6 It Begins

The matrix. I have no real memories of it, but from the first it was recognizable in every sense of the word. The matrix was like visiting a place of warmth, and knowing it had joyous, infinite possibilities.

It was home.

The agents led me to a featureless door and when Brown opened it, he stepped through followed by Jones while I watched. The place they walked to was… elsewhere.

From the blank threshold I saw tall buildings made of glass and steel. They dominated the skyline, a remote and ominous forest. The doorway opened to a building's roof, and Brown held a hand to his ear, his attitude that of listening. Jones had slowly turned around, scanning everything intently.

There was a sound I recognized as traffic, an endless multitude of cars that roared and honked, snarling as they sped by, sight unseen. I stepped onto the roof, and my foot met gravel, a gray carpet that crunched as I moved. A slanted bright light burned from the sky, and the sharp damp coldness of the air felt like early morning.

The intensity of the matrix was in turns alarming and reassuring. Alarming, for unlike the home of the Architect, many objects such as buildings and cars-- indeed, many sensory distractions like the cold and dampness and noise, seemed to serve little purpose. But it was reassuring in the sense that it was familiar. A piece of my dreams.

I stared at the scenery and wondered: where was the green curtain? I felt a shift within myself as something dormant, infinitely old and deadly suddenly awoke, and the matrix --- changed.

Everything now looked like green fire, a multi-dimensional rain of letters and numbers-that swirled and crawled endlessly in a continuous loop forming the buildings the sky and even the cold dampness. Everything was made of it, and as I looked down I saw the green light I was created of.

Looking at the silhouetted agents I saw the green fire consisting of Brown subtly alter, starting at his ear, and a moment later the same happened to Jones. I realized that the two had received new information, and the information had something to do with me.

My vision of the matrix shifted to normal, and I found both agents staring at me.

"Mr. Anderson," said Agent Brown. "We will leave you for a few minutes. Do not be alarmed at what transpires to these bodies."

Agent Jones continued. "If you stay here we will return shortly."

The agents changed, and Brown morphed into a stocky old man, while Jones altered into a young woman. Both looked around in shock, until the woman said:

"Where is this? Am I dreaming?"

>>>>>>>>

Niobe, after charging out through the Oracle's door, stopped and stared. She found herself in the middle of an empty downtown street. The height of the buildings shot upward to heart-stopping vertigo, shadowing the street in artificial twilight, devouring the sky except for a pale strip directly overhead.

"No. Morpheus!" Niobe spun and raced back to her starting point, to open the door she arrived in. She saw with a sinking heart that the door she came through was steel, and had no handle on it. She began to pound on it in frustration.

"Let me back in, goddamn you!"

The door opened. Within the door stood an oriental man. He was dressed in white jacket and black tank top and pants, the cloth warmly lit from the corridor's light that framed him.

"Captain Niobe? I'm from the Oracle. She sent me to guide you through the right door," he said as he stepped aside for her passage. "Will you follow me?"

>>>>>>>>

Morpheus was standing on the sidewalk looking the opposite way when trouble started.

He was staring blindly upwards at the branches of the tree he stood under, trying to keep himself from thinking and failing miserably.

Brooding on the fact that despite achieving the lifelong goal of finding the One of Prophesy and thereby saving Zion he felt— hollow. And he knew why.

It was the knowledge of what the Oracle was. With the revelation that the Oracle was a program, everything he'd done, everything he believed was now cast in doubt and made worthless.

Worthless because he believed that mankind's freedom had been compromised; and the war's ending--- a deception.

More, every crewmember's death, counting even Cypher, a man whom he knew as a traitor to humanity, now weighed heavily in his heart. Nearly every member on his ship fought in the war because they trusted the prophecy, and ultimately trusted him.

The Prophesy had been a lie. And the trust--- he had failed.

Failed because he had never considered the possibility that the Oracle was a program.

Knowledge that he had accepted help from a program and never realized it shook his confidence to the core. How could he have not known the Oracle was a program, a machine? It was so obvious in retrospect; her abilities in predicting the future were uncannily accurate. So accurate that he had never questioned the source--- and ultimately, the prophesy of the war's end.

Not until Neo revealed the Prophesy as a lie did he start to question. And not until he saw a stranger claim to be the Oracle did the truth finally sink in…

Mopheus frowned. Why had the Oracle, a program, helped humans during the war, no matter how indirectly? There had been times, especially during the beginning, that the war could've been easily won by the machines. Yet the Oracle's advice had always helped Zion, and ultimately, humanity. Was her help a trick, a ruse?

At first glance, it seemed not. Yet…

And what of the conclusion of the war? Was it truly a victory, knowing that a program, a machine helped end the war? Or was the war's outcome, this peace, in the end another way for the machines to control humanity?

He feared it was.

The only thing that kept him from dwelling on such thoughts was the need to discover the fate of Neo. Through the whole war he had never lost faith in his friend, knowing how deeply Neo cared for Zion. That no matter what the cost Neo would somehow save Zion.

And thru the terrifying battle in Zion he held on to the belief that Neo would survive the war, and return to Zion. That both he and Trinity would return. Only when Trinity was found on the Logos did doubt creep in.

Thinking of Trinity, Morpheus felt as if a blade twisted in his gut, and his mind flinched from the painful memory of finding her. His thoughts turned to the other raw ache.

Now that he knew for certain that Neo was dead—he still couldn't believe or accept it.

Morpheus heard a shout and gunshots followed by another scream. Turning quickly, he saw the long black coat of the approaching figure and more--- he saw the pursuers. They wore dark suits and jackets, and moved with unnatural grace and speed.

Agents. Three of them.

A moment later they caught their target, a single agent on each side grabbing a shoulder, an arm, while the third agent a stood few paces back holding a gun at their target. Seeing the agents' still pose, Morpheus reacted, and pulled out a gun in each hand to shoot them.

Though deadly in motion, agents had a singular weakness. When focused on their prey, they could be surprised, and often reacted with humanlike speed. There was a moment when the two agents holding their target stiffened in surprise as they looked down at the red flowers that bloomed on their chests. The third agent dodged his bullet, returning fire while the other two agents collapsed to the ground. Morpheus snarled in frustration, moving to hide behind the tree that only a minute before he had admired, hearing the muffled impact of the bullets on the tree.

Hidden behind the tree Morpheus heard a single shot along with the unmistakable crack of breaking bone. Glancing around the tree he then saw the third agent crumple forward, his head twisted at a strange angle, neck broken. The target of the agent's pursuit dropped from a high-flying kick stance, his posture ready to continue battle with the fallen agents if they moved.

Morpheus also watched, waiting for an event to signal the fight's end.

Blue lightning surrounded the fallen agents and morphed into figures lying face forward ---changing into a small dead man, a dead elderly woman. Underneath each body grew a small pool of blood, while the third body changed into a teenage boy.

As always Morpheus felt a twinge of regret as he saw the lifeless bodies. He now realized with a sense of shock that his actions were unnecessary, that all Zionists except for him and Niobe were gone from the matrix. Whenever he had seen an agent, he knew it was stalking either him or a crewmember. Through the years it had become an automatic response-see an agent chase someone, attack to distract the agent from their target-- then flee.

Whom were the agents chasing? He turned to the approaching figure and froze. And his heartbeat, which rarely rose in risky situations, skyrocketed.

"Morpheus," said Smith slowly. "What a surprise."

tbc


Next: Confrontation