Smith Smut aka What is Real
folder
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
2,429
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
26
Views:
2,429
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.
The Key
Part Eighteen – Ready or Not
****************************
I don’t know why I go walking at night
But now I’m tired and I don’t wanna walk anymore
Hope it doesn’t take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is I’ve been looking for
*** ********************************
He knew when she said good-bye he might never see her again, but he waited anyway. Everyday, day after day, he waitHe uHe usually sat at the cafe, in his u sea seat, with his usual cup of coffee. He dropped the twenty on the table every morning. She brought the cup of black coffee. He sat there until night. Sometimes he drank it, other times he didn’t.
Agent Brown sat on the bench on the other side of the street. Smith watched him nearly every day. Actually, Brown had become exceptionally good at manipulating the humans in the Matrix, and Smith was enjoying watching it. Brown had given up on the ‘procreate’ command and tried simpler instructions. He was a master at ‘stop’ and ‘go’, but he had come up with some new ideas. One day he had commanded one young man to ‘shove’ another. He commanded the second to ‘shove back’. In a few moments Brown had them brawling in the streets and since then each had developed his own group of supporters and they met to fight on a regular basis. Of course Smith had reprimanded Brown for engaging the humans in this way, encouraging crime was frowned upon, but still, Smith admired Brown’s creativity and control.
Some days he wandered around the city. Some days he meandered through Lincoln Park. Occasionally he’d stand on the bridge and watch the water. He didn’t change the flow again. It wasn’t fun any more. His stories to the mainframe had become rather inspired at times. Sometimes he was sure it would figure out he was lying, other times he was sure it never would, most of the time he was sure he didn’t care any more.
He hoped she would return. He had given her everything he could. He gave her his body, his mind, and his heart. He didn’t have a soul. He didn’t think he had a soul. How could he give her what he didn’t have? He watched a couple walk by and commanded them to ‘make love’. They slipped away together. He smiled. He went back to the cafe and sat in his chair. She brought him his coffee. He pulled out a fifty and ped ped it on the table.
The waitress looked suspiciously at the fifty. “Did you want something other than coffee today?”
“Strawberries” was his one word reply.
Half an hour later she brought a plate of strawberries and put it on the table next to his coffee. He picked one up and dipped it in sugar and then sucked the sugar off of it. He pulled the stem off and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He squeezed it between his teeth and tasted the juices rolling on his tongue. “Taste.”
He picked up another one and examined it. Bright red. A good color, not his favorite, but it worked for strawberries. He pulled the stem off and slid his tongue into it and pulled the whole thing into his mouth. After rolling it around his tongue for a while he chewed and swallowed. He was enjoying his strawberries.
The waitress approached tentatively. “I was told to give this to you.” She dropped a brown padded envelope on the table and hurried off. He picked it up, opened it and dumped the contents on the table. A small grey plastic cube with one side missing landed in front of him. He picked it up and examined it. It was hollow. On the front side it had the letters “DEL” printed on it. He smiled. Next to it on the table was a metal ker a r a lock. Few things used such keys these days. Another antique. There was also a note. “Meet me when you are ready.” He put all three items in his pocket and materialized in motel room six.
She was not there.
He pulled the key out of his pocket and stared at it for a while. He did not need a key to enter a room. What was the purpose of the key? He walked out the door of room six. He wandered around aimlessly fingering the “DEL” key and thinking about the other key. What is real, Smith? He could almost hear her ask that. She asked him that every time they were together. He thought about her every time they were apart. Occasionally he would let an image of her slip through to the mainframe. It always responded with the command: “Delete”. He always agreed.
This was the last piece of the puzzle. He could feel it. He stood on his favorite bridge and watched the water flow. He leaned on the rail and considered the options. The flowing water was soothing. He enjoyed watching the foam form and break apart and form again. Rhythm, motion, movement, it was all a part of the river, of her, of him. He remembered a story he’d heard a mother tell a child one time while he was ‘observing’ them. “The Little Mermaid” told of a girl who had to choose. She was in love but he loved another. If she killed his love she would live, if she didn’t, she would die. She gave up her life for her love, and in return she was given a soul and didn’t spend eternity as sea foam. If he could trade his life for a soul and give it to her he would.
She appeared sitting on the rail in front of him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his legs. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her long and deep. He held her close and breathed her in deeply.
“I’m ready.”
“That building, over there.” She pointed to a luxury hotel on the riverfront.
“Which room?”
“Use the key, you will know, when you are ready. You have all the answers Smith; I was the one with the questions. Now you have to choose.”
He pressed his lips on hers again and kissed her and searched her mouth with his tongue. He held her tight and watched the sun crossing the sTimeTime suddenly mattered. He knew his time with her was short. She didn’t say another word, she kissed him when he kissed her, and she held on to him and rested her head on his chest the rest of the time. The sky turned hues of gold and orange and red and then violed ded deeper purple. Purple. She looked up at him and traced her fingers across his cheeks. “I love you Smith.”
He kissed her again. “I love you too.” He let her go she she vanished.
‘Report’
He watched the purple turn to grey.
‘Report’
The stars were becoming visible. The city was bright and lively.
‘Report’
The sky was turning black and the moon shining bright.
‘SMITH, REPORT’
‘Agent Smith is ready’ he said, and as he pulled the earpiece out of his ear he added ‘Fuck the report.’
He yanked it off and threw it into the water. He watched it bob on the surface for a few moments and then disappear beneath the inky waters. He walked over to the building she had indicated and looked at his reflection in the front window. He slid the metal key between his fingers and smiled, then walked through the front door, to the elevator and entered it. He pushed every button. He exited on the second floor. The sign indicated room 200 through 210 to the left, 211 to 220 to the right. He turned right.
He passed room 211. The opposite side of the hall doors 212 and 214 were together. He continued walking down the hallway 213 and 215, 216 and 218, 217 and 219, 220. The hallway ended. He slid the key between his fingers and felt the rough edges. He could materialize into any of those rooms at any time he wanted. They were part of the Matrix. There was only one room he needed a key for, one room he couldn’t manipulate and that key was in his pocket. He turned and saw the door, 221.
Taking the key out of his pocket he considered her words. “What is real?”
The key? The room? The Matrix? He mulled it over in his mind. Memory of another story he’d heard flashed through his thoughts. “The Lady, or The Tiger.” The story humans told about a man’s innocence or guilt being tested by giving him the choice of two doors. He had only one door to choose, but the choice remained. He stared at the door and ran his fingertip up and down the rough edge of the key.
He slipped his hand in his other pocket and felt the little plastic square. A keyboard key. He found the humor in it at first, but now he questioned why she gave him that. Was she somehow connected to all the computers? The network? Was her name really Delete? She had told him he should ask ‘what’ she was not ‘who’. Then he thought he knew everything or had access to all the knowledge through the mainframe, now he wished he had asked. Was this all a semi-barbaric mainframe test? Were agents tested? Or was she real? Had he evolved beyond the control of his creator? Was it even possible?
He had to choose. What was real? He turned the key over in his hand considering his options. On the bridge he was sure, now he realized that nothing was sure. Flipping the metal key over and over in his fingers he pondered the possibilities in his mind. What was real? He stared at the key in his hand and the lock on the door.
****************************
I don’t know why I go walking at night
But now I’m tired and I don’t wanna walk anymore
Hope it doesn’t take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is I’ve been looking for
*** ********************************
He knew when she said good-bye he might never see her again, but he waited anyway. Everyday, day after day, he waitHe uHe usually sat at the cafe, in his u sea seat, with his usual cup of coffee. He dropped the twenty on the table every morning. She brought the cup of black coffee. He sat there until night. Sometimes he drank it, other times he didn’t.
Agent Brown sat on the bench on the other side of the street. Smith watched him nearly every day. Actually, Brown had become exceptionally good at manipulating the humans in the Matrix, and Smith was enjoying watching it. Brown had given up on the ‘procreate’ command and tried simpler instructions. He was a master at ‘stop’ and ‘go’, but he had come up with some new ideas. One day he had commanded one young man to ‘shove’ another. He commanded the second to ‘shove back’. In a few moments Brown had them brawling in the streets and since then each had developed his own group of supporters and they met to fight on a regular basis. Of course Smith had reprimanded Brown for engaging the humans in this way, encouraging crime was frowned upon, but still, Smith admired Brown’s creativity and control.
Some days he wandered around the city. Some days he meandered through Lincoln Park. Occasionally he’d stand on the bridge and watch the water. He didn’t change the flow again. It wasn’t fun any more. His stories to the mainframe had become rather inspired at times. Sometimes he was sure it would figure out he was lying, other times he was sure it never would, most of the time he was sure he didn’t care any more.
He hoped she would return. He had given her everything he could. He gave her his body, his mind, and his heart. He didn’t have a soul. He didn’t think he had a soul. How could he give her what he didn’t have? He watched a couple walk by and commanded them to ‘make love’. They slipped away together. He smiled. He went back to the cafe and sat in his chair. She brought him his coffee. He pulled out a fifty and ped ped it on the table.
The waitress looked suspiciously at the fifty. “Did you want something other than coffee today?”
“Strawberries” was his one word reply.
Half an hour later she brought a plate of strawberries and put it on the table next to his coffee. He picked one up and dipped it in sugar and then sucked the sugar off of it. He pulled the stem off and popped the whole thing in his mouth. He squeezed it between his teeth and tasted the juices rolling on his tongue. “Taste.”
He picked up another one and examined it. Bright red. A good color, not his favorite, but it worked for strawberries. He pulled the stem off and slid his tongue into it and pulled the whole thing into his mouth. After rolling it around his tongue for a while he chewed and swallowed. He was enjoying his strawberries.
The waitress approached tentatively. “I was told to give this to you.” She dropped a brown padded envelope on the table and hurried off. He picked it up, opened it and dumped the contents on the table. A small grey plastic cube with one side missing landed in front of him. He picked it up and examined it. It was hollow. On the front side it had the letters “DEL” printed on it. He smiled. Next to it on the table was a metal ker a r a lock. Few things used such keys these days. Another antique. There was also a note. “Meet me when you are ready.” He put all three items in his pocket and materialized in motel room six.
She was not there.
He pulled the key out of his pocket and stared at it for a while. He did not need a key to enter a room. What was the purpose of the key? He walked out the door of room six. He wandered around aimlessly fingering the “DEL” key and thinking about the other key. What is real, Smith? He could almost hear her ask that. She asked him that every time they were together. He thought about her every time they were apart. Occasionally he would let an image of her slip through to the mainframe. It always responded with the command: “Delete”. He always agreed.
This was the last piece of the puzzle. He could feel it. He stood on his favorite bridge and watched the water flow. He leaned on the rail and considered the options. The flowing water was soothing. He enjoyed watching the foam form and break apart and form again. Rhythm, motion, movement, it was all a part of the river, of her, of him. He remembered a story he’d heard a mother tell a child one time while he was ‘observing’ them. “The Little Mermaid” told of a girl who had to choose. She was in love but he loved another. If she killed his love she would live, if she didn’t, she would die. She gave up her life for her love, and in return she was given a soul and didn’t spend eternity as sea foam. If he could trade his life for a soul and give it to her he would.
She appeared sitting on the rail in front of him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his legs. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her long and deep. He held her close and breathed her in deeply.
“I’m ready.”
“That building, over there.” She pointed to a luxury hotel on the riverfront.
“Which room?”
“Use the key, you will know, when you are ready. You have all the answers Smith; I was the one with the questions. Now you have to choose.”
He pressed his lips on hers again and kissed her and searched her mouth with his tongue. He held her tight and watched the sun crossing the sTimeTime suddenly mattered. He knew his time with her was short. She didn’t say another word, she kissed him when he kissed her, and she held on to him and rested her head on his chest the rest of the time. The sky turned hues of gold and orange and red and then violed ded deeper purple. Purple. She looked up at him and traced her fingers across his cheeks. “I love you Smith.”
He kissed her again. “I love you too.” He let her go she she vanished.
‘Report’
He watched the purple turn to grey.
‘Report’
The stars were becoming visible. The city was bright and lively.
‘Report’
The sky was turning black and the moon shining bright.
‘SMITH, REPORT’
‘Agent Smith is ready’ he said, and as he pulled the earpiece out of his ear he added ‘Fuck the report.’
He yanked it off and threw it into the water. He watched it bob on the surface for a few moments and then disappear beneath the inky waters. He walked over to the building she had indicated and looked at his reflection in the front window. He slid the metal key between his fingers and smiled, then walked through the front door, to the elevator and entered it. He pushed every button. He exited on the second floor. The sign indicated room 200 through 210 to the left, 211 to 220 to the right. He turned right.
He passed room 211. The opposite side of the hall doors 212 and 214 were together. He continued walking down the hallway 213 and 215, 216 and 218, 217 and 219, 220. The hallway ended. He slid the key between his fingers and felt the rough edges. He could materialize into any of those rooms at any time he wanted. They were part of the Matrix. There was only one room he needed a key for, one room he couldn’t manipulate and that key was in his pocket. He turned and saw the door, 221.
Taking the key out of his pocket he considered her words. “What is real?”
The key? The room? The Matrix? He mulled it over in his mind. Memory of another story he’d heard flashed through his thoughts. “The Lady, or The Tiger.” The story humans told about a man’s innocence or guilt being tested by giving him the choice of two doors. He had only one door to choose, but the choice remained. He stared at the door and ran his fingertip up and down the rough edge of the key.
He slipped his hand in his other pocket and felt the little plastic square. A keyboard key. He found the humor in it at first, but now he questioned why she gave him that. Was she somehow connected to all the computers? The network? Was her name really Delete? She had told him he should ask ‘what’ she was not ‘who’. Then he thought he knew everything or had access to all the knowledge through the mainframe, now he wished he had asked. Was this all a semi-barbaric mainframe test? Were agents tested? Or was she real? Had he evolved beyond the control of his creator? Was it even possible?
He had to choose. What was real? He turned the key over in his hand considering his options. On the bridge he was sure, now he realized that nothing was sure. Flipping the metal key over and over in his fingers he pondered the possibilities in his mind. What was real? He stared at the key in his hand and the lock on the door.