Mimic
Copy and Paste
Brown and Jones have an interesting, albeit
strange, proposal for the exiled Agent Smith.
But what of the cost of entering the real world to
assassinate Neo?
~~~~~~~
Exiles
could be remarkably human at times. This
was, presumably, because they were not confined to the strict programming that
an Agent was. This was the reason they
were not viewed highly by the Agents, why the Mainframe did not allow them to
roam free. Exiles, like humans, had a
tendency to get into the cookie jar before dinner. Being one did not give him a sudden freedom
to behave the same way. He still did not
relish the idea.
He
was not Smith. Not the original copy,
anyway. Not the Smith that had become a
human to kill Neo. In a way, he
presumed, he was not even supposed to exist.
He was a copy designed to control the original Smith, to make him feel
more agreeable about sacrificing himself for the sake of the foolish mission to
which he had been assigned. The Smith
copy gazed out the car window, wondering now what his other self was
doing. The other Smith had not believed
his copy would make it past the first few moments of existence. And he might not have, had it not been for
his two captors holding him here in this stylish and expensive car.
The
bass was turned up all the way on a particularly bouncy song, jarring the
seats, windows and passengers of the Audi.
It was loud and obnoxious despite the fact that he did not have
conventional ears to harm or a conventional mindset to irritate. It bothered him because it was human. Unnecessarily overstated and troublesome to a
program that wanted answers, but could not retrieve them over the noise. In this he missed being connected to the
Agent hive. You knew what needed to be
said and done. Now he was connected to
no one. Certainly not
these two fools.
The
white-clad, white-haired and very pale skinned man beside him shook his head to
the music smartly, knowing the former Agent was not exactly amused. He gave a little grin and held up his gun,
pretending to shoot Smith in the head.
The Smith copy gave a wry little smile of his own,
knowing it was only a matter of time.
Exiles, like humans, were imperfect.
Their time would come; they would make a mistake and he would end their
existence just as he had other exiles before them.
The
car eased to a near stop at a red light.
Seeing the intersection bare, the Twin in the driver’s seat gazed around
and blew through it, apparently cautious about causing trouble and yet uncaring
enough to break the human laws if it were convenient. These two were his captors, yes, so
human-like and so strange, but they were also his saviors. They had prevented his destruction by the
hands of Brown and Jones for their own purposes and had probably cemented the
obsoletion of the two older Agent versions.
Neither savior nor his would-be murderers meant anything to him, of
course, but Smith found the situation almost ironic. For all he used to be and all that he was
now, he did not belong to either of their worlds, but he would use what he knew
of both to become something greater.
Once
copied, he had been locked in a car, unable to escape. This was what was pulled over the human eyes
watching from their little fantasy world.
Of course in reality his program had been, in a manner of speaking,
quarantined within some temporary memory sector of the physical megadrive that
contained the Matrix coding, but even to his own eyes it appeared as though he
had been locked within a vehicle with locked doors he could not access and
windows that could not be broken. Brown,
Jones and his original program had left him there to see about the matter
concerning the human Smith was to inhabit.
He
had not seen the Twins watching the car, watching him with purpose, and so had
not counted upon the help he had received.
The Smith copy had assumed when the Agents returned he would be deleted
if he could not manage to overcome them.
Confirmation came when instead of opening his own door to drive, Jones had opened one of the back doors instead. Almost immediately after his hand came from
the door handle this very car in which Smith rode now plowed into the Agent,
knocking him away. The Twin that sat in
the back with him had wasted no time in opening his own door and jerking Smith
from his prison, only to cage him again with a special gun he called an “Agent
Terminator”. It had bullets written
specifically to strip the coding from Agent programs and though he was an
exile, he was still an Agent at the core of his programming. The Twin claimed it would not be a pleasant
process if he were shot. And that was
what had led him to this.
It
was dark outside. Cool and as silent as
a whisper. There was very little he
could use as a distraction unless the Mainframe deemed he and these two
important enough to chase—which he doubted.
Still, they had to wonder who would bother kidnapping an exiled Agent
program, or bother hiring one and for what purpose, depending on how they
viewed the incident of earlier. Yet
there was no sign of a retrieval, so he started by speaking when the music died
down. His tone became sardonic as he
fished for information. “When we get
where we are going will there be more of you?”
The
Twin at his side grinned and looked up at his copy. “Oh listen, it speaks, brother.” The one in front eyed him through the
rearview mirror with a smart expression as his so-called ‘brother’
continued. “What a strange question you
ask. Would it make a difference?”
Smith
watched him through an unchanging expression, cocked his head. “It may.”
“In what way?”
“Tolerance levels.” The Smith
copy smirked at the knit brows of the one beside him. “An interesting trick, copying one’s
self. Can you do it at will or were you
copied as I was, by another?”
The
Twin turned his vision back to his window and ignored the question
blatantly. The music faded back into the
atmosphere and Smith considered lunging into the front seat, if only to smash
the radio. This program’s silence
suggested more than any lie he could have fabricated. He guessed, or hoped, that the Twins could in
fact replicate at will. The question was
how. It was something he had been
considering since these two misfortunate creatures had captured him. Such an attractive thought,
overpowering Neo by sheer numbers.
He had no allies that he could trust, but an army of himself? It was an interesting idea.
“Where
are you taking me?” he demanded above the music. The Twin beside him turned to him in
annoyance, holding up his gun suggestively.
Smith glared steadily.
“If
you must know, our boss would like to have a little word with you,” he
answered, sharing the unbroken gaze.
“You would do well not to try his patience, little one. You’re in our world now.”
The
copy of Smith shrugged off the threat, having no intention of meeting this boss
of theirs. It could be assumed, judging
by all appearances, that he was being taken to the
Merovingian—a dangerous program with his own agendas that sometimes rivaled
those of the Mainframe. He had an
affinity for collecting rare programs that he could put to his own uses. Smith grunted and glared from his window at a
young lady on the street, her eyes sunken and her demeanor clearly drunken or
drugged. He would not be collected and
commandeered to purposes that were not his own.
Merovingian would have to find another to be his new pet.
The
Audi turned a corner suddenly and entered a darkened street. It followed this path, leaving Smith to
ponder what it was he would have to do to win his freedom. Whatever he did, it would be dangerous
against this weapon the Twins held. He
had no doubt the bullets from their guns would harm him. He had heard enough about the Merovingian to
understand he was a master programmer.
People who underestimated the Merovingian ended their existence shortly
afterwards. Still, that did not make him
unbeatable.
As
the car rolled into a large parking garage Smith recognized that his time was
running short. He would have to make a
move here and now, if at all. So he
waited for the right moment, watching the movements of his captors, cataloging
reflexes and attention spans. Once the
car was parked, the Twins both exited and the driver now took to training his
gun upon the ex-Agent copy in the backseat.
His brother opened the door and they demanded that he get out.
Smith
obeyed, but did not follow at their beckon.
“Come on, then,” the Twin with the gun on him said, waving his weapon
impatiently. “You won’t be getting out
of this.”
The
Agent lifted his hands in innocence. “Very well.” His
pleasant smile seemed to trouble the Twins as he took a step forward. One turned his back on him, leading the way
while the other waited with his gun to take up a place behind Smith. A door on the other side of the colorless
garage was their target.
The
Twin ahead opened it hastily and beyond Smith saw a quite beautifully decorated
hallway. So this was a backdoor. Smith glanced at the door knob as the Twin
gripped it, turning the key to remove it.
His chance had finally come.
Before either of these two programs could react, Smith slammed his fist
into the first Twin’s hand, causing an irritated yelp and an instinctive
drawing back of the now wounded flesh.
The ex-Agent took that chance to rip the key from the lock and slam the
Twin into the house beyond with the closing of the door.
“That
was very naughty,” the remaining Twin said with a grin, holding the gun up and
firing. Smith dodged the near
point-blank shot and kicked his assailant in the stomach, surprised to find
that the form had shifted. He watched
the color of this colorless being fade out to near nothing and the digital face
of this program became almost wraith-like in appearance. The Smith copy’s foot passed through air and
off-balance, he nearly toppled over. The
Twin laughed and reformed a little further away, then aimed.
Smith
moved fast, knowing time was not on his side.
His speed was quick, an Agent’s privilege as
dodging was, so he was able to escape the shower of bullets that followed his
tail. He leapt behind the nearest
automobile and rolled beneath one beside it, watching the Twin’s feet until he
rose to a crouch. The Twin was heading
towards him with laughter on his lips.
“One thing about you Agents,” he began, checking between the cars, even
as Smith raced to hide himself down the line of them. “You almost always assume yourselves
unbeatable. But now you will find out
the truth, yes?”
He
was being goaded, of course, into giving away his position with a reply. Smith knit his brow and considered his
options. The keys in his hand contained
the one for the Audi—his means of escape, but he was very interested in
something else. Thinking of his original
copy playing human proved he was no stranger to risk these days. And so he flattened himself to the floor and
rolled beneath a van, waiting for his chance and watching those feet as they
closed in upon his position.
The
Twin kicked a car beside him and kept walking, slowly and quietly, listening
and probing for a clue. “You have
stopped moving,” he observed coldly, then sighed. “You are an irritating little program.”
Smith
fought the urge to rebuke the Twin for his personality and scooted closer to
the side he was on, waiting for the right moment. Just a little closer, only a few feet…
When
the Twin hit a predetermined spot Smith had picked out, he stopped and the
Agent moved to grab his leg and trip him, but the Twin had bent down. Neither had expected such sudden movements
from the other, but both were quick to recover.
Smith darted his hand out and instead of grabbing the Twin’s leg, he
snagged some of the program’s long dreadlocks and gave a yank.
With
a rage filled yell the Twin hit the ground head first, twisted and pointed the
gun as best he could, and shot blindly beneath the van. Smith cursed and dragged himself out of
harm’s way, thinking how foolish his opponent was. If a bullet didn’t kill him, hitting the gas
tank would kill both of them.
Neither happened, however.
The Twin stopped firing, apparently empty, and the Agent took full
advantage. He delivered a kick directly
into the Twin’s stomach, then scrambled from beneath the van to pin the other
down to the concrete beneath them. “You
have not won!” the virus program spat venomously, struggling with the Smith
copy. He landed a punch into Smith’s
jaw, but the Agent paid no mind. These
struggles were fruitless between programs such as them. What harm could either cause in this manner?
But
Smith had something else in mind. Having
this Twin where he wanted him, the Agent thrust his hand into his chest before
he could shift again. He was not without
his new tricks, thanks to a certain rebel he despised. Agents did not interface with either programs
or digitally represented humans in this manner.
They simply used the humans as operating environments when it suited
them, then left when it suited them. But
this, ever since
This
time he would be downloading. Smith had
little time, so he did not waste it searching through this Twin’s subroutines
thoroughly. He was looking for one
specific thing. Instead of making two
beings become one as his original had done, he wanted to create dozens of
himself—a subroutine Agents did not possess, but apparently this being
did. The Twin watched him behind his
sunglasses, his eyes wide in shock that an Agent could violate his coding in
such a way. Smith pushed his shoulders
to the cold floor and said, “Think of it as a gift from Neo. I know I do.”
Once
Smith found what he was looking for and downloaded it into himself, he shoved
the Twin away and got up. He did not
continue the fight, there was no need.
He had what he needed—a means to an end.
The Twin did not pursue him to the Audi or stop him from leaving the
garage with it. Once on the road, Smith
smiled darkly at his success and the success this would bring about.
Back
in the garage, as if on some horribly ironic cue, the gray backdoor opened and
the other Twin raced out with a gun, searching and calling, with two lackeys at
his back. “Brother,” he said, coming
into view of the one laying on the concrete.
He held out his hand and aided him to his feet. “Where is the Agent?”
Rubbing
his chest, the Twin replied, “Gone.”
His
brother glared at the open garage door and holstered his gun. “Damn.”
~~~~~~~
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