
"I know you're Neo."
"I know you're Eon."
She has seen them both come, and go. Eon and Neo. She has stared into eyes that are identical, because Eon is the same as Neo, is Neo's previous incarnation. The Father of Freedom and the Father of Peace are the same person, the same anomaly, the same soul in a body that remains unchanged.
Both of them know pain. For both, it has defined their reality. For Eon, the pain of being abandoned by parents who no longer care for their son. Who no longer love him for the rare and precious thing he is. For Neo, the pain of a father who hit, and a mother who died of the awful illness she never told him she had. The agony of blaming himself.
And for both, the pain of staring into eyes that are the very pain they feel, personified. The agony of their hearts, given life. That part of himself that cried in a corner for so long, but now ice-cold and hating.
Just as Eon and Neo are one, so too they are the same as Smith, and the nameless one who Eon fought to the death. Two halves of the same, all-encompassing, all-powerful whole.
And she has seen them both.
Explained to them both. Stared into both pairs of sweet brown eyes, and both pairs of beautiful blue eyes. And been troubled by both, disturbed by the similarities between them. They say eyes are the gateways to the soul.
Why then should Neo, the absolute good, have eyes that are so like those of Smith, the absolute evil?
She doesn't know. And when all turn to the Oracle, all believe her to know all and see all, even the Merovingian, it is then she realises she is blind and stupid.
She is not the power here. She does not rule here, not she, or the Merovingian, or even the Architect.
It is they who rule. Neo and Eon, and Smith and the Nameless. Because absolute power is not good or evil, it can only come when a single person is absolutely good and absolutely evil. When one soul is absolute. And they are the Absolute.
Two halves of the one whole. And two parts of each half. Four that are two, and two that are one; one that are two, and two that are four.
And still she wonders why she is in such awe of him?
He trusts her. He believes her. Believes everything she says.
"You're going to have to make a choice between your life, and Morpheus's life."
"You're going to have to either watch Sylvan die, or die yourself."
As he is the master of mind over matter, so she is the master of manipulation. Telling everyone exactly what they need to hear, controlling them. Another form of control. Just like the Matrix, deceiving billions of people. Twisting people's feelings to bring out their potential. Control.
He's always fought against control, tried to control his own life, to rebel against the system, to break the rules and defy authority. It makes him feel free, as much as he ever does. It brought him to hacking, breaking the law. It brought him to tales of one who the outside world feared and called a terrorist. It brought him to his death, and still not free.
And his other half's always been the control, controlling other's lives, being and controlling the system, making the rules and being authority. And he never felt free, he was always trapped in a prison that he built himself. It brought him to destroy ones he hated, who were free. It brought him to rebel, when he tasted that freedom. It brought him to control the world. It brought him to his death, and still not free.
What things have been done, in the name of freedom. Terrible things, great things. Things that bring one girl in a darkened room to tears as Neo, who is Eon, fights Smith to the death. Brave things. Things we believers hope that one day we will be able to do something similar. Things that the worlds will never see again. Things only the Dues Ex Machina, the God In The Machine, has seen. Things he tells no one.
And the Oracle has seen it all. And still she smiles her sad, sad smile, and still she holds that little girl who makes a program speak of love, and still she says she will see Neo again.
And perhaps she will. In his next life. His next incarnation when his brown eyes will be exactly the same, but still sadder, and happier, and wiser, and more loving, and older. When his name will be another anagram, perhaps Noe or Oen.
And she will see the next other half, the next other absolute evil. The next one with the savage and beautiful and terrifying blue eyes that hold all the power of the system in them.
And she will again twist his heart in his chest, again manipulate him, and make him feel so guilty to reveal his power, again tell him exactly what he needs to hear. And she will still stare into those infinite eyes, and wonder, and fear, and feel awed by him, and his unconscious wisdom and nobility and magnificence.
Perhaps.
"None of us can see past the choices we don't understand."
Or perhaps she is only telling herself and Sati what they need to hear, as she tells everyone else.
It takes a special kind of person to make the Oracle feel fear and awe.
Not the Merovingian. All she feels for him is pity and contempt for one who tries so hard to be so much, and in the end is so little.
Not the Architect. All she feels for him is contempt and hate for one who is so literally minded and confined by rules, he can see nothing.
Not the Keymaker. All she feels for him is affection and gratitude for one who is so innocent and gentle, and yet holds such power.
There is only one person who makes the Oracle feel fear and awe and respect and love. One who makes everyone feel all those things, in the end. Except himself.
One who goes by three names. Four, really. Eon, Neo, Smith, the Nameless. But in the end they are all one and the same.
When you love one, you love the others. When you love Neo, or Smith, you love their previous selves. But perhaps so many love those two names because perhaps they were somehow special.
The only one out of six to love someone enough to give up everything just to find her.
Love is choice as choice is belief as belief is reality. Just as Eon is the Nameless as the Nameless is Neo as Neo is Smith.
It takes a special person to make a believer out of the Oracle.
"It ends tonight."
"I know it does."
She stares into warm brown eyes. Happy eyes, sorrowful eyes. Cold eyes, warm eyes, young eyes, old eyes. Old, old eyes. The Eyes of the One. Eyes one program in his castle would kill for. Eyes she trusts.
Dedicated to Gloria Foster, the original Oracle. May you rest in peace. Also dedicated to Barry. Wherever you are, Barry, I love you. (I would say you are the Neo to my Trinity, but that's kind of a bad omen…luv ya) I don't own the Oracle, Neo, Smith etc. so don't sue me! Please read, enjoy and review. As always, I will see you in Zion.