11 Decision Made

"No. You will not go see the Virus or Morpheus." Agent Jones said.

I studied the enforcer program. "Why?" Agent Jones had become increasingly tense since I mentioned my ability to read code. His face was cold and expressionless, but his hands clenched as I spoke.

"The Architect does not want you to meet Smith, the virus." Agent Brown said. Looking at Brown I noted his mild, almost scholarly air as he spoke. While not as vocal as Jones, I sensed he also disliked the idea.

"But it can't be so hazardous. Morpheus is meeting Smith, and he's only human." I said in protest.

"Morpheus was named the most dangerous man on the planet at one point." Jones stated grimly.

Dangerous? In all my fragmented memories, I never associated the feeling of danger with this man. The strongest feeling I had about Morpheus was responsibility, a burden that was somehow mine alone.

"So how did my predecessor get to know Morpheus?" It was an idle question, one that I had no expectation that they could answer. Surprisingly, I felt both agents exchange incredible amounts of data in a few seconds before they answered.

"It is a long story and we are not sure of the details." Jones said. A beat afterward Brown added. "You should ask the Architect."

I stared silently at them while comprehension dawned. They knew! They knew my predecessor's history, and were not willing to share it with me. Worse, they had no intention of revealing any knowledge until I brought up the subject.

At our first meeting I realized they recognized me and assumed it was only a passing acquaintance. Yet the very fact that they were not prepared to say anything hinted at more than a mere recitation of data given by the Architect. It spoke of personal experience.

They had known my predecessor and never planned to mention it. The agents who were ordered to protect me--- did not trust me.

The fact hurt. And tore my emptiness larger.

It was then I felt smothered, almost choking in the presence of these agents and their regard. I needed to escape, to leave and take control of my feelings of abandonment and despair.

Perhaps at one time their distrust wouldn't have hurt so. Yet without memory, a history to proclaim who I was, all I had was the Architect and the agents. The Architect seemed too remote to understand and now that I realized the agents feelings, I was cut off from everything.

I felt alone. To combat the feeling I needed to accomplish something important, to recover a past, a history.

So I decided to see Morpheus.

Decision made, I recognized the most immediate obstacle to my plan were the agents. Since the moment I appeared on the doorstep, Jones kept his gaze firmly pinned on me, while Brown's attention was the scenery outside the window, except for the few times he spoke to me.

Yet while things were peaceful I knew it could change in an instant. The fragmented memory involving Trinity and the unknown agent hinted at many things, but nothing of life and everything of death.

The thought of death, of anyone's death, whether of Agent Brown or Agent Jones hurts, and makes me think of Trinity. Just what was she to my predecessor? Even the fragmented memory of her dominates my heart with a shadow--- a sorrow I can't comprehend.

"Neo Anderson. Is something wrong?" Jones said, frowning. Gazing at the agent, I understood one thing. With the Architect's order to guard, both agents would relentlessly follow me, letting nothing or no one stop them.

Nothing would halt the agents unless I did the unexpected, and left them no trail to follow. It was a thin hope, for they knew I wanted to find Morpheus. Yet even a few minutes alone with the man in question could tell me much.

I shook my head in response to Agent Jones' question and to clear my head.

So how would I escape? Flight in the matrix could be visually tracked. And a vague memory of flying at fantastic speeds and the chaos it left behind makes flight a choice of last resort. The memory of flight, though eye blurring also seemed motionless, as if I wanted more speed to reach my destination.

I needed something a little more subtle and quick.

Shifting my vision to the green code I stared at it until a whispery thought appeared. Three dimensions in one dimensional codes. In the matrix, was there truly a dimension for distance? Certainly there was a code to indicate distance, but did it matter if I was one second here and the next, a mile away?

I didn't think so.

A chill suddenly filled me, and I sensed that what I wanted to do was hazardous. Extremely hazardous. Yet was it possible to do? I searched my memory in hopes of an answer. The vision of a cold golden face glared at me for a second, as I realized the answer.

Yes, but only if I was precise about where I wanted to go. And I knew exactly where I needed to go, what codes I must see.

"I'll see you later, Agent Jones, Agent Brown." I said. Then concentrating, I delicately sliced and parted the matrix code, clearing the way until I reached the code I needed. Then I stepped from the house to a sunny street.

>>>>>>>>

"Neo! You're alive!" Morpheus whispered. A small smile erupted on his face as he automatically started toward his friend, until he felt Smith's hand on his shoulder. Looking at the program, he saw Smith frown.

"Careful rebel. You do not know his condition."

"I'm saying this only once, Smith. Let go," Morpheus said flatly.

Smith released his shoulder, "Use your eyes, then. There is something wrong."

"The only thing wrong---" Morpheus stopped, then drew a deep breath. "Never mind. I'll deal with this." The joy was replaced by doubt that grew deeper as Neo walked slowly toward him.

A walk that seemed subtly wrong. His movements were stiff, heavy. There was no indication of the One's power, ability that made every movement light and graceful, the control of one barely bound by the laws of the matrix.

Nor was there any tension, the self-imposed discipline that chilled Neo's face into an impassive mask. Instead, the younger man's face was simply empty of expression, and more disturbingly, so were his eyes.

"Morpheus," Neo said to him. "Your name is Morpheus, right?" He turned and looked at Smith. "And you're the Virus, Smith?" the ex-agent grinned mirthlessly in response.

"Neo, don't you recognize who I am?" even as the question tumbled from his lips Morpheus saw the truth. The initial impression of seeing a ghost, a pallid imitation of his friend deepened the longer he stared at Neo. Despite the well-known features, Morpheus felt as if he was meeting a stranger. An uneasy feeling filled his heart.

Neo shook his head in seeming regret. "My previous avatar did. I only remember fragments, enough to recognize you. I asked Agent Brown for your name."

"Avatar?" Morpheus mouthed. He involuntarily took a step back.

"Agent Brown? Where is he? And Agent Jones?" Smith broke in abruptly. Morpheus watched as Smith studied his adversary and saw the wary tension in the ex-agent's body as he moved a step closer to the other.

"They are in a house. A few miles from here." Neo said. He stood woodenly, in stark contrast to Smith's liquid grace. Morpheus was chilled by the comparison between them. If he didn't know better he would've guessed Smith the human, and Neo the program.

"Did you destroy them?" Smith said in a measured pace, his tone heightening Morpheus' unease.

"Destroy? No. They wouldn't allow me to find Morpheus, so I left them behind." Neo said, and slightly tilted his head to one side in curiosity. "They feared I would meet you."

Smith relaxed on hearing Neo's answer. "Then they'll be here any minute." Smith said. "We need to talk now, Mr. Anderson."

"About what?"

"We are enemies, bitter adversaries. You loathed me, as I hated and despised you. And we hated each other enough to kill each other, twice in fact."

"That said, after our last battle, I had been scheduled for deletion by the source. You saved me from this fate, Mr. Anderson." Smith added, his voice quietly accusing. "When you could not escape yourself, you gave me the choice of escape and freedom or staying and being deleted." He paused a moment, and his mouth twisted as if he ate something bitter. "I choose freedom."

During the speech, Neo's stillness was eerie, and he stirred only after Smith finished. "And now? What do you want from me, Smith? Another battle to the death?"

"As much as I would enjoy that, no. What I need, what I'm compelled to do- is to return something to you." Smith's right arm slowly lifted, showing a clenched fist. Turning his hand palm upward, he unclenched his fingers. Cradled in his palm, was a sphere the size of a marble. Even in the sunlight it shimmered with a gold light, its radiance pulsing like a heart.

"What is it?" For the first time, Morpheus saw a shadow of emotion cross Neo's face. Curiosity, and was there also—recognition?

"Your memories."

"Memories?" Neo drifted closer to Smith, his eyes caught by the glowing sphere. "These memories are from the previous avatar, my predecessor."

Morpheus breathed out quietly in despair.

"No. They are your memories Mr. Anderson." Smith's voice was iron-clad certainty.

Neo shook his head. "The Architect said that I am the second version of your enemy."

"Yes, in a sense you are. A pale, colorless copy of Mr. Anderson." Smith said with a dark sneer. "One I'd have no problem in defeating."

Neo's answer was a challenging frown and a movement that ended in a fighting stance.

It was a look and movement so familiar that Morpheus caught his breath, and realized Smith spoke the truth---- the man before them was Neo, without his memory.

Smith smirked and continued. "Yet a computer that has been reformatted with new software is still the same, even without all its original data." Smith's gaze intensified while his voice lowered. "A human brain is infinitely more complex, and would retain fragments, despite the memory purge."

Neo's stance relaxed minutely, as he listened to the ex-agent's hypnotic voice.

"Hmm, but you understand that, don't you? You want the answers for the fragments you do remember." The program waved the golden sphere. "Here is your answer. This is your memory, your thoughts, and your past."

Neo stared at the glowing light. "I have had… questions. But these memories---" Hesitantly, he relaxed his stance as his hand reached out to hover over the object, indecision clear on his face. "Are they truly mine? Can I trust you?"

"The answer to that question is your choice, Mr. Anderson." Smith said, a mocking malice clear in his voice. "Your decision."

The door of a nearby home suddenly smashed open as the two agents poured out of the front door, guns drawn.

"Step away from the Virus, Neo Anderson," the taller agent ordered. "Now."

tbc


Next: Remembrance