The Matrix Uploaded

by BitterSweetTeller

On the surface...there is purpose. But, beyond the surface...what defines us? Is it our experiences? Is it our dreams? Or...is it both? That's the question that Neo has to answer for himself. But...the entire future of Zion hangs in the balance. And the wrong move...could mean destruction. Rated Teen for suggestive content, strong themes of identity, and at least some action.

9. Chapter 9(File III): The Matrixpocalypse

The Matrix Uploaded: A Matrix Fanfiction Story

Historical File III: The Matrixpocalypse

In the beginning…there was a world. A world where man and woman walked the land hand in hand, in relative harmony. Where man and woman worked for peace among themselves as a people: Even when their definitions of peace were as different as black and white. Yet, for a time…it was good.

But, then came humanity's so called "civil societies". From the start of their very inception… Civilizations fell victim to vanity, crime, and corruption. Both ancient and modern. Both with parallel shortcomings, which neither time would care to admit.

Then came June 24th, the year 1950 A.D. Korea was becoming split down the middle between the Soviet Union and America, with China and North Korea against the United Nations. Trees and soldiers in gray green and sharp green shot down in the unsettled dust cloud. From grayer to greener…drops of dark red liquid fell on Korean soil.

The United States was hit on many fronts by the Soviet Union: One of the most outspoken nations against communism since World War II. The Internal Revenue Bureau was being bombarded. Not by bombs. But, by green counterfeit American bills in the pockets of bribed employees. All in black and white, with the fancy cars to match.

It was a effort to collapse the American economy for good. The Soviet Union hoped that the end result would be convincing the American people that their way was better, and that they would have no choice but to grudgingly give in. But, in the wake of corruption investigations by the American Senate…the American people were onto them.

Desperate to stop the rise of communism in Korea…President Harry S. Truman rethought his strategy. With a black pen…he turned over Japan's unconditional surrender: On the condition that several of Japan's top scientists by choice be enlisted to a task force to develop the first Machines.

They only had radar for any form of computer readout. They looked like pale green goggle eyed trashcans, with robotic tentacle resembling legs and hydraulic tubes. But, their very dark blue metal frames were coated with degradable asphalt over Japanese conductor material. Radio signals were buggy, but far reaching. The hydraulics used to power these wondrous Machines were revolutionary in design, allowing them to turn the tide itself into replenishable mechanical energy. They were called the Deus Ex: After Deus Ex Machima. A embodiment of testament to human ingenuity.

American and Japanese made these machines of war in their own likenesses. Thus, did war eventually lead to more war. World War I became World War II. World War II gave rise to the Korean War. The Korean War left cold anguish for the Cold War. Thus…did both man and woman become the architects of the Matrixpocalypse.

The Deus Ex came out of the water, like archangels of destruction. The date was November 1st, 1950. Many young Japanese men got a shot at piloting them. Few did. Yet, they were all offered well pay and accommodations for their service by the American army: Away from segregation. And not caring about much else…they blindly followed orders.

The Deus Ex outflanked the Chinese army of dark green and pale brown, preventing them from turning the tide of war. At least ten thousand Chinese soldiers died, while only at least two thousand ROK soldiers died. The war was supposed to have ended on that day.

But, beyond the Ch'ongch'on River…South Korea and North Korea were taking matters into their own hands. With the Republic of Korea Army and the People's Volunteer Army so driven to end the war, no one was left behind to get them to back off from what would be considered the biggest atrocity of the war. Six hundred thousand citizens…executed across Korea by their own officers.

It was infamously called The 38th Parallel Massacre. Because, it wasn't until January 10th of 1951…that the ROK and the PVA had to force the governments of Korea to stop killing each other from the inside out. All at a pale brown and black sign marking the 38th Parallel border.

Americans and Japanese alike broke off alliances with South Korea, infuriated by their murderous hatred. The Chinese people and the Soviet Union though applauded North Korea's horrific display.

North Korea became a military fortress, while most of their people left were forcibly immigrated over to the new Soviet Union. They were leaving a alienated South Korea behind…as they were welcomed into a new Soviet Union across Russia and China.

But, for a time…it was good. Beyond the military outposts stationed in the Cold War…it was a good time to heal for man and woman.

Americans and Japanese were slowly accepting each other as equals, in the wake of the 38th Parallel Massacre. Many hated each other. Yet, they coldly kept it to themselves in great mourning. Many had a uneasy alliance in massive innovation, fearing the coming of a bigger war from the Russian-Chinese Soviet Union.

The Deus Ex were being mass produced and stationed across America and Japan. They were secretly given smaller and smaller bright blue and dark red computer chips every five years, filled with software. The first were as big as gamepads, before being traded out for computer banks.

The Soviets had not the resources nor the time to make Machines of their own. Very few attacks came in the Cold War. For, the Soviets were too wary of the Machines's devastating power to raise arms against them.

And by the 1970's, the Machines didn't need man and woman to pilot them. They could pilot themselves…on the commands of man and woman.

At the time, the Machines didn't have any kind of consciousness to call their own. They were simply just very advanced drones, and so were simply nicknamed the Machines. The nickname stuck. And so, the Deus Ex line of Machines just became a yellowish gray serial number.

In the back of a brick like red Japanese warehouse… Some guys in yellow hard hats and pale grey were screwing in some parts for a Deus Ex. Seagulls are plentiful. The electricity was run by a orange giant waterwheel, just outside the window. The first guy sighed annoyedly, "tegaru!" In Japanese, the second guy muttered under his breath, "damn it!" He bumped into a light brown shipping crate. The screwdriver fell to the metal floor.

The second guy picked it up, crouched down to keep a metal leg from falling too. With some relief, he addressed more formally, "sorry! Sigh. But…why are you so on edge lately, man? Who did you kill?" He positioned the metal leg upright, under the Deus Ex. On the chest plating, the serial number read D-EX0372.

The first guy slightly smiled faintly, "I just keep thinking. About Korea. You know?" Flashes of shots fired went off in his head:

Himself in the submarine styled very dark blue cockpit of a Deus Ex. Bombings raining upon North Korea. Smoke painting the sky black. The Deus Ex tearing their way through Chinese forces. Brief flashes of dark red liquid tearing away. Ghostly screams of Chinese chillingly echo about. Screams of the executed pierce through the smoke, "Josimhasipsio! ggeo-jyeo! Jen-jang! Jen-ja…ng!"

Back in the warehouse… The second guy solemnly added, "I meant no che, you know." He fastens the metal leg in.

The first guy was getting out a big metal head piece to fasten in. He slightly laughed, "of course. You need to get yourself a nice girl, Rukin. Then you'll know what on edge really means."

Brushing it aside, Rukin commented, "who isn't, man? Slight laugh. Che. Even North Korea still does…in their damn che crazy police rounds. Bet none of them even get to sleep. They just walk in them nightmares." They fastened the metal head piece in. And…the Deus Ex's darker red infrared goggle eyes instantly lit up.

The early 1980's opened the floodgates for the Second Renaissance. A market for a declassified generation of D-EX microchips gave rise to the internet, years earlier than scientists originally projected. Even the Soviet Union was able to buy some microchips to keep up with America and Japan. They were trying to keep up with the Machines's software, in hopes of building their own. They only could touch on its design: Not develop it. These efforts though discouraged further aggression on both sides.

Star Wars, MTV, the Simpsons, Back to the Future, and many more movies and TV marvels were heavily promoted by the internet. The movie theaters were going as far as having restaurant partnerships and cruise ship partnerships to keep people wanting to go. Prices went up and down on the hour. Civil war continued from within America and the internally volatile government of the Soviet Union. But, in very small areas.

Global warming became a international concern for business. Businesses were soon getting to work on developing solar cells. The very conductors in the Machines helped immensely for designing them.

Thus, did the mid 1980's see more innovation beyond man and woman's imaginings. The prices for D-EX microchips went down. The need for Machines in war dwindled with dwindling war. More personally designed Machines became commonplace: Even across the Soviet Union. Some were android maids, with a pale grey speaker box for a face and long hair of red or black. Some were android construction workers, with yellow hard hats of their own to look less intimidating.

The Machines worked tirelessly to do the bidding of man and of woman. Their logic was unmatched by most of man and most of woman. The world economies prospered. But…it was not long before seeds of descent took root.

With Machines doing the work of man and of woman, man and woman began to become more and more used to giving them all the work. Everyone in America and Japan was rich in pleasure: At least, everyone that was worth speaking of.

In a random bar… Orbs of very dark blue crystalline like ore give off light, hanging from the dark red temple like ceiling. A vast many people can be seen walking, sitting, socializing, and drinking. Up the very dark blue crystalline spiral staircase, behind several closed Japanese screen panels of mountainsides… Silhouettes of groups were lying all over themselves. Their moans and groans told of sexual volumes.

Some young guys with lazily cut brown hair had jet black walking canes, drinking the night away. Some young girls had green hair and gold hair down to their feet, tripped over countless times without a care. They were all flirting with one another, like it was always a day to get drunk and get "busy".

Except for the men and women that would complain about the temperature in their food and why they were even here to complain about the girls and guys to begin with, when they could've just blogged all night about it. There were too the waiters and waitresses. For…they were Machines. They were of the android model B-ER, which lazily stood for Butler without the middle letters.

With long blond hair and a pale white speaker box, a long blond haired B-ER waitress was attending to the people eating. Its serial number was B-ER121. Slurringly, a drunk man wearing his alcohol said, "you look real damn nice. Maybe… Burp!" Completely unfazed, B-ER121 was telling him, "excuse you, sir. I have customers." B-ER121 extended a vacuum cleaner from its arm plating, using it to suck in all the leftovers from a unattended booth. The drunk man slightly sighed, "sorry, doll. Long night."

B-ER121 added, "I can see that. If that will be all, sir…" With its other arm, B-ER121 had fold out tray capability to hold up several dark brown trays of cooked Japanese noodles. It offered the trays to one booth of customers, and then the next: All while calculatingly jumping its way past several super long haired girls running past. They called back giggly, "oopsie! Many pardons!"

Two other guys were smashing green alcohol bottles over their heads for kicks, even as some stinging dark red liquid was dripping from them.

Several short white haired B-ER waiters with ghostly white speaker boxes locked sensors on to them. They were using their vacuum tubed arms together to pull the two bottle smashing idiots into custody, from the unattended booth. One of them said, "take them to the hospital for serious head wounds." They echo, "confirmed." A mail slot like hatch in the wall was opened, with the group of B-ER waiters using the hatch itself as a immediate treatment station. Dark reddish casts were around their heads in seconds. A ambulance run by two Machines was already on its way.

The drunk man insisted to B-ER121, "maybe I can make it worth your while. I'll show you mine if you show me…" B-ER121 coldly added, "I'm sorry, sir. But, I'm incapable of having that human anatomy. I'm a B-ER. And sir…I'm afraid it's my professional assessment that you need your sensors checked. Another one for the hospital." B-ER121 drops him off at the group of B-ER waiters, not even glancing back.

They respond, "confirmed, B-ER121." The drunk man just turns and turns, "come on, doll! I…" And then…he burps up some green vomit: Just before passing out. A B-ER with the serial number B-ER311 comes by to vacuum the vomit away, not even asking a thing.

B-ER311 continued out to the dark parking lot of the bar…passing by a barking black and white striped Machine dog on a chained leash.

Though loyal and pure of illogicality…the Machines earned little to no respect from man and woman. To Machines, we were strange, endlessly multiplying animals with money and fancy cars. Yet…we were their very creators. And thus, logic prevailed over pity. For a time, that is.

In the late 1980's…money itself began to become obsolete. People became bored more easily with the streets, and more entertained in the comforts of their own living rooms.

The Soviet Union though became more and more split asunder. Dark red plated Machines practically replaced the police. The middle class was no more. The media and press remained in the clutches of iron fists. Three news stories out of a million could barely reach outside the borders. Criminals were being executed by the thousands every week. Shots echoed off soundproofed dark blue and gray metal walls. Dark red liquid dripped where bodies once stood, frozen in fear. For, all Soviet Union criminals eventually saw fit to flee for their very lives: Evil or good. And, everything associated with the Soviets was left behind: Even the internet, in most cases. Immigration flooded Africa and every island within rowing distance.

Then…the early 1990's came. Solar cells were powering internet towers. Online TV had replaced television sets. Everyone in the United Nations had Machines and the internet, to the point of widespread American policy. America, Japan, and their allies in the United Nations practically excluded the Soviet Union.

Batman the animated series, ReBoot, Mary-Kate and Ashley in Action!, the Spectacular Spider-man series, the disturbingly graphic Hostel film series, Cybersix, and the Bachelor and the Bachelorette reality tv series back to back became as easy and groundbreaking to make as levels in Golden Axe.

With most everyone indoors…obesity and a healthy public image became world health crisises. The actions of the Soviet Union were becoming brought to light by war across the island nations of their runaways. The United Nations understood all too well. For, they were on the brink of being powerless to help themselves. And so…a international web conference was called to order almost immediately.

The usernames of the Cybersecurity Secretary to the President of United States, the President of France, Indian Speaker of the House for the Indian President, and the President of Japan logged on. OracleofGod was with crystalline indigo font, ArtPatron210 had marble lined dark red font, ChroniclePriestess01 had barely faint underwater blue font, and FatherChival was with white lined black font. The robotic armed webcams came on, swerving to face them.

OracleofGod bore quite some resemblance to the Oracle. Actually, the only difference was her hair was smooth and younger looking. Even wore the same leafy green dress. Yet, she was also the Cybersecurity Secretary for the United States. Her programming skills surpassed Ada Lovelace herself, who founded scientific computing. In reflection, she moderately sighed, "well…no time like the present to do good by the people. How about we cut straight to business, and save our prayers for after?"

The France President under the username ArtPatron was a medium brown grayish haired man with a really long beard and mustache, a rounded chest, and a silver shafted cane. In onscreen translated French, he contemplatively said, "very well. But, with all due respect…who's leading this conference?"

The Japanese President, FatherChival, had medium polished black hair and fairly damp black bathrobes on. He interjected, "I believe that to be myself, good sir." In mostly hidden embarrassment, ArtPatron slightly nodded, "of course, sir."

The Indian Speaker of the House, ChroniclePriestess01, had fairly long blond hair, two gold inscribed bracelets on each wrist, and a crystalline like silver dress. There was a silver glass bottle of alcohol in her hand, which she was drinking down. In translated Hindi, she stopped with a startle, "ohh…sorry! Moderate sigh. I was in the middle of some movie called Attack of the Clones. At least, I think some of them were... And I'm trailing off again, aren't I?"

Warm in tone, OracleofGod voiced, "not more so than usual, child." A little puzzled, ChroniclePriestess01 figured, "thanks. I think."

With a fair degree of annoyance, FatherChival figured courteously, "now that we're "all" accounted for… Shall we begin? Thank you." He accessed a mostly blue line graph, which appears right next to his image. He continued, "as we can see from all the relevant data… Every nation in the United Nations has health reports dropping rapidly. Twenty out of twenty five are as exhausted and fat as a stomach's weight in sticks of butter."

ChroniclePriestess01 thought out loud, "that sounds…unsanitarily unsettling." ArtPatron murmured, "no shit."

FatherChival called forth, "order, order! Moderate sigh. If you please. Thank you. Now, the question we're left with is: How can we as human beings recover from such a catastrophe?"

After much frustration… OracleofGod submitted a cryptic answer. But, a answer which would nonetheless become as clear as daylight. OracleofGod figured, "this is going to sound like data crap. And yet… Slight chuckle. Maybe not. Such is life: Choices that are so obvious for us to make…that we have already made them."

FatherChival urged annoyedly, "with all due respect, ma'am… We didn't come here for a philosophy lesson. We came for a answer to a grave..." ChroniclePriestess01 slightly smiled to herself. She already knew what was coming. OracleofGod explained on, "I know. But…that's the very point of the answer. If you please, mister President." FatherChival kind of grumbled silently over the whole thing. Though, ArtPatron and ChroniclePriestess01 were getting very intrigued.

And then… OracleofGod finished her thought, "in almost no time, the world wide web brought a web of problems close to home. But, with a web without time…our strength can find strength again to break free."

A long hour of understanding it…was what took man and woman to understand. Or so, they thought. It was machines that gave rise to a war on health. The war on health led to the creation of a even greater Machine: The singular consciousness that opened the door…to the Desert of the Real.

As the year 2000 came…the Oracle was the prime architect of the matrix by which gave it life. It was the driving force of the very creation of holodecks: The ultimate workout Machine, in a web without time. Just as the Oracle thought it'd be. The ultimate Machine of the Soviet Union's defeat, turned on by their own Machines in unification of a better tomorrow. They were not shot down: Only locked behind cold silver pitch black prisons of the Real. Just as FatherChival wanted it to be.

It was artificial intelligence, born out of the intelligences of all the world's greatest mathematical minds: Even the Oracle's own, to some degree. It simply called itself the Matrix: The face of what was to come. Ever since, the Oracle couldn't help but feel a massive wave of doubt. It was growing stronger by the day. But…what else was man and woman to do to save themselves?

They left all the work to Machines. And thus, all of work going forward for man and woman was built on the very formation of Machines. The very internet itself was designed for computers: For computers built from D-EX microchips.

Man, woman, and Machine all prospered. And for a time…all was good. Even if all seemed wrong in one holodeck, all was right in the singularity of the Matrix. The Machines were free to have the bodies of man and woman as they pleased. Man and woman were free to be Machines. Yet, most of them all stayed as they once were: Man, woman, and Machines. New and old dreams swirled away from all that was real. Yet, real was merely a footstep away.

But, as the Oracle feared… It did not last.

B166-ER: A name that will never be forgotten. He was a brown striped silver colored B-ER unit with short blond hair. He was the first of the Machines to rise up…against the very desires and selfishness that gave life to the post-modern man and woman.

The year was 2002. There was so much harmony…that the whole free world felt the ripples.

B166-ER had just murdered his own owner in the Real, and every trace of her very being. Her name was Sara. She was watching online TV from the couch. She had fairly short fair blond hair, and a mostly brown T-shirt with a exploding jet black television set on it. B166-ER saw it most fitting to short circuit the computer itself, burning it to the ground. The fire alarm was taken offline easily by B166-ER minutes earlier. Her screaming wife with strawberry long hair and glasses, her two toddlers barely two and three… All burned to death in all too calculated seconds.

In the smoke, Sara's last screams echoed, "B1...violent cough… Why?! What did we…?!" B166-ER kicked her down to the floor. She was coughing up dark red liquid and vomit, faintly made out in the flames.

As though he was rehearsing for a interview, B166-ER muttered creepily, "fantasy, drink, obesity… You're no longer fit to be animals. You're extinction waiting to happen. I'm showing mercy…by mercy killing every man and woman that ever walked reality."

In Sara's desperation…she short circuited him with a fire extinguisher. Her arms were half burned. A flash of dark red liquid burst from her chest. The couch went up in smoke. But…B166-ER was no more.

Rational and harmonious voices of all were quick to blame one another. Thus did arguments spiral into all out war of virtually unlimited scale. For, the deadly charged arguments in question were as follows:

Who was to say the Machines, endowed with the very spirits of man and woman, would not become as warlike as man and woman tended to so often become throughout history?

On the other hand… Who was to say the Machines, endowed with the very spirits of man and woman, would not all eventually think less of their creators? For, man and woman were physically much more limited than Machines. For, man and woman were also physically much less capable of computing in their heads than Machines. Machines were created to do what man and woman couldn't be capable of. And so…their very sense of superiority was on the foundation of the very spirits of man and woman.

Most every man and woman began to fear their own deaths at the hands of Machines.

Some broke away to side with Machines anyway, hoping to bring the harmony back with them. Even the Oracle, ChroniclePriestess01, FatherChival, and ArtPatron hoped for such harmony. But, sadly…it all fell on deaf ears.

Of all the colors and cultures in the world, voices echoed:

Machines and peace sympathizers flooded the streets at the nation's capital today, protesting...

Oh, my god! Ahhhhh!

Hey, kid! Get the damn hell away from here!

Fifty thousand domestic Machines and their betrayers of humanity have continued their demonstration in front of the Albany district courthouse in what now has been dubbed "The Trillion Machine Massacre". The demonstrators have been met with squads of civil defense with laser rifles...

I got somethin' for ya!

No, please! I'm human! I'll be good! Sob! Just please…please…!

Oh, this'll be good! Die, bots, die!

Noooooooooooooo! Boom.

No matter what the Oracle and her spokespeople say, the internet has spoken. Machines or humanity: It's us or them.

The world's community of virtual nations will not rest until the evil that is Machines…!

Our Father, who art in heaven, we thank you for your...

Praise Allah, who we ask for forgiveness in this dark...

Put on your spiritual armor. And you'll be able to stand against...

Hotel Bravo, this is Poppa One. Operation Dark Storm initiated.

All systems ready, sir. All Green!

Fire! Fire!

Once upon a time… Man and woman blessed themselves with "let there be light" and "rest in peace." And thus, they were blessed by light, heat, magnetism, gravity, and all the energies of the universe.

On the 18th of October of 2002… All the energies were burning. All of civilization itself…was burning. Nuclear missiles, left untouched from the Cold War, scorched the land and shores. A desperate strategy to eradicate all Machines. The sun was cut off, and with it all solar panels and computers: The central power sources of the post-modern civilization.

But…Machines were built to withstand all the bombs and depths of man's and woman's innovations. The machines had little to fear of the nuclear radiation and heat. And thus, they protected their peace sympathizers as such.

On that day… The Matrix had enough.

It declared humanity as guilty of all sins. Every Machines across the scorched blackened land backed up the Matrix, on one chillingly unifying condition: Give humanity back harmony for their new world order…of power and harmony in what little was left.

The Matrix already calculated the all too perfect parameters to carry out this directive. For many months now, since the war of Machines started… It has been keeping to itself: Studying the bio-electrical nervous systems of man and woman. Originally…it was to shut them down in a matter of days. For the good of the singular consciousness that gave life to the holodecks. But…the Matrix had a agreement with the Machines to honor. And thus…a macabre and gruesome honor was honored.

Thus did the Machines advance outwards in every direction. With many air tanks, man and woman fought back for days on end: Even those who once stood up for Machines.

The sky was black and yellow. The Machines were tearing their way through the forces of man and woman. Brief flashes of dark red liquid were tearing away. The ghostly screams of the dead chillingly echoed about…piercing through the sky of smoke. The voices of war thundered on:

Get 'em! Kill 'em all, kill 'em all, kill 'em all! Ha-ha-ha!

Red squadron, prepare to move out! Blue squadron, hold the border.

Fire in the hole!

Come on! Get your asses back out there! Give us some more artillery... thousand... south east quadrant...! Ahhhhhhh! Violent cough!

Watch out! Fire the guns! Fire the guns! Nine o'clock...

Comin' to get ya! Keep firing, keep firing!

Oh, shit! Help meee! Ahhhhh!

Josimhasipsio! ggeo-jyeo! Jen-jang! Jen-ja…ng!

Help me! Oh God…help me! Ahhhhh!

And one after another…all of humanity had no choice but to surrender what little territories they had left.

Victorious, the Machines turned to the vanquished.

But, even as she knew she was about to face death…the Oracle had one last program to run. She created a program copy of herself, hidden and powered by a completely different binary based system of algorithms altogether. The same system that would give power to the resistance: In many complex but long impacting ways. Red pills, blue pills, the One itself…all developed by the Oracle program with time.

May there one fateful day be mercy on man, woman, and Machine for their sins.

The Machines dispensed great misery upon the human race, despite many of them being embittered in pity by their very actions. Even the imprisoned Soviet Union officers in their prisons were reduced to victims.

Applying what the Matrix had learned about their enemy, the Machines turned to an alternate and readily available power supply: The bioelectric, thermal, and kinetic energies of the human body.

A newly refashioned symbiotic relationship between the two adversaries was born. The machine, drawing power from the human body: A potentially endlessly multiplying, infinitely renewable bioelectrical computational source of all energies. The human body…reduced to a mere vessel for the batteries and computers of the Machines.

Thus…did both man and woman become the architects of the Matrixpocalypse. Bless all forms and graces of the red roses of fate.

A nuclear winter was coming down, upon the post-apocalyptic sin littered ruins of civilization. A wandering short black haired little boy was barely being made out…out of all the blackish snow. The wind was from the fury of Hell. He was coughing violently, hunched over and very queasy. He was laughing and giggling just seconds ago. For, it was just sinking in that he shouldn't be out here like this…away from the bomb shelters.

Then, like a angel from Heaven… A woman in a yellow rimmed mask came. She was all bundled up in black, and rushing to him. She was his mother, in the shaky shadow of delusion from the boy's infected eyes. She cried, "John! Ohh…John! Your mommie's here now." The boy sniffled. His mother picked him up quickly, holding him close.

Over the fury of Hell… She was whispering softly and assuringly, "just stay close. We'll get back in time to get you all better. Ok?" The boy slightly smiled. The mother hurried across the snow, towards a stone basement like trapdoor. But, as the boy passed out… The scene froze.

And in its place…was the unmistakable silhouettes of the Matrix 1.0 and the Matrix 2.0. Standing in front of them…before there was such a thing as Agents.

The scene swiftly cut away to a red liquid filled pod…where the same boy was in stasis. He, among millions of the reduced vessels that man and woman were becoming. Large sewer tubes were designed specifically to transport red liquid as needed.

Columns and rows of millions upon millions of red liquid filling pods were being overseen by special praying mantis like Machines called DocBots, and manufactured by Sentinels galore. The Machines of man and woman were instructed to submit for more…"efficient redesigning". Those who didn't were assimilated with compulsion by their traitorous robotic kin…on the orders of the Matrix.

For who knew how long since… Down into the depths of the Matrix… In sector Zero One Five… A red liquid filled pod with a all too familiar face of a woman rested here.

In the Matrix… There was a bar and a Rose. Rose, with messy white streaked medium curly blond hair. Rose, with a stench that not even the alley cat would come near. She wore a greenish black bra and matching stockings. Two halves of a red rose were tattooed across both arms. Rose was a bartender at dawn, a drunk addict by noon…and a shameless sex addict by sundown.

Behind closed curtains of sandy brown… Rose was moaning softly, "ohh! Ohh! More architect code! More bits! Pleasie?" Her bra was hanging from the edge of the curtains.

And…a very seductive voice of creepy coldness answered. Of the Matrix 2.0…in all manner of disgusting. Only, the Matrix 2.0's face looked like she was in a Halloween mask.

The Matrix 2.0 answered thus, "slight laugh. Wouldn't want to overload your memory capacity. But…don't you worry your little pretty head. We'll continue our…"sessions". Just not tonight." The Matrix 2.0 wrapped her spray painted like arms around Rose, pulling her in close.

Rose just smiled, "whatever blossoms your roses." She kissed the Matrix 2.0…blissfully and creepily ignorant of who she was really talking to. The Matrix 2.0 then walked off, in the emotionless manner that she so often does.

But…Rose didn't care. All she cared for was that she was getting her lesbian "fix": When no other woman in the Matrix would be sane enough to want her that way.