Eight

-

The first leg of her trip did much to assuage Trinity's fear of discovery, even as a different sort pressured her heart. For some reason or another, the Agent programs that were partly responsible for her becoming trapped here were either ignoring her, or were otherwise indisposed. A relief in a way- after last time, abandoning rational thought patterns further, to melt a hole in a wall or something, was the last thing she wanted to do.

She was on the edge, and even she knew it. One more trauma, one more session of embracing the mental chaos as she had done before, and it could be irreversible, mind forever unfit to return to any type of program without making the walls bleed. She owed it to Neo a hundred times over not to let that happen.

For the first time in twelve years, she had the chance to view the Matrix with greater acuity than a mere setting for missions. Hundreds of men, women, and children caught her eyes, none of them with that spark of acknowledgement that they knew the Matrix's secret.

From the very first sight, there was an invisible gap between them and her, in addition to the one she maintained out of necessity. Each person's eyes would give her and her outfit a cursory glance up and down, and hold whatever judgment they formulated behind closed eyes. Slut. Drunk. Young 'un. Wacko. Scary lady.

The impossibly tall buildings were no less imposing. If one knew what to look for, one could notice it- an invisible staleness, the artificiality, the freaky symmetry of it all. The endless windows copy/pasted hundreds of times to form a wall of pure reflective glass, which in turn was copy/pasted several hundred times… then, there were the intangibles, things she had felt when she was a young teen and could easily feel now. The reason why she had become a hacker in the first place.

If she had not… well, then she would still be part of that crowd milling before her. It took a fair bit of effort not to show a scorn for them that was entirely undeserved.

All this aside, she ought to be grateful that there were no sign of Agents.

Now fatigued in body as well as mind, she finally dared to stop moving around, sitting down on a dusty bench in a subway station. No one else was around, leaving her free to sit and think.

Scratch that, there was one person who would be joining her after all. Despite the heat, the Asian-looking man was wearing an overcoat of the whitest of white. He was young, probably just above Neo's age, with black specs like those used by Zionites or Agents. These were completely round, small, and seemed to conceal far more of his eyes than they should. Save for a healthier shade of black and an upturn at the front, the man's hair was identical to that of her father.

He must have seen her staring, because he took great care to sit as close to her as she would permit. "You are lost?"

Doubting this guy would just leave her to herself, she gave a dry chuckle. "You could say that."

His voice, at least, didn't surprise. It sounded distinctly Asian, both disciplined and wise. "I apologize. My name is Seraph."

She eyed him up, for the first time wondering if he was a plant like the one in the alley. Even then, a mere name couldn't get her in trouble down here. "…Trinity."

"No", Seraph spoke quizzically to the air before their bench. "I sense that is only a false identity. There is another name. But I will not fault you for hiding it- secrets are always kept for a reason."

Surprised at both Seraph's bluntness and ability to cut right to the heart of her problem. The name he was getting at- her birth name- was something she had always hated to think about. It could have very well been that she had secretly hoped that if she never spoke it, never saw it, never thought it again, it would disappear from existence. No such luck… and her father- whatever was left of him- had repeated it to her just a few hours ago.

Her father. Robert Peterson, who had obviously sold out his own people every bit as thoroughly as Cypher had. From what she remembered of him, he was every bit as supportive of authority as she was disdainful of it now. "I felt my other name wasn't appropriate, Seraph. I'm sure that isn't your real name either, or else you have weird parents."

Both of the young man's eyebrows rose in a curious reaction. "Why, then? Is there a difference between you, Trinity, and the person you once were?"

"Smart guy", she gradually admitted in humiliation. "You sound like my… foster dad. He spends a lot of time thinking about how our minds work too."

"I will choose to receive that as a compliment. But if I may ask again, why do you retreat from your past?"

She considered, watching a chain of lit subway cars flash past her shades and Seraph's. He certainly sounded trustworthy. But that didn't mean a damn thing. Even if this guy wasn't a plant, he would never believe the whole story. She chose to merely outline the events that had led her to this point. It was as though the entire station had gone quiet, waiting for her to speak her mind.

"Best way to put this is… I believed in a lot of falsehoods for the first thirteen years. I got hints of it, hints that are glaringly obvious to me now, but I still didn't catch it. I wanted to avoid ever being that gullible again. But now, the last bits of that life are dying, and it hurts inside. I want to touch it one last time to make sure it's there, but now I can't."

Seraph slowly nodded. "A familiar lament of man's change. You cannot bring with you that which you leave behind. It is, of course, up to you. But I suggest to find a way to say your farewells to this past before moving further forward."

She was struck by a suppressible urge to lash out. Her parents were gone, her friends moved on. They all believed the girl they knew had been kidnapped, and likely killed.

But she didn't need to say anything back. Seraph just smiled cryptically. "There is always a way."

It was the longest conversation she had for months about anything but business. For some absurd reason, it felt good.

-

A knock at the door alerted Neo to the fact that he was standing straight up in near complete darkness. "It's unlocked", he called weakly, "come on in."

Zee and Allison stood in the doorway, both noticing his position before he change it. Without waiting for permission, they both acted- Zee turned the lights on by hand, and Allison enthusiastically bowled Neo over.

To his relief, she both looked and felt better. From what he had heard and seen of Zion, he imagined such a place could be very rough on younger people, people who had just been unplugged. No way he could be imagining the unspoken tensions between those born here, like Tank, and those like him, who would always be marked by the dark metal plugs on their heads. That was part of the reason why he had not wanted Allison shuttled off the nursery like unwanted baggage, even if those responsible for her had other things keeping them occupied.

Once Alice had settled down and let him up, Zee felt more comfortable sitting on Neo's bed with him, and looking back at the closed hatch in awkward silence. "Not something you see very often", she ventured cautiously. "Most people I know keep their hatches locked shut."

Neo blinked. He didn't know whether to be surprised or resigned at this. "Do you?"

"No. Link trusts everyone here- not something I can say for myself. He says we shouldn't be strangers to each other, when we got so little left but that. Sometimes he's just…"

He didn't have to be The One to guess what came next. "Childish?"

"Yeah. Probably why he gets along with the kids so well." She shifted uncomfortably, remembering what had brought her here. "Link didn't say anything, but something went wrong on your last trip."

His turn to fidget in the face of the truth now. "Yeah. Trinity, she's… trapped."

Link's girlfriend was still much too realistic, still far too hardened by the loss of loved ones to laugh. But her eyes seemed to dilate, showing her feelings in another way. "That's what all this is for?"

"What do you mean?"

Now she stood up, catching his eye with such a hard gaze. "Neo", she tersely whispered his name for the first time he could ever recall, "you know… that we will never be friends. But I think you need to hear this, and Link doesn't have the guts to say it. I've known that wild girl a lot longer than you have. She's the baddest plug-head I ever did lay my eyes on."

Sensing his confusion, she massaged felt her forehead with one hand as though he was hopeless. "Trust her, alright? Don't act like she has to be rescued, or, or protected- in case you haven't noticed, she hates that. The Oracle might have said you two were meant to be together, but… if you keep this up, you'll be proving her damn wrong."

For a moment, his eyes flickered with the same riotous anger that had made him lash out at Morpheus. "She's in trouble. If I don't-"

Moving swiftly enough to remind him of his limitations back in the true world, she shushed him with a single slender finger, interrupting sarcastically: "Big tough 'One'. Here's something else I figure- we're all in trouble. Every one of us. We could all be dead tomorrow. So if you want to die a virgin buddy, just keep treating Trinity like a damsel in distress. This is her quarters- she can chuck you out when she gets sick of it."

Neo stared back down at the metal floor, thinking back to the dream he'd had the night before. Trapped in a false mockery of the world, chased down by Agents and shot in midair… he had never had any doubts he would stop at nothing to avail Trinity of that fate. But that vision was no more real than the Matrix itself- did it make him egotistical as Agent Smith to think his every dream a premonition?

"For someone who said we would never be friends", he murmured halfheartedly at the floor, "you're very persistent."

Rising back to her full height, Zee regarded him like she had Link whenever he spoke of the prophecy. "Geez. I have to be, to get through that thick, angsty skull of yours. Just think of it as a bit of guidance from your… Operator."

"Where is he now?"

"Sleeping, God bless him. He never sleeps when he's on that damned ship. Thinks he'll miss something important."

Back to her problems then, instead of his. "Two hours", he said after waiting a beat. "That's how long they said it would take to finish charging. And thanks."

He couldn't tell exactly how much time she had expected, or if any amount of time would have made a difference. This particular problem wasn't anywhere near simple enough to be solved so quickly. Perhaps it would only be after the war ended, that he could look at Zee without seeing accusation.

-

The amalgamation of minds that had once answered to Robert Peterson absently shoved the barrel of his gun into the collarbone of another greasy-haired intruder and pulled the trigger. "Game over."

A few meters away, Program 31B slowly stepped out from behind an iron girder partially bent by a previous impact from the fight. As always, he managed to look more dignified and composed than his new partner without even trying, only stopping to straighten his tie proper after tracking down and murdering his own target.

With his face and shades given a veil of glare by sunlight streaming through the windows of the building- a post office, by the looks of it- Program 67P kicked the corpse aside, holstered his gun and tilted his head in a most un-Agent like fashion. "Question. Do they all look like hippies?"

Brown grunted, refusing to look him in the eye. Either he didn't know the answer, or felt that this, like all the others, was a pointless inquiry designed merely to promote time-wasting conversation. Looking around and adjusting his headpiece as if it could mute Peterson's dry chuckle. "There were three of them when we arrived…"

"So let program 57J handle it."

In another subtle sign that he was on his last nerve- or, whatever passed for a program's nerves- in regards to Peterson's strange switch between Agent mind and the irrational mind of a human, Brown adjusted his shades. "He is completing the final stages of the plan for the removal of the anomaly. No one shall escape us."

Right on cue, the third one dropped down right in front of them, on the other side of the window, and bolted. Smugly beating Brown to it, Peterson sighed, then projected himself into yet another consciousness connected to the Matrix, a woman in a blue dress who was just about to round the corner into the Zionite…

The third one, a bearded man with ring earrings, never got to the end of the alleyway. Peterson finished the trip, and gripped the man's veiny neck with his left arm, cutting off all oxygen to his head for as long as needed for him to stop thrashing and lie very still.

Almost disappointing, he kept the thought hidden away from Brown. None of these are Neo, none of them can provide even the slightest challenge. For once, that may have been a sentiment echoed by both portions of his mind- no doubt Brown and Jones had long since become bored of the same routine. Or maybe they couldn't become bored. In any case, asking either of them about that would only provoke further contempt.

They might have assumed otherwise, but he was not ignorant to the telltale markings. Despite the fact that they were the ones that created him, he could sense the gradual ramping up of their doubt towards him with every Zionite he killed on his new 'job'. Enforcer programs were not meant to emote or speak unless necessary, were not meant to provide unnecessary quips while on duty. Such actions were projected to have an adverse effect on their intimidation factor, the image of a cold-coded killer, the validity of which had already been proven, yet the new Agent had done all of these things repeatedly without thinking.

Eyes locked onto him the whole time, Brown now emerged from the building and strode out onto the tarmac outside. "Mission complete."

Peterson surveyed the fresh corpse strewn beneath his shoes soles with false contempt. "Was there ever a doubt? I see now; the only reason you need me is to stop the anomaly. This… is child's play."

"It is our duty", Brown replied flatly. "Whether or not is it easy or hard, it must be done. It is our purpose."

He gave the same amused sigh as he had before, giving a nasty smile at the lie. "Don't give me that. Much as you would like to think it, you're not mindless automatons. You can think. You have developed personality. There's a difference."

For once, Brown did not have a sharp-tongued response to that beyond simple dislike. "Personality is detrimental to our purpose." he finally managed.

"And when the purpose is achieved? What then?"

It was Brown's turn to smirk at his colleagues' ignorance of the greater picture. "The purpose has never been achieved. There has only been the Reloading, during which we are no longer needed. If the purpose is achieved, the Reloading be rendered unnecessary."

Taken aback by this, Peterson stared at the empty basketball hoop at the end of the tarmac as though that was the final goal of the Reloading. "You don't value your existence at all, outside of the purpose?"

"That, program 67P, is the difference between us. You humans carry on as though your deaths were somehow preventable, doing everything you can- even after you cannot fulfill any purpose- to stay alive a moment longer, to desperately consume more food, more air, more liquid. Because of this pattern, your… predecessor, the late program 66S… came to the conclusion that humans are a virus." Brown did not specify whether or not he believed that conclusion.

Peterson thought that over. Of course he'd never met program 66S in person, only heard of his bizarre fixations from the other two- more proof of personality. Like himself, they had begun to privately doubt that program's sanity before his demise. The 60 series, it seemed to him, had a problem with their programs becoming erratic- crazy.

"You forget", he slowly answered, "I am no longer human. But neither am I entirely a program. But both of my halves can think. They are both deserving of life."

Chagrined, Brown looked as though he was about to say something more, but suddenly stopped, touched his earpiece tentatively. Peterson nodded. "I sensed it too. The anomaly has returned. It's showtime."

"Unnecessary", Brown acknowledged that last sentence, already tracking their target's entry into the system. "But an apt analogy."

-

It had taken Trinity far longer than she had expected to find her old home. The journey had taken her though a sea of coppertops, all of whom seemed to know the city in which they lived better than she did- not a good sign.

But here it was. A modest, two-story house with red shingles, such a contrast to the array of gadgetry inside. In her youth, she had always wanted to collect electronics, not realizing exactly why. While each of them was now caked with dust and cobwebs, the assemblage of yesterday's tech she had collected remained, all together in her room upstairs.

She knew she mother had lived alone and died here, possibly right here in this very room. For twelve years, Libby Peterson would have spent her life here wondering where her daughter had been taken, whether she was even alive.

Looking at the cracked windows of her former home- vandalism was a fact of life in her neighborhood- she sagged. I'm alive, mom. I just wish you could have known.

The power had, of course, been cut; only the sun's rays were keeping the rooms free of darkness. Staring at her reflection- her melting reflection- on one of her computer screens, she finally admitted to herself that nothing had happened. "Shit."

She had been an idiot to think returning home would solve this. But all it had done was drive home more memories of her old life, nothing that could fix her up, or release the pressure inside.

Unable to look at it any longer, she kicked her old desk mightily, knocking over completely and jarring half of the electronics, smashing one of the screens… and knocking a piece of yellow stationary into the dust-choked air.

Strange. The memories were naturally fuzzy, but she couldn't recall ever writing the note that was falling to the floor before her now. It looked to be about a page long, and it was written in ink, in cursive writing. She hated cursive writing.

Slowly, carefully, as a thief might open a safe, she walked over and picked it up, held it at arms length to prevent it from melting.

AnneMarie,

If you are reading this, it means I was wrong. It means you are still alive, that you still remember me, and that you returned here as I had hoped you would someday.

In that case, I should first apologize: I lost hope. Like your father, I didn't think you would ever find a way back. I feared you were dead. So I am so very sorry for any grief I may have caused you. As for the grief you think you may have caused me… think nothing of it. I raised you, AnneMarie, and I know you would have returned if you could have.

I should also tell you that I finally sensed it. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. The Matrix, I believe you and your hacker friends called it. It took me a while, but I saw it. I imagine that you have as well. If what I suspected is true, then you have already found yourself a calling greater than anyone could have dreamed. So I would like to say that I am very proud of you for that. Robert is too, even if he doesn't show it.

I know you don't like repetition. So don't need to reiterate even if I want to. If this is your life's ambition, then you have my complete support, and I know that you will grow up to become a fine young woman. Even if I am wrong once again, even if I'm mistaken in any of these areas, the fact remains that you are my daughter, AnneMarie. I will always love you.

Libby M. Peterson

PS: You may have noticed that your battery-powered fridge is missing. I put it downstairs along with your favorite kind of sandwich, for old times' sake. XOXOXO…

She read the letter over once again before footsteps on rotting wood came echoing through the upstairs hallway. "Trinity", Neo said carefully, leaning into the room. "It's me. Are you ready?"

Once again forcing back tears, she folded up the note, placed it in her pocket. "Almost. Just feeling a bit hungry."

-

The walk to the hardline was blissfully peaceful- no attacks, no one staring. The sight of this street vacant save for dust and cars was one more familiar sight to Trinity, possibly the last sight of her old home. So for once, she did not walk at a half-jog, as if she would rather be anywhere but here. Instead, she enjoyed a slow walk with Neo, undisturbed by any question he might have had about her condition. Nothing melted.

"Patch said it could be a lot of things", he said absently. "Are you sure you're fine?"

"Positive."

"But you're actually smiling." He sounded incredulous.

This realization of course, just made her smile a bit more. "Just glad to be done with all of that. It'll be good to get out of here, leave all this behind."

Neo waited for a moment, then gave it his best guess. "Was it Cypher? Was it what he said to you?"

She shook her head casually, not wanting Neo to get angry with a man who was long dead, even if what Cypher had said had contributed to her problem. "I don't want to talk about him. How are the others?"

Closing his eyes for a moment, Neo pointed at the closest phone line- a payphone on the nearest curb. "You can see for yourself. They're all waiting for you. Even Allison."

"Even Allison?"

"She stowed away on the ship. Guess she was worried about you."

One more step, then. All she had to do was clasp the piece to her ear, and she would be back among friends. Feeling reborn, she let Neo offer her the piece first, for once not caring that he was looking out for her. A surge of noise, a familiar rush of sensation, and she was out.

Because of this, she was the first of the two of them to see what awaited them on the other side of the line. What met her eyes was not the Nebuchadnezzar, nor the warm eyes of Morpheus, Link, Allison, and Neo.

"Whoa!"

What met her senses, and Neo's shortly after… was a trap.

---

M: I'mglad to have finally gotthe famous'Whoa' into this, just as I'm glad to see reviewers withintelligent observations about the ideas promoted here. Anyways,a lot of conversations in this chapter-it's easy to tell that I'm gearing up for the bigfinale. Filled with both extremefighting and dialogue, it will probably consist of the next two chapters, making an even ten, just like my Star Wars fic, which is sort of following the same format.

Hardest part of this chapter was the letter that Trinity's mother wrote- like withZee,it's difficult to balance her sentimentality with serious acknowledgement that she may have been right.