Chapter 4: Truth

                                    

                                          
WARNINGS: FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. THIS CHAPTER IS VERY GRAPHIC. ONLY 18 !
It was 8 in the evening, and Agent Crane decided to invite her to his home for their second date. He lived in a modern cubic, clean home, with high ceilings and with a white, spacious interior contrasted by black accents. The energy was high and warm in the living room, where they had been sharing drinks and a dinner of steak, pasta, and charcuterie. 
In between laughter, Agent Crane said, "Oh yeah, and speaking of which, I forgot to tell you that I have a Neurojack implant." 
"No way," Agatha cried excitedly. "Let me see, where?"
He turned his face to the left to show the small octagonal jack hidden beneath his hair, just behind his right ear. She didn't even notice it until now. 
"Wow, I cannot believe it ..." she said, looking at it from all angles. "It's so discreet, I couldn't even tell you had one. Not to mention, they're fucking expensive." 
"The Agency paid for it, even though I don't use it very often. It's recommended for certain things, apparently. I'll admit, however, that when you use it, it's like you're in a totally different world."
"I hear it feels like you're floating," she said. "Some of my online friends tell me it's awesome; that it beats reality any day of the week. Everything they tell me sounds great and all, but I wouldn't want to be that plugged in. I don't think it's good for you."
"Well, they'd be right," he said. "As far as floating goes. The physics in cyberspace are a little different, but depending on what site you're on, it can either look very boring or quite amazing. Government types are not the most creative people, so a lot of the websites look like 90s wire-frame stuff. Maybe I haven't found the appeal yet."
"Well, what if I told you a crazy theory?" Asked Agatha, her eyes lighting up.
"Go ahead," he said.
"What if we were already plugged into the web, but we just weren't aware of it? How would you know any different?" She asked. 
"You wouldn't," he replied, knowing that this was leading to the Matrix theory, but wanting to hear her out. 
"Exactly ... from the moment we took our first breath, until now ... how do we know what's real and what's not? I don't know, lately I've been thinking more about life. You ever notice things don't look right sometimes? Or don't ... 'act' right? I mean, not to sound like some of my patients here or anything, but I don't understand how people don't question the rules, their religion, the systems we have set in place ..."
"I understand that," he replied, thinking about it. "Lately I've been thinking that if the Matrix is real, I want out of it. Every last imbecile I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. I want everything gone—except you."
They had been picking up the dishes on the table, so naturally, they were standing at the kitchen. William, however, walked toward her, and stood right behind her, his mind ridden with only the desire to get close to her. 
She felt him behind her, the caress of his breath on the nape of her neck, and he bent down so close to the side of her neck and ear that she could smell his aftershave. He smelled her scent, her perfume, starting to ignite the fires of desire within him; and she felt the same way, biting her lower lip as something in her stomach quivered with excitement, and heat flushed down her body. 
"If the Matrix is real," she began, barely mustering it. "I'd want to leave it because I just want the truth ... which includes the truth about your feelings for me, Agent Crane..."