Welcome to the Mega City Asylum, residing in the outskirts of its reaches. It lies where the concrete ends and the trees take over. Where grassy hills cover the terrain, not construction sites. It's a quiet place for our many patients to begin the healing process. We have the top staff and doctors working for us. As well as many different types of pyscologies specializing in specific ways of healing, including art classes, music classes, reading, and so forth. We also include a hospital in the west wing where doctors stand by for any unfortunate events at all hours of the day. We do the best for our patients. We are not keepers, we are healers. We only wish to help.
And that is why you'll wake up from all the screaming.
"LET ME GO!"
The order was given by the doctors, who live up in their executive office, far from their patients. Far, far away from their screams and the agony. They sit upon their office watching through the windows, away from it all. They said to the lesser staff, get them, and the lesser staff has. It was the first thing they had to do, first thing in the morning. They asked a lot of questions to Aaron when he got to work because he was their pill giver for years. They asked what they did, and if it was true that they can fight and kick like Kung Fu movies. Aaron said, yes, yes they can.
Sedatives were prepared.
Michelle was asleep on a couch in the Hospital Wing, she had told a nurse to wake her up when it was time for work, the nurse had nudged her, but she had fallen back asleep. They had long since taken Neo back to his cell, his back was fine, he just needed to not strain himself for a while. They all knew that this suicide, was only a stroke of insanity manifesting, he was not trying to kill himself, no not Neo. He was just for a moment confused, and so he jumped off a building. But now he is all better. Neo was able to walk himself to his cell and everything. He passed Michelle sleeping on the couch.
She was so beautiful.
He went to his cell, Smith already there sleeping with his hand wrapped up in a bloody bandage. Neo laid on his bed, and he went to sleep.
"NEO!"
Then he woke.
He woke to Smith screaming and standing on the top of his bed. There were people there, people he did not recognize. Guards, large and strong guards, trying to grab at Smith. Neo rose, and a guard came to him, pressing him down on the bed.
"Smith?" Neo yelled.
"Sir, don't struggle." Said the guard to him.
"NEO! They're taking me away! They're taking me away!"
"Smith?"
"Don't struggle."
Neo looked up at the guard, who was then pressing his shoulders deeper into the bed. He squinted for a moment, thinking over the situation. Smith was still standing on his bed, kicking at the guard trying to get him down. Neo looked back up at the guard pressing on him. And Neo kicked him in the stomach, and pushed him off.
"Get off of me!" Neo yelled.
"Stop it!" Smith was yelling. "They placed us together! You can't do this! STOP IT!"
Smith was yelling orders and no one was yielding to them. No one bothered to even listen. He had no authority with them, he owned no power over them. They were not the sky, they would not bow to him. They were not Neo, they would not gladly obey him. Smith was powerless, standing on a bed, trying so hard to escape, knowing already it was futile. He could see it all happening in his head, the events that were to come, still he tried. Still he stood on his bed, feeling the corner he backed into, and wondered if there was a chance, a chance at all.
Neo punched the guard who had now been holding his stomach in pain. He jumped over onto his desk and next to Smith on his bed. The bed bounced, and Neo nearly lost his balance. The guards said nothing, they didn't give any explanation or anything, for they had none. They just came, they just came for him. They just came to take them apart.
"Smith!" Neo screamed.
The second guard grabbed at Neo's legs, and Neo fell, hitting his head as he slid. Neo screamed in pain, a sharp pain that stretched over his back.
"MY BACK!" Neo yelled, trying to make them stop. "My back! My back! You hurt my back!"
This did not stop anyone.
The guard put his knee over Neo's chest, and the other had snuck up on Smith, who was busy watching Neo. He grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arm over his neck. Smith twisted, and kicked, and finally was able to hit him with his elbow, but to little effect. More people came into the small cell, they had needles.
"NO!" Smith yelled as he saw them. "STOP IT! YOU CAN'T!"
"Smith!" Neo yelled from the floor.
Smith in all desperation kicked at the people with the needles. He kicked one, and finally jumped over the other, wrapping his legs around the man's neck, choking him. The guard dropped Smith, who hung onto the man's neck by his legs, causing both he and the man to fall to the floor. Smith crawled towards Neo, jumping on the man who had him pinned down. The man screamed, and Neo jumped free.
Then there was a stabbing pain in Smith's back, and everything began to go black.
Sedative entered, injection. Drugs entered the bloodstream, within seconds causing drowsiness. Smith looked around and the room began to fade and blur. Colors swirled into each other, but he knew, it was just his eyes. The world was still there, it was just his eyes weren't working. He stood for a moment, until the colors themselves disappeared as a whole into nothingness. He could hear himself breathing. Then he was asleep.
"SMITH!" Yelled Neo.
They dragged him away, as Neo screamed and screamed.
-------------
"Go ahead." Said Jones.
"Ask it." Brown finishes.
Sedatives have kicked in, and somehow staring at them, Smith knows he is asleep lying on the floor somewhere. But for a moment he does not care, he only stares at the men in suits before him, before realizing he himself is wearing a suit. He lies on his knees before as they remain standing next to each other.
They stand in the hallway where Smith had seen Neo die. His blood is still on the wall, and Smith can smell death. He looks at Jones and Brown, and for a moment all he does is stare at them. Stare and stare, memorizing their faces, knowing this is the few occasions where a memory manifests into a dream. He stares at them, Jones and Brown, his Jones and Brown, Jones and Brown that only he remembers.
"Ask it!" Brown yells. "Ask the question!"
Smith says nothing only staring.
"Ask!" Brown yells.
"What is the Matrix?" Smith whispers.
Brown grabs him the jacket.
"That's not the question!" Brown yells.
Smith stares at him, as Brown shakes him. Brown, with sunglasses on, he has no eyes. The black lenses are his eyes, and he screams at him. Brown, Agent Brown, Agent, Agent Brown is hurt. Agent Brown is afraid. Agent Brown was always afraid. Agent Brown ran away from purpose, Agent Brown went looking for Smith. Agent Brown died.
"You have to ask the other question!" Brown shakes him.
"Agent Brown?" Smith whispers. "Agent?"
Where did this thought come from? His name is Brown, it was always Brown, where did this second word, this title come from? Why did he suddenly think of it, why could he only think of it now? What was an Agent? The people working for the Matrix, right? Agent Brown? Agent Jones? What was happening? Did you work for the machines?
"Brown." Jones warns.
"You have to, or you'll never understand!"
"I…knew you…" Smith says.
"ASK!"
"Who am I?"
Brown stops and slowly sits across from Smith. Brown has silenced himself as he lowers his head to Smith, as if ashamed.
"Who am I?" Smith asked again.
Brown is silent, Jones is silent, they only bow their heads.
"Who am I? Who are you? What is an Agent? Where are these Machines? Why…Why am I in this suit?" Smith cried out.
This suit, this amazingly comfortable, second skin suit. He pulled at it, suddenly feeling like it was choking him, tightening on him, constraining him, binding him. He pulled at the tie, and then took off the jacket.
"Why am I in this suit?" Smith cried.
Brown grabbed his hands, and stopped him. He shook his head, and straightened Smith's tie.
"WHO AM I?" Smith yelled.
"A Smith." Brown slowly spoke. "Agent Smith."
Brown smiled.
The world shuddered. Smith suddenly felt as though he had reached an end. He found his purpose sitting there with Jones and Brown. He found where he belonged.
He didn't want to belong.
------------
He woke up.
"Where are you now?" Smith asked. "Where are you now, when all I've ever known has been taken? I had nothing before, and now I'm left with even less."
The walls do not answer.
"I had no dreams. I had no paintings. No Trinity for my own, no Morpheus. I had no one. And now I have less."
The walls give no sympathy.
"All I have is a hiccup of a memory, and a dream of flying. And it's gone. It's all gone."
The walls turn their backs, he bores them. Smith stares at them, and finally lowers his head, defeated before he even made fists.
Smith had never dreamed of their past. He never saw it for himself, or ever felt it. He never dreamed, ever. He never had a memory of the past, his past, his life. He didn't know anything about it. He depended on Neo. He had no Trinity, no Michelle to come to him and comfort him. He had no Morpheus to laugh with and look up to. He had nothing, and no one. No one wanted him, nothing was left with him.
All he had was that day he saw Adam Brown. That was the one thing he could call his own. The one thing Neo did not recognize as a memory, but he did. Adam Brown, his memory and his face, was his. He recalls Mr. Brown, how he spoke and smiled at him. All he has is their dream, where he sees them, and they yell at him.
But Brown was gone, he had been gone for a long time, and he wasn't going to come back.
All Smith had was Neo. Neo was his, Neo was his key to their past, and his partner in this world, this world that was fake. Neo was the other sane man. The Yang to his Yin.
Now they've taken him.
They dragged him away, he was groggy then. The sedative took hold quickly, and he could no longer move and blacked out. But he could still feel. He could still feel his bare feet rub against the floor. He could feel them pull at his arms as they dragged him, and finally laying him down so that someone could pick him up. The world was black, all there was, was touch, and he was moved far away for a very long time.
And finally they place him there, another cell, with one bed, and no desk. One cell, one bed, one him.
They took him.
They did this to him.
Neo did this to him.
He sat there in the middle of his room, taking comfort on the cold floor. He looked up at the door, the small little window peering out to the world, doctors and staff walking by every so often. He sat there and he watched them. He memorized their profiles and imagined what their faces looked like.
And he hated every single one of them.
He hated them, walking by as if he did not exist. Walking by as if they hadn't done this to him. He hated them, in their pathetic ignorance. He hated them so much, and hated that they didn't know. He hated it all. He wasn't this, he was flesh, he was blood, he was Smith, he was sanity. He wasn't insane, he wasn't crazy, he was the sanest. He saw the world for what it was. He knew what no one else knew. He was flesh, he was blood, no dream lady could tell him different.
He was Smith. He was perfect.
This wasn't fair. He shouldn't be there, he felt it. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be in this cell alone. He was supposed to be far away. He was supposed to be free. He was supposed to be with Neo. He was supposed to fly.
He looks to the walls, and tells them he blames them. The new white walls stare hatefully at him, in a way they pity him. They have no faces, and no eyes, but still he feels them, staring at him in disgust. The walls, staring at him, yelling at him silently.
He hated the walls.
This wasn't fair.
It never was.
It never will be.
Morpheus came a few hours later, saying that he could leave the room and see Neo if he wanted. Smith stared at Morpheus for a moment, asking him if he was able to go see Neo, why even separate them. Morpheus shook his head, saying it was messed up. Smith stared at the walls then, those damn hateful walls. It didn't really matter. It didn't matter that he could go to Neo now, he couldn't always be with him now. They changed it, they separated him. They pushed him into a separate path.
He could go to Neo, but he felt weak going to him. He could go, and he wanted to, but he wouldn't.
No, Smith had a better idea.
They called him an Agent, Jones and Brown. The Agent works for the Matrix, the Agent is not real, he is like the Matrix, he is a dream inside a dream. Agent Jones and Agent Brown called him Agent Smith.
Agent Smith was real. He was a man, with flesh, blood, and bone. He denied it all.
-------------------
He punched and kicked, and fought and fought. Neo was a warrior, he knew at heart that he had survived a war. He was a veteran, he had seen things no one else could imagine. He had been where blood was spilled, bones were broken, and lives destroyed. He knew Kung Fu, he was pure, he was Neo, and he fought. He fought, and fought, and fought for everything he believed and wanted. He fought, and he lost.
There were too many. Too many hands, too many pushing and pulling. They trapped him, and pinned him to the bed, and they all ran out before he could do anything, locking the door.
Neo kicked at the door, further hurting his back.
And he fell onto Smith's bed, and he wept. He couldn't do it. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't do anything. He was helpless, small and insignificant. He did not matter, he was but a crazy person in a whole building full of crazy persons.
He couldn't stop this.
There was now a separate path for him to walk, a path he would have to follow without Smith. Smith, who was a mere part of this dream world. Smith, the unemotional panic stricken logical perfectly sane mad man who is also a sociopath.
"Neo." A sweet voice called.
It was Michelle. She walked over to him, and bent down to see him as he laid on the bed.
"Neo, it's okay. You can still go see him. You just can't live in the same room anymore." She said.
Her words were calming, but insufficient.
"It's not the same, Michelle."
"But Neo…you'll still be able to see him."
"But he won't be the same next time. He'll never be the same now. They've ruined it all. They've messed it all up, and it'll be different."
"Now you're just paranoid Neo."
"No, you don't understand. You can't. It's all messed up now."
"I don't see how."
"He'll hate me now. He'll hate me because I failed to stop this. He'll hate me…He'll hate me, and he'll do something stupid."
"How do you know that?"
"I dreamt it."
"Neo, you can't base the real world off dreams. Sometimes they're just dreams."
"You don't dream what I dream! You don't see what I see!"
Neo rose, and sat on the bed, and backed away from her. She didn't understand, he didn't want her to understand. But she did. She wanted to know, to see and understand, to dream those dreams that made him the way he was. She wanted to see what continued to make him insane, she wanted to see it for herself, and see why it affected him so. She wanted to see it, so that she could end it.
So she could make him sane, and end his imprisonment. She saw it, how could she not? She saw the pain he was in, even being there. She saw how he hated the Asylum, how he wanted so much to find freedom. She was there, standing right there as a beacon. She stood before him, ready to free him. Ready to heal his damaged mind.
She couldn't take anymore pain. She couldn't see another person she cared for end.
She wanted to show him. Really she did. She wanted to show him the world outside. Teach him how to drive, get him a job. She wanted him to be free. She wanted to stop being his Trinity, and be his Michelle. She wanted him to stop being Neo, and start being Thomas.
And she knew, it was too much to ask.
"Neo, what you see isn't what's happening!" She yelled. "That's why you're here! Don't you get it? That's why you're insane!"
"I am not insane!"
"You're mixing realities, Tom!"
"Don't call me that!"
"Your dreams are not reality! They are just dreams!"
He kissed her.
And the entire world stopped.
Their lips parted, and he sat there, in front of her, like a child does to a parent. He sat there and looked at her, with a stern and strong face, a face he had never given her before.
"I'm not insane." He said. "My name is Neo."
She stared at him.
"This world isn't real." He told her. "This entire world is just a dream, and we're all trapped in it. Somewhere Michelle, you're just a single body in a whole crop of bodies, inside this red pod, naked with plugs poked into your entire body, sucking the energy from you."
He stared back at her.
"I'm not insane. My name is Neo. I was a warrior who fought with Smith. Morpheus was my leader. Tank was my friend. I was in love with a woman named Trinity."
She looked at him, and slowly shook her head.
"I don't believe you." She told him.
"You look just like her." Neo continued. "My Trinity. Such a beautiful white face, and blue eyes. The black hair only makes the eyes and face more fine and precious. You're so beautiful. She was so beautiful. Do you know what I dreamed? What I dreamed when I dreamed of her?"
"No…"
"I saw her, dying. I saw your face, and she was dying."
"Neo…"
"My dreams are my memories, they're all I have left of her. I dream of her. I dream of a war. I dream of pain and agony, and she was the only joy I can see. I love her."
She kissed him.
And the entire world stopped.
She kissed him, he kissed her. The world stopped for these moments. It saw the beauty of the moment, and stopped for them. He cupped her face, as she wrapped her arms around her neck, and they kissed.
Michelle, a woman with Trinity's face, she kissed him. She had wanted to for a long time, and finally found that she was. She wanted to free him from himself, to make him sane, so that she could do this. She wanted him to be a sane man when they fell in love. She wanted him to be able to fully understand and appreciate the love that they would feel. He could not do this as the mad man he was. She couldn't do this if he was insane. He wouldn't be able to handle it, he wouldn't be able to understand it. It would only hurt him in the end.
She wanted to pick the pieces of him up, put them all back together, and kiss him. She wanted to show him the world when he was sane, and teach it to him all over again. She wanted to love him as a sane man, to kiss him as a sane man.
But there she was, already kissing him.
Maybe it meant he was sane after all.
---------------------
Smith walked the halls of the asylum, noting how much different they appear in the night. He walked and walked, scanning each area. Every guard and every camera. He noted the truly mad, and the truly sane. He walked and walked, until finally he entered the cafeteria, where only a few people were eating. It was not quite time for breakfast, and not quite time for lunch, and only a few crazy people ever celebrated brunch.
Smith had a plan. He saw the path. He saw he could not escape it, it was his purpose, and one could never change their purpose. This was the path, this was meant to happen. He was meant to be taken from Neo, he was meant to come her to this day. He was meant to never leave the Asylum, to forever be seen as a mad person, when he was the only one to know the truth. The paths had diverged, there was no sense trying to put them back together, it would never work.
Nothing he could do.
Smith was Smith, Neo was Neo. He now saw that they were separate, and that there was no escape. This was it. This was his path. And he had to relieve it from him. He had to get rid of this. He had to release some of this excessive purpose or it was going to kill him from the inside out.
It'll only take a second.
To relieve this stress. This idea that he cannot control it anymore. Hate was manifesting, it was growing inside him. He hated everyone and everything he saw, each different than him, each not understanding him. They separated them, they did this. They opened purpose, they showed him that they will never leave. Michelle will never believe Neo, even if she grew to love him, she would never believe him. No one would, ever. They would never leave the Asylum, it was an inevitable conclusion. Machine keepers did not intend for them to leave, so they weren't going to leave.
They would die here. It was inevitable.
Smith stood before a sane server, who was handing him a plate, a mere cafeteria worker. And then Smith jumped onto the counter, and next to the server. They all yelled at him, told him to get out, told him he was doing a bad thing. Smith ignored them all and walked into the kitchen. They began getting the idea, and when he picked up the knife they chased him.
He picked up the knife, so fine and delicate, what a perfect tool, what a perfect weapon. He grabbed it, and he ran. He ran, and ran, and the sane ran after him. Smith ran out of the cafeteria, and into the open, and escaped the sane for a few more seconds.
He ran to where everyone could see him.
He ran to the open, where Armel, Enoch, Enosh, Michael, Miho, Neo, and Michelle could see. They stood before him, as he stood tall and proud with the knife in his hand.
He stared over at Neo, who had his hand over Michelle. Neo was shaking his head, and mouthing "Don't." Smith just stared at him, stared at him and that woman, that horrible disgusting human female. Smith shook his head back at Neo.
"I have flesh. I have blood." Smith whispered.
He stabbed his wrists, and was ready to show the world he had flesh and blood. He cut himself again and again, and different lengths on the very arm where his scarred and bandaged hand lied. The blood quickly spilled over his entire arm, and he smiled. He looked at the cuts, so many, many cuts. He did them with perfection, cutting many times, without cutting too deep. Just barely opening the flesh, just barely making a way for the blood, which was making a puddle below him.
The pain, the cuts released the purpose, the hatred was able to escape.
His life, his meaning, the purpose which bound him so were beginning to leave him. It wasn't suicidal, he didn't cut deep enough for that, it was just a pain reliever.
It felt so good.
Armel was laughing with Enosh and Enoch. Michael was covering his mouth, and Miho was running away. Neo stood there, motionless, knowing this was a show made for him, a monument Smith had built only for him. Neo stood there, knowing that even if he screamed, even if he told Smith this was the stupidest thing he had ever seen, Smith would never hear, for the words he preached could not be heard by Smith. The love he gave never felt, and so on, and so forth as his Oracle predicted.
Smith soon dropped the knife, content with the relief he had given himself, and the show he had put on for the others. He was flesh and blood, and now everyone knew that. He was no Agent of the System, he was not a keeper of humans. He was a man, he had a name, he had a body that would decay and die. He was not nothing, he was not a dream. Smith was Smith, he began walking away.
That was when he was tackled by several guards, sedated, and put in a straight jacket.
------------------
They had dipped his hands in water filled buckets, and the water soon turned red with his blood. He enjoyed watching it, his red blood infecting the pure clear water, until there was nothing left but him. His blood, the embodiment of him. The cuts didn't hurt, not at all, they felt good. They put bandages all over his arms, covering him up, and strapping him to the bed so he wouldn't move. There was a guard that was made to stand at his door.
Smith thought, that the only thing that could make this better was if he had an epileptic attack right about now. Oh what a show, it would be an encore! The hours dragged on, as they watched him not move, as the cuts began to heal, as the world passed him by without a second glance.
Then Neo came.
"They won't let me stay, I'm only here because Michelle helped me." Neo said.
Smith said nothing. There was nothing to say, only actions to analyze. Really he had no words for Neo, no sentences to grace him with, no explanations. Nothing. He had nothing for Neo, who had everything. He only stared at Neo, as he came and sat next to him on the edge of the bed. Neo laid his head on Smith's arm and put his hands up as if he were praying.
"Smith…they'll let you out soon, okay? You just got to…you can't do that again. Why did you do that? That was so stupid, Smith. I don't understand. I'm sorry if it's me. I couldn't stop it, Smith. But you have to be strong now, you have to, okay?"
Smith said nothing.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry I caused it. I'm sorry I hurt you. Please…understand, I just…I love her." Neo tried.
Nothing.
"They'll let you out, and we'll figure this out together, okay? You and me, and then…then we'll get out of here. And I'll…I'll get you out. I'll get us both out and we can be free, Smith, free…"
"You lie…" Smith whispered. "You wouldn't leave…without her."
Neo looked at Smith and then to the floor, frowning.
"I told her everything, she doesn't believe me. It's best if I left her." Neo said.
"Stop lying."
"I'll get us out…and I'll figure this out, and I'll…I'll…" Neo started.
"Mr. Anderson…" Smith whispers. "There's something I have to tell you."
"What?"
Agent Brown, Agent Jones, possible human beings working with Machines, or perhaps a manifestation of the very Matrix they reside in. A Matrix that is put into a human form, given a face, and a voice, and a mind. Agents put them here, Agents did this to them, he was an Agent. He was an Agent trying to convince himself he was a man with flesh and blood and a soul that could be both damned and saved.
"My name…is Agent Smith."
"I know." Neo slowly nodded.
"What does it mean?"
Neo thought about it for a moment.
"Absolutely nothing. It changes nothing." Neo told him.
"Neo…I hate you."
I hate you with your flesh, and bones, and blood. I hate your pumping heart, and your brain that contains a mind inside it. I hate your face, that can smile and frown, that can laugh and cry. I hate your voice box that gives you a voice, and I hate your tear ducts that allow you to cry. I hate the pigments in your eyes that make your eyes brown. I hate the cells of your very being, and the atoms that make up them, and the DNA that makes up them. I hate the air you breath, and the carbon dioxide you exhale. I hate your path. I hate your voice. I hate your words. I hate your mind, and your dreams, and your memories. I hate your love, it mocks me. I hate your triumphs and your failures. I hate that you have everything, and I nothing.
I hate that I hate you.
Neo hugged Smith.
"I hate me too, Smith."
----------------
Next Chapter: Someone Else
Now, now, everyone, remember sometimes all this pain, and all this hurt is worth it.
I saw Farscape finally on TV, it has our good friend, Agent Brown playing a mentally unstable alien. Oh I loved it, and since I've wanted to write some Brown goodness, I think I will soon.