Chapter 5
a/n: before the flames start, the views of the wardens are not representative of those of the author. Strong Language ahead.
"Why the fuck did they have to send him to my colony?" Warden Smith growled, looking out over the crowd of prisoners stomping through the desert through the heavy security glass windows in his office. "Fucking machine scum," he mumbled, taking a sip of water.
"They couldn't exactly send him to Zion, sir," Warden Johnson replied. "He is an Agent, after all, programmed to be the enemy of humans."
"Well now he's a broke dick. That bastard doesn't look like he could kill an ant let alone 50,000 humans. He's about as scary as an infant. I don't believe he was the head Agent and almost destroyed the Matrix. No wonder Neo kicked his ass. That whole bunch of fairies with their kung-fu nonsense," Warden Smith rolled his eyes, "What they needed were a couple of automatic machine guns and atom bombs. Goddamn freaky computer hackers. And they think that shit is going to recreate cities above ground?"
Johnson snorted, "That's the beauty of prisoner labour, they can do the hard jobs that the fat-assed hackers and kung-fu fairies in Zion are too lazy to do."
"That kung-fu shit is for pussies. Real men use guns and then their fists. Not that punchy-chop bullshit. I don't believe that shit is what our military sanctioned as basic training."
"It's unfair, sir. It's men like us that should have led the military. Just because the first bombs we dropped didn't work, wasn't cause to abandon our whole strategic plan for victory."
"Damn right, Johnson. This war's raged for hundreds of years. It could have been over in thirty seconds. What we needed were new nukes, not this guerrilla warfare junk. Fuckin' Oracles and fuckin' 'the Ones'. All a load of fuckin' nonsense. Hell, I kinda feel for old Agent Bent-dick out there. At least that bunch believed in shooting first and asking questions later. I can't blame them for enslaving the human race, they probably looked at those fat-ass hackers who created them and realised what easy targets we all were. Soft as shit."
"Then they send us out here to Ground Zero and make us work this traitor scum into the ground," said Johnson, clenching his fists at the memory of the indignity. "They freed our whole battalion to help serve humanity, and then turn us into prison guards just because our first plan didn't work!"
"Probably because they think we're goddamn traitors ourselves. Disagreement with the status quo is traitorous in Zion. Bunch of goddamn communist pussies," Warden Smith spat. Looking out the window he saw Agent Smith trip over a bit of debris, and the one-armed one reach for him to keep him from falling and ripping his suit. Warden Smith snorted.
"Machine scum. Human scum. They're all scum. Can't trust anyone, anymore, not even your own."
* * *
Smith was cold. Thunder rolled over his head. He could hear his breathing regulated by his respirator, in and out, along with the breathing of those around him, tramping through the rocky, barren wasteland towards the sewer output. He had come close to ripping his suit when he nearly fell on a jagged bit of rock, however Cypher had stopped him, steadying his misstep. Why did the human bother? He owed no loyalty to him, Smith thought, because after all, even if their agreement had gone to plan, Smith would have killed Cypher after he had stopped being useful. He would not have bothered to go to all the trouble that it would have taken to get mainframe permission to reinsert an adult human permanently. It would have been an illogical use of resources to dedicate the time and effort towards reinserting a battery that only had a shelf-life of maybe 35 more years or less. When the average human battery lasted approximately 78-85 years, there was no need to put a half-weakened one in the system when it was easier to merely hatch another one and insert it in his stead.
But still, this human was showing Smith kindness. Kindness, of all things. It was illogical. Then again, when were humans ever logical?
But I am a human, Smith thought, and I am logical. I am a human with the brain of a programme. I have lived my life as a programme of the Matrix and yet I am a human. I existed in the real world. I was not supposed to feel emotion and yet I knew anger, hate, rage. I had a compulsion to destroy, wreak vengeance, keep order. I needed a purpose to my existence then and I need a purpose to my life now. I also felt enjoyment, I felt disgust, I knew happiness then and I know misery now. Did any of the others feel as I did? Were the seeds of humanity inherent in all of us or was I the only one whose humanity bled into my programming? And if that is the case, was my programming merely mind control, and not actual computer programming?
Smith's realisation came in the form of a lightning crack, lighting up the sky with its' electric forks above his head, 'I was a tool in the very machine that holds all of us captive. I was as much of a captive as those who I worked to keep enslaved. I was as much responsible for the freedom of humans as Neo was. Unknowingly, I freed humanity, and I freed myself. Neo and I are one. We are the forces of creation and destruction. Alpha and Omega.'
"I understand," Smith said, out loud, not realising that he was speaking. "I believe I understand now."
Cypher looked over at him, "You understand what?"
Smith looked at him, "I understand now. My purpose. I am the one."
"Your respirator must be malfunctioning. You must be breathing in some radioactive gas or something." Cypher paused to look at the gage on the tank Smith was carrying on his back.
"No, I understand, Cypher. I am the one. Neo is the one, and I am the one."
"Move now!" shouted the Warden on patrol with them. "Five, four, three, two."
Cypher quickly started walking again. "Do not stop moving or I will shoot!" shouted the Warden at the two lines of men marching. Smith heard the safety of his gun come off.
"You think you're the one, hunh?" Cypher said.
Smith was silent.
"Then free us and let us go home."
a/n: before the flames start, the views of the wardens are not representative of those of the author. Strong Language ahead.
"Why the fuck did they have to send him to my colony?" Warden Smith growled, looking out over the crowd of prisoners stomping through the desert through the heavy security glass windows in his office. "Fucking machine scum," he mumbled, taking a sip of water.
"They couldn't exactly send him to Zion, sir," Warden Johnson replied. "He is an Agent, after all, programmed to be the enemy of humans."
"Well now he's a broke dick. That bastard doesn't look like he could kill an ant let alone 50,000 humans. He's about as scary as an infant. I don't believe he was the head Agent and almost destroyed the Matrix. No wonder Neo kicked his ass. That whole bunch of fairies with their kung-fu nonsense," Warden Smith rolled his eyes, "What they needed were a couple of automatic machine guns and atom bombs. Goddamn freaky computer hackers. And they think that shit is going to recreate cities above ground?"
Johnson snorted, "That's the beauty of prisoner labour, they can do the hard jobs that the fat-assed hackers and kung-fu fairies in Zion are too lazy to do."
"That kung-fu shit is for pussies. Real men use guns and then their fists. Not that punchy-chop bullshit. I don't believe that shit is what our military sanctioned as basic training."
"It's unfair, sir. It's men like us that should have led the military. Just because the first bombs we dropped didn't work, wasn't cause to abandon our whole strategic plan for victory."
"Damn right, Johnson. This war's raged for hundreds of years. It could have been over in thirty seconds. What we needed were new nukes, not this guerrilla warfare junk. Fuckin' Oracles and fuckin' 'the Ones'. All a load of fuckin' nonsense. Hell, I kinda feel for old Agent Bent-dick out there. At least that bunch believed in shooting first and asking questions later. I can't blame them for enslaving the human race, they probably looked at those fat-ass hackers who created them and realised what easy targets we all were. Soft as shit."
"Then they send us out here to Ground Zero and make us work this traitor scum into the ground," said Johnson, clenching his fists at the memory of the indignity. "They freed our whole battalion to help serve humanity, and then turn us into prison guards just because our first plan didn't work!"
"Probably because they think we're goddamn traitors ourselves. Disagreement with the status quo is traitorous in Zion. Bunch of goddamn communist pussies," Warden Smith spat. Looking out the window he saw Agent Smith trip over a bit of debris, and the one-armed one reach for him to keep him from falling and ripping his suit. Warden Smith snorted.
"Machine scum. Human scum. They're all scum. Can't trust anyone, anymore, not even your own."
* * *
Smith was cold. Thunder rolled over his head. He could hear his breathing regulated by his respirator, in and out, along with the breathing of those around him, tramping through the rocky, barren wasteland towards the sewer output. He had come close to ripping his suit when he nearly fell on a jagged bit of rock, however Cypher had stopped him, steadying his misstep. Why did the human bother? He owed no loyalty to him, Smith thought, because after all, even if their agreement had gone to plan, Smith would have killed Cypher after he had stopped being useful. He would not have bothered to go to all the trouble that it would have taken to get mainframe permission to reinsert an adult human permanently. It would have been an illogical use of resources to dedicate the time and effort towards reinserting a battery that only had a shelf-life of maybe 35 more years or less. When the average human battery lasted approximately 78-85 years, there was no need to put a half-weakened one in the system when it was easier to merely hatch another one and insert it in his stead.
But still, this human was showing Smith kindness. Kindness, of all things. It was illogical. Then again, when were humans ever logical?
But I am a human, Smith thought, and I am logical. I am a human with the brain of a programme. I have lived my life as a programme of the Matrix and yet I am a human. I existed in the real world. I was not supposed to feel emotion and yet I knew anger, hate, rage. I had a compulsion to destroy, wreak vengeance, keep order. I needed a purpose to my existence then and I need a purpose to my life now. I also felt enjoyment, I felt disgust, I knew happiness then and I know misery now. Did any of the others feel as I did? Were the seeds of humanity inherent in all of us or was I the only one whose humanity bled into my programming? And if that is the case, was my programming merely mind control, and not actual computer programming?
Smith's realisation came in the form of a lightning crack, lighting up the sky with its' electric forks above his head, 'I was a tool in the very machine that holds all of us captive. I was as much of a captive as those who I worked to keep enslaved. I was as much responsible for the freedom of humans as Neo was. Unknowingly, I freed humanity, and I freed myself. Neo and I are one. We are the forces of creation and destruction. Alpha and Omega.'
"I understand," Smith said, out loud, not realising that he was speaking. "I believe I understand now."
Cypher looked over at him, "You understand what?"
Smith looked at him, "I understand now. My purpose. I am the one."
"Your respirator must be malfunctioning. You must be breathing in some radioactive gas or something." Cypher paused to look at the gage on the tank Smith was carrying on his back.
"No, I understand, Cypher. I am the one. Neo is the one, and I am the one."
"Move now!" shouted the Warden on patrol with them. "Five, four, three, two."
Cypher quickly started walking again. "Do not stop moving or I will shoot!" shouted the Warden at the two lines of men marching. Smith heard the safety of his gun come off.
"You think you're the one, hunh?" Cypher said.
Smith was silent.
"Then free us and let us go home."