Aftermath

The sky was dark when she awoke, the distant sound of gunfire jerking her out of her semi-comatose doze. Recent memories, conflicting and confusing, surged through her mind as she stood unsteadily and shook her head to clear it of the invading images. People she had known, people she had cared for had been shot carelessly, just for being in the way. She remembered a gun, facing it from the wrong end, remembered the shock of a bullet and then the dark. She remembered, a different place, feeling different, watching in disbelief and horror as someone who she knew was dead, someone she had in fact just killed, watching as he got back up and fought again. Felt the world and reality change around her as he did things, impossible things, things that were against all the rules, and then changed the rules to suit him. Then a blur of motion, too fast or too disturbing to recall, and a feeling of wrongness, very fundamental wrongness. She remembered losing herself, feeling the center of her being ripped away in chunks of code, and the dark, only it wasn't toatally dark, never was completely dark. There was black and green lights, something desperately grabbing something else, and then she was here.

But where was here? Why didn't she know? She searched desparetly through her memories to find something, some sort of clue, but there was nothing.

That she was here, and obviously alive despite her recent memories of dying was undeniable, but how and why still eluded her. And who.

She didn't even have a name.

Or rather, she had two different ones, but neither of them fit who she was now, this new strange being that even she didn't recognise.

She muttered quietly to herself, in the darkened alleyway, checking off character points and memories as if writing an english essay. Well, she had a lot of memories of fighting and chasing people, that suggested a rather angry sort of person.

Umm... Clothes! She thought. Clothes can tell you a lot about people. She looked at her clothes.

Okay, from my clothes I'd guess I'm some sort of office/official type person. And I recently lost a lot of weight from my shoulders. And I should be taller than this, and my feet are way too small for these shoes, and these pants are made for someone with no hips, so therefore, I must be . . .

Wearing someone else's clothes, she thought. A male someone else, at that.

Using a well-lit puddle as a mirror she examined her appearance more closely. Hmm, lets see. Black suit, black tie, white shirt. Boring style of suit, as well. Anything else? Well, I've got really greasy dark blond hair, not exactly an attractive feature. Blue eyes though, they're not bad. Overall, she thought, I don't look too bad. Gotta do something about my skin though, it looks like I've been living in a cupboard.

But who am I? She sighed, head in hands. How the hell was she supposed to get anywhere or do anything without a damned name? Somehow she thought it might just make sense if she could think of one.

What about . . . something short, obviously, something impressive sounding. More like a description than a name, in fact.

A whatd'youcallit, a pseudonyn. Or an alias, that way she could just use it untill she came up with something better.

Hmm. Well, she thought, apart from "greasy" or "confused" there wasn't much else. Maybe a combination of her previous names?

She had paused, running through the variations in her head, when suddenly a surge of static sounded through her left ear, so loud it hurt. Through the static she could hear or possibly feel the beginnings or ends of words, and then it faded. Leaving her with the peculiar sensation that someone had just told her something very important that she had been unable to catch. Or maybe not. Whatever the reason, she had now found herself a name. Feeling much more positive and secure, Reason walked out into the relative light of the innercity streets. Unseen, a number of people, if you could call them that, watched her go. They exchanged glances but didn't speak. They didn't need to.

****************************

They were not the only witnesses to Reason's creation. On the Neb, Tank was having fits. "Neo! Will you come and look at this!"

Neo strolled in. Despite, or more likely because of the hugely exhausting showdown with the agents the other day, he looked as if he hadn't slept for a week."I'm here already, what is it?"

"Just look at that, will you? Is it what I think it is, 'cause if it is you've sure got some explaining to do when they get back."

Neo obediantly stared at the screen, eyes following the lurid green code as it streamed past. Tank was right, there was something.. He looked closer, and swore quietly. "What the -! How the hell did he manage to do that?"

"I don't know, you tell me man. All I know is, no one's ever killed an agent before. Maybe you messed up."

"Maybe I did, 'cause that is definately him, I'd recognise that bastard anywhere. Shit. Now what do we do?"

****************************

Reason had a problem. Okay, she had a lot of problems, a hell of a lot of problems, but this one was really bugging her. She was sitting in a cafe, having scrounged some money off a sympathetic old lady, and she was staring at a large plate of extra greasy pizza. And although she knew she was desparetly hungry, even though she knew she really should eat it, she counldn't bring herself to do it. To actually take a piece of the greasy, cheesy mass, put it in her mouth and chew, no way, she just couldn't. And she didn't know why. Same as she didn't know why she'd flinched, out in the street, when some guy tapped her on the sholder and asked her for the time. Or why she'd felt so bad, "borrowing" that money off the old lady, like she was betraying someone or something. Revulsed and sick, she'd felt, but all she'd done was ask, very politely, if the lady had any spare change. She knew the answers were there somewhere, locked in the shifting, fractured maze that her mind had become, but it was a locked room to her, and the door's lock was rusted shut, and to cap it all she'd lost the damn key.

Pushing her plate of inedible pizza aside, she began to sift through her pockets in an atempt to find some sort of clue to her identity, emptying them and placing what she found on the table in front of her.

A credit card, plain black plastic with the initials A.Smith and a number embossed in white on the front.

A silvery metallic ballpoint pen.

Another card, this one identifying her as Special Agent Smith of the F.B.I.

She stared at the picture on the front. Apart from the fact that this guy's hair was black, his suit fit and he was a, well, a /guy/, he didn't look a lot different to what she'd seen when she'd looked in the puddle before. Oh yeah, and the sneering expresion which made him look as if there was something wrong with his nose, but hey, no-one's perfect.

She felt around inside the other inside pocket, then stopped as she encountered something coldly metallic. She pulled it out, hoping it was just another pen, but it wasn't. It was a gun, heavy but comfortable in her hand. She put it away carefully. A breif search of her other pockets revealed amunition, presumably for the gun, and a pair of plain black sunglasses. The glass was missing out of one side of them and the frame was bent, as though they had been subject to extreme force. Reason wondered what could have caused it.

She came to out of her reverie with a start as a man, some big black guy with sunglasses and a hat, sat down uninvited on the chair opposite her. Reason resolutely ignored him and wished he'd go away.

"Hello Reason."

She looked up with a start. "How do you know my name?". She looked puzzeled as she said it, realising that this was the first time she had actually spoken louder than an embarressed mutter. Her voice was okay, she decided, not too low or squeaky, but she did have just a hint of a very peculiar accent, a strange sort of twang which was vaguely familiar.

The guy looked at her through the glasses, and Reason found herself wondering what he looked like underneath it all. Why had he gone to such pains to hide his face?

"I know what you're looking for, Reason"

She stared at him. "What, really?"

"You're looking for the truth, answers to a question that you don't understand."

The blank, disbeleiving stare changed to a rather pissed off glare. How dare he, some strange person she'd never met before, even imagine that he could understand or offer advice on her problems?! She clamped down on her rising and more than slightly irrational anger, it wouldn't help to make a scene after all, but something of her inner struggle must have shown on her face because he leaned forwards to talk to her.

"I don't pretend to have the answer to all of your problems, but I can at least show the real world, not what they've told you is real, but the world outside of dreams. No lies, just the truth."

She thought about his words. The real world. For some reason, the words conjured up an image in her mind, a memory.

Vast inhospitable desert, blackened ruined buildings and endless rubble.

A voice explaining, telling her, this is it, their legacy to us, this is what they did, they must not be allowed the chance to do it again. She remembered looking up and seeing ". . . the sky was scorched, I thought it was just a reflection of the ground but it wasn't, they'd burnt the sky to hide the sun from us. . .". She shivered.

The guy took his glasses off and looked at her. "You have seen the real world.". It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact. She nodded uncertainly. "Just once. " Once was enough.

He looked away from her into the distance. "Actually it wasn't the machines who burnt the sky. It was the human resistance."

She looked at him, frowning and puzzled.

"You said 'us'." he clarified.

Now she felt truly lost. Us and them, she'd thought, but which was which and who's side she was on, Reason didn't know.

"Why did they do it?"

"They wanted to cut the machines' power source."

Once again Reason frowned at the man's use of words. He'd said machines, but the inflection of his voice suggested something to be frightened of, something dangerous and perhaps a little distasteful.

"We..." Reason winced and held her hand up to cover her ears as a sharp burst of what sounded like white noise made her feel as though the top of her head was going to come off. The man looked suddenly concerned but she waved his unspoken offer of help away, then relaxed as the static faded slightly.

"Are you okay?"

Reason frowned, considering his question when she suddenly felt something. It was like a nudge, although she didn't physically move, her perception of the world around her flickered for a moment, and then _ stopped. The bell on the shop door rang and Reason turned in her seat to look at the door but all she saw were two suited figures before the guy she'd met grabbed her arm and pulled her under the table.

"When I say, get up and head towards the door. Stop and pay your bill and then leave the building. Double back and meet me in the alleyway, second on the right. Got all that? Good. You'll be safe, it's me they're after. Go on, now! GO!"

Reason gave him a startled nod, then got up and walked to the door. She payed the girl at the counter, tipped her and then walked past the two men in suits who seemed to be survaying the building.

And didn't make it.

She turned to face the man who'd grabbed her arm, preparing to escape, or at least struggle, but when she saw his face she went limp with shock. It wasn't a case of simple recognition, she /knew/ him. She knew his rather bland face, recognised the odd sameness about him and hsi partner, all of it. Unbidden recent conflicting memories sprang up. Sitting in a small and uncomfortable chair in a brightly lit room whilst this man offered her a choice. Standing next to him, in the same room, only it was somehow different, offering the same choice to an obviously terrified young woman who, Reason realised, shaking with shock, bared a striking resemblance to herself.

The guy presumably felt something similar, because he looked at her very closely. "Where did Morpheus go?"

Or then again, she thought, perhaps not. "Who?"

The man's lip curled in irritation. "Do not test my patience, you will find that I do not have any. Where. Did. He. Go?"

Reason shrugged and grinned annoyingly. "Look, I'm sorry but I really don't-" she stopped as she felt the cold metal of the gun that the other man had pressed against the back of head.

"Just answer the queston" he hissed at her.

"No." She didn't stop smiling, didn't move, didn't even breath as she said it, didn't even know why she did it,taking the rather precarious gamble that they wouldn't really shoot her in the middle of a packed restaurant.

The man holding her arm jerked it hard and led her outside, then used it as leverage to slam her against a handy wall. "You have one last chance. Tell us where Morpheus went."

Reason stared at him blankly whilst inside her head the anger, focused this time, built into a rushing cascding fall of pure white-hot fury. She looked at him, carefully memorised the posistion of his partner with the gun, then turned her head aside and held up one hand to cover her face. The agents looked at her as she cried quietly into her hand, then the one holding her arm let go to reach for her shoulder.

*********************

"So if it's not an agent, what is it?"Neo asked agitatedly.

"Look, I've been staring at this goddamned screen for an hour and I still don't know. It looks like someone took a damaged piece of human code and used it to patch up an agent, or possibly the other way round." Tank was clearly getting annoyed with Neo's constant qustioning."Just wait 'till Morpheus gets back, he'll know what to do."

"Where is it, the agent or whatever it is."

"Just there, you see? Right next to those two agents there and Morpheus."

They looked at eachother in slowly dawning horror. "Morpheus..."

Neo swore and started to fumble with the hook-up leads.

Tank began to punch in computer codes.

*********************

There was niether audable sound nor visable sign to mark the change, but nethertheless the agents felt it. The one closest to her moved quickly back, which is why the first blow hit him in the shoulder instead of his stomach.

Still, it was strong enough to slam him backwards into the opposite wall with enough force to shatter the surrounding brickwork.

His partner raised the gun to fire, but Reason was all ready moving towards him, having anticipated his move. She dodged the bullets as they sang past her head: for her they seemed to hang in mid-air with a trail of disturbed air surrounding them, then landed feet-first on the guys chest. He staggered backwardsand swung a heavy blow at her which she felt whistle past her face, too close for comfort. Taking advantage of his momentary unbalancing she pivoted him by his arm and ran him into the wall hard. Behind her she heard the click of a safety catch, and instinctively threw herself down and forwards, the bullets pocking into the pavement slabs where she'd been standing. She reached for her own gun, felt it's reasuring weight slip into her hand, turned and fired at the first agent. He dodged the bullets effortlessly, and she fired again, this time attempting to anticipate where he was going to be. It worked- the first shot missed him by milimetres, the next three clattered into his chest. His expression was one of extreme suprise as he fell, and Reason turned qickly to face the other one.

He wasn't there. There was a body on the ground that looked as if it had ben visciously run into a wall, but it looked nothing like the guy in the suit had. She gazed at it, puzzeled, feeling her perception begin to go back to normal and her slightly questionable sanity return. Shaking with delayed reaction she stared in blank horror and utter disbelief at the body. He was dead. Regardless of the actual identity of the body, the fact remained that she had killed him. That wasn't what scared her, however. What scared her was the cool, calm, efficient way with which she'd done it. Well worn reflexes obviously born of combat had enabled her to dodge bullets and blows without even breaking into a sweat, okay she could perhaps understand how she'd learnt how to do that, but how on Earth could anyone learn how to hit as hard as she had? She'd thrown the guy into the wall with eneough force to kill him, how'd she done that? Then rather more of her sanity returned and she picked herself up and fled.

When she reached the comparative safety of the crowded main street she slowed to a thoughtful walk whilst she considered what the strange guy, Morpheus, had said. Truth! There was no truth, of that she was certain, nothing at which you can point and say, that is completely free of lies. Faintly, as though heard from a long way off, she heard an oddly familiar voice say "of course, there is no real truth. The world out there is no more real than the one in here, but they have to have their truth. Belief in that is what keeps them fighting, keeps them sane, keeps them human. Without that they'd be just like us, in a way. What a terrifying thought.". She wondered who had said that, then realised that it was her. Or perhaps not. She remembered saying it, but the voice was different, whilst at the same time being totally familiar. She shook her head and continued walking. Something else he'd said, what was it, about "the real world". She remembered seeing it quite clearly, the blackened ruined landscape, but didn't understand any of it's relevance to here, this city, this country, this world. How could a world not be real? And if it wasn't, if it was somehow an elaborate illusion, where did she fit in? She couldn't understand it, any of it, but judging by the surge of curiosity she felt concerning the nature of the reality of this world it was something that she'd been working on, before the "incident" that left her with two personalities merged into one. Something else she recalled, something to do with computers suggested a possible answer, and she changed direction, heading away from the small back alley and her appointment with that Morpheus, and towards a small internet cafe that she'd spotted on the other side of the street.

*************************************************************************************

RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RI-

Morpheus finally found his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, this is the operator speaking. Your operator for today is Tank, which service do you require?"

Morpheus smiled to himself."Hi Tank. What's happening?"

"-shut up Neo, I'll tell him in a minute- Hiya, erm listen we've gotta problem."

"I can tell, what is Neo getting so upset about?"

"It's, um, it's Agent Smith."

Morpheus frowned. "What about him?"

"erm, well, we, that is me and Neo were watching the screens and we saw this thing, and we got kinda worried so we phoned you."

"~sigh~ What is it?"

"-Neo, shut UP! I'm getting to it, okay?!- sorry Morpheus, what it is, um well,-Hey, Neo! Give the damn 'phone back!-Hiya Morpheus"This was Neo's voice on the line now. "The thing is, no-one's ever killed an agent before, and it kinda looks like I made a bit of a mess of it."

"How much of a mess?"

"He's not dead. Or rather, he is dead, but he's not, well, gone."

"What do you mean?"

"We looked at the recordings of the Matrix code that Tank took when I fought him, and we're pretty sure. It's kinda hard to explain, but basically when I dissembled his code and destructured his program I didn't break it down enough. Some of the code pieces were able to reassemble and attempt a spawn using one of the human host software. However, because the human host software was complete and the agent program wasn't, it kind of didn't work. This is the bit where it starts to get complicated. When the program attempted to spawn using this human host software it couldn't quite complete it, so it ended up just shadowing the host, following it and emulating all it's movements."

"I understand what you're saying but it doesn't sound that-"Morpheus stopped and sighed, shaking his head slightly."There's more, isn't there? Go on."

"Well, it wasn't really a problem untill Trinity got caught in that derelict building with the other agents. You know, the one near the agents' old H.Q.. The host program that the agent was shadowing, a young woman called Elizabeth Stuward, was shot in the conflict with the agents."

"So Agent Smith was able to take it over fully."

"Not quite. There were still large chunks of his code missing, remember. What happened was the two separate programs were merged to form a new , erm , agent."

"Exactly which bits of Agent Smith were left?"

"-hey Tank! C'mere a moment and talk to Morpheus will ya.-Hiya morpheus!"Tank's voice now."The code from Agent Smith that was part of the merge were the bits typically responsible for certain aspects of his personality, specifically his wonderfully pschotic rage, irrational hatred of all things organic, and something which I don't quite recognise, but it looks a lot like mild claustrophobia. The new, um, agent, also has some of Smith's physical charateristics, specifically blue eyes, greasy hair and some of his facial features. She, the new agent is female, now there's something you don't often see, takes most of the rest of her characteristics from the host program, such as Miss Stuward's imense curiousity, she was quite close to the truth when she was shot. However, the important and worrying bit is the memory part. She's got the incomplete memories of both, erm, donors. That includes Agent Smith's extensive combat training and both donor's most recent memories. Smith's last memory would be being dissembled by Neo, and Miss Stuward's was being shot by Trinity, so the new agent is even less likely to be freindly."

Morpheus frowned. "I think I've met her. Blue eyes, greasy dark blond hair, bad temper."

"Yeah, that's her! Where-"

"She's called Reason."

"-huh? Isn't that that girl you went down to talk to? She still looking for a way out?"

"I doubt it. She doesn't seem to be much of a threat at the moment, she seems more confused than anything else, but she'll be starting to figure things out, and judging by her reactions to what I said to her, it won't take her long. We've got to find her, and fast. Before the agents do."

"Right. I'll send Neo and Trinity down, meet them at Cybercafe, you know, next to the library. That's where she is now."

"See you there." The line went dead. Morpheus put the phone in his pocket and set off towards the internet cafe. The unseen watchers didn't see him go. They were too busy watching Reason.

*************************************************************************************

Reason sat staring at the tiny screen in the crowded cafe. It hadn't taken her long to find the information she wanted, once she figured out where to look. Now she was just trying to come to terms with what she'd found. She hadn't had much trouble understanding the fact that the world as she knew it was an illusion, an elaborate suggestion that was constantly being sent to her brain through a plug in the back of her head. Nor had she felt unduly stressed when she found that the whole show was run by machines, who were indirectly controlled by a gigantic A.I. What was really worrying her was the stuff she'd found concerning agents. Sentient programs which basically do the same job as the F.B.I, C.I.A, and presumably MI5 and MI6 originally did in the 20th to 21st centuries. They search out irregularities in the system, usually human ones, and then deal with them. She was just searching for more specific information on Agent Smith when suddenly, out of nowhere, there was the same loud buzzing in her ears, a bit like static or white noise, but modulated with something else, some sort of hidden message.

Face frowned in concentation she listened intently, atempting to derive the meaning from the strange tones and rushing noises. There was an audable, at least audable for her, click, and then, then she could make out words. Voices, two of which she felt certain she recogised, having what she assumed was a conversation.

"She's at the corner of Main street, co-ords 472,7306."

"Morpheus..."

"Already dialled out."

"Follow her and report."

The static faded, and Reason swore quietly to herself. Great. No house, no money, no edible food, and now she was being followed by agents. She sighed again, and turned her head slightly, just enough to see if she was being followed without alerting anyone watching her to the fact that she was suspicious. Damn! Behind her, in the doorway to the cafe two men were standing. Both of them were dressed in plain black suits and ties with white shirts. Definately the same guys as before. She didn't even bother to wonder how they had managed to get back up without a mark on them after she beat them, she just felt such a sudden wave of total and utter weariness that she no longer cared.

Watching them, she felt . . . odd.

Very odd, sort of as if she'd known them before the fight outside the restaurant. Yes, she definately recognised them, if only she could think of where from. She stopped walking to think and try to remember, and became gradually aware that the two . . . agents hadn't stopped. They were continuing to walk forwards towards her, and she felt a brief pang of worry which she quickly squashed. For some strange reason, she felt that she could trust them now, maybe. A little. Enough anyway.

She turned to face them as they approached, and smiled at them, which appeared to put them off . Hmm, she thought, I make them nervous. The thought was oddly satisfying.

"Miss Stuward?" one of them asked. She thought his voice might have had a touch of apprehension in it, but it could have been wishful thinking.

She hesitated. "Um, yes?"

"I think you'd better come with us." the other one answered. Although they did have a few distnguishing features, there was the curious sameness about them which made Reason feel oddly comforted.

"Okay." she said and shrugged."What's it about?"

"We'll ask the questions.". The first one again.

"Go on then, fire away."

The agents looked slightly confused, obviously this wasn't going according to the script.

"Just get in the car." Reason looked around and saw a big black car pull up. The windows were tinted. She laughed.

"Nice. Real classy, you know?"

Well, she thought, if looks could kill.

She got in.

Inside the car, Reason looked around. The entire inside of the vehicle was black, the windows were tinted darker than she thought was legal, and the constant feeling that she recognised everything, the car, the people, the strange and boring suits, was getting really annoying, especially seeing as how she couldn't remember quite where from. She sighed.

Even more irritatingly, the agents weren't talking to her. In fact, they seemed to be avoiding even looking at her too closely, and she got the distinct impression that she was making them feel uneasy for some reason. Which was daft, after all, she wasn't struggling now, was she. She frowned, looking out of the window blankly. Something strange was going on here, she just knew it. Of course, something strange was always happening to her, she thought dryly, or then again, possibly one night of existance didn't really count as "always".

Suddenly, something out of the window caught her eye. That guy, the one she met in the cafe, Morpheus, was running along the pavement. She shrugged at herself, what was so strange about that? And then it hit her. He was running alongside the car she was riding in, and at the same speed. She glanced cautiously over the driving agent's shoulder at the speedo. Thirty miles an hour! "How the hell . . ."

"What is it?" the agent sitting next to her suddenly asked, as Reason realised she'd just spoken out loud.

"That guy outside is keeping pace with the car."

The agent pushed past her to stare out of her window, and from the look on his face he didn't much like what he was seeing.

"You said he dialed out."

"Wha-oops, sorry,"Reason realised he wasn't talking to her.

"He must have found a way to fool the system."the other agent replied, sounding totally calm. Reason didn't believe it for a minute, she knew they must be panicking like crazy inside.

The driving agent looked around from the wheel to exchange glances with the other one. He nodded.

The car swerved violently sideways to smash into. . . -

-. . . the wall that appeared out of nowhere, just where the running guy had been. The sudden appearance was greeted, at least for Reason, with a wave of dizzying, choking naseua that had her dry retching.

She felt as though someone had just turned the world inside out and then put it back the way it was, very fast several times, and gotten mixed up whilst they were doing it, so that she was still inverted when the rest of the world had gone back to normal.

In the driver's seat in front of her the agent was, well, gone. There was a body, badly damaged and bleeding, almost certainly dead, but it didn't look at all like him, it wasn't even in the same clothes. In the seat next to her, the other agent was also gone, but she reasoned that probably had something to do with the open door and distant running figure. Unsteadily, Reason opened the other door and got out. She felt her head, stomach, ribs etc to check for bruises and found none. Then she cautiously felt the wall. It was solid. She was leaning against it, trying to catch her breath and rid herself of the rather unpleasant feeling that the bottom of her stomach had just risen to the top of her throat, when somebody walked /through/ the wall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wanna know who's walking through the wall? Where the other agent's run off to? What the heck is going on?!

Tune in next week" for more exciting and wonderful* adventures in The Matrix ¬ !

"The inter-dimensional being known as BellaShamharoth, herafter referred to as the author, officially defines one week as the amount of time taken for seven days to pass. However, travelling trans-dimensionally can afect you concept of time, so she would like to appologise in advance for not being able to percieve a week the same way as other people. She realises that so-called "normal" people may not neccessarily agree with her timekeeping and general lack of organisation, and to these people she would like to say: Ha ha! What're you gonna do about it?.

*Terms and conditions apply. The author reserves the write to substitute truly exciting and wonderful material for boring, mundane and repetative fanfiction at any time during production that she feels like , such as during a bad case of writer's block, and furthermore that she may at any time replace, kill off, maim, break down mentally, destroy, merge, delete, feed to rabid geese, swear at, or drastically alter the personality of any person/s, charater/s or persona/s that she uses/does not use for no other reason than that she feels like it/thinks that the character is over used/needed to take out her pmt on somebody who couldn't fight back/enjoys getting an inbox full of angry e-mails from indignant readers/ had run out of food for her geese.

¬ I would just like to say that I do recognise genius when I see it, and The Matrix is pure genius. My ultimate thanks go to the Wachowski Bros for being so amazingly genius-like, to Keanu Reeves for being gorgeous(ahem!), to amazing fanfiction writer Narsus for writing amazing fanfiction, and of course to AtheneMiranda for showing me the bendy spoon and Plato the chicken. I'd also like to say that I don't own any of the Matrix characters, apart from half of Reason(the human half), or the setting, they are owned by Warner and all those other film-type people. Or the machines and the agents. It all depends on how paranoid you're feeling at the moment.

'Scuse me, I think it's time for my medication.