Chapter 13: Simple Indulgences

            Agent Smith stood on the sidewalk outside the agency building.  He was glaring at a reflection on the plate glass windows that had distracted him.  Agents Jones and Brown were with him.

            "Proceed without me," he instructed them.  "I will be up shortly."

            His two companions exchanged a small look, then nodded and entered through the revolving doors of the building.

            Slowly, Smith turned around and was met with the seductive glower of the Calvin Klein model gracing the billboard across the street.  He scowled at it momentarily, but then something hit him.  A thought out of nowhere pierced his mind, and he tilted his head inquisitively at the billboard, as though it had spoken to him.  He looked intently at for several minutes, despite the people walking by him, some of them occasionally whispering and pointing in his direction.

            Later, after his daily duties had been performed, he found himself standing before a mirror in the overnight guards' locker room.  There were a number of human military personnel that also worked in the building, thus there was the luxury of a locker room outfitted with showers.

            Agent Smith had never been attentive to his own personal vanity.  All that was required in his programming was to ensure that he and his colleagues looked presentable.  He stood in front of the mirror now, contemplating his appearance.  He slowly reached up to remove his rectangular sunglasses, then carefully laid them down on the smooth edge of the basin. 

            For several moments he stared back into his own fierce blue eyes.  He studied his face for a moment, gaze wandering across his thinning hair to his severely intimidating arched eyebrows.  He was at an indecision.   It concerned him that he had never really questioned himself before.  He glared at his reflection in a reprimanding manner, as though he was insisting on an answer to what was going through his mind.

            Clenching his fists, he looked to his left and noticed the shower bay.  He regarded it for a moment, stone still, then turned back to the mirror. 

            He blinked.

            His decision had been made.  Gingerly, he began to unbutton his suit jacket.

*****

            Agent Smith carefully laid his earpiece on top of his neatly folded brown suit that lay on one of the locker room benches.

            He stepped onto the frigid tile of the shower bay, his bare feet sensing and noting its temperature.  He stood beneath one of the showerheads and looked doubtfully up at it, as though it couldn't possibly offer anything of interest to him.  He reached out with a tense hand and turned the knob to activate the water flow.  Cold water pelted down onto him, but it wasn't uncomfortable as it would be to a human.  He turned the knob to sample the range of different temperatures.  Finally, he decided on a nice round one hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

            The water sprayed lavishly out of the showerhead and ran down his body in steaming threads.  Tiny rivulets traversed down his taut face, followed the defined contours of his body, and ultimately made their exit into the drain.

            Smith allowed his eyes to close under the rhythmic beating of liquid droplets, as though he was releasing the stress that plagued him.  His face seemed to fall as his muscles relaxed.  He concentrated on each flick of water against his skin, and marveled at the provoked sensations.  Water was truly an interesting composite of code.

            He supported his weight against the wall, ruddy palms flat and fingers splayed against the tile.  It was still cool in spite of the ambient heat.  He opened his mouth into the spray and let it bombard his tongue.

            Half an hour had gone by before Smith came back to his senses.  He turned the water off and stood dripping in the bay, breathing in the haze of steam.

            He found a clean towel in one of the lockers and thoroughly dried himself, noticing the imperfections in his skin.  He had never seen them before, for he had never taken off his clothing.

            The agent stood before the mirror again as he dressed.  He noticed his hair was rather mussed and found a comb in the same locker in which he had found the towel.

            Smith knew it was entirely unnecessary for him to bathe.  It was also quite unnecessary for him to comb his hair.  He had full control over his personal physical appearance parameters.  And yet, these activities of showering and combing his hair he chose to perform this one time, just to experience the act of doing so.

            He re-donned his glasses and earpiece, and gave himself another once-over in the mirror.  Satisfied, he turned, his ridiculously shined shoe squeaking on the damp floor, and exited the locker room.

            The simple act of bathing had been quite indulgent for him.