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"The power of the One extends beyond this world. It reaches from here all the way back to where it came from."
-the Oracle
A punk beat throbbed through thick air tinged with burning herbs and other less medicinal mixes. It was totally a dive. There were narrow brick alcoves and dark rock faces dotted with a pastiche of hovercraft monitors, some functional, some not, that did little to light the spaces. A strobe in the far corner pulsed over a cement dance floor so covered with people that it made it hard for her to see where one began and the others ended.
It’s perfect.
Trinity was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her head pleasantly fuzzy after a good meal and a few drinks. Neo held her in one of those dark corners, away from the crowd, moving gently to the music, his front against her back. The movement gave her only a fraction of the friction she craved, of those moments on Zion where they moved in a sea of humanity, colliding randomly, all boundaries erased, decency maintained only by Neo’s palms covering her bare breasts.
Even a couple of months out of the pod, away from the false prisons of family and work, her body was still fragile, her stamina a slow build as she worked to live with scars that felt like they’d settled into her bones.
You like watching him, don’t you?
Cypher’s voice felt welcome in her head for the first time. She had met Neo in a bar not unlike this one. That day she hadn’t touched him, only looked, but the effect on her body was just as if she had. She felt its echo all these years later as she let Neo’s warmth bleed through her and tried not to ache. But it wasn’t long before she knew he could feel the hitch in her movements, the fatigue that had him holding more and more of her weight. She should have been happy that she could do this at all. Some in IO’s medical community had predicted otherwise and, as good as it felt to fuck those pronouncements to hell, she wanted more.
His breath was warm by her ear. “Wanna go back?”
No.
She turned slowly in his arms, loving how he loosened his grip to allow the movement but didn’t lose contact with her body. Putting a hand on the heavy metal plug behind his neck she pushed his head down, capturing his lips, opening her mouth eagerly and savouring every movement of his lips and tongue. She wanted it to last, continued far past where she felt light headed and when she stumbled, he broke the kiss. He put his forehead against hers as she fought to catch her breath. She could feel the tension in him. The worry. Even though he was trying so hard not to show it. When she nodded against him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they walked slowly back to their table.
“I’ll get us another drink,” he said when she was settled and disappeared into the crowd. It was so good to be able to do that, disappear, to get out from under the lens of expectation in this city, even for a little while. She looked down at the cold food on her half-eaten plate and at the three empty plates in front of her. Around her, glasses clinked, and voices were indistinct over the music. Leaning forward to rest her head on her hand, she scanned the room.
It could almost be Zion.
The thought was a comfort until someone brushed her arm as they moved past. It was more of a warm vibration than anything else. She turned her head to see a program, the coloured lights from the monitors reflecting in patterns on the metal beads that created his vaguely male form. He turned toward her.
“My apologies,” he said smoothly as he blended back into the crowd. When her gaze followed him, little patterns of red light were visible moving among the people; even some of the humans had metal in places on their skin, some stood out on unmarred flesh, and some seemed to be attached to existing plugs. It was like a new filter dropping over a familiar scene, making her the one out of place.
Out of time.
She touched the offensive plug on her neck as she watched them move, wondering why anyone would willingly implant metal into their body. Agitated, she let her attention wander to the brightly coloured games, commercials and, finally, a news program on one of the monitors above her head. A fire was raging out of control in section 4 of the city, bright yellow and orange flames filling the screen, flickering against fire crews’ attempts to drive it back. The picture then shifted to one of a young girl; she had that slight deer-in-the-headlights look of being forced to get a school picture. The ticker indicated that she’d gone missing, wandered off from Regency Park. Contact information flashed on the screen with a message hoping for leads. The facade of the Zion War Museum came up, looking for manpower and material donations for repairs before it shut down for renovations. An invitation to sit on the museum board was one of many she had still not answered and she turned away at the unwelcome reminder. Neo handed her a delightfully cold glass and sat beside her. It wasn’t thirty seconds before Lexy and Bugs nearly fell into the booth in front of them.
Their cheeks were flushed, the redness disappearing under Lexy’s high neckline as Bugs nipped at her bottom lip before pulling away.
Lexy looked from Trinity to Neo. “Of course, you guys can get a drink,” she thrust an open hand in their direction. “I fucking stood in a line for half an hour before I gave up.”
“How do you know I didn’t?” Neo said, his face neutral.
“Give up?”
“Stand in line.”
“Because I saw you hit up that server like the line didn’t exist." Berg dropped into the last chair, a grin on his face. “Fame has its privileges.”
“And its burdens,” Trinity added quietly.
Truth is, Neo probably didn’t even realize there was a line.
Bugs looked mildly annoyed. “Aren’t we here to forget about all this shit? Show them this place?” She leaned forward in her seat. “They say this bar is as close to Zion as it gets on IO. Don’t ask me who ‘they’ are.” She held up her hands defensively. “Just tell me if you think they’re right.”
Trinity took a sip of her drink, playing for time, the untethered feeling from before making her feel lightheaded. Or maybe it was the drink; she hadn’t been able to have this much since it was virtual. She decided on a partial truth. “It does feel a little like home.” She took Neo’s free hand, threading her fingers through his.
“It doesn’t matter,” Neo said then, looking at their entwined hands. “If Trin’s here, then it’s home.”
God, I wish it were that simple.
It was said so plainly, with such love, that for a moment, no one said anything. Until Berg cleared his throat.
”I’d drink to that. If I had one.”
Everyone laughed then. Lexy punched his arm a little too hard, and he pulled away theatrically. She set her hand back on the table and leaned forward. “Maybe Neo’s right. It doesn’t matter. I mean, why do we focus so hard on looking back? On recreating what we had instead of creating something new?”
“Because the future’s uncertain.” Bugs said, “Only the past is fixed. It gives us something solid. Something to hold on to.”
Berg shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just a sucker for nostalgia.”
“But you never knew Zion,” Trinity said.
“Weird, right?” Berg grinned, seeming to search his plate for food before remembering he’d eaten it all. “I spend most of my time looking back. After a while, it feels more familiar than anywhere else.”
“When Niobe showed me the memorial,” Neo started slowly, “she said Zion was lost because people tried too hard to hold on to it. Because they didn’t recognize that they couldn’t win by saving it.”
Trinity felt even more sick. “You’re talking about Morpheus. He held on too hard.”
“If he hadn’t, he might still be here. And not just as fragments of code mixed randomly into a test program.” Lexy said darkly. “No offence, Neo.”
He nodded, unconcerned.
“I thought it didn’t matter,” Bugs said quietly, putting her arm around Lexy.
“I’m starting to lose my buzz. Suddenly everything matters…”
***
That untethered feeling she’d had in the bar stayed with her when she stepped out into the cold. Trinity pulled the edges of her coat closer together with one hand as she attempted to navigate the stone-covered sidewalk, placing her cane carefully. It had been the first time she’d tried a walk this far, and she really hadn’t thought about the way back.
She leaned into Neo. “Do we have anything tomorrow? Please say we don’t.”
He thought for a moment before offering, “Nothing official. But Seq’s coming by in the morning, remember?”
Between his closeness, the alcohol, and trying to stay on her feet, it took her a while to process what he said. “Wait. Oh, God. He’s not bringing that … that …exo-whatever codex manual is he? I was just trying not to hurt his feelings.” Her voice was low and slurred.
Neo laughed. “I hear it’s even better when you’re hung over.”
“Fuck you,” she swatted his arm. The movement shifted her balance, and the end of the cane slipped against a stone. It hit the much softer ground, and she held on tightly, pressing it into the dirt until it took her weight. She swayed into Neo, hoping he thought it was the alcohol that had made her unsteady.
“Woah.” Neo put an arm around her waist. “I promise it’s not the codex manual, ok? He has a new project. Wants my help.”
The movement of his arm against the plugs on her lower back was familiar, the contact grounding. She hardly heard what he said; the feel of him beside her, the friction against the sensitive skin around the plugs, left her wanting more. A lot more. She dug a hand up under his shirt, pressing her fingers flat against his bare back, a finger tracing the metal she found there. She enjoyed his sharp intake of breath.
“I need you,” she said.
“I’m here.”
No sooner had they closed the door to the not-so-Rapunzel-tower they had been allocated, they reached for each other. They didn’t stop with taking off their coats, relief mixing with delight in finally being truly alone, in removing every barrier as they crossed the room, in the feel of hands seemingly everywhere at once. It had been so recent that she was even well enough to enjoy this that for a moment, she considered just standing there by the window, pale skin crisscrossed with shadows from the frame, looking at the specks of light from the city.
“You always did like an audience,” Neo whispered. His hands gently brushed along the soft skin under her breasts, lifting them but not obscuring them from view of the window. Her breath caught; he had to be able to feel her heartbeat quicken. She smiled at the memory and the joy she felt that he seemed to trust it. His body trembled behind her, his chest warm and solid against her back.
“Tell me what else you remember,” she said softly, trying not to break the spell. Heat was surely visible through her pale skin as it bled down her neck and across her chest.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and she tried to see him in the reflections in the glass, worried she’d make a mistake. She shouldn’t have pushed. His prison had been built from memories.
But he began kissing the back of her neck, talking in low tones between tastes of her skin.
“You walked up to me wearing almost nothing. My hands were shaking. You wanted to join the rave. Just for a little while. I didn’t want to share you.”
“But you did.” She felt him nod, his hands sliding down her sides to trace the swell of her hips, making it hard for her to think.
“We were like this. Moving to the music. You…” She lifted her hand, arching back a little as she wrapped it behind his neck. “Yeah. Like that. God…I can see you.” Her reflection was almost clear in the glass, but she looked away from the imperfections, the extra plugs and the scars, wanting to stay in the memory. His voice remained unsteady. “And I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled that thin fabric apart, and you just smiled. Bare and proud, and I didn’t even know how to breathe.”
Neither did I.
Anticipation danced along her spine, settling liquid and heavy at her core as she managed, “What did you do then?”
His hands smoothed over her stomach and up to her breasts, covering them with his palms as he had so long ago. “I still can’t breathe,” he said softly. It was almost more than she could take, her skin was so sensitive to his touch, his arousal obvious against her.
“Then I took you home,” she could only whisper, turning in his arms and gently pushing him toward the privacy of their bed. He guided her down, his cock hard against her thigh. Holding tight to him, she revelled in the connection, in the small piece of Zion they held between them as she guided him to her. She loved the joy in his face, the touch of smugness when he felt just how much he’d affected her.
When he was fully seated, he didn’t move, looking down at her with a mix of adoration and regret.
"What?” she whispered.
“I’m not gonna last, “ he admitted softly.
She smiled and felt a flutter in her stomach when he did, too. “Neither of us did.”
***
“Trin.” His hand was warm on the bare skin of her back, the movement of it stirring the covers. She shivered as cool air nipped at her skin.
“Shit.” She knew she’d been restless, tossing, a splitting headache making her wonder if alcohol was ever a good idea. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She didn’t like the meekness in her voice, the anxiety that turned her stomach as she waited for the bitter reaction she knew better than to think was coming. Chad was a program, a bot, nothing but ones and zeros in a soup of code, but his effect on her, his abuse, she corrected herself, had left the kind of scars even Trinity didn’t know how to confront.
The bed shifted as Neo propped himself up on an elbow. He pressed a warm kiss to her temple, his hand moving from her back to the base of her neck, a finger gently tracing the spider-like metal that covered the skin there. She hoped he couldn’t feel the tension in her, the worry left from never quite knowing the agenda behind Chad’s affection.
“I wasn’t asleep.” His touch was gentle, soothing the constant pain that had made her unable to get back to sleep. He moved his fingers up into the short hairs at the base of her neck.
“Don’t,” she said quickly and then softened her voice. “I liked what you were doing.”
His fingers brushed the skin around the implant gingerly. “It’s really red, Trin. Worse than before.”
Her immune system had been slow to come back. Elster had explained that the level of repair necessary to revive her, and the machines' lack of attention to detail, had left her defences worn down. She let out a frustrated breath, her hand resting over his on the ugly port. “I don’t care; I need it gone.”
“Elster-”
“Doesn’t even want to try in my condition. I know.” She understood that it was a bio-electrical connection. That the signals it was designed to process and those of her brain were indistinguishable, making any attempt at removal a risk. But it was heavy.
And it fucking hurts.
Neo leaned over her to grab the bottle of anaesthetic cream on the bedside table. She heard him open the cap, and then the edge of his finger began to trace her torn, raw skin, leaving a cool numbness in its wake. She would do this for him, too; she had done it before. Those first few uneasy nights on the Mnem, she had loved the simplicity of it, the excuse just to touch him again and let him touch her without the expectation of more. But now that these few months on IO had allowed her to heal enough to do more than want him, she found that the more soothed and numb she became, the more she craved to feel.
She couldn’t help the swell of emotion in her chest when she felt Neo’s free hand slip down along her bare back. He didn’t say anything, his fingers gently tracing each small plug as they moved lower. In many ways, their virtual lives had left them strangers, and though simulation after simulation had layered the false over the real, physically, she knew his body like she knew her own. Even after all the changes and all the years, it didn’t need remembering. It was just there.
His hand caressed her ass, not hiding his enjoyment as he played over the rounded skin and over her hips and thighs. She felt his body relax against hers, contentment obvious in the unhurried way he touched her. His pace was so foreign, so unlike Chad, that she felt her own tension bleed away. When he finally pressed his hand against her inner thigh, she spread her legs a little, a flush on her cheeks at how wet she was already. She lost her breath as he traced a slow line upward along her sensitive skin. His breath was hot against her shoulder, his lips pressing against it just as his fingers traced along her folds. She felt his smile against her at her gasp, at her series of hitched breaths as he teased her, his other hand making slow circles around the plugs on her lower back. He knew exactly how to work her almost to breaking and when to ease off and let the pleasure build again.
Each wave left her less coherent, the tangle of worry in her head for once small and silent.
“You’re going to make me ask,” she said breathlessly after he eased off a third time.
“No,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to do anything. Just feel.”
Fuck.
He brushed her clit again, lingering just a few seconds more, and she actually laughed, heat radiating through her abdomen and up to her breasts as she came hard against his hand. He pulled her still vibrating body against his and held her, stopping her when she was coherent enough to run her hand along his hard cock where it pressed against her leg.
“Shhh,” he said softly. “Sleep now.” His hand slid up and down her back away from the plugs, lulling her. Her body was heavy, sated from the orgasm, and the hours without sleep made it feel like she was sinking, the water's surface a muted glow far above her. She draped an arm over him, pressed her face against the warmth of his shoulder, and just breathed.
***
When she woke up, he was mostly dressed, chewing something as he walked around the bed to find some socks.
“Where are you going?” Her voice sounded thick and raspy.
“Not leaving this view.” His eyes sparkled and she glanced along her body. The quilt had slipped down, leaving her chest bare. She held his gaze and lifted her arms above her head, letting him look. Hoping he’d come back to bed. She owed him.
Neo leaned over, kissing her thoroughly before untangling her arms from around his neck. “I knew you wanted more last night, that it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry,” he admitted, standing up.
Not enough.
Her stomach knotted as he moved away. She knew what not enough felt like. Her last time with Chad had been heated, almost violent. A clutching, hurried fuck over the bathroom vanity at the end of a stressful day, their clothing barely shifted out of the way. She’d been left feeling oversensitive, used and empty. That Neo thought what he’d given her last night was somehow not enough made her almost physically sick.
“Neo?” She found her voice unsteady and knew why. She had made a life out of avoiding confrontation.
“What?”
“Just…sit. Sit for a minute.” She felt the bed sag when he sat next to her. She sat up a little, threading her hand through his short hair as she gathered her courage. “What’s wrong?” she whispered. “I don’t want you thinking that I didn’t love what we did last night, that somehow…you don’t deserve more from me.”
His hand came up and held her cheek. “It’s not that.” He searched her face until she nodded a little. “It seems like a long time now. But I know what it felt like to sit in that coffee shop. How it felt…here.” He fumbled until he caught her hand and slipped it into his open shirt. Put it on his chest. “Just to see you.” He smiled then, and it felt rare, like a blood-red sunset. “And now…touching you.” He looked down, struggling for words. She waited, feeling his heart beating rapidly under her hand. “It’s so much,” his voice was breathy, trembling.
All those years, he had watched her, never touching her. Like all those cold nights she’d spent on the Neb, watching him.
“You think it’s just you?” She kept her voice soft but let a little edge come through at the end.
“I know it’s not. I know. But last night. When we danced. After. I could tell you wanted so much more from me, and I couldn’t last. This morning…I wanted a way to give it to you.”
“No one’s keeping score, Neo.”
“Says the most competitive woman I ever-” There was a loud beep and Neo pulled a comm out of this pocket. “Shit. He’ll be here in 5 minutes.”
“Who?”
“You really were drunk last night.”
She looked at him like she would the Merovingian after he said…anything.
“Seq,” he returned quickly, ducking her to walk to the chair near the bed and pull on his sweater. “He wants to show me some construction project. A building down by that vegan place you like.”
“Doosara Mauka?” She could shower in 5 minutes. Plucking his undershirt from last night off the floor, she slid it on before reaching for her cane. He was still talking as she made for the bathroom.
“Yeah. The building’s unfinished, but he’s elbows deep in a new rooftop garden proposal. Can’t wait for me to go up there and really get a feel for it.”
“Seq. A gardener. I don’t see it.”
“I know.”
“He caught me in the market the other day,” she said, closing the bathroom door. “I pictured a couple of plants in clay pots.”
Neo laughed. “Not even close. He’s obsessed with pollination conditions. Irrigation. He’s excited for any scrap of plant genome that Quillion and Freya can spare. So, yeah, he’s a gardener. But talking to him I realized it’s so much more than that. It’s science. Engineering. A puzzle.”
The water had been damned cold, but it did help the hangover. When she came out, she was dressed in a light blue sweater that left most of her shoulder bare. Her wet hair was combed back, cool water droplets casually hitting her skin. “And there’s something in the way he talks about it, isn’t there? Like he can reach back in time and bring back species none of us are old enough to remember.” Twenty years in the Matrix, a backyard garden that grew more weed-covered as her kids grew, made the words seem hollow. The smell of the earth and the bright taste of the vegetables were as real as ever in her head. Thinking about Donnie’s prized mutant tomato made her smile over the ache. “Feels a bit magical.”
He nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I wish you could join us up top.”
“I’m not using this cane a minute longer than I need to,” she joked, bumping against him as she felt him turn sombre. “Feeling good today.” She kissed his neck, reminding him that this had everything to do with him. Elster hadn’t sugar-coated it. Even though she followed the physiotherapy and mobility regimes religiously, and even if she opted for surgery, the poorly repaired damage from the Logos crash would have permanent consequences. She was feeling stronger but not climbing scaffolding and temporary stairs stronger. There was no reason Neo couldn’t go alone. But that just wasn’t a choice she wanted to make. Not yet. “I haven’t been to Doosara in a while. At least the coffee there tastes less like tar.”
***
It was strange to see Seq without any of the operator tech. His long sweater was layered over his torso beautifully, different shades of blue faded from dark to light along his body as warm and bright as his personality.
Seq never came without something in his hand. The first time he’d worked scrap metal into a gorgeous flower with tiny, overlaying sheets like petals. Another it was a scarf, the tight-knit wool warm in her hand. He was adamant that they were not gifts but essentials; that the best way to honour a home was to recycle and share it.
Today it was a small piece of charcoal salvaged long ago from the surface. “It’s an artist’s tool,” he said, his eyes wide and eager. “Each artist uses a portion of it and then hands it to the next. I thought it might help … with the memories.” He put it almost reverently into her hand, but his gaze encompassed both of them.
She could almost feel an energy in the shard and wondered how long it had circulated. How big it was when the tradition started. There was so much history in such a small piece, and she couldn’t help but feel comfort in the certainty of it. No one could undo the work that had come before. She felt humbled. Unworthy. “Where can we find the art that’s already been created?”
“Much of it was lost with Zion, but the last artist didn’t stay to see the city fall. It lines the rock face that encircles IO. I’d be happy to take you.”
“Thank you,” she smiled, tipping her head in reverence to what had been given. When she looked up, she couldn’t quite meet Seq’s eyes. “But I have a confession.”
“Let’s hear it,” Seq said jovially.
“I failed art in grade nine.”
“How do you fail art?” Neo asked softly, amused.
“The teacher told me I was ‘unable to demonstrate a feel for it’.”
“One teacher can’t-”
She kissed his innocent cheek. “Don’t defend me. Truth is, I didn’t demonstrate anything. I never showed up.”
Neo dipped his head with a grin. “Bet you had the hacking skills to change your grade.”
“And make my mother proud? Fuck no.” His arm came around her and he pressed her gently to his side. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Seq. This is a truly beautiful gift.”
“No need to apologize. You see, no one has ever lived… in the way you two have. Your experience is totally unique.” There was affection in Seq’s eyes as he closed her hand around the charcoal. “Don’t be afraid to share who you are. After all, untapped potential is the best potential.” He turned to Neo, “Are you ready to experience the garden concept? I’m calling it ‘Eden’. You think it’s too obvious?’ He looked back and forth between them, gauging their reactions. “It’s really not meant to be untouchable or anything. More like the start of something new. Anyway, can’t wait to bounce ideas off you; I can get so focussed on a design that I stop seeing anything else.”
“We’re ready,” Neo answered
***
Sitting in a wrought iron chair on the patio of the restaurant, she nursed a coffee between two hands. IO had a lot to appreciate, but Trinity felt like part of her recovery had involved weaning off good caffeine. She looked up at the half-formed building down the street, trying to catch a glimpse of Neo and Seq.
The building was a mishmash of materials constructed on IO and scavenged from the surface. An airplane fuselage jutted out among the layers, another lower section looking like a much abused portable classroom stolen from the grounds of some long empty high school. A web of black scaffolding and ladders crisscrossed the structure. She had watched Neo and Seq make the last of the climb when she stepped out with her coffee, her hips aching as they weaved across and up. The final section was an impossibly long ladder attached to a narrow gantry and anchored all along the upper structure. It was built like a wire cylinder, so anyone climbing would not fall back.
Maybe it had been silly to come along. She didn’t know how long Seq needed to lay out his plans, and the longer the morning wore on, the more people passed by and stared or whispered together when they saw her. Her hair was still shorter and spikier than she had been used to, the heavy metal jack around her neck obvious with the open-necked sweater. She rubbed her hands along her arms, still not used to the dampish cold.
A tween girl pulled away from her mother and ran up to the wooden frame of the patio beside Trinity’s table. She had a bright yellow knit hat on and seemed to look up from under it at Trinity. Thin strands of long, dark hair fell well over her shoulders.
“Is it really you?” she said tentatively, tipping her chin up for a better look.
“Trinity.” She extended her hand through the wooden bars. When the girl reached up tentatively and took it, Trinity was unprepared for the echo of warmth and love that came with the small gesture, the ache left behind when the girl pulled back.
C’mon, mom, we’re gonna be late.
Look! Mom. Look what I found.
She shook her head.
It’s not real. It never was.
There was no comfort in the rationalization.
“Trinity?” The tween shited on her feet. The sound of her children’s voices began to fade from her head when the girl reached up and pulled off her hat, her hair a wild, brown frizz underneath, and pushed it into Trinity's still-open hand. Glancing over her shoulder to see her mother approaching, she said in a stage whisper, “Everyone knows you come to IO with nothing. Podborn or not. No one as old as you should have nothing.”
“I can’t take this.” Trinity tried to push it back into the girl’s hand, but she stubbornly pushed back before dropping her hand away. “Thank you,” Trinity trailed off a little, hoping the girl would share her name, but she was already looking past her.
“Does it hurt?” The girl gestured to the back of her own neck, staring wide-eyed at the metal curling around Trinity’s.
“Sometimes. It’s not hurting now,” Trinity reassured her, her finger brushing the cold metal.
“Marlie!” The girl's mother grabbed her thin arm and pulled her back from the patio frame before looking up at Trinity. “I’m sorry if she bothered you.”
The word ‘never’ caught on her lips as a sound, like a loud crack, ripped through the morning air. It wasn’t a single sound, continuing to reverberate through the street for several seconds, through IO itself. The table in front of her was shaking and the coffee cup fell on its side. The lights on the patio flickered and there were several small cracks and bangs. Marlie’s mom pointed at the shop just down the street, debris falling like rain against the windows. Screams were just audible in the heavy air when people began to run onto the road.
She stood, trying to see anything amidst the billowing grey cloud of debris that rose over the end of the street. At the very top, where the smoke was the thinnest, she could just make out a bright patch of biosky. She saw a figure through the haze, on the top of a roof that continued to collapse, dangling from the edge of a ruined upper ladder. She knew who it was like he were a piece of her own body, felt his surprise as the building shifted again, and she watched through the debris as the airplane fuselage crushed under the weight of the upper floors, and he started to fall.
“Neo!” The word was torn from her throat, a sickening mix of terror and desperation burning through her like a shorting fuse. The vibrations in the building suddenly became silent. Debris and flashes of metal hung in the air. There were no screams, no movement at all. She was standing still, reaching out her hand toward the figure now frozen in the air. She caught a glimpse of Marlie and her mother, the girl was still, looking at Trinity with eyes wide with wonder. Her mother’s face, turned toward the building, was a picture of fear. Then Trinity saw nothing but white…
…there was laughter. Glassware clinked and when she opened her eyes it was to people across from her at a table, screens of every size and age dotted the ceiling above them. Punk music pulsed loudly in the space. She was holding a fork, and when she looked down there was a half-eaten meal in front of her, the smell of the rich sauce just beginning to register.
Something …something was just out of reach in her head. It felt immediate, cold, and terrifying but as much as she willed her mind, her body, to react it felt heavy, spent, like the blackened aftermath of a short circuit.
She fought her breathing from a short stutter to something deeper and calmer as she pressed her hands flat against the table on either side of her plate. The disorientation didn’t feel new, just new here. Outside of the Matrix. The panic she’d just managed to tamp down burned like bile rising in her throat. This was real. She knew this bar. Bugs and Lexy had recommended it. An arm came around her shoulders, lips beside her ear.
“You ok? Felt like you were gone for a moment.”
Relief flooded through her at the sound of his voice. She turned her head into his, feeling his skin against her cheek, his warmth, the scent of him.
Neo.
Here. Alive.
“Yeah,” she turned his face with her hand, kissing him hard. Groans were immediate from across the table and she broke the kiss to see Bugs, Lexy and Berg in various stages of covering their eyes or grinning unabashedly.
“Get a fucking room,” came from someone, probably Lexy.
Trinity kept a hand on Neo and shook her head, looking again at the faces in front of her, trying to collect her thoughts. Bugs had brown hair. There were a lot fewer tattoos across the board. This was how they looked on IO. In the real.
She caught a flicker of light behind Bugs. One of the screens had switched to a news broadcast. She couldn’t hear the anchor, but when the scene flipped to a blaze in section 4 and the attempt to quell it, it was instantly recognizable.
She nudged Neo, indicating the screen. “That was last night. Hard to believe they haven’t put it out.”
Fire crews arrived 20 minutes ago scrolled across the ticker at the bottom of the screen.
“I think they’re working on it,” Neo said.
The next headline made her blood run cold. Girl, 4, missing, thought to have wandered from Recency Park…. She sat, transfixed. That had happened, too. Yesterday. And then. And then…
“The Zion War Museum is closing for renovations,” she whispered, seconds before the picture flipped to the intricate, metal facade of the museum building and the headline appeared.
Neo looked surprised. “How did you-”
“I don’t know.”
She anticipated the next two headlines before turning away, trying to ignore the mix of shock and intrigue on the faces in front of her.
“What’s going on?” Bugs said slowly, “Is this a repeat news broadcast or something?”
“Can’t be. That fire started less than an hour ago,” Lexy was watching a different screen.
“Something’s fucked.“ Berg leaned over the table, his eyes fixed on Trinity. “You just said the fire was last night. And you knew every story on a first run broadcast.”
“Neo, what day is it?” She hoped her voice sounded calm.
“Thursday. Party night.”
“That can’t be right.”
But she knew it was. They were in her head. Every headline. Every story. Because she had already lived this day, ate and swayed to the music in this bar. And tomorrow…another image, the one that had been just out of her reach moments ago, flashed vividly in her head. The tiny figure of Neo on the edge of a building, a sudden shift throwing him off balance, his body frozen in mid-air. She tried to grasp for details but the image seemed to be fading, slipping like water through her fingers. There had been someone else there, someone had invited-
“-maybe it’s like … like how you said you saw the brawl in Simulatte before it happened …like-”
”Have you guys seen Seq?” She cut off Berg’s rising enthusiasm in a rush, trying to keep her voice from trembling, needing to know that Seq was okay. They all sat back. There was nothing but the beat of the music for a few seconds before Bugs cleared her throat.
“Who?” she said, confusion plain on her face.
“Seq,” Trinity repeated. “Your operator.”
The younger three exchanged looks like they were wondering if the extraction had damaged her brain. Finally, Berg spoke up. “Jolly’s our operator.”
“On the Mnem.”
“Yeah.”
She looked hastily at Neo; his expression was gentle but equally confused. “I met Jolly when I was first extracted. She put everything on the line to help rescue you. So…who’s Seq?”
“Techie guy with the tree tattoos?” She scanned three blank faces before turning to Neo. “He’s coming. Tomorrow. He told me about that garden project of his. He wants to show you, remember?”
She could feel the anxiety building in Neo, just as it was in her. His hands had started to move back and forth along the rough material of his pants. “I don’t … I don’t know anything about that. Should I?”
It broke her heart to hear the uncertainty in his voice. “We need to go,” she whispered to him. Bugs chose that moment to break in.
“So now we’re missing someone? I don’t get any of this.”
Trinity tried to think through the panic. Somewhere inside her was a woman who’d fought a war, who knew how to confront fear and uncertainty and keep going. She took a deep breath and tried to remember more about the night before.
“Bugs,” Trinity put her shaking hand over the younger woman’s where it sat fisted on the table. “I don’t get it either. All I know is that I remember everything about this day. I know there was something you were hoping to ask Neo and me tonight. Why you brought us here.” She waited until Bugs met her eyes. “You want to know if we think this place is like Zion. Like everyone says.”
Everyone looked at Bugs, who just nodded, her face pale.
“Now that’s fucked,” Berg repeated, before turning to Trinity. “You sure you didn’t end up with some stray Oracle code when you were rebuilt?”
“You’re not helping,” Lexy said. “But that’s ridiculous…right?”
Bugs shook her head like she was trying to clear it, and the next words came from the captain of the Mnemosyne. “Ok, I’m a bit freaked. I think we all are.” She looked at everyone at the table. “When I find a pile of weird shit like this. Here. In the Matrix. Wherever. I like to dump it in Niobe’s lap. No one’s seen more.”
“She’ll kill us,” Berg chimed in with utter certainty.
Bugs looked back at Neo and Trinity. “That’s why it won’t be us.”
***
“When is a woman old enough to go to bed at 8 and not be bothered.” Niobe stood at her door in nightwear, a heavy knitted robe in a rainbow of colours over her shoulders, her locs loose and resting on the material, disappearing down her back.
“I’m very sorry. But something’s happened,” Trinity managed.
“Don’t wear your shoes in here.” Niobe turned from the door, leaving it open as she disappeared into her sitting room.
It wasn’t a long story to tell, but Trinity could see from Niobe’s shifting in her chair, from the way her hands gripped the armrests, that it scared her.
“I’ve heard a lot of things in a long life, but this takes the cake. I’ll need to share the story…and god knows what shit that’ll stir up. Go home,” she said, firmly. “Do nothing. I’ve spent too much time trying to bring people here; I don't need to hear they’ve been erased.” Her voice softened a little. “Just…trust me when I say that I know someone who might be able to help.”
***
They had been up for hours. She hated waiting. She wanted to do something. Anything. But every bad movie about time travel Tiff had ever watched told her that it was for the best.
“My grandfather was an overstuffed sweater who thought too much of himself.” Trinity sat slumped against the uneven rock that curved up and over her head, Neo beside her. “And he was loud. Yelled at my grandmother and my mom. And when he was quiet it was the TV that was too loud. He was the first person I knew who died. After it happened, I couldn’t get over the silence.” Trin ran a finger along the edge of a metal seam in the floor. ‘And the thought that…that it didn’t matter how many rooms I looked in. He was gone. A whole person just…erased.”
His body macerated and fed to others. Is a simulated grandfather still a grandfather?
Neo seemed to catch the same wavelength. “That was another life. A simulated one.”
She glanced over at him, a wry smile crossing her features. “And it’s not like we’re the poster children for knowing how to tell the difference. But Seq was a real person, flesh and blood in this world. Freeborn on IO. He helped us …he helped me…from the moment he learned we were still alive. And I…I reached out and-” She snapped her fingers. “He’s just gone, like I erased a program, like my grandfather. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Neo shifted beside her. It was silent for a moment before he spoke into the dark. “You wonder if this world and the Matrix might not be that different.”
Her eyes flicked to his. “You, too, huh.”
His fingers clenched and unclenched nervously, his elbows resting on his knees. “Right around the time that Sentinel froze in mid-air. Because I needed it to.”
“What did that feel like?” She could still feel an energy in her arm like all her tiny hairs were still raised. With every hour it faded a little bit more.
He paused, his gaze wandering upward, but when he looked at her again his face was blank. “I don’t know. I ended up in a coma for hours. You’re the one still standing.”
Fuck, it’s way too late…early…for this.
“Don’t make puns,” she scoffed lightly.
“I didn’t…oh.” He was cute when he was confused.
She put her head back against the wall. “My head just hurts.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, his nails brushing lightly against her scalp and she couldn’t help her eyes falling closed at the sensations. “Niobe will figure it out,” he reassured her. “She always does.”
She let her weight rest fully on him as he continued the soothing motion. “What if she can’t? I can’t take any more loss. I have to fix this.”
“Then she’ll have an opinion.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And if history is anything to go by, you’ll hate it.”
***
Trinity had maybe slept an hour, sitting up. She was so tired she didn’t even flinch at the knock on the door.
Niobe’s was the first real human face she’d seen after waking up on the Neb all those years ago. It was so much like the one she had followed in the Matrix, only every harsh line of her appearance was blurred, softened, like the acoustic version of a particularly angsty heavy metal song. That it was still here, layered with age and scars that did nothing to blunt the warrior underneath, felt like a sanctuary.
Sanctuary. Niobe would laugh.
Trinity knew she’d done nothing but try to buck Niobe’s authority from the moment she opened her eyes all those years ago.
Along with Neo, she was a link to a past that was starting to feel a lot less fixed.
Beside Niobe metallic spheres oscillated gently, captured in a magnetic field. The shape was definitely human and impressionistically female. She dwarfed Niobe in size. The spheres that formed her hair seemed to give it movement, like she was underwater. Niobe gestured toward her. “This is Ronin. She is, for lack of better words, the synthient equivalent of Berg.”
“I’m Trinity. Please. Come in.” Leaning on her cane, Trinity backed away from the door so they could enter. She gestured toward the dilapidated chair that delineated their living room from the kitchen, but Niobe waved it away.
The program smiled, softening her tall, heavily muscled silhouette. “I prefer archivist. All iterations of the Matrix incorporate specialized programs. Your oracle, for example. But many are used against their will. My work seeks to understand their purpose over time, the control structures in the code that tie them to the system, to make it possible to free them. Just as we do humans.”
“She’s being modest,” Niobe cut in. “Her team developed the first ‘red pill’ for programs. Morpheus is only the latest success.”
“You freed them? To exist here. Like you.”
“Credit goes to the entire team, but yes.”
Trinity looked away, shaking her head slowly. It was incredible work, and she was more than grateful to have a person with this kind of talent trying to help her, but her nerves were shot, doubt and worry having eaten away all of her patience. She hardly heard Neo’s words.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help but think of Kamala and Ravi-Kandra. If they could have been-”
“We were not in time. And even now the access remains limited.” She could see Ronin’s despair in the weight that seemed to fall over her form. “It is a terrible regret, but one that further motivates the work.” She gestured toward Trinity. “Your situation, as Niobe has described it to me, poses questions that may prove quite illuminating.”
“I truly hope I can help you. But Seq was our friend. He risked everything to pull us out of the Matrix. I can’t believe that the same power that saved Neo would end his life. I have to do something. I owe him that. I just don’t know what, and I hate that feeling.”
“Then you’re gonna like this,” Niobe said flatly. “It’s the ‘what to do’ that you’re gonna hate.”
Ronin seemed to stand a little bit straighter. “The program you call The Analyst, his Matrix is by far the most edited, or re-written, of all of the iterations. As a result, there are fragments, old backup files that are infinitely searchable. Your friend. Seq. He did exist.”
Trinity let out a breath at the tiny flicker of hope she felt, at the one small fact that might prove her not crazy. “He’s still in the Matrix then?”
“Not exactly. As a freeborn, your friend was incapable of interfacing with the Matrix, but in manipulating the code to observe the simulation, he created echoes. We know he was there. But it is as your captain said. Jolly is the operator of the Mnemosyne, both here and in the Matrix. In the backup files, she performs the same function just on a different ship.”
“So if we change things, she will continue to exist,” Niobe added.
“Change things? How?”
“Given your virtual history, I believe you would be familiar with something called Twitter?” Ronin asked.
“Seriously? That cesspool? I let my account die years ago.”
At least Tiff did.
Ronin seemed unphased by Trinity’s confusion. “Imagine you were able to go back through your social media posts. You delete a tweet. But instead of that post being no longer available, all reality is altered so that it was never sent. We believe this is what happened with Sequoia. You told Niobe that you went back several hours in time?”
“15 hours. Yes.”
“And that this action was tied to an extremely visceral response to impending trauma.”
“I wouldn’t quite put it that way,” she managed to whisper.
Ronin nodded before continuing, “No one yet knows the extent of the powers of the One. It is our theory that in an uncontrolled attempt to alter that traumatic moment, you also altered the reality in which the event occurred.”
Trinity put a hand over her mouth, the implications settling in despite the insanity of the theory. “Seq invited Neo. It was his project.”
“Yes. Reality was altered so that this invitation was never sent. So that Seq never existed.”
“Shit.” Trinity felt her nails bite into her skin as she clenched her fists. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”
Niobe seemed to lean harder on her cane. “The only sane idea is to do nothing. In the Matrix, the manipulation of time is subtle. An art form. An essential skill in war. And no one had a feel for it like you. But here in the real, I don’t like the idea of fucking with time. Too many variables. Too much to lose. Do we jeopardise the lives of everyone in this city for that of one man?”
“Niobe…” Trinity’s voice was low, bordering on dangerous, her throat thick. She felt Neo reach for her and took a step away from him.
Niobe raised her hand, cutting off any further response. “But it would not erase the fact that you have this power. That it may also manifest in Neo. And the same damn thing could happen again, affecting who knows what.” She took a deep breath. “We’re not even sure of the full extent of the changes now. The only choice, then, is to control it. You’ve gotta learn how to trigger it yourself. Go back again.”
“What makes you think that’s even possible?” Neo asked.
The expression on Ronin’s ‘face’ could only be described as patient. She focussed on Trinity. “The terror and distress of seeing Neo fall likely triggered your jump back. In the absence of that traumatic event, and the desire to change it, the jump should have less of an effect on reality. But if Seq remains present, you will still have to prevent the events that led to Neo’s fall.”
Trinity looked at Niobe. “You were right, I hate all of this. But the only one who fucked up here is me. So.” She looked between the two of them. “How do I trigger it?”
“Practice,” they said as one.
Ronin put a hand on Trinity’s shoulder. The subtle vibration was calming and she realized that Ronin knew it. “We know Neo was able to manipulate the real world, the same seems to be true of you. The power exists within you. Like flying, what starts as instinctual can also be controlled. What we need is a repeatable action, one with variables that are fairly fixed. There is a park on York Avenue called Greenway Park. People play chess there. Are you familiar with the game?”
“Yes.”
“Consistency will be important. Visit the same table each day at the same time. Play the same person. Immerse yourself in every detail of the experience. Touch. Smell. Sound. Everything. Then go home. Interact with no one else. Continue to play each day until the picture is complete and vivid in your mind, then return to the park at night. To the same empty table. And try to go back. To a specific moment. A specific match, a memorable move.”
“And if it works?”
“You said you were disoriented the first time. Be ready for that.”
“And don’t fuck around,” Niobe warned. “Go home. Play again the next day. The goal will be to do the same thing at the bar. But only when you’re ready.”
“Niobe, you know me. More than anyone here. You know I won’t take this lightly.”
Niobe leaned over and whispered, “Good. Control is everything; only then can we even think about the possibilities. But you fuck with my city, I won’t care what timeline you’re in or what I have to do. I’ll find you.”
Niobe smiled then but it was hard to tell whether there was any actual humour in her words. A curl of fear sank to the bottom of her stomach and stayed there. This power or whatever it was could unravel so many threads it was hard to even imagine. Niobe was afraid of what bringing them back would do to the world she built and to the people and machines who called it home. At what point would she be forced to protect it?
***
“Whatcha got there?”
Trinity didn’t see the man right away. The yellow knit hat was warm in her hand; a long, dark hair or two stuck to its edges. When she looked up, he was standing beside a line of tables with what looked like hand-painted chessboards on them. A worn wooden box sat open and he was hunched over the board, slowly putting the pieces away. Her gaze lingered on the plugs on his dark forearms. They were almost invisible, incorporated into faded, spiralling tattoos.
Trinity glanced behind her, the tween girl and her mother were small figures against the artificial pond in the centre of the park, before considering the man. “A gift. I…I didn’t want to take it from her.”
“A gift is for the pleasure of the one who gives it.” He smiled then. “It suits you, young lady.”
Trinity couldn’t help but smile back, intrigued for the first time since she started scouting the park. She indicated the table. “You play?”
“No better way to get to know someone.” He put in the last piece and closed the box carefully. “But a man has to eat.”
Not only were there no obvious signs of recognition when he looked at her, but he was about to walk away. He was suddenly the only person she wanted to play.
“I can come back,” she said a bit too quickly, pulling at a loose strand of wool on the hat.
“That would be my pleasure,” he answered, turning away.
It was several minutes before she realized she hadn’t even asked his name.
***
The biosky seemed brighter than usual. Trinity took her eyes from the board, looking upward to see that the cloud layer was indeed thinner. It was a slow afternoon. A smattering of parents walked with children around the artificial pond that formed the centre of the park. Some older men talked animatedly at a group of benches, drinks in hand.
“Your turn, young lady.”
She looked at the man across from her. His greyish brown eyes were sparkling, sunken as they were into a dark-skinned face that was lined from age. His fingers playing through his thick goatee, he looked down, focussing her attention once more on the board.
“I know the Italian opening when I see it. You must think me an amateur,” she noted as she perused the board after their early moves. Brandon had joined the chess club and she’d learned the game for him. The strategy intrigued her, had fed something inside her that she couldn’t quite identify. She’d passed many sleepless nights considering the possibilities, the strategies.
Her partner’s “white” pieces were whittled out of pale driftwood, and her ‘black’ set featured delicately wrought scrap metal. Both sets had an impressionistic feel, all the features of the pieces worn away with use and age.
“My name’s Attis. But that won’t tell you much.” He spread his hands, indicating the entire board and smiled. “The best way to get to know someone is to start a conversation.”
“Trinity.” She tipped her head toward him. “I’ll try to make it interesting.”
“You already have. Sitting across from me today.” He looked along the row of tables and she followed his gaze. A few regulars were playing, many were empty. There was mischief in his eyes when he looked back at her and added, “and you the one with the cane.”
She couldn’t help but smile at the observation, again considering how unlikely it was that he wouldn’t know her, her reputation, and a thousand stories about her rescue. He seemed to only want to judge the here and now and she found herself letting her shoulders drop.
“Just because we don’t have a clock, young lady, doesn’t mean we’re not aware of time.”
Aware of time. It sounds so simple when you say it like that.
She nodded, proceeding to develop her bishop. As they played she studied everything: the temperature of the air, how the light fell across the board, the pieces, every detail of the faded tattoos on his arms, the scratches and chips in the table, trying to hold it all in her mind.
Only to do it again the next day.
***
This time she played white. She opened by moving her king’s pawn two ahead to e4. He countered by moving a pawn to e5, head to head with hers. Next, she chose the bishop, not wanting to tip her hand by developing her queen too early. He responded with the knight. She then positioned her queen at h5, threatening his pawn on f7. He had to see it. One wrong move and the game was over. He studied the board, brushing a finger against his goatee, before extending his hand toward his queen. She felt her mouth curve up.
Good. Make this a game.
But he didn’t. Instead, he placed his knight at f6, threatening her queen.
She didn’t waste time taking his f7 pawn. Her queen remained defended by her bishop and his king was blocked by his other pieces. “Check.”
Attis shook his head. “Scholar’s mate. How to end a game in four moves. Is that what you like? All of the sex and none of the foreplay?” He grinned, but his words hit a nerve.
Sounds about right, actually.
She watched him lay his king on its side. “I was trained that if you see your opponent's throat, you cut it. Time is not your friend in a fight. The more time, the more variables, the less control you have. You strike or you run.”
“What do you think would have happened had you run? In this game, I mean.” He sat back and crossed his arms across his patchy grey sweater while she thought.
“I give you a chance to win. I chance failing my objective.”
He gestured back and forth between them. “But you continue the conversation. You learn more. About me. About my style of play. And in my experience, you’ll learn about yourself, too. Oh, I was just like you. Trained and fought the same way.” He grabbed the cup in front of him and tipped it toward her. “Can’t go to bed sober, you know? But being here, I’ve come to learn that time has value…conversations can save more lives than killing ever did. And that…that being together, like you and me now, is what we fight for. What we were born for.”
“Not me.” She chewed on the edge of her bottom lip. “When I look back, sometimes it feels like I was born just to die. First in the Machine City and second a little bit each day in a simulated suburban nightmare.” It was out of her mouth before she had really thought about it. For some reason she trusted him, maybe it was because he was old enough that he might not have anyone to tell, maybe because in all their games he had not once asked her about the past.
“And third?”
She looked at him like he had two heads. “What?”
“Here. Now. What were you born to do?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were. Only one way into this place, whether it be a pod or a womb.” He didn’t let her off the hook. “What were you born to do?”
All I’ve done is try to heal. And try to hold on to a lost memory, a lost love.
And I’ve already killed for it.
“I’m just holding on,” she admitted quietly.
He gestured again to the board where he began to reset the pieces. “Then we have work to do. ”
***
“I’m coming with you.” Neo stood by the door with his coat on, her cane in his left hand. She finished tying her boots and used the edge of the bed to leverage herself up. It likely looked a little better than it felt. Crossing to the door, she put herself between it and him.
“You can’t, Neo. The last time I did this people lost a friend, a brother, a son, and didn’t even know it. I’m so sick about it I can’t think of anything else.” She cupped his face with her hand and dropped her voice. “I can’t lose you.”
Which is what caused this whole fucking thing.
He nodded, just a stiff, curt gesture but didn’t meet her eyes. “How will I know it worked?”
She pulled her coat on, struggling a little with the zipper. “I’m not sure you will. The timeline will reset and you’ll be carried along with it.”
“Ok,” he said softly, pulling her hands away from the offensive zipper and doing it up for her. He then put the same hand under her chin, tilting it up so she met his eyes. “Just tell me you’ll come home tonight and I’ll believe you.” He gathered her against his chest then and she whispered the words against the skin of his neck.
“I’ll come home.”
It was a fool’s promise. This was only a first try. They knew none of the variables. All she knew was that a lifetime ago, she had gone after Morpheus with less.
***
The park was dark and empty, the stillness steadying her nerves. Trinity’s hip was sore from walking, her hand aching where she gripped her cane, but it felt good to have gone this far on her own. Twice in one day. Some days it felt like she wasn’t getting better at all, until she did something like this, covering a mile before she felt any real pain. It didn’t seem that long ago that she was counting steps in a hallway.
She counted the tables as she approached. Third from left, with the 2 chips at 4 o’clock, a gash through the paint on e4. The sound when she pulled back the wrought iron chair was too loud in the still air. She sat slowly, the metal cold on her legs and back even through her clothes.
I can do this.
Setting her feet flat on the hard dirt underneath the table, she took a deep breath. And then another. With each one she brought one more detail into focus. The biosky at full illumination. The hint of something herbal in the air. People’s voices. The warmth in Attis’ eyes when he set a piece down that made her sit back and think.
She focussed on one game.
Pawn to e4.
Bishop to c4.
Queen to h5.
Queen takes f7 pawn.
Check.
No matter how many times she repeated it, how many times she focussed, there was nothing. The same cold chair. The same starless sky.
When her fingers were numb and she was too tired to think, she went home. Just like she said she would. After Neo fell asleep, she lay looking at the ceiling and let the tears fall.
Only to do it again the next day.
***
“What are you gonna do?” Attis waited patiently. He had to know he had her cornered, too many of her pieces lay in a pile beside the board and the rest lay on its edges.
She leaned forward, scanning the board one more time. It didn’t change anything. “I don’t see a way out of this. Not that I like.”
“But you know it’s there.”
“I don’t-”
“You have to sacrifice your queen.”
She looked up at him then. Her response to his words was purely emotional. It transcended the game. All of the details she was trying to memorize. And everything she was trying so hard to make up for.
“What if I can’t?” She heard the tremble in her voice.
“Then you must make the sacrifice. And lose the game.”
She sat back in her chair, looking at him like it was the first time she’d sat down. “But I won’t lose.”
You fucking bastard. You were right all along.
He chuckled and looked at her squarely. “I believe your words were ‘I fail my objective.’”
“No. I may lose this game. One of many we’ve played. One of many we still have to play. But she’s still standing.” She held the queen in her hand. The twisted piece of metal felt like the most precious thing in her life.
And I was born to be with her.
“Keep it, “ Attis said, closing her hand around it. “I can always make another.”
She smiled, unable to find any words.
***
The third time out into the darkness of the park, the scholar’s mate had become a mantra, a meditation. Her breathing was getting harder and harder to calm as she reached for a power she felt less and less confident was even there.
Pawn to e4.
Bishop to c4.
Queen-
A hand fell on her shoulder and she couldn’t help but scream. She turned roughly, ready to fight, and was no less angry when she saw who it was.
“Fuck. Neo, what are you doing here? I told you not to–”
“No.” He put a hip on the table in front of her and held her gaze. “I’m here to tell you that you mean more to me than my life. And that if you’re really serious about going back and saving Seq, you’re going to need my help,” He made a point of looking around the park. “You’re not the ranking officer here. No one is. If we’re going to hell, then we go together.”
A tear ran over her top lip, salty when she ran her tongue over it. When she could trust her voice, she had him stand behind her again, tall in his dark, black coat, his hand on her shoulder.
Pawn to e4…
She closed her eyes and brought back a new detail with each breath. People’s voices. The hint of something herbal in the air. The biosky…
…was bright. She could tell even with her eyes closed. Her stomach roiled and she reached for the table in front of her to steady herself. When she opened her eyes, Attis’ brown eyes crinkled with amusement from across the table.
“Is that what you like? All of the sex and none of the foreplay.”
Fuck. I did it.
She looked around the park, the same men were talking by the benches, the same families walking by the pond.
Don’t fuck around. Niobe’s voice echoed in her head.
***
When she opened the door, Neo was napping in their only chair.
She kissed him softly. “I think I’m ready for a drink. And I know I need your help.”
She took him to bed and for the first time in days, she slept.
***
The bar was no different from the first time, it’s well-worn tech and crowded spaces steadying her nerves. The pulsing beat of a different playlist resonated in her ribs. Neo put a hand in hers, not reacting to the cold sweat in her palm as she looked for their original table. It turned out it was occupied by two women so enamoured with each other that it was possible the entire city didn’t exist. Trinity and Neo took a table nearby. A server appeared almost instantly and Trinity wondered if somehow the place had them tagged. The young woman’s dress was black, a thin piece of metal curved around her neck, the ends sitting unevenly against her chest. The bare arm that reached toward them and set down napkins had no plugs.
“What can I getcha?” Her eyes were bright white and blue against the heavy black makeup around them.
Trinity caught herself, letting the need to memorize every detail fade into the background. “The closest thing you have to whiskey. Up.”
The server looked from Trinity to Neo, confused. “No one says that. You mean fancy? Like a tall glass?”
“Yes, sorry.”
“Two,” Neo added.
While they waited, Trinity took a deep breath, squeezing Neo’s hand before opening herself to every sound, every colour and flicker of light in the space.
“It’s gonna work,” Neo said softly, even though he would never remember if it did.
Two hours later, her nerves settled only by the weight of the alcohol in her stomach, a synthient hooked two metal ‘legs’ to the edge of their original table. It gathered the empty plates and glasses with the other six pairs, before moving off, the vibration of its wings palpable against her skin, the moving air tinged with spices, alcohol and sweat.
She settled into her original seat, a familiar picture slowly coming into focus like a freshly shaken polaroid. “Can you stand?” she asked Neo.
He kissed her hair and let her shaking hand go before standing in the cramped space between the table and the bench seat, so as not to be jostled by the heavy foot traffic in the bar. When he put his hand on her, she felt her drumming heartbeat begin to slow. Longer, deeper breaths echoed in her head. She closed her eyes and saw past the bar. Past all the details she was trying to memorize. Past everything she was trying so hard to make up for, a new mantra in her head.
It does feel a bit like home.
It doesn’t matter. If Trin’s here, then it’s home.
The writhing bodies in the bar froze, colours dappled in random places along the walls, unmoving. And the world went white…
…there was laughter. Glasses clinked and music pulsed through the cold air. A door swung closed somewhere behind her, and the sounds faded to almost nothing, just a hint of a throbbing beat in the wind. When she looked down, her cane was in her hand and the sidewalk was dotted with uneven stones.
A body jostled against her, warm and solid, and her mind finally sorted the sound as laughter.
Neo.
His words seemed slow, distorted like time had stretched them thin. “I hear it’s even better when you’re hung over.”
Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou
You have to sacrifice your queen.
What if I can’t?
She swatted his arm. The movement shifted her balance and the end of the cane slipped against a stone. It hit the softer ground, skidded, and she let it go…
***
Trinity woke to the digital blip of a heart monitor.
She knew the heavy feeling in her head and the kind of drugs that caused it. Her first instinct was still to move, to try to get up. She hadn’t more than lifted her head when pain sparked in her left arm and chest and she felt a hand on her, on top of the sling that held her arm in place.
“It’s okay, Trin. Don’t move.” At the beautiful sound of Neo’s voice, she exhaled and let her head fall back against the pillow. He turned away from her, looking for someone. She heard footsteps crossing the space.
“There you are,” Elster’s dark features appeared in her field of view. It was not a welcome sight.
“What-.”
“You fell outside that dive bar in section 12. Your collarbone was badly displaced. We had to put a permanent rod in to keep it stable.” She pointed to a couple of x-ray slides on a lightbox; one showed bones lying over each other, and the other featured a bright white rod keeping them straight. You’ll have to use that sling for the first few weeks while it heals.”
“No…what day is it?”
“It’s Thursday, well, early Friday now, “ Neo answered. “It was party night,” he added, looking apologetic.
She nodded, but it still took her a full minute before she dared say it. “Where’s Seq?”
Elster and Neo exchanged glances, looking confused. There was nothing but the beeping of the heart monitor before Neo cleared his throat. “He..uh. was supposed to come to our place this morning, but don’t worry, I told him what happened. He’s going to stop by here first thing instead. Says he has something for us.”
A piece of charcoal. Part of a past that I’ve upset. A chain that I broke.
The relief that flooded her overshadowed the bitterness. She looked over at the lightbox, at the white image of the metal rod inside her. She put a hand over it, a tangible memory of love and sacrifice.
“Elster, can you give us a minute?”
“Of course.” Elster checked the monitors one more time before leaving the room.
“Neo, tell Seq to come here. Now. We have to talk.”
***
The infirmary lights had dimmed for the evening before Trin felt relaxed enough to try to sleep. An engineering team had been scheduled to look at the building; Seq and Neo were already excited about discussing virtual plans. She was about to drift off when she heard footsteps near her bed. There were low voices, and another heavier set of steps walked from the room. At the sound of the door closing, Trinity made the effort to turn her head.
Niobe sat down slowly. She reached into a pocket and set a tall, metal chess piece on the small table connected to the bed.
“In many ways, I wish you hadn’t sent this,” Niobe began without preamble. “Because then I could live in ignorance, believing in a world where such a power does not exist.”
Trinity felt an odd sense of relief that her message had gotten through, that someone else knew. She said nothing, searching Niobe’s face, knowing the older woman didn’t attend meetings for which she was unprepared.
“But my feelings are irrelevant here. Neo said to me that he did not come here to cause me problems, and I believed him. After that, nothing that occurred was without my consent. You are not a problem, Trinity.”
“Niobe, the implications…”
Niobe put a hand on Trinity’s uninjured arm. “What you can do is extraordinary. And, unlike Morpheus, I will not let my fear or my beliefs stop us from looking at the possibilities. Everyone worries about small changes that might happen in the past, causing ripples that could change everything we know now. Millions could die that didn’t die before. Yet we don’t lock ourselves in our houses, worried that any small thing we do now will have any effect on the future at all.”
“What are you saying?”
“For now, I’m merely enjoying the paradox. But we will have to decide what to do. And I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m not scared.”
“So am I. ”
***
Epilogue
When Trinity approached the row of tables, she couldn’t help but smile.
Attis took in the sling on her arm, the cane in her right hand. “Healing gives boredom a whole new definition. You looking for a game, young lady?” He spread his hands over the table where the board was partially set. He had ditched his usual greys for black, the sweater fitting him well.
“Sure. But I was really hoping for a decent conversation.”
Attis lit up, rubbing his hands together as he took a closer look at her. “Nothing I like more. But it’s Thursday.”
They had never kept track of the days; she remembered nothing special about any one of them. It was then that she realised that the board wasn’t partially set. It was partially put away. Attis gathered a few pieces and placed them in a worn wooden box at the table's edge. “Thursday, I have lunch with my son.” He looked over her shoulder, and his grin widened.
Your…son. You never mentioned-
“You’re not playing with this guy, are you Trin?” Seq came up from behind her, touching the back of her shoulder briefly to let her know where he was without putting her off balance. “You’ll come away thinking winning is a bad thing.”
She looked from one to the other and wondered about everything she hadn’t seen through her sins.
Seq put his arm around Attis, pulling him close to his side. “Attis, this is Trinity. Trin, my dad.”
“We’ve…”
Met.
“It’s good to meet you.” She recovered quickly as his hand enveloped hers. “I…I’ve come to understand that winning isn’t the only reason to play.”
Thank you.
“Then, young lady, you must promise you’ll come back.”
Trinity wasn’t sure about going back anywhere, but here.
***
Fin.