Connection

Cat breathed a little easier as she stepped into the hotel lobby. Walking
with Smith was definitely an experience. He'd moved at an incredible rate,
shoving inconvenient people out of his way without reacting to their indignant
protests. It was anything but inconspicuous.

Maybe she'd work up the
nerve to insist on a more moderate pace at dinner. Right now, it was nice to let
her guard slip. Smith was out stalking the streets with directions to observe
people, leaving her with a little room to breathe and some time to work out
accommodations.

The hotel clerk swallowed her story about remodeling in
her apartment building without comment. That was another relief, albeit a small
one. It would be inconvenient to relocate if her crew didn't call for her in two
weeks' time, but getting a hotel to work with her time constraints wasn't
easy.

Cat flopped onto her rented bed. This afternoon had been harrowing.
She really had no idea how to go about making Smith publicly presentable, but it
wouldn't be wise to tell him that she was making this up as she went along. Why
hadn't she thought this out beforehand? Still, he seemed to be buying it. After
all, she wasn't dead yet.

He'd given her some time to think by peppering
her with questions about Neo. She had been too nervous to lie, or even omit
things. He'd been inside her head that afternoon, and onlyonly knows what he saw
there. If she tried to cover something up, he might know and that would be the
end of that. Cat was uncomfortably aware that she'd given Smith the same
information Neo sought. He probably could figure out this connection business;
unless she wrung something more than hostile looks and reflective silences from
the Agent over the next couple of weeks, Neo would have no such
option.

If she hurried, there might be enough time for a bubble bath
before dinner. Heaven knew the relaxation would be welcome, but somehow Cat
doubted Smith would take kindly to waiting for her.

Cat came to the lobby
a little early. It couldn't hurt to get things off to an amiable start. She was
pretty sure that it was Smith when the revolving door sped up two
notches.

"Do you eat?" she blurted. Dammit. She wanted to clap her hands
over her mouth like a four-year old.

"I can," said Smith.

"I'm
sorry. I should have thought to ask that sooner."

Smith just pushed back
toward to revolving door. Cat caught up to him quickly, clutching his elbow
before he stepped inside. "Walk slower, and try not to run into people," she
hissed.

Smith blinked at her, and she was suddenly aware that she was
grabbing at an Agent. She loosed his elbow and walked forward without comment.
The door turned at a more normal rate, at least.

"Like this," she said.
She'd always thought herself a brisk walker; perhaps Smith wouldn't be too
annoyed with their progress.

The Agent paused, his eyes dropping to her
legs. Cat stopped, puzzled. "Continue."

Her face colored a little as she
ambled down the sidewalk until Smith called to her. "Wait."

She started
up again when the Agent caught up to her. His feet hit the ground in exact
unison with hers.

"What were you doing?" she asked.

Smith blinked.
"I measured the average time between your footfalls, and analyzed the pattern of
your motion."

Well, she had told him to walk like her! Cat stifled a
giggle. "Was your afternoon productive?" She consciously pre-empted the likely
response to a more normal query.

"Yes."

Well, that didn't work out
as she'd hoped. "How so?"

"I observed a number of human interactions,"
the A rep replied.

"Well, then you must have noticed that you scare
anyone who meets you half to death." Was that a smile she detected? In any case,
it was gone before she could make sure.

"That is the idea."

"All
right. Maybe it would be useful to be able to turn the menace ond ond on, you
know?" she said, watching his eyes for reaction. After she'd removed Smith's
sunglasses, she'd noticed that his eyes telegraphed his emotions quite clearly.
Strange, that. Smith was easier to read than most genuine people.

She
didn't get one this time. Another surprise; she'd expected Smith to fight the
modifications she'd suggested a little more. Jesus. Whatever this connection
was, it must be pretty unpleasant.

"Maybe you can try smiling. You seem
to either look over-neutral or terrifying, and nothing else."

Smith's
mouth wrenched up into a stiff caricature of a smile. Cat's hand jumped to her
throat; he looked very much like the vampires she'd read about as a
child.

"This isn't working," Cat sighed. She was sure she'd seen the
Agent smile just a moment ago. "Maybe we're trying to force it. Well, I'm all
you've got to practice on. Try keeping up a conversation with
me."

Smith's forehead creased. "You grew up in the country."

Cat
jumped, and Smith's frown deepened. "What is wrong?" he asked.

"I never
told you that."

"The information is in your file."

"Well," said
Cat, "that's a big conversational no-no. I couldn't possibly tell that by
looking at someone I just met. If you want to talk about something like that,
ask."

Smith didn't reply.

"Tell you what," she . ". "Let me
start. Agents usually work in groups, right?"

"I did not tell you
that."

"Well, it's a good idea to make generalizations about a person if
you can, to get them talking about things they know. People like to talk about
themselves, and most of the time they telegraph a little bit of information to
you." Cat frowned. "Maybe you could use some of the things you've, er,
downloaded about people for that. Just be careful not to make it too specific.
It has to be something that you could've gathered from your direct experience
with the person, or they'll be surprised."

Smith looked at her without
comment. "Silence is usually to be avoided with someone you've just met, too,"
Cat said. "If you're comfortable with someone, it's fine, but not with someone
you don't really know."

"I thought you would appreciate my silence more
than my generalizations concerning the company you keep."

Cat smiled at
that and was startled to notice that Smith was smiling, too. It wasn't the rigor
mortis grin from before, either. It was more of a sneer than anything, really,
but at least it looked genuine. "Was that a joke, Agent?"

"I believe it
was, Ms. Thompson." His eyes were still crinkled. Mirth, Cat thought, looks a
little unnatural on Agent Smith.

"Do you make jokes with the other
Agents?" she asked.

"You are determined to pursue this point." His tone
was sharp; Cat wondered if he suspected that she was seeking information for
Neo.

"Well, do you make jokes with the replicas of yourself,
then?"

The Agent glared. "I will not need to converse casually in the
nightclub."

Cat sighed, not sure whether to be glad or upset by the
reprieve. It saved her the near-impossible task of training Smith to say
anything other than a threat or command, but it would be much harder to
accomplish the supposed goal of her presence here. Cat's stomach turned. If she
returned to the ship having failed at this task, it would be full and final
proof that she was useless. It wasn't that she was afraid she'd be thrown off;
even if she hadn't made that bargain, the look in Trinity's eyes when she'd left
Cat at the Neb told her all she needed to know. She'd understand the bond you
formed with a ship you've been with for a long time. But to think they'd keep
her on her own ship from pity.....

Her eyes widened at the name above the
door Smith held for her. The Agent had booked them at a five-star restaurant. At
least the food would give her something to concentrate on, beyond this awkward
silence.

Smith stared across the room at no one in particular. The girl's
questions seemed innocent enough, but perhaps she was somehow seeking
information for Anderson. That explained his negative reaction. It
must.

It was still..... strange to be dissociated with the Mainframe and
all that went with it. He had spoken to Brown and Jones, although usually only
confirmations and commands were necessary. They'd been created to work under
him, their code variations of his own, and as a consequence their thought
patterns were usually similar. They often communicated without speaking, a
gesture or flicker of the eyebrow enough to induce the desired action. It had
been .... efficient. Yes, that's it. Efficient.

After the incident, his
newfound autonomy had been marred by the loss of his combat and pursuit
operatives. Smith was equipped for both the fight and the chase, but Brown's
specialized speed and Jones' enforcement capabilities had been useful. The
human's questions had reminded him that their utility was gone. That must have
prompted the reaction.

She had also inquired about his duplicates, w
h
he had at first thought were a solution to this problem. He was the most
intelligent and adaptable variety of Agent, and so these copies should have more
than made up for the loss of Brown and Jones. He had initially used them for
just that purpose. After his most recent conflict with Anderson, though, he had
noted anomalies in their behavior. The smooth synchrony with his former
colleagues was replaced by the somewhat erratic behavior of the duplicates. Each
one seemed to follow a different behavioral algorithm, and their unpredictable
actions severely limited their utility. Even in the fight with Anderson, their
inability to cooperate smoothly had created confusion and allowed the human too
many opportunities to deal blows.

When Thompson had asked if he joked
with his replicas, she had raised a point of uncertainty. Despite their
unreliable actions, his copies seemed to follow identical thought patterns. They
finished sentences or spoke simultaneously nearly every time they conversed. It
was inconsistent. How could programs that thought identically act
disparately?

There was a logical explanation for the unsettling strength
of his reaction, as for everything else. Smith glanced at the menu without
interest. Perhaps he would refrain. Eating was within his capabilities, but the
process wasn't particularly gratifying.

The human was glancing at him,
apparently tr to to be inconspicuous. She looked apprehensive about something.
Smith crossed his arms, waited for her to speak. "What are you having?" she
whispered.

He watched with interest as her face flushed. "I have not
responded. Is this a typical reaction to silence?" Thompson shook her head,
growing redder by the second. Smith frowned. "What induced this
response?"

"I'm a little outclassed by this place," Cat
muttered.

"The waiter can undoubtedly provide a
recommendation."

Thompson's color darkened further. "I was hoping you'd
save me the embarrassment."

Smith frowned at her. "Are you always
distressed when seeking necessary information?"

The girl sighed. "Never
mind, then."

Smith frowned again and raised a hand, summoning a waiter.
"Make a suggestion for my companion."

"Perhaps Madam would enjoy braised
duck." Thompson remained silent. Smith scowled at her.

rhaprhaps not," the
waiter soothed. "The chef does a wonderful breast of chicken, hand-rubbeth th
his special blend of spices and serve on a bed of pilaf. It is my personal
favorite."

"That will be acceptable," Smith said.

The waiter
looked a little startled, glancing at the girl. She nodded, blushing.

"I
will have the steak tartar." Smith sneered at the human. His bloody dinner would
do little repair her present discomfort.

"Shall I bring the chef's
recommended wine, sir?"

"Yes." Why waste words on a waiter?

"And
you, Madam?"

"Could I have a Diet Coke?"

The waiter, Smith noted,
covered his discomfiture well.

"You are indeed outclassed," Smith purred.
Thompson burst into tears.

Thrice-damned idiot! Cat cursed herself,
dabbing at her eyes with her napkin and looking anywhere but at her dinner
companion. Even if it had been a stressful day, there was no excuse for behaving
like this. He's just a machine, she repeated to herself. Nothing but a spiteful,
malicious collection of digits.

She looked up, and the malicious
collection of digits faced her blandly. "Was that necessary?" he - no, not he,
it - asked.

Something snapped inside at that. "Was it necessary to call
me outclassed? Was it necessary to humiliate me in front of the waiter? Was it
necessary to cut me short on the way here, effectively ending the productivity
of our association this evening?" She pushed away from the table. "I'm leaving,
Agent Smith."

He grabbed her wrist before she could fully stand. She
would either have to sit back down or stand half-stooped, attracting even more
attention. She sat.

"Let me go!" she spat.

"Stay." How could the
Agent look so damn unperturbed about the whole thing?

"Give me one good
reason."

"For one thing, you will waste an excellent dinner." Cat tugged
her arm sharply, but the Agent's grip was firm. Smith sighed. "We can continue
to converse, if you are so inclined."

She yanked again. "I will not stay
here for the privilege of being insulted by you. Hell, I wouldn't stay if you
were going to be sweetness itself."

The Agent's grip on her wrist
tightened painfully. "You will stay, Ms. Thompson."

"Go ahead, Smith.
Break my arm. Cause a scene. You'll end up right where you were this morning.
Intimidation's not going to work this time." The Agent's eyes flicked to his
Desert Eagle. "Oh. You want to shoot me. Go right ahead. See if you can suddenly
find Neo somehow by talking to my corpse." She tried to rise again, but Smith
still held her arm. Cat could fee l herself getting hysterical. She had to get
out of here NOW, before she could make things any worse than they already
were.

"Sit down, Ms. Thompson."

Cat glared at him, no small feat
from her half-bent posture. Smith had pinioned her arm, forcing her torso close
to the table although the rest of her was standing.

The waiter shot her a
solicitous look as he passed. "Are you all right, Miss?"

Cat sat down and
tried to smile at him. "Yes, I'm fine. I just felt a little faint after my
outburst."

The waiter tutted and patted her arm. There would be no
graceful exit now.

"Would it be possible for the lady to step outside for
a moment?" Smith asked, looking at Cat with a new expression on his face. If she
hadn't known better, she might have called it concern.

"There is a
balcony right this way, sir." The waiter smiled, motioning for Smith to follow.
He clamped down on Cat's arm and dragged her along. So much for
concern.

The balcony wrapped around the outside of the building they were
on. Smith hauled her around the nearest corner, out of the immediate sight of
the solicitous waiter. "You are attracting attention."

Cat sniffed. At
least she wasn't crying anymore, although she knew from experience that anyone
who looked at her would be able to tell that she haen.
Something
white intruded on her field of vision. Cat looked up, startled. Smith was
dangling his handkerchief in front of her. Thankfully, he didn't comment as she
daubed at her face. She felt a little guilty when she'd finished; apparently
even virtual mascara runs. Smith took the soiled handkerchief without comment.
For once, Cat was grateful for his stoicism.

"I didn't mean to do that,"
she muttered, not looking at the Agent.

"I would not have spoken if I had
predicted this reaction."

That was surprisingly kind. It almost bordered
on apology. Cat sighed. The literal-minded Smith was just stating a fact; her
explosive reaction had drawn attention that neither of them wanted.

She
chanced a glance at Smith. He looked expectant. Waiting for an explanation. It
wasn't going to be forthcoming. Smith had poked a sore spot; when she was a
little girl, before she'd been unplugged, Cat's family had been pretty poor.
She'd never really noticed until she'd invited one of her school friends over
for dinner. Who knew that the girl had a butler, and was certainly not used to a
cramped and chaotic apartment kitchen as a dining venue? The little girl had
snubbed her thoroughly after that. Worse, htatutatus as a scholarship student
had spread like wildfire and her popularity had plummeted. Cat hadn't known that
the old class-consciousness was still lurking in her. After all, it wasn't as if
the Sekhmet had state cabins. How do you explain that kind of thing to a
program, though?

Cat wasn't about to. She settled on a half-truth
instead. "I'm sorry, Smith. It's just been a long day. I usually have better
control than this, scout's honor." She pushed her hair back. "You're the sole
reason it's been tough, though. Do you think you can direct your next attack of
malice at someone else?"

He just blinked at her. Cat was beginning to
read that as "surprised Smith."

"We both have something the other wants,
and, like it or not, our ends require that we work together for a while. We
might as well be somewhat civil about it, don't you think? Not that I'm asking
you to be nice to me," she said hurriedly. "I suppose it's your nature to tear
into me a little. But.... Well, just ease up on the public humiliation,
please."

Smith's brow furrowed. Ah, Cat thought. Confused Smith. It was
better to speak before he did. She really didn't want to analyze this right now.
"You had a remarkable look on your face when speaking to the waiter. It was
almost.... emotive."

"I observed that reaction several times today in
response to distress."

Good. He'd taken the bait. "Well, you pulled it
off quite nicely. If you pick up a few more general observations like that, no
one will be able to tell you don't belong among us."

Smith curled his
lip, plainly uncomfortable with the thought. "That is the short-term
goal."

"Come on. We'd better get back in there before our dinner gets
served." Smith gripped her arm again as she stepped forward. "Ow!"

"All
of the other males in this place escort the females they are with."

"Not
by ripping their arms off, they don't." The pain faded as Smith's grip eased.
"That's much better."

Dinner passed in relative peace. Cat couldn't help
but watch Smith with fascination. She had told him to observe the other patrons
of the restaurant while he ate. The leashed violence as he cut the steak, the
deliberate cadence of his eating, the unnerving stare that caused other patrons
to flinch when they noticed him all fit in with what she knew about this ma....
program. At least he was consistent.

The other patrons surely thought
they'd had a spat of some kind. Cat tried to look as miserable as they obviously
thought she should be. Dinner flew by, between the concentration required to
keep up the act and the distraction provided by the excellent food. It wasn't
long before Smith took her elbow again - firmly, to be sure, but at least he
wouldn't leave a bruise this time.

He didn't release it during
u
uncomfortable walk back to her hotel. If dinner had been all right, the
awkwardness that followed more than made up for it. Cat's nerve endings
responded to what seemed like an attractive male in close proximity; she could
squelch them only with difficulty. She kept reminding herself that not only was
this "man" a program designed to kill her, he wasn't winning any awards for
congeniality.

Still, she felt a traitorous twinge when Smith followed hernto nto the elevator. Anyone who saw them must have assumed that they were on a
date. Come to think of it, the evening had been a close approximation of the
cliché. Dinner and a stroll - with a killer program that you're pumping for
information, Cat, and who drove you to tears in ic, ic, she thought. Maybe he
was programmed to attract.

She paused outside her door. "Why don't you
wander around observing people until, say, four tomorrow afternoon? Your
imitation tonight was very promising."

"All right."

"I need to go
shopping. I don't have an operator watching me." Smith raised his
eyebrows.

Cat crossed her arms defensively. "Well," she said, "I didn't
think to bring extra clothes with me, and I can hardly go clubbing in a business
suit. At least I thought to bring lots of cash."

"I will come to this
room at four," the Agent said. Cat nodded, watched him as he retreated to the
elevator.

When the door closed him off, she slumped against the entry to
her room. Jesus Christ. It was too much to le, le, she thought. This is just too
much to handle. Maybe things will look better in the morning. She snorted
softly. And maybe Smith would be easy to get on with, too. Pigs might
fly.


A/N: Several rounds of applause are due to my wonderful new beta reader, Anais Lacquestar, for kindly volunteering. This chapter is much the better for her.