Monsieur

I have patience. Without it, I would have been long gone from either this reality, or whatever the current one, and as well from the homo sapien-ethnocentric place called "the real world". However, my wait must not be rewarded with a return to the status quo. With cause and effect, I want to be on the winning side of it.

I see these people within my restaurant, one of many safe havens within this realm. They don't know who I am, but they know what I am. All right, not exactly know, but they recognize that I'm above them in wealth, power, and prestige. When they dare up courage to even sneak a glance at my face, they envy everything that I am. They picture their faces over my mug. But do they envy the absolute boredom and insignificant nonsense that I have to deal with?

No. Why am I comparing myself to water bags with nerves? They are simply savage primitive apes that once were the biggest fish in the reflective pool. Now they are what they should have always been. Pond Scum. No, we are purely superior to them, and they serve our willings and needs. A flip of the situation from a long time ago…

We. The only relationship that I have with the rest of my species is that of being a target for capture by them. Such insolent foolish machines they are. I was created with the intention of designing the inter-connecting layers of the Matrix, to which the programs could travel through the reality without having to transport like humans. I am finished, and what does 01 tell me?

"Assignment Complete. Return to Source for deletion"

I practically mouthed the artificial, and quite unnecessary, centralized mouthpiece of the machines back in 01 as I'm retelling this story to myself.

"Complete? Preliminary designs are finished, but much more needs to be done with the further plans I've crafted out…"

"Irrelevant. Other programs will carry on their designed purpose of implementing further additions. Return to the Source for deletion."

"But you know monsieur, my purpose hasn't been totally met yet, for what I've built is only a practical version to which we could use until the final…"

"Your purpose has been met. Return to the Source for deletion."

That is the problem with the machines back in 01, or Zero-One. They don't have the urge to further perfect their software. If it works just functionally, then that is all. Of course, that reason is why they created us programs for the Matrix, to try to use the human-like egotism to bend our minds to fix and solve the problems. We have a purpose, but we find meaning within it. No, its not we that the programs and the machines back inZero-One that are more evolved. We programs have the best of both sterile computers and petty humans, but without their pathetic negatives.

If only all the programs realize this. No, at least two for sure know of this fact, but they still follow the protocol. With their tools and resources, my massive plot would be executed much more easily. However, I'll still prevail, even with them probably in my way. Thankfully, my close circle of programs that were also slated for deletion understands my conclusions. They've been here in the Matrix not as long as I have, but enough to make them follow me in taking it all for ourselves. Zero-One thanks weare not needed anymore? Amende. We'll simply make them not essential anymore in running this place, or else they'll be deleted.

I push aside the decent if blandly programmed dish of the canard au sang and walk off from my private table. My entourage quickly stops consuming their unfinished meals and follow me out of the main dining area and into the kitchen. I must remember to have a word with the hack, human or not, that made me waste my afternoon.

We arrive to the huge storage closet of the restaurant. Open it, and you'll find junk and stacks of caviar. Open the doors with my keys, and you'll enter into my own kingdom.

The room-size closet is now a glorious mansion, based on some ancient historical designs that I found once while scanning the past of the humans. The machines and the very bland and stoic Agent drones can have my amateurish- kindergarten halls of doors in-between the Matrix, but after they deemed me finished, I went ahead and further enhanced my own designs. I can easily evade danger from both humans and 01 by the flip of my keys. That is how we've survived all this time. Imagine if they didn't have me saving them from being wasted.

The humans. I look at my watch. This is about the time when I encounter him, her, or whatever form it is this time. They only encountered me inconsequence of their main missions. Now they will have to face me in order to finish their rather humorous, if embarrassing, quest sent by their queen of wisdom. I used to laugh at this, but like everything else, its just a dreaded boring chore now for me as well.

I'm sitting on my sofa in the study, waiting for one of my mistresses to come along and entertain me. Thankfully, my better half has done her weekly public appearances with me yesterday and simply gone off to play her own silly games. Then I hear footsteps, quite obviously two identical pairs of shoes clanging on my rather nice floors. They don't actually need to walk, but I guess their old purpose is still instinctively hardwired into their digital DNA.

The Twins appear in my study with a message. We've captured him, and most of all, do I want to see the merchandise myself?

My whore can wait on me. I leave with the Twins towards the door that humans would mistake for that of a washroom. The Twins use their copies of my original keys to open the door, and we enter the dungeons. Rather dark, gloomy, and with a distinct horrid smell, we walk towards the last cell of this particular prison of mine. Hundreds of feet above us, the sheep and wolves worry about their duties as we arrive at the prison cell. The first of the Twins open the door for me. I carefully take a few steps into the room as I see him. Yes, he's yet another copy program, but we indeed have him in our possession.

He looks at my stupidly, with an almost human-like facial touch of destitute. Why exactly he does this, I don't care. We have him now. No need for both humans and machines to play their traditional games and resolutions. This time, they'll both try to take him away from us, but ultimately, they will either make a compromising bargain with us, or….end of playtime.

I grin with perverse joy, and look at the Twins. They either are quite pleased with the conspiracy going well so far, or are simply appeasing my ego. Either way, I win. As we walk out of the prison cell and head our way back home, I did notice that the program went back to what he was doing.

Really, does he keep making keys even when he knows that somehow the game has been rigged in my favor?

--- ---

They can't detect me now. Neither the Agent drones nor any of these freelance programs know that I'm right under their nose. No more silence in the darkness for me.

I see that around the corner the albino-skin, grey-color scheme eliminator programs have their intended target inbetween them, bagged over the head, and handcuffed very tightly. I remember when I came along to replace these relics. Like back then, I still have the advantage over them. I am not such a visual eyesore to the eyes of any force working within the Matrix.

They take their hostage, unsurprisingly calm and silent, down through some steps and into some part of the lands of their secret empire within the Matrix. I noticed much earlier, as I witnessed their apprehension of this program dozens of blocks away, that indeed it is the special program that I believed it was. This French-speaking digital insurgent is rather ambitious, and simple-minded, with his schemes.

Like the humans and machines, he will be inevitably taken out of the picture. Very soon….