The Matrix. You ought to know the story of how Zion was saved. You ought to know who did it, and why. You ought to know the Machines decided to work for the humans, instead of against them. You ought to know it was all a Lie. There never was a Zion. No Morpheus. No Trinity. No Neo. Agent Smith is real enough, but he never left the Matrix. That was simply another layer. The real Real World is much worse. I should probably start at the beginning though.

My name is Serenity, Serenity Jane. My handle is Goofy. I escaped the Matrix as a Redpill four years after Zion was liberated. I found the truth a year later. I met the man known as Rain-man on the border, he offered to show me the truth about the Matrix. Being young and stupid, I followed him. I took the Red pill, again, and this time awoke to a world far worse than what Pre-Zion earth had been. Of course, the machines in the Zion-Matrix simplified the designs, only using the humans as batteries by tapping into the thermal energy generated in the blood. These machines seemed smarter, and it took them what seemed like forever to unhook all my cables, during which I saw the farm. As far as I could see, tiny red blisters, each holding a human. Above me, and the machine unhooking me, was what appeared to be another layer, a mere handful of meters up. More than likely that layering went much higher, judging by the holes spaced near the edges of my vision, and the pillars every few thousand meters. The machine dropped me back into the blister and I was flushed, Just like last time. This time though, I didn't fall into a pool of slime. I landed rather hard on a metal grate, where I decided to pass out.

I awoke for the second time aboard Rain-man's vessel, a vaguely helicopter shaped craft with a pair of rings covered in glowing red disks wrapped around the belly and tail, where four oversized engines sat. I couldn't hear the engines, even in the silence, and I looked at Rain-man, asking him with my eyes where I was. For some reason my voice wasn't working, and I was just wearing a bathrobe, so much different from the Zion-Matrix. Rain-man looked back and started speaking, in a rich voice like melted chocolate.

"Welcome to the Real world. You are aboard an LH-64 broadcast hovercraft. There are two link chairs, you're sitting in one, I'm sitting in the other. Our operator, Wraith, is flying right now, and the Co-pilot is Hawk, resident technician. Between Wraith and Hawk, this little craft got me in, and you out," his voice softened, "You will learn things out here that you would never have imagined being possible back in Zion. You will meet other like you, others who realized the truth. Only question that remains is, Do you really want to be here?"

I just stared at him. There was no way to get back into the Zion-Matrix, just like the Inner-Matrix. Was there? The hovercraft floated though a tunnel and passed out into a massive room where I saw long mechanical tendrils crawling all over parked vessels, like this one and like the Zion Hoverships. I tried to call out, but my voice still wasn't functional, not even enough to wheeze the word 'Sentinels'.

Rain-man looked at me, "No. Not sentinels, as much as they resemble them. Those are called 'Cage Frames'. They're kinda like those antiquated APU's you use in Zion, which we do still have." One stepped up to the doorway, with actual hands instead of guns, and it lightly grabbed two bars protruding from the side of the hovercraft. Another took the other side and the glowing disks shut off, dropping the heavy weight onto the suits, which appeared to take it easily. "Now they will carry us into the dock, where we will be positioned in a way that will maximize space efficiency." The APU's lifted us up through a hole in some grating, holding us while a third slid something into place. The two APU's set us down and I realized we were on a mostly solid platform.

Hawk jumped out onto the catwalk and beckoned me to jump the half-meter gap. I did, landing unstably in his arms as Wraith and Rain-man joined us, much more smoothly. Hawk pulled me up and started guiding me through the maze of catwalks, "Right this way Goofy, The doc's gonna want to look at that voicebox. Did you move when the machine was unhooking you?" I nodded, waving my arms about in a muted flailing. "Aha, I bet the machine missed the release catch and just ripped out your voicebox. That would explain the ragged flaps of skin we found hanging around your throat." His humorous tone didn't help me feel any better, nor did his next words, "We don't get many people who struggle. Mostly they realize that it will be similar to the first time, and they should just let the machine work. Besides, most people aren't strong enough to struggle at that point."

The doctor was a kind old man, who said the same thing, that he couldn't repair my severed vocal chords. He did comment that the wiring was still intact enough to use though. Of course, having a microphone jack installed in my neck didn't seem like fun. Especially since I already had two headphone ones and a dozen more ports than I thought were necessary. He wired up the new jack easily and said I was cleared to go, but I shouldn't try talking or using the jack for at least a week to let my neck fuse around it more securely.