The Logic of Desire

Crime and Punishment, Part 2

Disclaimer: You know the drill, right? No money is being made, blah, blah, blah...

Rating: NC-17, for violent imagery (in Part 2a - this section is pretty innocuous). You have been warned.

Synopsis: In which the Agents fess up, Xan makes a new friend, and a traitor is caught.

A/N: A very big Thank You to Heri for beta reading this! Also, I've incorporated some of the material from the Animatrix short "The Second Renaissance," though my version of Zion's government differs substantially from Canon as seen in Reloaded.
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[Initializing link...online]

[Smith, we must not delay any longer. We require the Mainframe's permission to re-insert Xan into the System. We cannot predict when she may accede to our plan. Thus, we should secure approval now.]

Smith grimaced. He was not eager to reveal their unauthorized activities to their superiors. But he had to admit that Jones was right; they needed the cooperation of the Mainframe, sooner rather than later. They might have to move quickly once they finally secured Xan's agreement.

[Agreed. I will initiate contact once I am in a suitable location. Suggest we immediately encrypt and back up personal files to the accessory database.]

He acknowledged the response of his partners, and shut down the link. As he walked, he ran the scripts that first encoded and then copied the files containing his personal experiences to the database, specifying a little-used server as the destination.

He replayed his interactions with Xan, looking for signs that his programming had been compromised. As he examined them, he found nothing that should alarm the Mainframe. Yes, he and his colleagues sought pleasure for its own sake, finding it in their time with the Resistant, but their relationship with her did not endanger the System. There had been no sign that Xan passed on any information regarding them to Zion, or that she was being manipulated by her superiors.

Smith allowed himself to hope that he would be successful in convincing the Mainframe to permit them to proceed with their plan. Nonetheless, it was wise to take basic precautions. He well remembered the tale of Agent Robertson, torn from his host in the middle of a crowd when the Mainframe discovered that he had independently tried to strike a deal with a Resistance captain. He suppressed a shiver. Robertson had been completely re-initialized to remove the "degenerate code" that had led him to circumvent the System.

He scanned his surroundings, finally settling on a fast-food restaurant, still shiny with unscuffed plastic and chrome. Once inside, he headed to the washroom, entered a stall, and latched the door. He waited until the last patron left, and initialized the link with the Central Processor.

The Mainframe identified him immediately. [...Agent Smith...Reason for contact?...] came the query, seemingly coming from the center of his head.

[Status report on continued contact with a Resistance operative, and a request for approval of further actions.] He waited, uncharacteristically nervous. Had he been human he would have bitten his fingernails. No turning back now.

A nanosecond of electronic silence while the Processor accessed its files on him. Then the voice came again, its tone somehow sharp, [...Resistant previously encountered?...One 'Xan?'...]

He swallowed before answering, [Affirmative.]

This time the voice was demanding. [...Further contact not disclosed...Explain actions...Proceed with data transfer immediately...]

Smith uploaded the records of his dealings with Xan, beginning with their first e-mail contact, holding nothing back. As the Mainframe digested the information, he wondered if he had not made a gross miscalculation in keeping his activities private. Would It interpret his concealment of the contact as evidence of intolerable corruption, regardless of the nature of his relationship with the human?

His ruminations were brought to an abrupt end as his vision dissolved in a field of emerald green. He had the fleeting sensation of burning as he was forcibly wrenched from his host and pulled into the swarm of code that carried out the Matrix's functions. As he was swept along, Smith had the sensation that his representation was elongating, becoming more and more diffuse as he descended through the abstraction layers to arrive at the fundamental level of the System: machine code. There was no light, no sound at this most basic location in AI existence; only a nebulous sense of contact with other digital components assured him that he had not been deleted already.

Ones and zeros eddied around him as he hung suspended before the scrutiny of the Central Processor. He could feel it seize his code, examining every line minutely, stretching the connections between bits with such force that he would have screamed, had he been able.

It began with his head, or rather with the code that dictated his intelligent functioning, taking a long time to analyze the subroutines and memory devoted to decision-making. The tension lessened, sooner than he expected. But it returned seconds later, and now Smith could feel, could know, somehow, that Jones and Brown were beside him. In a process more painful that he had thought it would be, all three Agents were unraveled, their code de-compacted from the ordered higher programming units to the explicit zeros and ones until their entire beings were displayed before the Mainframe.

Smith had no sense of time as his code was scanned, his memory examined and judged. It could have lasted microseconds or years. All of his integrative functions were shut down, disconnected. He retained enough awareness to perceive the progress of the interrogation, but could not even feel fear or resentment as his thoughts, his memories, were relentlessly probed for the taint of disobedience. Perhaps that saved him, in the end, because the Mainframe could detect no protest as it experimentally severed the part of him that coded for his genitalia. Smith merely waited patiently, unable to do anything else.

Finally, it was over. Finding no threat in the Agents' current makeup, the System reconstituted them, intact.

As his subroutines and programming objects coalesced, Smith checked his various subsystems, and felt a rush of relief. He hadn't been deleted. He hadn't lost any of his functions. He could still remember Xan. She hadn't been taken from him. At the same time, he knew that the Mainframe now knew every detail of his, and of his colleagues, dealings with the Resistant. His experiences were no longer his alone. He tried to suppress the feeling of violation that crept through him.

The voice was back in his head. [...Explain proposed plan relating to Resistance operative...Justify...]

[We propose re-inserting Resistant into the powerplant. Justification: her knowledge of Zion and Resistance personnel and procedures will assist our efforts.]

[...You have not yet secured her cooperation...If you succeed in recruiting her as an informant, position in Zion is more advantageous...]

Jones broke in. [She is compromised in Zion. Her initial contact with Smith is known, and she is not trusted.]

Smith tried to keep the unease out of his tone. [We project a high probability that Xan will proffer her allegiance to us in the near future. She will require safe haven from the Resistance as a condition of her assistance. We must be allowed to re-connect her...]

A stifling sense of menace beat against the Agents. This time the voice in their heads was a roar. [...ANALYSIS OF REQUEST INDICATES PERSONAL DESIRES DRIVE PROPOSED COURSE OF ACTION...NEEDS OF THE SYSTEM OUTWEIGH ALL OTHER CONSIDERATIONS...DISCLOSE ADDITIONAL RAMIFICATIONS...PROJECTED EFFECT ON PERFORMANCE OF DUTY...]

He tried to think of a response that would satisfy the Mainframe, convince it that they were in no way compromising the System by their actions. Before he could form his confused thoughts into coherent arguments, Brown spoke.

[We desire to associate with the Resistant. If she is part of the System, there is no conflict in our programming-]

Brown was cut off as the Agents were once again seized in the implacable grip of the Central Processor. A scenario was forced into Smith's mind, and he found himself facing a choice between saving Xan, and saving the System. Without hesitation he chose survival of the Matrix. A second scene replaced the first, this time between Xan and preventing damage of a section of the System. Again he chose the Machines. A third repetition, then a fourth, each presenting less potential damage to the Matrix. It grew more and more difficult to let Xan die, but he made himself do it, time after time.

The images ceased, and Smith felt the pressure ease. Before the other Agents could speak, he addressed the Processor. [There is no conflict in our duty to the Matrix. We will sacrifice Xan if necessary. If she were part of the System, our performance would not be compromised. Possibility exists that performance may be enhanced by dual objectives of protecting the Matrix and Xan.]

There was no point in trying to deny that the Agents wanted to protect the Resistant; the Mainframe had surely seen that in their memory circuits. A bold approach might win them what diffidence had not.

The Agents were left waiting for what seemed a very long time before the Mainframe rendered its verdict. [...Performance enhancement must be demonstrated by field tests...Detriment in performance will not be tolerated...Permission granted for re-insertion of Resistant...Performance will be monitored...]

Released from their audience with the Central Processor, the Agents ascended swiftly through the layers of code. Smith scanned for a host close to his nominal office, and finding one, seized the input/output ports on the human's RSI, imposing his code over them. He found himself standing next to a fountain, regarding the pennies scattered inside the basin. Utterly irrational human custom.

As he made his way toward his office, he linked with his partners. He was unable to keep the elation out of his mental projection. [Establish contact with 'bots and upload parameters to new program. Save under name "Xan."]

[Acknowledged.] There was a definite feeling of triumph in Brown's reply.

[Report when Save is complete. We must develop a clear strategy for securing Xan's cooperation.] When he had again received acknowledgement from both Agents, Smith shut down the link. He had arrived at his office, and planned to use the intervening time to review his communications with Xan. Sitting down at his imposing desk, he opened the e-mail program.

There was a new message in the account they used for corresponding with the Resistant. Smith opened it, wondering if they would be able to put their plan into action in the next few days. As he read its contents, however, his spirits fell. The message was short and to the point:

Something has come up that makes it too dangerous for me to see you now. I will contact you when things are back to normal. DON'T e-mail me.

Xan

"Dammit!"

*****************

Xan regretted being separated from the Agents, but she knew that it would be absolute madness to try to see them now. In the wake of her discovery of the traitor on board the Taranis, she knew Carbon would have ordered that all communications between Zion and the Matrix be carefully scrutinized. Risk-taking was one thing; certain suicide was another.

She hoped Smith would continue to do as she asked; there had been no messages from him in the three days since she had sent the warning, but she wondered how long their patience would hold out. She hadn't dared to be more explicit in her message - not only might it be intercepted, but the Agents might warn their informant if they knew that she had pinpointed him or her.

She stared at her computer screen, wondering what she should do - how long would it take Intelligence to identify and arrest the traitor, anyway? She hated waiting.

She needed something to take her mind off the situation, something that would occupy her attention...Were there any other interesting patterns to be found in Zion's system of records? Or maybe...could there be information that might help her root out the truth of the Human-Machine war lurking somewhere in the unclassified files? Her rancrance hadn't been upgraded yet, so trying the files she really wanted again was a lost cause. But there might still be interesting stuff in some of the publicly available files...It was worth a try.

Xan opened up the Ferret. The program had evidently been recently updated - it had a new startup screen, featuring the absurd weasel somersaulting into view, saluting the user bypingping its deerstalker cap, and holding up a rather self-congratulatory sign: "The Ferret, version 4.1 - World's Greatest Search Engine, brought to you by Random." She snorted softly. The immodest program had better live up to its billing!

She tapped her lip, wondering what she should search for. What might have escaped the notice of the Classified censors, yet still be useful? Might as well try a series of terms; who knows what will come up? Not able to think of anything better, she entered machine, robot, conflict, military, buildup, and threat. She hit the Search button to start the Ferret on its way, saluting the beast as she pushed back her chair. Time to blow off some nervous energy at the gym.

*****************

She swung back by her office two hours later, out of habit more than anything else. She figured that the Ferret would be crawling through the database for several more hours, possibly even days, given the vagueness of the terms she had entered. But she ought to make sure that Smith hadn't sent her any messages.

Xan was shocked to see the Search Completed message on her screen. That didn't make sense; the Ferret just wasn't that fast! She scanned the results, ranked in descending order of correlation with her query. A whole host of files dealing with the development of smart military technology during the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, followed by very basic-level information about robotics, and lists of human political altercations. Gah, nothing that looked promising.

Why had the search finished so quickly? She clicked the Show Details button, which brought up a panel displaying the details of time taken and number of matches, as well as an intriguing option labeled Recent Searches Like This One. She clicked on it, and was presented with the answer to her question - a search for the terms machine, robot, conflict, threat, and the puzzling Zero-One had been run only three days before. But by whom? And why?

Could someone suspect what she was up to? Fear gripped her throat as she contemplated the possibility that Counterintelligence might somehow know the real reason she was trying to gain access to the classified information. Were they even now preparing to arrest her on suspicion of treason? She forced herself to take deep, steady breaths to calm her nerves, and tried to think about the situation rationally.

Why would Counterintelligence be running a search on those terms? They must have access to the classified records that she really wanted, so why troll through the publicly accessible files? If they suspected her, wouldn't it be more likely that they would be monitoring her movements, rather than initiating their own searches? Particularly before you did your own search, she chided herself. I'm jumping at shadows.

But if not Counterintelligence, then who was running the search? And to what purpose? Her fingers clenched the arms of her chair, hard, as she realized that this might - just might - mean that there was someone else in Zion who wanted the same answers she did. Someone else who didn't believe the party line, and wanted to see the evidence for themselves. An ally.

How could she be sure? She could find out who it was easily enough; the Details screen included the network address of the computer that initiated the search. She copied the address, and used it as input to the Zion directory's query page.

There; the computer in question was located down in the 12th tier, West quadrant, 5th corridor, room 221, network port 4.

Well. She would have to establish contact with the person. There was no way that she was going to pass up a chance like this. Of course, she would have to be circumspect until she knew that the searcher was of like mind, and not part of Ozymandias' constant efforts to flush out traitors.

Xan bit her lip. If she thought about it too much, she would probably think of half a dozen good reasons why she should not pursue this; she risked exposing her true motives, for one, and she didn't know why the other searcher was looking for files with those terms. But, she reflected, common sense had never been her strong suit, and if there really was an ally waiting out there, why then, she simply had to find out. Resolving to hunt down the person at once, she checked the Search Details page again, noting the user name:"rnd." Something nagged her about that name - could she have seen it before? After several moments of racking her memory, she gave it up. There were tens of thousands of people living in Zion; chances were she had never come across that particular individual.

Before she left her office, she checked her e-mail, and breathed a sigh of relief. No new messages from the Agents. Thus far, they were following her request. She hoped that the moratorium on communications wouldn't have to last too long.

***********

Descent into the depths of Zion took nearly half an hour. Her quarters in the AOU facility were just beneath the surface, while most of the last human city was located over a mile underground. The elevators were slow, leaving Xan with plenty of time to contemplate her tactics. Obviously, she could not just outright ask for information. No, a more subtle approach was called for. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of exactly what that might be. She shrugged her shoulders, hoping that a solution would present itself when the moment came.

The elevator stopped. Xan exited into a plaza of sorts, taking a moment to get her bearings and mentally adjust to the relative cacophony that greeted her. There were so many people here! She was used to the near-solitude of her usual haunts, while in front of her crowds of citizens were crossing, talking and laughing as they passed. She was used to large gatherings in the Matrix, but not in the real world - it was sometimes difficult to appreciate exactly how many people Zion contained. Spotting the correct corridor, she started off across the open space, going with the flow of the crowd as much as she was able, finally leaving the hordes to dart into the rock-walled tunnel.

She strode along the passageway, watching the numbers on the doors grow larger as she approached her goal. She stopped in front of the door; it bore the stenciled designation "Intelligence Logistical Support Group" and below it, the hand-lettered warning, "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here." Also decorating the door were a number of cartoon characters, including Calvin and Hobbes, Spiderman, and Bill the Cat. Relics of a dream life. Swallowing against sudden nervousness, Xan opened the door and stepped inside.

She found herself in a dimly lit room occupied by six computer terminals crammed haphazardly into the small space. Four of the six desks were occupied, though none of the men sitting at them seemed to be working particularly hard. All but one, who was thoroughly engrossed in blowing up mutants on his computer screen, glanced up as she walked in. Two of them rose and crossed to her, while Xan's mind did a frantic dance, trying to think of a pretext for being there while simultaneously trying to determine where network port 4 was. She glanced around the room, and to her relief spotted, on the bulletin board next to one of the workstations, a color drawing of the Ferret icon. She indicated it to the approaching men, saying, "Which one of you is an expert on the Ferret search engine?"

"That would be me," said the shorter of the duo, pausing to smooth his prematurely grey hair out of blue eyes. He nodded at his friend, and the other retreated. He extended his hand, and while Xan shook it, introduced himself. "Random at your service."

Her mouth fell open as several things crystallized. Here, before her, was the Ferret's programmer! And "rnd" is the code for a random number generator! Everything fell into place. Who better to be searching through Zion's files? But she had to be absolutely sure, and there were others around. She couldn't risk exposing her activities, or his. She agonized over what she should, or shouldn't, say.

He raised his eyebrows. "And you are?" His brow furrowed. "No, wait, I remember you! I was in the audience at your trial - you're Xan!"

That caused all of the occupants of the room to look up with interest. Xan could plainly hear their comments: "Xan? The one who was accused of treason?" "Yeah, the Machine-fucker!" "Hey, she was cleared of the charges - lighten up!" She snatched her hand back as if stung.

Random was all apologies. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. I - we - know from the testimony that you just had the bad luck to run afoul of an Agent. And don't pay any attention to this bunch of jerks," he said, aiming a glare at the others, "they're all social misfits. But they're harmless." He ducked too late to avoid a beanbag tossed at his head, and amended that to, "Well, mostly harmless, anyway," as he rubbed his ear.

Xan glanced at the others. They were still staring at her, interested if not openly hostile. Discretion was probably the better part of valor; she could contact Random later. "I don't know; I should probably just go. Sorry to have disturbed you." She started to turn toward the door.

Random leapt forward, catching her hand. "No, wait! We almost never have visitors, and you said you wanted to talk about the Ferret. That's my baby - I'd love to talk to you about it." His expression was so comically concerned that she had to stifle a laugh.

She allowed herself to be led to Random's desk while one of the other men dragged over a spare chair. The programmer woke up his screen and opened the Ferret. "So, what about my program did you want to talk about?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

Xan thought quickly, realizing that she needed to buy some time, as she had no specific question to ask. "Um, well, let me tell you a bit about what I'm doing. You know who I am, but you may not know that I've been assigned to meta-analysis of the data that we've been collecting on the activities of the Agents. We've got lots of records of times and locations of sightings, and of what they've done under our surveillance. But we don't have any easy way of turning all that data into a predictive model. That's what I'd like to pick your brain about, to see if there's a way to use the Ferret to pull out non-obvious features that may prove useful." There, that's nice and vague!

"Well, you have to be able to give it some idea of what you're looking for, and the more details the better, of course. But you can have it do what I call implicit searches by using the More Options screen, and..." He was demonstrating the required actions as he spoke, fingers flying over the keyboard. As he launched into ever-more complicated examples of ways to tweak the Ferret, Xan was interested in spite of herself, though she understood only about half of what he was ng. ng.

Time passed, during which she learned more than she had thought possible about using the network to probe for information. She managed to ask reasonably intelligent questions, and by the time Random was done with his demonstrations, they had acquired an audience. The rest of the programmers were lurking behind the workstation and peering over her shoulder. She looked at them a bit apprehensively, but this time their expressions were approving. Evidently she had passed some sort of test by showing real interest in the product of their labors.

"Machine-fucker" guy - a tall, lanky fellow with shoulder-length red hair - cleared his throat and stepped forward. He thrust out his hand. "Sorry about being rude before. You're okay. No hard feelings, alright?"

Bemused, Xan took the proffered hand and nodded to him. He glared at Random, who snickered, "I guess I'd better make some introductions. That one," he pointed to Machine-fucker, "is Dante, while the other reprobates are Winter and Cerberus," indicating the others in turn. Xan shook hands with each of the programmers, who now seemed eager to discuss their own pet projects with such a sympathetic audience. She listened politely, but finally had to cut them off when they wanted her to test a new graphical interface for the waste-control systems.

"Guys, this was great, but it's getting late. I'd love to do this again some time. But I'd like to continue our conversation," she said, turning back to Random. "Can I take you to dinner?" They all grinned at the "line;" everyone in Zion ate the same free food, at the same mess halls.

Nonetheless, the others began to chant, "Random's got a girlfriend, Random's got a girlfriend," provoking a fierce blush in the target of their teasing. However, that didn't stop him from agreeing to Xan's proposal, and the two of them quickly left the room.

Once in the corridor, he glanced at her, a lopsided smile forming. "Don't mind them; they get a bit over-excited. Being stuck down here in a rather geeky occupation, they've almost forgotten what women look like, much less how to interact with one."

She grinned back, for some reason feeling very at ease with him. Maybe it was because she "talked shop" with him, and thus was a sort of kindred spirit, but she sensed none of the prurient interest of the typical male. Thank goodness. The last thing that she needed would be to have to fend off the advances of an unwelcome suitor. All she wanted was a certain trio of Agents.

Dinner was the usual unappetizing glop, but Xan lingered over it, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the origins of the Human-Machine war. "Random, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure, ask away."

"How long have you been in Zion? I've been unplugged for two years; how about you?"

"Fourteen years. I was unplugged when I was only twelve." He regarded her with concern. "You were unplugged pretty late. Usually we get them out much younger than you must have been - no offense meant, of course. Are you having a tough time with the day-to-day grind of living in Zion?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "You have to agree that the food sucks," she said, forcing a laugh.

"Do you want to go back into the Matrix? Wish that you had taken the blue pill?" His gentle voice, without a hint of recrimination, made her throat tighten.

She had to swallow several times before trusting herself to speak. "I don't want to go back to living a lie. But," and her heart beat faster as she reached sensitive subjects, "I really hate the way things are now. It doesn't look like we're making much headway, either in freeing more humans or defeating the Machines. I just wonder if there isn't some other solution to this awful situation." She held her breath, waiting for his response.

"You mean," he lowered his voice and looked around, making sure there was no one near them, "some sort of truce? With the Machines? What makes you think that they'd even entertain the thought? They just want to annihilate us." His eyes narrowed, but his gaze pierced hers.

"I don't think so," Xan said slowly. "They need us as a power source, so they can't completely get rid of us. But also," and she blushed, "when Agent Smith caught me, he could have killed me easily. But he didn't." She knew she had to watch her words; she must not give any inkling that her information came from later encounters with the Agents. "It's hard to put into words, but it was like he wanted non-violent interaction with a human. I think that there's a lot of the motivations of the Machines that we don't have a clue about. I think that we may be painting them with too broad a brush."

Random was silent for so long that she began to worry that she had said too much, that maybe she had misjudged him. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper, "How much do you know about the start of the war between us and the Machines?"

She leaned forward, whispering back, "Only what I was told as part of my orientation to Zion. I've been trying to find out more, but it's all classified, and that makes me wonder if we're getting the whole story." She held his eyes as she continued, "I used the Ferret to search for stuff that might be relevant, and I found out that someone else had done almost the same search. That's what really led me to you. I'm sorry for deceiving you earlier, but I had to be careful."

He was staring at her open-mouthed. "How did you know what I had searched for?"

"One of the options that you built into the program - 'Recent Searches.' Maybe you'd better put some security on that feature," she added, winking at him.

He shut his mouth with a snap. "Yes, I guess I'd better." He shook his head. "Damn...it sounds like we're after the same thing - the truth." His gaze searched hers. "Xan...where do we go from here?" He lifted his hands, forestalling any questions. "I haven't been able to find out much of anything, yet. If there are any unclassified records that deal with it, they're well-hidden."

She broke in, "But you've found out more than I have! What's 'Zero-One?'"

"That's about the only thing I've been able to discover. There was a time when humans and AI coexisted peacefully. The Mnes nes had their own city-state, and Zero-One was its name."

"What happened to it?"

"Dunno. I haven't been able to find any additional references to it. Unclassified ones, I mean." He grimaced, blowing out a frustrated breath.

"Dammit," Xan said. Privately, she thought that this was something that she needed to ask Smith about, whenever she next got a chance to see him. "Can you think of anything else that we could search for, or any other source of records? Maybe ones that the Ferret doesn't have access to?"

Random shook his head. "There aren't any files that the Ferret can't search, so long as you have the security clearance to do it. It has to have the proper keys to be able to access them. Our problem is that we don't have the clearance."

"Well, there must be more clues in the unclassified records. We just need to find them," she declared, with more optimism than she felt. "Tell you what. I'll keep you apprised of anything I find out, if you'll do the same for me. Deal?" She held out her hand.

He grinned at her. "Deal. Now let's see, we'll need some pretext to meet periodically. Come down to work on the Ferret some more. I wouldn't mind in any case; you saw how awful the company ordinarily is down there. At least come down for some competitive Unreal Tourney, or something. And if you're especially good," he lowered his voice, "I'll even show you the multiplayer strategy game I'm coding." He winked.

"Cool!" They shook hands on it.

************

Note: this chapter continues immediately in Crime and Punishment, Part 2a