2 The Quest

I am a program, a program named Neo Anderson. The Architect named me, he is the creator of the Matrix and of all programs including me.

And yet…

The Architect is the creator of all programs, yet he wants me to call him 'father,' a term that in a way makes no sense. It's a word used to indicate the relationship between biological organisms of plant or animals. It's also a term used by humans to indicate an emotional or biological connection. To call the Architect creator is more accurate and logical for a program.

I told the Architect that his request to call him 'father' made no sense, and the reason why.

Oddly enough, the Architect laughed at that, his voice a measured beat of laughs, chilling me. Laughter is caused by emotion, and the Architect, wise and old as he is, has none, making his laughter ominous.

So why did the Architect laugh at my comment?

It's only a little puzzle against a larger mystery --- the ultimate purpose of these memories. Knowing that these memories are from an earlier version raises more questions than it answers.

The question is-why are some of them useful to the Architect while others not? Shouldn't all data from my earlier version be relevant?

The matrix. The words send a chill within me, and disturb me with its familiarity.

Understandable from what the Architect told me.

Yet---

What is the matrix? I remember little, and at one point should've asked more questions. I don't know why I never asked.

Why does the Architect suspect the memories of humans would fragment my programming? What I do remember isn't painful; but it does invoke emotions.

All I recall of humans are fragments.

I see the image of a dark haired woman. She is crying as she kisses me, I taste the salt of her tears, and see the anguish of her relief. But why is she crying?

And why does my memory of her induce a feeling of warmth, of protectiveness, and last, of overwhelming sorrow?

I remember a man. He is bald, dark-skinned, wearing a coat of leather. He says to me, "You are the one, Neo. The one we have waited for my entire life." His words fill me with a dead heaviness, a feeling of dread.

Yet I don't remember why the words bother me, and evoke those emotions.

These memories make no sense, and it disturbs me.

They are remnants of things that the Architect would erase. It's certain that they are part of my predecessor's past. But why didn't the Architect give me more information, more data to understand them?

The fragmented memories, are they the cause of my emptiness? For I sense that the man and woman were important to my earlier version, my predecessor. Yet I don't know why they are important.

Is it possible that they are a key to something more?

But a key to what?

I need to know, to understand these memories and emotions.

It's the reason I didn't speak to the Architect of them. The memories, while disturbing don't cause any pain. At least no more pain than the memories of the matrix.

Until they do, or until I understand them, I will keep silent.

And search for answers.

>>>>>

Standing at the corner of a city block, near a mini-mart, he turned away from the telephone. Looking at the skyline, Morpheus realized with surprise that the area wasn't inner city; he had jacked into suburbia.

Still, it was the matrix. And the matrix was always dangerous for those from Zion.

"I don't like this," said Niobe tensely. She eyed the empty street, her face hidden behind dark shades, hair severely pulled away from her face. Her brown leather outfit reflected a little in the sun. "If an agent shows his face---" she paused significantly.

"The war is over, Niobe," said Morpheus. Squinting in the morning light, he absently pulled his glasses from his pocket. "None of the agents will try to harm us. We were invited by the Oracle to return here."

"Invited by the Oracle. Hope that's not an epitaph for my final mission." Niobe muttered. "Jason's angry enough at me---"

Morpheus sighed. "You did not have to go on this mission with me. I wouldn't want you to be in trouble with Locke ---" he stopped at the touch of her gloved fingers on his mouth.

"Too late. He's been angry from the start of the Logos' last mission," she answered with a quirky smile as she drew her hand away. "When he found out that Neo and Trinity took Logos--- more, that I offered them my ship, Jason was beyond furious." Her smile turned bitter. "I doubt if I'll even get another ship now."

"Niobe-" He stopped as she quickly turned away.

"Forget about it." She started walking, slowly scanning her surroundings as she spoke. "We can talk about this later, Morpheus. Now let's complete your mission."

"Let's find the Oracle."

>>>>>

I dreamed again. Last night I dreamed of the black man, and he spoke to me from a phone.

'You are the one, Neo. You see you may have spent the last few years looking for me, but I've spent my entire life looking for you. Now do you still want to meet?'

The most puzzling thing about this memory is the knowledge that I'm lying down in a small cluttered room, knowing that someone was after me, and feeling trapped. There's an odd taste in my mouth. After I woke up that I realized it was the taste of fear.

But it was later that day the most disturbing incident happened. The Architect wanted me to see him and when I did, there were two men waiting with him.

They had dark suits and sunglasses. But the odd thing was, when the two strangers looked at me, they recognized me.

And feared me.

tbc