The girls had gone and Thompson sat behind the wheel of his Audi. The system chattered away in his earpiece, but he wasn't really listening. The girl, Miss Greene, had tried to physically assault him. According to protocol, that meant he could engage and terminate her.
So why hadn't he? He knew her history with and feelings toward the Smith program & the anomaly Etna. It had not been necessary to answer her question at all. Had he been trying to provoke her? To what end? When he'd blocked her punch, he'd made certain he simply restrained her without damaging her.
He knew via the system who Miss Greene was, and what she was currently researching. If she was indeed close to finding the answer to The Anomaly's situation, there was possible merit in the study. It made sense to allow her a bit of freedom if she was going to contribute something valuable to the knowledge of the machines. It still didn't explain why he'd provoked her. He resolved not to allow it to happen again in the future.
It didn't stop him pondering it. He went through his usual routine for the next few weeks, thinking about the entire ordeal at intervals. On a slow Friday evening, the system called in an order for him to report to an apartment complex for a disturbance; he recognized it as the apartment complex in which Smith & Etna lived. It was in a highly populated, affluent area of the city, and any redpill disturbances would be extremely disruptive in such a location.
By the time he pulled up, a crowd had gathered. He recognized members of the crew he'd escorted out on the day Miss Greene had tried to hit him. He stepped out of the black car and began to wade through the crowd, which parted as he passed.
Miss Greene sat on a bench, gasping for breath and shaking. Thompson mentally noted both of these things as unnecessary, but couldn't dwell on it for long. One crewmate was sitting beside her on the bench, arms around her, and another was screaming into a cell phone.
"No, no no. NO! TRY AGAIN. It's just supposed to be a COPY! She's supposed to wake up!" She was panicking, her voice high pitched and near tears.
Miss Miller, who went by the alias Freja, looked up, noticing Thompson for the first time. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out and she looked back down. Miss Greene was still shaking, but she looked up at him as well.
"I need...Etna..." she shook her head as if shaking something off. She started again. "Thompson, could you please get Etna?" Her hair, normally long and a different, eye-gouging color every time he saw her, was short and dark blonde; her eyes were a very dark brown, very unlike the inhuman colors she usually sported. At the moment they were filled with uncertainty and fear.
With no idea what was going on, Thompson sent a request through the system. No response, the system told him. He would never understand why the Architect had given Etna a connection and an earpiece if she wasn't going to use them. He conveyed the lack of response to Miss Greene, who whimpered and pulled her feet up on the bench, burying her face in her knees. There was something different about her, aside from the obvious superficial things. The code making up her RSI was different; it was chaotic, complex. It looked somehow deeper than it usually did, and deeper than that of her crewmates. He considered her for a moment, then turned on his heel and entered the apartment complex. It seemed important that he contact Etna. He couldn't have said why.
He skipped the elevator entirely and headed up the stairs as Etna herself floated down, her arm in Smith's. They were evidently headed to Club Hel, by their dress; both were in solid black but for Etna's long, dark red scarf and Smith's dark red silk tie. She was wearing what must've been a small fortune in jewelry set with crimson stones. Etna's earpiece was nowhere to be found, but Smith was wearing his. Thompson berated himself for not thinking of that. Smith smirked at Thompson; it was more than a little maddening how such an obviously flawed program maintained such a level of arrogance, even with the very high status afforded him as Etna's firewall.
Thompson ignored Smith. "Miss Greene is outside, and asked me to contact you. She appears to be in considerable distress."
Etna's brows furrowed and Smith had the look of someone sending a request to the system. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses, which he then removed. "She's done it, Etna." It was Etna's turn to look startled, and without waiting for either Smith or Thompson, she took off at a dead run down the stairs.
Smith cursed and followed, with Thompson right beside him. "How does she do that in those shoes?" Smith said under his breath. Thompson would not have thought to make that observation, but now that Smith brought it up, he wondered as well.
They were only a few steps behind Etna, who was now crouching in front of Miss Greene and Miss Miller. Miss Grace was still screaming into her phone, drawing a bigger crowd by the instant. Etna tried to say something to Miss Greene, but over the din it was impossible to hear. "Please shut Rhiannon up," Etna hissed at Smith, but Thompson was closer. He unceremoniously plucked the bright pink phone from Miss Grace's hand and snapped it shut. "Thank you," Etna told him, and nodded at him gratefully. He blinked, unused to being thanked for anything. The Anomaly was rather unsettling to deal with. She was already on to something else, speaking loudly about something. It sounded like a made-up reason for Miss Greene's public display.
"You're better off without him anyway, dear." Thompson heard mutters in the gathered crowd; derisive remarks about the imaginary man who'd hurt this poor girl. He was once again amazed at the Anomaly's way of dealing with things. She was playing this off so nothing in the Matrix had to be reset; he had heard her refer to the process as "cheating". She already had Miss Greene off the bench and was walking her toward the door. Smith shadowed her as always, but she motioned for Thompson to follow. "You might as well come up, since you're here." The crewmates followed, Miss Grace again on the phone, but more quietly this time, and eyeing Thompson warily.
In Etna's apartment, Miss Grace snapped her phone shut and explained. "I don't even begin to grasp the concept," she said, "but she figured out the copying part. Apparently the hard part was determining the amount of energy needed to do it. It was supposed to just COPY her here, but the energy surge was too much." She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. "It fried her brain stem."
Comprehension dawned on Thompson. The woman's code had looked different because it was different. He was no longer seeing the code for the relatively simple RSI--it was the code for a human consciousness. Miss Greene was no longer simply jacked into the Matrix--she was entirely inside it. "Your body did not survive the copy," he said. It wasn't a question. Miss Greene made a choking sound, shook her head, and leaned into Etna's arms. No one said anything. Miss Miller wasn't even ogling him. For the first time he could remember, Thompson felt distinctly uncomfortable. He thought he might be feeling pity or sympathy; he shoved the errant emotion as far away as he could.
Smith came in from the kitchen carrying several mugs. It was a recognizable human trait, to offer beverages when guests were in the house. To his very great surprise, Smith handed him one, too; the mugs contained coffee. Smith was well-known for his love of coffee. He pointed to the sugar container on the sideboard. "It takes a lot of that, but it's actually rather good once you've gotten it right."
Thompson blinked at him. "You mean for me to drink this?"
Smith smirked again in that arrogant way. "Of course not, Thompson. I mean for you to stand there and look pretty," he sneered. It annoyed Thompson enough to take a drink, but not to sugar the stuff. He was surprised again when he liked it; it had a smooth but bitter taste, and the warmth felt good. He looked at it, then looked at Smith. The smirk had actually turned into a very small smile. Thompson kept drinking the coffee.
No one else looked much more comfortable than Thompson. Both redpills seemed terrified of their own crewmate. They seemed as though they'd rather be anywhere but in the room. Etna, on the other hand, was still holding Miss Greene. Her stone gray eyes had a strange look in them; he supposed it was pity, but perhaps maybe sadness and understanding. He knew she'd been through precisely the same event, and she was old--from such an early version of the Matrix that record of her name had been archived & could not be accessed by a regular agent. Much older than Miss Greene, than the code that had produced Thompson. Smith may have been the only one in the room older than Etna, but Thompson didn't know much about the first version of the agent codes. Smith was looking at Etna, and the look on his face was entirely different than when he looked at anyone else. His frigid blue eyes seemed warm, and his mouth seemed just on the verge of a smile. He always looked the same when he was looking at her.
Miss Greene had leaned back into the cushions of the couch and sighed, taking a sip of the mug Etna handed her. "What now?" she asked plaintively. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"Right now, you sleep," Etna answered firmly.
"I mean long term! I'm here, and I'm useless here! What am I supposed to do?" she sounded panicked, which was unusual for her.
Thompson was startled to see that Etna was looking at him, or possibly through him. Either way, she looked consideringly in his direction, then patted Miss Greene and gave her a reassuring look. "Stop worrying about it. I have an idea."