I couldn't stop staring at Smith. For the second time in my life, I felt if I blinked he'd disappear and then I wouldn't know where he was. After kissing him soundly several times, I held him at arm's length to look at him. There wasn't a trace of what had happened only hours ago.
"It seems he's fixed my shirt," he said. I opened my mouth indignantly before I saw his impish look. I laughed, weak and deflated. I rested my forehead on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around me tightly. "I am so sorry, Etna," he whispered into my hair. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I..."
"Shut up," I told him, and held him just as tightly. "You owe me, agent. You'll be paying me back for years over this." I felt, rather than saw, him smile. He didn't seem to mind.
Once everything had calmed down, I noticed Morpheus, Niobe, Ghost and Tamar had reappeared from wherever they'd gone before. They seemed slightly surprised; I imagine they'd half-doubted the Architect would do anything about Smith. Open-minded as they were, there was a latent amount of mistrust there.
Morpheus thanked Smith. "I do not believe that anyone can say what the repercussions of your actions today will be. I do believe that you've irrevocably changed something, however, and on behalf of the residents of Zion, I thank you." Tamar thanked him too; wordlessly she hugged him so tightly it looked like he might snap in half. An idle bit of my brain wondered at seeing an unplugged redpill actually hugging Agent Smith.
Morpheus addressed me, next. "I believe there was some mention of an ambassador--a liason between the Matrix administration and Zion. I will not mince words. Will you be that liason for us?" I had known this was coming; the Architect had said as much. It felt strange to be handed such responsibility when so short a time ago I had been the object of only wary, tentative trust. I nodded, but such a heavy question required a bit more of an answer.
"I will, Morpheus, and I will do all that I can to be worthy of the honor." He nodded and seemed satisfied; Tamar & Ghost fairly glowed with pride.
"Now that that's taken care of," the Architect said briskly, "there is the question of what you have to offer us."
What I had to offer was a great deal, as it turned out. I was never intended to be a program, and therefore had neither limitations on what I could learn nor parameters stating what I should do. This left me quite open to possibilities, and I began working with both the Architect and the Oracle.
The Architect's work appealed to the scientist in me, with its calculated nature. I proved to be especially adept at correcting and maintaining certain aspects of the Matrix simulated environment. I became the resident Matrix expert on humans and their needs and wants. The simulation lacked in several aspects as far as I was concerned, and the Architect and I began an exchange: he showed me how to fix things and I showed him what needed fixing. I joked to Smith that I'd always wanted to change the world. The "world" suddenly began to see an increase in pleasant weather...and volcanic eruptions in remote locations. The Architect let me have my fun.
The Oracle's work proved more difficult for me to grasp. I'd never been that great at predicting or manipulating people, and the Oracle seemed to pull strings that people didn't even know they had. At first, my very existence seemed to be enough for many redpills. As you can imagine, they did a lot of questioning reality: were they really unplugged? Did they ever really wake up? Many of them took my existence to mean "Does it really matter?" Though I was no longer human, I obviously lived. And because, to them, I was not quite a program, they saw my feelings & actions as somehow more valid than those of the Exiles. Over time, though, it seemed they began to see the Exiles as something more than just programs. As the humans & Exiles began to interact more and more, the Exiles' place in the Matrix became less perilous and more accepted. It seemed I was something of a "bridge" between human and machine.
As for the Zionists, Smith's sacrifice for Tirzah made quite an impression. Though the machines never intended it and even Smith himself hadn't known he would do it, his selfless act had been precisely what was needed to gain any amount of trust from the redpills; this was what the Oracle had hoped would happen when she left him with me. The radical faction remained, but in much smaller, less vocal form. For most humans, the idea of an agent actually taking a bullet to save a human child was a powerful image, and exactly what they wanted to hear. Yes, they'd heard that programs claimed human emotion, such as love (they'd all heard the story of Sati's parents by now), but Smith was the example they now had on hand. Not only had he made a very dramatic sacrifice for a small child, but his affection for and devotion to me was obvious. Perhaps it had begun with me as the "folk hero", but in the weeks after the radical attack, Smith quickly gained a following among the Zionites. Much to his discomfort, of course. He was accustomed to redpills running in abject terror, and had become used to them glaring at him like cats at an unfamiliar dog, but he was entirely unequipped to deal with shy stares and blushes.
The most startling phenomenon to come out of the whole ordeal was a renewed interest in the accident that had resulted in my state. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised; immortality has always been a point of fascination for humanity. It was Tirzah who finally figured it out, after years of study on the part of many human scientists and Exile programs. She tested it on herself, and so became the first person to take on this status intentionally. To my utter astonishment, many redpills have since chosen my unintended path. For some, it's the considerable freedom we are afforded within the Matrix. For others, it's the promise of immortality; in fact, the Zionites have come to call us "Infinites". A few see it as the best of both worlds. I suppose they could be right; my view of the situation is colored by 60 years of pure loneliness, and so remains slightly less rose-colored.
Smith and I are not the only Infinite/program couple. This morning we attended a wedding that utterly destroyed the Architect's theory that Smith was simply a flawed, anomalous agent program.
"What is the point in this ceremony?" Smith asked me. I was needlessly straightening his tie.
"Human tradition," I explained.
"Pointless. It isn't to us they make the vows."
"No, but making them publicly allows them to hold themselves more accountable for what they promise each other."
"We didn't need one," he pointed out. I told him he was a hopeless non-romantic, and finally said that it was an excuse to see him in a nice suit. And then later to get him out of it. Pointless as he thought the ceremony was, we went. Perhaps the Oracle is still teaching me to push and pull people, but I need no help with Smith. Besides, he really does look very, very nice in that suit. And those sunglasses.
The wedding was quite beautiful; Tirzah was radiant and Agent Thompson actually blushed. I took full credit for the splendid weather and the gorgeous state of the landscaping in the park. The Oracle beamed the entire time and the Architect looked supremely bored, but it didn't escape my notice that he was there and they sat together. I remembered the look on Tirzah's face on the day Smith was shot; as if she knew she was playing an important role. I wondered if that very young girl knew what would be the end result of her action.
Sitting tonight on the balcony with Smith, watching the sun set while the breeze flips the hem of my silk robe about my ankles, I doubt it. Neither of us had known at the beginning of our own journeys where they'd end, but the Oracle had been right. Every time he gives me one of these rare, genuine smiles, I know we've both found our purpose.