| Part Twenty-Four: Beyond the Numbers Author’s Note: I’d hoped to finish this whole fic before Matrix: Reloaded was released, but that didn’t happen. As things are, this is the last chapter I’ve written before seeing the movie. Spoilers for Reloaded might inadvertently show up in future chapters. Hell, the whole plot might take a turn for all I know. FYI: This fic is planned for 31 or 32 chapters total, with a possible epilogue. Sorry for such a long interval between this and the previous chapter, but real life has been a bastard ever since 2003 rolled around. I think we should all scrap this year and start over now. How about May 15 being the new New Year’s? ^_^ Smith required no insight through his hardwire link to ascertain that Jones did not like Brown’s suggestion. The large Agent exhibited an uncharacteristic look of disgust. Perhaps he would benefit from a recompile as well. Smith’s team was deteriorating. They should not be. Smith had functioned well before their creation, and they had functioned without his presence in the past. He could not discern why the team was now so flawed. Given Gemini’s penchant for creative derision, Smith expected her to say something insulting to Agent Jones. She was watching Jones bend the heavy silver spoon in his hands. For some reason she appeared fascinated by the tallest Agent’s strength. Furtively, Smith squeezed Gemini’s hips beneath the table again. She knew his strength as well, didn’t she? “Are you planning on treating all of my silverware that way?” Gemini asked. She appeared exceptionally calm. “If you are, I suggest you buy your own set to abuse. That’s expensive cutlery.” The motion of Jones’ hands stopped. Gemini did not look away from his intimidating stare. Smith wondered, not for the first time, if staring at cats truly was practice. He waited for his human’s next action. “Glare at me all you want,” she said. “I shudder to think that your program might have been designed after a real human. I’ve known thick-necked...people like you, and they only got their power by bullying others. How many proverbial nerds did you take milk money from to get where you are?” She paused. “Maybe you were handed your power by Mommy Mainframe.” Smith noted Jones’ shock and his effort to locate the references to human culture in his database. The spoon in his hands bent into a sharper angle. “That is enough, Gemini,” Smith spoke close to her ear. Her mouth opened, but before she spoke Smith laid a finger over her lips. “Enough.” She scowled at him. He held her gaze without relenting. This was not the time for Gemini to dig a proverbial hole for herself. He had already needed to protect her from the team; he was not presently inclined to do so again. Smith would endure her glare until she realized the wisdom of not pursuing this topic further. She frowned. Eventually she appeared to understand. She sighed. “More Agents than you can shake a stick at in here.” “There are only three of us,” Brown said. “...Yeah...” Gemini looked at Smith for a prolonged moment. Then she spoke. Not for the first time, Smith noted that predicting her leaps of thought was beyond his abilities. She changed topics abruptly far too often. “What will a defragment do?” she asked. Smith experienced a second tide of darkness through his systems. He struggled against the hardwire link to the others so they would not detect how his program had malfunctioned. Gemini did not understand. Despite what she insisted, emotions were not a strength for him. After touching her mind, Smith knew she wanted to understand him but could not comprehend. He doubted that any human could comprehend an AI’s programming language. Not since machines had become their own progenitors. “Defragmentation is reputed to be painful,” Agent Brown said. “We are not programmed to experience pain,” Agent Jones said. “But, what does it do?” Apparently she had chosen to ignore Smith’s involuntary tenseness beneath where she sat. “A file defragment coalesces noncontiguous bits of data,” Brown said. He almost appeared prideful in demonstrating his knowledge to Gemini. Smith affirmed to himself that his order to have Brown recompiled was justified. “This serves to eliminate unnecessary temporary files, which may interfere with performance. Memory is freed as well.” Agent Brown looked pleased. “Smith will not remember you,” he told her. Smith could not dispute Brown’s description of the defragmenting process, although Gemini appeared as though she wanted to. Her autonomic physical response indicated she was angry and frightened. Gemini might have laughed had she been able to read his mind. She might yet laugh. Humans reacted with strained laughter in certain situations. “How much will you forget?” she asked. The tone of her voice suggested that Gemini was closer to tears. “It is reasonable to conclude that most memory files of my assignment here will be eliminated,” Smith replied. Somehow it was necessary that he, and not one of the others, tell her. “You won’t remember me, Circuit, any of this?” “It is unlikely that I will.” She stared at him. He knew that expression. The other Agents were unprepared for Gemini’s sudden tears, but Smith was not. “Gemini...” “Damn the Mainframe! It has no right to take that from you!” She glared at Smith, as though the force of her stare could alter things to her favor. “It sends you on this assignment, orders you to learn, then it takes what you’ve gained away from you? No...no, it can’t...” “One does not question the Mainframe.” “Smith...” He did not want her crying. “It is how things will be.” Heedless of the other Agents’ presence, Smith stood, pulling her body up against his. He held her gaze with his, attempting to communicate with that new understanding they had found. She returned the gesture, gripping his shoulders, then holding his face in her hands. “Run away, Smith. Take out your wire and just...disappear. If a Watcher can disappear from their old life, surely you can.” “You don’t understand.” “You need to fuckin’ *help* me understand!” Brown stood up. “One does not disobey the Mainframe. Not an Agent...not a Watcher. You may be immune from Resistant harm and safe from apprehension by Agents, but you are not inviolate.” “No one is separate from the Mainframe,” Jones added. Gemini turned her glare on them. She looked from one Agent to the other, not speaking. Smith knew her silence was a sign of excessive emotion. “Do not begin to panic, Gemini.” “Someone has to if you’re not going to!” Jones actually scoffed. “Emotions are a handicap to performance.” “Performance isn’t everything,” Gemini said. “Sometimes just being is important. To live...to be oneself...that’s the ultimate performance.” Jones set the V-shaped spoon down on the table. “Performance is the execution of work,” he said. “Performance is the efficiency with which something reacts or fulfils its intended purpose. ‘Just being’ is not performing.” Smith could find no fault with Jones’ argument, though Gemini would probably try to. “Nice definition, walking dictionary.” She was still holding Smith’s shoulders, and though she had to raise her head to face the taller Jones, it was as though she looked down on him. “But in all your knowledge of the letter of the word, you’ve missed the spirit of the word.” “Words do not have spirits.” She snorted. “Spoken like a true robot.” “We are not robots,” Brown said. “What are you?” “You know what we are.” Gemini regarded Brown, then Jones, then she stared at Smith. Some sort of uncertainty flickered in her eyes as she stood there in his arms. “I...wonder sometimes,” she murmured. So did Smith. Jones hissed again. “You are worse than a virus,” he told Gemini. “You have corrupted Smith’s program until he requires a defragment. We cannot eliminate you because of your Watcher status. If Ephram had...” “You speak of Ephram in more reverent tones, or I’ll...find a way to hurt you!” The burly Agent stared at his superior. Smith knew what Jones wanted. Permission. At least Jones had not degenerated so far that he acted impulsively. Smith suppressed a sigh. They might all require defragments. Smith was attempting to help them. Could they not understand that? “No, Agent Jones.” Jones blinked. The motion was visible through his sunglasses. He was the only one in the room who still had them on. Smith hadn’t worn his since healing Gemini, and Brown had neglected to replace his. Jones glanced at the slighter Agent. “You could not hurt us,” Brown said. “Ephram may have negotiated for you, however...” “You don’t like it. You don’t like the Watchers.” Brown fell silent. Smith attempted to access information on the founder of the Watchers. Information on Ephram Green was notably absent from Mainframe files. Ephram was the man with hazel eyes, silver hair, and an uncommon philosophy. He had been marked deceased by the Mainframe three years ago. The Mainframe rarely marked a deceased individual by name. “Why don’t you like the Watchers? So many people think we shouldn’t exist. We’re necessary, can’t you see?” Brown frowned. Gemini sighed. Smith continued to hold her. She...fit in his arms. Hadn’t she once said that males and females were designed to fit together? This was therefore as it should be, and Smith should not concern himself with the logic or non-logic of it. Smith risked momentarily accessing the link between his team. The code that composed the Agents pulsed against his consciousness, phosphorescent green, as was all higher code. Each individual was distinguishable only by minute fluctuations. Smith located Jones as the cooler of the two. Brown was warmer, though Smith could not say why he perceived each AI in terms of temperature. Neither Agent was satisfied with the situation. Smith used his status as team leader to gain deeper access. Perhaps he could show them how they were degenerating. Rather than verbalize, Smith slid into the code and conveyed his disapproval. They protested. Smith emphasized his orders to have them recompiled. A recompile should prevent an inevitable defragment. The code suddenly swirled faster. They were trying to overwhelm him. Smith withstood them. The Mainframe allowed such confrontations because they contributed to an Agent’s strength. The realm of code was more than numbers. Humans assumed the Matrix consisted of pure green code because that was all their primitive minds could perceive. The numbers in the code merely represented energy. Energy was life for a machine. Smith’s energy was stronger than Jones and Brown. They pressed, Smith resisted. He withstood their assault and began one of his own. Had it been another physical confrontation, one or more of them might have drawn his weapon again. The familiar sensation of falling took over as Smith chastised his team. At least humans were able to correctly perceive the falling aspect of the Matrix code. Unfortunate that humans found falling uncomfortable. Smith experienced no such discomfort. Smith and the Agents did not need the Mainframe to connect them; the hardwire link allowed them to bypass several otherwise necessary nodes. It allowed for faster, more efficient communication, especially when pursuing Resistants. The collection of code that was Smith “fell.” Jones and Brown “fell” after him. Suddenly he stopped to “face” them. Part of them could not stop quickly enough and meshed temporarily with his code. No individual was truly individual here. Smith knew they could detect how he had changed. How he was flawed. They pressed, challenged. Smith withstood, pushed them back. He took parts of their code and tweaked it, causing the machine equivalent of pain. He reprimanded them for coming to Gemini’s place and trying to force him back to the Mainframe. They expressed concern for him. Because he was to be defragmented, they were troubled for him. He would not be the same. Jones and Brown looked up to Smith. Machines were not supposed to experience concern. Machines were not supposed to venerate their superiors. A human might say they were worried for him. An Agent might say similar flaws affected them, as Smith was affected. Evolution was encouraged only so far. Evolution had gone too far within Smith. A moment of bleakness pulsed among the mesh of energy that was the three Agents. Smith came back to the corporeal Matrix. Gemini was staring at him. “What the hell did you just do?” Smith looked over her head. “Leave,” he told his team. “Now.” Jones regarded the bent spoon on Gemini’s table. Brown appeared to sway on his feet. Gemini inhaled as though preparing to say something, but stopped. Smith did not look at her. His team was silent, no longer communicating privately. Fluidly, Brown stood. His eyes, blue after the design for all North American Agents, fixed on Smith one last time. Smith answered the unspoken query, “This is my assignment.” “No other option?” “No.” Brown nodded. “It is the Mainframe’s will, then.” He brushed past Gemini, making her squirm closer to Smith, then left the kitchen, donning his sunglasses as he went. Jones picked up the spoon. Deliberately, he bent it straight again, before setting it back on the table. “We await your return,” he said, and followed Brown out. Gemini broke the silence with, “What the hell?” “I am still their superior. They required a reminder.” “Through your...thing?” She indicated his earpiece. “Yes. Gemini...” “Don’t.” She removed herself from his arms and went to lean against the kitchen counter. She wasn’t facing him. Arms braced against the counter, she hung her head. Smith noticed no shaking, but he knew she was upset. “The Mainframe’s will, huh? God, he accepted it even more blindly than you did!” She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about this right now.” “Then don’t.” “What?” He approached her. “We will go out.” She spun around to face him, incredulity spread over her features. He attempted to explain further, “Humans often perform this behavior, correct? ‘Going out’ will remove you from this location of anxiety.” It was a logical argument. Gemini blinked at him. Smith smirked. “I will submit myself to your fashion sense.” |