It was a dream. But as I gaze upon the automated small lamp shining brightly at my face, with intense sweat moisturizing my back and legs, I keep asking the same questions I have asked myself after having this same dream again and again. What is that dream about? Is it a prophecy? Is it simply a harmless dream that contains a culmination of my fears of the future for myself, my people I am supposed to lead to freedom, and especially for my Trinity?

Four years ago, Morpheus recounted to me the prophecy of The One, the savior and founder of Zion, and his fall, with his promise to faithful that he would return one day, and defeat the ruling machines once and for all. With Agent Smith murdering me in the hallway, the only thoughts in my mind were simple. "I failed humanity, including her".

But then I rose after a bizarre, almost spiritual sensation swept my senses, and in defiance of my demise, I was ordered by this same aberration to stand up. My blood on my chest drips downward onto the digitally designed dirty floor as Smith and his Agents realized that I was not exterminated. Smith, in breaking of the stoic programming of the Agents, charged into me with the intent of finishing his assignment. However, he was not facing Thomas Anderson, or the would-be computer hacking rebel Neo. No, he is to be destroyed by The One. His demise confirmed, and with the other Agents running for their drone lives, I quickly ran to the mad little phone that won't quit ringing. As I transferred from the Matrix back onto the ship, I had a distant fleeting thought.

I love her, but does she share my feelings…

With the machine robotic predator destroyed by the EMP pulse immediately after my return, I opened my eyes to gaze upon hers. I had no clue until later that of the prophecies given by the Oracle to everyone, her message to Trinity was that her destiny laid in becoming a mate, once and forever, of the messiah. Me. Our fates intertwined with our first kiss.

That memory makes me grab one of my two weak pillows and hold onto it for a strong minute. I miss her smell, her presence, her warmth, and most of all, her comfort. I may have friends, followers, younger surrogate siblings, hell an actual family I never had in my days of slavery. However, she is my only true confidant that is honest with me, the only one who gives me comfort when our arms wrap around each other. She makes me believe that she is my personal savior.

I may destroy agents, be the focal point of hopes and dreams for the free remnants of humanity, and truly doing my Superman thing. But I'm powerless without her. She is my booze. She is my smack. I need my injection of Trinity now!

Without the mystery of the dream solved, nor Trinity within my grasp, I let go of the pillow and proceeded to get up. The light was programmed by the ship's automation system to wake up its crew to take over for their work shifts. It is my night shift, and I walk out of my officer quarters and down the silent hall down to the Operator's station. Even in his weakened state, Tank can still outmuscle any other Operator within Zion's fleet in endurance and stamina. However, he is no good to us with his energy spent.

I enter the station terminal, with Tank hearing my arrival. He graciously, rises from his chair and slowly limps away to his awaiting few hours of rest and dreams. Tank was a man that was always ready to perform his job, and whatever it took for the resistance movement. His spirit compensates for his wrecked-body. He makes major efforts to appear, save for the limp itself, totally ready to go at anytime. However, if you closely inspect his bottom jaw when he walks, it is obvious that despite his acting, he is still in pain.

After Cypher's betrayal of the cause, Tank barely survived a brutal charge from the traitor's electro-weapon. While he lived to help bring me back after my "resurrection", his wounds were severe and never quite healed, along with his mental state after his brother's murder by Cypher. I feel guilt fact that with my emergence as the One, the balance of the universal karma had to be maintained, and Dozer was dispatched as a result. Trinity and Tank try to assure me that it wasn't any of my fault, but doubt still remains within me. I had to lose in order to gain.

Operators, the free-borns within the hierarchy of Zion's militaristic society, take years to learn the thousands upon thousands of characters that make up the code of the Matrix. Save for recognizing a few Japanese characters, which there reversed state appear regularly within the code, I knew nothing. Yet now I can instantly recognize and visually describe in very fine detail the false jail of reality. To the Operators, it's probably the biggest puzzle to piece together on a consistent schedule.

To me, it is simply looking out the window. This is no real pleasure to me. Seeing this farm of a zoo, I feel like I'm watching sadistic torturing, beatings and bondage within the walled-in corridors of a prison cell. On second thought, the latter sounds more appropriate.