Chapter 4 – Perception
Disclaimer: See Chapter 3
A/n: What can I say? Simply: Sorry for the very very long wait but I was only at home for long enough to get my GCSE results before I was away again! And only now have I finally had time to write. : (
Ana Gardner sat, attentive, at the back of the Physics classroom. Well, at least she looked attentive. Inside her head, her thoughts were still a hurricane. In front of her, she could see the backs of the other pupils' heads. Blonde, brunette, redhead. Curly, wavy, straight.
Some were slumped over their desks, doodling on their exercise books or the pale wood of the desks. Others were writing away furiously as the teacher at the front indicated diagrams on the board with a long wooden ruler. Unusually for Ana, she was not doing this. She was sitting perfectly still. The walls around her were plastered with brightly coloured posters all explaining different equations and diagrams. A couple of plastic structures lay on the side tables, from an earlier lesson, demonstrating the structure of the atom. At the front of the class, the teacher's desk was heaving with piles of books, some with pages coming loose. Ana saw nothing of this. She was thinking, that when she had one of her 'episodes', it didn't feel like falling asleep, it felt like waking up. But that was back-to-front, wasn't it?
"Miss Gardner, what is Newton's Second Law?"
The teacher's sharp voice brought her out of her thoughts with a small but guilty jump. Fortunately, she knew this so well; she could have recited it backwards.
"An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force."
"Very good, Miss Gardner. Now, Mr Brown…"
The teacher's attention shifted onto another pupil, and Ana felt a hot rush of guilt and shame. She should be concentrating on her work, not some stupid idea about sleeping. She had her GCSE exams in 3 weeks, and it was important to concentrate. Bending over her book, she began to write.
Trinity pushed the operator's chair back, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. Her joints were stiff and aching from sitting still for such a long time. She was out of shape, when she had solved this little mystery she would get back into the Construct and focus on the things that really mattered. That extra ounce of strength could be all it took between life and death. Agents didn't take any prisoners.
This was her third day of watching the girl, and yet she still didn't understand. Every time Trinity was just about to convince herself the girl was normal and go and prove Morpheus wrong, it would happen again. The slightest thing. Almost like a glitch in the Matrix around this girl. No, thought Trinity to herself. More like a shift. Like water parting to fold around a diver, to quickly settle with no trace of a disturbance.
But the ripples were getting bigger. Every time it happened, it was clearer to Trinity. And despite herself, she was worried. Whatever this meant for the girl, it was inevitable that someone else would notice it before long. The Architect had no time for imperfections.
But she could do no more. She had found out everything possible about Ana, from her favourite flavour of ice cream to the shoes she wore last Christmas. Everything. She had even scanned the histories of all her relatives, going back as far as 1800, Matrix time. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing to set her apart from the billions of other people living their 'lives' in the Matrix. Being clever was not enough. Hell, she herself was clever, but she had more than that. She had a hunger for the truth.
All she could do now was report to Morpheus on what she knew, and then wait to see what happened.
Hearing approaching footsteps, Trinity glanced one last time over the mass of computer screens. Swinging the chair around, she turned to face Switch and rose slowly but gracefully from the chair. Trinity raised a dark eyebrow and tipped her head to the side, highlighting her angular jaw in the low light.
"It's all yours".
Switch gave Trinity a penetrating stare, her icy blue eyes flickering with a hint of worry, but said nothing. Trinity gave a quick, non-committal smile before moving away with the loping, easy stride of a natural athlete. Switch watched her go. She sank into the seat, frozen in thought for a few moments, before turning to the screens and beginning to type.
Trinity halted outside a smooth iron door and knocked. Morpheus spoke from
within.
"Come in, Trinity".
His voice was deep and rich. For some reason, it always reminded Trinity of autumn. It seemed to encapsulate all the different shades of brown, red, yellow and orange that could be found. To her, it represented a great power and strength, mixed with temperance and wisdom. Feeling distinctly calmer, she opened the door.
"… and her mother is Irish, from the County of Sligo. Her maiden name was Niamh Kelly. Kelly is taken from ó Ceallaigh, which means 'bright-headed'. Her father is Gwyn Gardner. Gwyn means 'white, fair or blessed'. His family were originally English, but moved to Wales 10 years before he was born."
Trinity finally completed her report to Morpheus. She stood completely still, taking deep breaths, but her eyes never left his face. Morpheus was also still. Just when Trinity almost believed he was not going to move, his lips curved up into a knowing smile.
"Excellent. Your memory, talent and perception are as strong as ever."
"But?"
"But… unfortunately, none of this matters. It does not matter where she was born, or what she has done. It does not matter what she is. It is who she is that will be important."
Trinity knew Morpheus well enough to understand that he was not insulting her, he was merely trying to explain what he believed. But still she was confused.
"I know, you said that before, but I still don't understand."
Morpheus took in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, his eyes holding hers. "This is something that cannot be explained. I will show you."
Standing, he gestured with one hand for her to follow, and swept out and down the hallway.
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