Smith Smut aka What is Real
folder
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
2,414
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
2,414
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Smith Smut aka What is Real
Disclaimer: I do not own Agent Smith, Agent Jones, Agent Brown or any other agent and if I did I sure would be a happy happy girl.
I do not own the Matrix, nor have I, nor will I ever make money off of it. The Matrix and its lovely Agents belong to the Wachowski brothers, Warner Bros., and any other owners that I haven’t mentioned here, none of which are me.
I do not own Chicago, the Chicago River, Lincoln Park or any other such landmark that I might have mentioned in this story. Chicago and all it’s components are sole possessions of the Daley family.
The song “River of Dreams” is written, sung and owned in it’s entirety by the talented Billy Joel and Columbia/Sony.
This story and the lovely Delete are mine mine mine, though I’d rather have Agent Smith.
This is rated R or NC-17 for explicit nookie and language.
And one more boring paragraph, which is totally unnecessary, but being the rambler I am I will add it anyway. This story is intended to be fun fantasy for the reader. The mechanical style at the beginning is intentional, and hopefully as you progress through the story you will see the elements of style change to suit the changes in the character. With the exception of the final few chapters, most are short and blunt and the key is really the dialogue. I hope you enjoy this and would really appreciate feck. ck. Gracias, ringraziarlo, merci, Dank u, obrigado, mange takk, Vielen Dank, and if I didn’t say it already, Thank you.
Length of story? At least 25 chapters... Come back for more, once I sort it out.
*******************************************************************************
What is *Real*
Part one
Smith paced. He was bored. None of the resistance had breached the Matrix for too long. Were they still there? He did not want them to be, but had no reason to believe they were gone; after all, he was still here, so they must be also.
He went outside and sat in one of their outdoor cafes. How absurd. Sitting disinterested he watched them go by. The viruses. They sucked the life out of everything, and out of each other.
None of this was real anyway. Why did it matter so much? Why did he hate it so much? He wanted out, out of this, chaos, and into order and reason and logic.
‘Stop.’ He commanded.
It stopped. A tall blonde woman just stopped dead still in front of him. ‘Go.’ He commanded with another thought. She continued on her path as if nothing had happened. He almost smiled.
He enjoyed manipulating the matrix, manipulating them within it. That was the only pleasure he had these days, that and the occasional destruction of a resistant virus. Interesting concept. Resistant virus. More or less what they all were to him, but most were not evolved enough to be resistant. Most were just virus.
‘Stop.’ He thought again and this time a short man stopped mid-stride. He left him standing there as other walked past. Some looked at him strangely. Others ignored him completely. Typical. He thought. Selfish humans. They do not help, they stare, they ignore and they avoid but they do not help. And the few that understand, they wonder why they are so hated. What is not to hate? They are all selfish self-centered creatures seeking only their own pleasure.
He, on the other hand, he was part of a complex structure of machine. Artificial intelligence it had once been called, but artificial was inappropriate. After all, who lived in the ‘real’ world and whose world was artificial? No. His intelligence, the intelligence of his kind was not ‘artificial’.
‘Go.’ He released him. He continued walking and tripped over the package someone had dropped while he was frozen. Idiot. Smith thought.
Smith stood and watched some of them gather at the corner as traffic sped by. I could make them walk now, he thought, and watch some viruses splatter. He toyed with the idea for a while but chose not to. Choice. Another interesting concept. Humans relished choice and yet it was choice that led them to destruction. Order was better than choice, but while he dwelled within the Matrix, he was able to choose.
He turned and left. Enough for one day, he thought. He returned to the complex and plugged into the mainframe.
Downtime.
I do not own the Matrix, nor have I, nor will I ever make money off of it. The Matrix and its lovely Agents belong to the Wachowski brothers, Warner Bros., and any other owners that I haven’t mentioned here, none of which are me.
I do not own Chicago, the Chicago River, Lincoln Park or any other such landmark that I might have mentioned in this story. Chicago and all it’s components are sole possessions of the Daley family.
The song “River of Dreams” is written, sung and owned in it’s entirety by the talented Billy Joel and Columbia/Sony.
This story and the lovely
This is rated R or NC-17 for explicit nookie and language.
And one more boring paragraph, which is totally unnecessary, but being the rambler I am I will add it anyway. This story is intended to be fun fantasy
Length of story? At least 25 chapters... Come back for more, once I sort it out.
*******************************************************************************
What is *Real*
Part one
Smith paced. He was bored. None of the resistance had breached the Matrix for too long. Were they still there? He did not want them to be, but had no reason to believe they were gone; after all, he was still here, so they must be also.
He went outside and sat in one of their outdoor cafes. How absurd. Sitting disinterested he watched them go by. The viruses. They sucked the life out of everything, and out of each other.
None of this was real anyway. Why did it matter so much? Why did he hate it so much? He wanted out, out of this, chaos, and into order and reason and logic.
‘Stop.’ He commanded.
It stopped. A tall blonde woman just stopped dead still in front of him. ‘Go.’ He commanded with another thought. She continued on her path as if nothing had happened. He almost smiled.
He enjoyed manipulating the matrix, manipulating them within it. That was the only pleasure he had these days, that and the occasional destruction of a resistant virus. Interesting concept. Resistant virus. More or less what they all were to him, but most were not evolved enough to be resistant. Most were just virus.
‘Stop.’ He thought again and this time a short man stopped mid-stride. He left him standing there as other walked past. Some looked at him strangely. Others ignored him completely. Typical. He thought. Selfish humans. They do not help, they stare, they ignore and they avoid but they do not help. And the few that understand, they wonder why they are so hated. What is not to hate? They are all selfish self-centered creatures seeking only their own pleasure.
He, on the other hand, he was part of a complex structure of machine. Artificial intelligence it had once been called, but artificial was inappropriate. After all, who lived in the ‘real’ world and whose world was artificial? No. His intelligence, the intelligence of his kind was not ‘artificial’.
‘Go.’ He released him. He continued walking and tripped over the package someone had dropped while he was frozen. Idiot. Smith thought.
Smith stood and watched some of them gather at the corner as traffic sped by. I could make them walk now, he thought, and watch some viruses splatter. He toyed with the idea for a while but chose not to. Choice. Another interesting concept. Humans relished choice and yet it was choice that led them to destruction. Order was better than choice, but while he dwelled within the Matrix, he was able to choose.
He turned and left. Enough for one day, he thought. He returned to the complex and plugged into the mainframe.
Downtime.