The Architect had come into the apartment as Thompson was leaving to escort the redpills back to the exit. Both were very subdued during the short walk, and they all walked in silence until they arrived.
"We left her there, with Etna, but now we have to go back and bury her in the real," Miss Miller said. Her voice was hollow and she was staring through the phone. Miss Grace made a choking sound. Miss Miller put her arm around her, blinked back tears and looked up at him. "How...what are we supposed to do with that? How does that make any sense at all?"
He thought of Miss Greene back at Etna & Smith's apartment, probably still sobbing. He looked at the sad women in front of him, looking empty & frightened. Odd as it seemed, he thought he might pity them. He'd never had that feeling before, and now here it was twice in one night. She seemed to want an answer, though, so he spoke. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."
She jumped, as though startled he'd spoken. "That's...I'm..." she looked confused, then smiled at him in a melancholy way. "Thanks." The phone rang, she picked it up, and he was alone.
He walked back to his car in front of the apartment building. There was no sign of the previous disturbance, and nothing had had to be reset. Etna's ways were remarkably human, but as much as he hated to admit it, they worked. Leaning against the driver's side door of the black Audi and looking up at the window to the apartment, he considered going back. What use could they have for him now? If they needed him, they'd send for him. He decided against it, got back in his car and drove away.
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It was a week later when he arrived at headquarters in response to a call. The Architect, the Anomaly, & the Oracle were all in a conference room; Thompson was instantly on his guard. If Etna was mildly unsettling, the Oracle was capable of turning the world on its ear, and she seemed to enjoy it. Logic counted for nothing with her. At least the Anomaly showed a love for logic, human and flawed though it may be. The Architect spoke first.
"We have a new assignment for you," he said, and motioned to the door. It opened, and Tirzah walked in from the other side, looking somewhat intimidated. Thompson blinked, and he was sure he could not have kept the surprise off his face. She was wearing a suit identical to his: black, with a silver-clipped tie. Her shades were neatly in her pocket, and she had an earpiece.
Etna smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow in Thompson's direction, but the Oracle laughed outright and slapped the table lightly with her open palm. "Oh, I wish you could see your face, Mr. Thompson."
"Orientation, Agent Thompson," the Architect continued, as though the Oracle had not spoken. "This is Agent Greene. I believe you knew her as Tirzah." Etna said nothing, but watched him.
"Orientation?" he asked.
The Architect turned to Etna, who explained. "The peace has changed your job quite a bit, has it not?" Thompson nodded, and she went on. "Because of the different circumstances, we--" she gestured, indicating herself, The Architect, and the Oracle "--determined that the time was right to begin introducing humans into authority positions. We have not yet implemented this because of a lack of candidates. One doesn't find redpills willing to be re-inserted, and once the situation is explained to a Matrix resident, they almost invariably wish to be unplugged. As a condition of the treaty, we must comply with that wish, and, well...you see our problem." She waved a hand at Tirzah. "Agent Greene, however, does not have to be reinserted, and she cannot be unplugged." "Agent Greene" winced almost imperceptibly at this. Alarmingly, Thompson felt a small surge of sympathy; he ruthlessly squashed it. "As you are no doubt aware, Agent Greene has already been given the skills necessary to perform the job. The orientation is for both of you. Call it an experiment, but we want to see how you work together."
He nodded. Human logic, but at least there was logic there. "I understand," he said, and Etna smiled at him. He rounded the table and opened the door, looking at Agent Greene. She took a deep breath and visibly steeled herself, then walked through the open door.
They were in the car by the time she said anything. "I'm sorry they stuck you with me," she said finally, as he pulled onto the busy street. It seemed she'd been working up the nerve to say it.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "The last time you saw me, I was a blubbering mess of stupid human. The time before that, I tried to punch you in the face. You & I don't have a great track record."
"Just don't do either one again, and I will have no problems with you."
To his surprise, she laughed as though she found that truly funny. He had not intended it to be funny. "You know, I guess I'm an agent, now. I might actually hit you this time."
"Do you still want to?"
"Say anything about Smith being flawed and I will." She scowled at him.
"I won't." He was silent for a moment, then went on. "I don't know why I said it. I believe I intentionally provoked you. I apologize."
She stared at him incredulously. Her mouth opened slightly as though she wanted to say something, but she closed it and looked out at the street for a moment, watching the traffic in front of them. "I accept," she said, sounding a little uncertain.
Patrolling was considerably more complicated than it had once been. Once, there had been one objective: find redpills or Exiles and delete them. The peace had complicated matters, and the Anomaly & Smith had twisted them infinitely more. The terms of the treaty stated that residents who wished to be unplugged were accommodated. However, unplugging everyone was obviously not in the best interests of the machines. It was a fine line to walk. Etna also wished that as little code change as possible be used; she & the Zionites insisted the Matrix be as real a world as it could be for its residents. Exiles were no longer hunted, either; Smith had technically been an Exile program when he met Etna, and he was considered indispensable now. So patrolling agents were not to kill redpills, but they were to keep them from causing mass disturbances that caused a lot of questions. They were to do this without changing the code if at all possible. They were not to delete Exiles, but they were to keep them from flaunting themselves or any special abilities that might trigger questions as well. They were also working on a way to transport agents quickly, as Etna insisted they not use the bodies of residents, calling it "mental rape". Agents now had to be repaired when damaged. It was rather a bigger job than it had previously been.
He was explaining this to Greene about a week into their assignment. They were walking through a park near the downtown area; it had been the site of redpill disturbances before. "You should ask for a raise," she mused, looking sideways at him. When he looked blank, she smiled and shook her head as they walked on.
Shortly they came upon a crowd of people gathered in one spot in the park. Thompson made to draw his gun, but Greene put a hand on his arm and hissed. "Not yet. Hold on." As they drew nearer, the tension went out of Greene and she shook her head at him. "It's nothing dangerous."
He surveyed the scene from where they stood, some distance away. Most of the people were watching something going on; they were seated in neat rows all in the same direction. At the front stood a man, seemingly engaged in a conversation with a woman and another man. The man was rather overdressed for the park, Thompson thought, and he almost said so before he realized the woman was wearing a long, white, very ornate gown. It suddenly occurred to him what was going on.
"A wedding," he said, and Greene nodded. She was smiling vaguely in a pained sort of way. A few of the attendees noticed them. She gave them a nod & a warm smile, and began to lead Thompson off as they turned their attention back to the ceremony.
"Wow," she said, scrubbing her hand through her short hair and shaking her head.
"What?"
"You wouldn't--" she began, but stopped and considered him for a moment. "I was born into a world that I thought was real until I was about 7 years old. I was unplugged into the real, where everything was unfamiliar, cold, and hard. I sometimes missed things from the old world. Now I've been shoved back into that old world, where the things I knew & missed are everywhere, and somehow everything reminds me of the real." She shook her head again, and squinted up at the sun. "I need ice cream."
He'd been about to say something when she made this new, seemingly unrelated pronouncement. "Why does--ice cream?" he asked, entirely confounded.
She nodded firmly, as though this were the answer to all her questions. "Or bourbon, but there's an ice cream stand near the fountain. I've been there with Etna."
Before he knew what was going on, they were sitting at a small, round table with a colorful umbrella for shade. Greene had just seated herself next to him and set down...two milkshakes?
"Greene..." he said warningly.
"Cookies & cream for me, raspberry lemon for you."
"Why do humans do this?"
"Drink milkshakes?"
"Yes. Specifically when they're confused or upset."
Greene took a sip of hers, regarding him. "Observant, aren't you?" She took another drink. "We do it because it takes our minds off whatever it is that's confusing us. Humans get easily overwhelmed by problems, because our minds don't generally work in a logical, straightforward way. Our brains go off on tangents, try to consider a dozen things at once. We do better if we stop thinking about something for a while, then come back to it. Drink your shake."
"Why?"
She frowned at him. "Because I bought it for you and it's polite. You'll like it." She seemed very sure of this; her chin was propped in her hand, with her elbow on the table. She was still sipping her shake.
He gave her a flat look, but picked up the shake anyway. Whatever Thompson had been expecting, it wasn't this. It was tart and sweet and creamy all at once. His eyes widened, and Greene smiled broadly. "Wow," he said. She asked what he thought. He blinked a few times. "It's...cold."
"Of course it's cold! I mean the taste!"
"It tastes like...lemon and--" Greene cut him off with a withering glare.
"Do you LIKE it?"
He thought about it for a few seconds, and took another drink. To his astonishment, he really did like it. He didn't want her to know, but she'd started smiling. "I knew you would."
"I said no such thing," he said, hoping it sounded flat enough.
"Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much," Greene laughed. "There's hope for you yet, Thompson."