|
Overclocking.
-
Sonny, who is an overclocker?
-
Well, grandpa, an overclocker is a sort of a hacker, who
wants to upgrade an ordinary bread to a French pastry.
For
a week the only survived hovercraft of Zion fleet was
drifting aimlessly. As no intelligible instructions were
coming from both commanders being in state of profound
depression, the operator landed the ship in a deep cave
on his own initiative.
The
main computer in the medical room that monitored the
state of all three patients was displaying almost the
same parameters, though Neo and Bane were in coma and
Trinity was in deep distress. The rest of the crew,
hardly recovered from the fall of Zion, were back on the
brink of madness due to forced idleness and information
vacuum. The grief of loosing families and friends was
dulled by the immensity of the catastrophe. Waves of
ocean of despair were whispering to each of them, that
those survived would not outlive long their native city.
That is why excitement of the forthcoming deadly fight
was mixed with relief of end of torture. What could they
do with a quarter-million destroyers falling down at
them from 3 miles above in spherical battle formation?
Even Morpheus holding the finger on EMP button knew that
impulse power was enough only for the first hundred of
sentinels. Then he will need time to recharge, the time
he won’t have. Link got up from his chair in total
silence to kiss the lucky amulet hanging on his monitor
but froze an inch from the screen. He already parted his
full lips to shout out something important but decided
to check on his guess the last moment and started
swiftly clicking the switches to turn the radars so that
they could cover a wider area of the underground
landscape. Still not believing his eyes he managed to
keep his emotions within the limits of subordination set
by Morpheus.
-
May I speak, sir?
-
You mean say good bye?
-
It is not us, they are attacking, sir
-
Maybe they are not attacking anybody at all?
Maybe they are going to a class reunion?
-
The sentinels are forming the sphere after
locking the aim and their trajectory of attack is always
straight, so I assume they are aiming at something half
a mile to our left.
This
phrase sounded like a spell that immediately transformed
all the sluggish crew members into fierce warriors
obsessed with action. Everybody started speaking at once.
And lust for life lit by sudden hope rushed through the
hubbub. In a moment Morpheus gain back his status of an
outstanding commander.
-
Turn off all the equipment, no scanning, no sound
into air. If it’s one of ours they are doomed.
One
second earlier Link shot the reconnoiter probe to the
area of coming fight. Lifeless underground rocks
appeared on the monitor.
-
No ship.
-
Nothing at all.
-
So what are they attacking?
Heavily
armed formation of sentinels was approaching with no
maneuver and at the highest speed the point Link showed
with his finger on the monitor. Morpheus started
countdown.
-
7.
-
6. – Link, take away
your finger – they can smash it.
-
5.
-
4. – Operator, take the
ship away.
-
3.
-
2.
-
1.
-
Bingo.
The
impact was terrible. With a deafening noise the first
line of sentinels broke through the surface, the
following squiddies went through the tunnel and caught
up with the first. The crash caused the huge fountain of
sparks which was immediately covered by the shock wave,
the epicenter being underground. The crater edges
started to extend at wild speed and released fire ball
that looked like the Earth nucleus was coming out to
surface. The ship had no chance to survive even burning
the engine with all the experience and skill of Link,
who in a second managed to turn all the cruising
turbines in one direction. The ship was saved by the
sentinels. They were coming in countless numbers into
the fire not letting the fragments and fire scatter and
forming a shield for the ship, which diameter was
increasing with new sentinels coming. Tons of metal were
burning and exploding but new iron kamikazes were coming
from above pushing the fire ball underground. They were
not exploding anymore as the pyrotechnic cushion started
to slow down the following sentinels. They were
flattening each other filling the cave with a pile of
deformed ships and manipulators.
The ship was only several moments from safety
when it got a side blow, turned over, caught on a rock
and was buried under smoking metal fragments. The crew
hanging on safety belts was waiting for something to
detonate any second and their ship to become first a
crematorium and then a common grave. Half an hour passed
in painful death wait till outer circuit sensors stopped
registering any chemical activity. It meant that the
bonfire is cancelled. Though the crash was big the ship
got only slight damage, but everybody understood that it
can’t get out from under the pile of crashed sentinels
by itself. Another piece of bad news came from the main
medical computer. Neo’s state was assessed as direct
threat to life. Everybody rushed to the medical room.
Of
course most part of active safety systems was situated
in medical room. Not less than 100 airbags kept Neo and
Bane on the table. All equipment was covered with
Styrofoam panels and the rest of the room was filled
with soft rubber capsules. But it was the drop in
Neo’s drip torn during the crash that undergone the
most amazing metamorphoses. At first, drawn by gravity,
the drop was going down, but when the ship turned over
the drop hang in the air, as if a center of this
diabolic spin, moving with the axis of the ship rotation
and finally splashed on Neo’s chin. A moment later the
surface tension made it round again, then it bubbled,
sizzled and evaporated. This meant that Neo’s body
temperature was over 100 degrees Centigrade. Trinity was
first in the room. Rushing to Neo she suddenly realized
that her own internal diagnostics of her beloved does
not work.
Intuitive
program studies of human mentality can put everything
except love into megabytes of binary code. Is it a
paradox? Love doesn’t belong to a person. It comes now
and then as a willful muse not recognizing all sorts of
causality. Unfortunate are those ones who offend love
when young. It takes offense and next time you may meet
it when you are somewhere around 70.
Since
their first meeting Neo and Trinity could feel each
other even at large distance as if part of their souls
became a white carrier pigeon. Trinity needed only to
think about Neo as somewhere inside her a rustle of
wings heralded the news from her beloved. No, she could
not speak to him, but this connection was more intimate
than any conversation, transmitting the full range of
emotions, every shade of a feeling or mood. This tie was
broken and she could only look at Neo’s lifeless face
hoping for the power of 22nd century medical
science.
The
main computer scanned its database for similar diagnosis.
As the result was unsatisfactory it was treating the
unexplained fever according to cold treatment algorithm.
Dozens of manipulators were flying over Neo, sensors
were continuously analyzing the state of internal and
blood, injectors and inhalers were buzzing, febrifuge
was fed, antibiotics were injected, acupuncture mechanic
finger was wildly pushing and stinging Neo’s body
leaving needles inside. Suddenly the fever subsided as
if by itself. Neo was still in coma but he was stable.
Crew
council meeting never started in such a confusion. It
started with questions, no one had answers to.
1.
Why did sentinels pointlessly ram-attack the
earth, which looked like suicide?
2.
How to get to the surface?
3.
What is happening with Neo?
During
the moments of total chaos in minds even those resolute
people like Morpheus still subconsciously wait for some
mister Smart who comes forward and delivers an ardent
speech solving all the problems. But the silence grew
and Morpheus was catching looks of people justly
convinced that thinking is a privilege of leaders. So
Morpheus got up.
-
Brothers and sisters. Mourn for Zion and hatred to its
destroyers – those are the only feelings left in me. I
am also tortured by the guess, which I reject to believe.
That is why I will tell you the facts I know and will
beg you to find some other explanation. – Morpheus’
voice was trembling. According to Zion’s internal
charter I, as a commander of the ship, can’t trust
anyone of the crew. I once neglected this and lost half
of the crew. But this was not the only reason I bugged
Neo before he went to storm the Source, I just felt he
would not tell the whole thing about what happened to
him.
Morpheus
threw the microchip on the table.
Not
waiting for the order Link inserted the chip into
computer slot. The conversation of Neo and the Architect
was listened to in dead silence. When the last words
died out Trinity realized that nobody could meet her
eyes as if she became guilty. The second commander
talked.
-
I think I know what your conclusions are, Morpheus. Let
us suppose that The Architect was not bluffing. Neo
faced the cynical choice – guaranteed survival a part
of human race and part of Zion versus ephemeral hope to
save the woman he loved in the midst of global
catastrophe. I won’t blame Neo and if somebody would I
can only advise one to be in his shoes. Any door Neo
chose led him to betray. If once somebody accuses Neo we
will know one is a very unhappy person, as thus one
acknowledges to never have known true love. Neo is a
soldier as all of us. One soldier can win the war but
the war is lost by all. Morpheus, I know what Neo meant
to you. If he had saved the world it would have been
half your credit. But it is the machines who celebrate
the victory and even they can’t calculate who of us is
more guilty.
- Morpheus
was sitting with his hands covering the face and only
when he got up everybody saw what they have never seen
before – Morpheus was crying.
- You are
right – it was me who found Neo, I was ready to give
my life for him and I don’t regret it What happened
could not have happened any other way. I finally got the
sense of the Oracle prophecy. The war is over, human
race is free from machine slavery. And the only way to
do it was to pass from dream world into realm of shadows.
Morpheus
sobbed.
Sobbing
Morpheus is Despair itself. No one of the crew saw
something more depressive. Everybody was taking the
Morpheus’s weakness as one’s own drama. Indeed if
living legends and the One surrender in this
fight, then Matrix is run by superintellect leaving
ordinary people no chance. Only Link and Trinity were
exception to general despair. They were the only ones
who knew what was under this, not the first one, of
Morpheus’ weakness fits. Everybody, even the strongest
men, have moments of seeming inability to act. There is
no need to be sorry, to blame or encourage them. You
just need to listen and be politely silent. The best
help is to occupy the person with something, a strong
person is to be occupied with something requiring heroic
spirit. That is why Link and Trinity started talking in
low voice before Morpheus finished.
-
I would say that it is this one per cent of
despair, that everybody has, is now speaking with
Morpheus’ mouth. It must be the side effect of sensor
shortage. Why not having a walk in Matrix?
-
We are not at the broadcast depth. The only way
is to start retransmitter. Somebody has to climb up and
install all the necessary equipment there.
-
This somebody is you and I.
The last words belonged to Morpheus, but not the man who
was crying ten minutes ago, but their commander, ready
to break backbone of any enemy of the last bastion of
mankind.
They opened the hatch, got out of the ship and found
themselves as if in an underground workshop taking
mechanisms to parts to sell. The ship was squeezed by a
pyramid of broken bodies of once dangerous sentinels.
Here and there they saw the manipulators and broken
pieces of equipment; torn cables were sticking out from
holes; hydraulic main lines and servomotors were shining
though destroyed joints. All this debris produces an
awful stink of burnt oil and acrid antifreeze. It was
quite a job to get to the top though all this cybernetic
chaos with heavy equipment. They felt at once like
mountaineers and speleologists. Morpheus was first on
the surface. Link was several yards behind, unreeling
the cable all the way from the bottom. He caught up with
the commander after Morpheus had already looked outside
and was fuming with idle anger. In a dozen yards an
unharmed sentinel was hanging in the air. All its units
were functioning; its manipulators creating the lifting
power were coiling along the body, receivers were
turning around and its big eyes were reconnoitering the
surface. The worst of it was that Link counted around
hundred of functioning sentinels drifting in the air.
-
What
shall we do,- Morpheus was speaking in a low voice,
afraid to be heard.
-
To
start the retransmitter means to destroy it (and all of
us).
-
Right.
Drop it. Let’s go back.
They
turned to leave when Morpheus suddenly stopped as a
spark of a guess flashed in his eyes. He asked:
-
Déjà
vu?
Link
heard him, but thought Morpheus was cursing in French.
With the same thoughtful expression on his face Morpheus
picked a shaft and threw it into the closest sentinel.
Link, thinking that his commander had lost his mind,
threw himself under the shelter of dead sguiddy, ready
to run farther. He heard Morpheus’ cowboy laughter.
Totally lost, Link saw his commander get up, install
retransmitter, activate it and launched it into the
tunnel. Then he came up to the sentinel, leaped to catch
its tale and having twisted it smashed it on a rock.
Something inside the sentinel shortcircuited , its
photoelements died and it fell over the others adding to
the scrap-heap. When Morpheus finally came down to Link,
the answer to Link’s question was:
-
Déjà
vu. Glitch in the system.
-
How
do you know?
-
Sentinels
are always searching for prey, that’s why they are
sentinels. And those dummies are hanging in the air
performing the same useless operations. The machine
singular consciousness is having some problems, bloody
HDD.
On
the way back Morpheus was in a great mood. Link though
was moving his legs as a robot and his eyes were blank.
He was talking to himself. His mind tried to catch some
escaping similarity with some obvious, some simple
understandable process. Morpheus suddenly heard somebody
having Link’s voice talking to Link:
-
Hold
on, Link – Link was saying to himself. If we assume
the sentinels are not autonomous battle ships, but
peripheral devices of some computer, like a printer, it
looks like their driver is died or is not installed at
all.
Link
suddenly stopped and looked ahead through Morpheus.
Morpheus was also silent trying to think over what Links
has just said. When their eyes met they knew they got it.
The answer was simple, but it changed everything
dramatically.
They
talked simultaneously, trying to be the first to say it:
-
All
these terminators are run from the main computer and its
operation system died. It’s restarting over and over
and can’t do it properly.
-
The
sentinels were attacking us, but the system stuck while
aiming. As the command to attack was already accepted by
the sentinel’ driver, they missed.
-
But
the Architect was speaking only about Matrix Reload .
Why should they restart their main computer?
-
It
has only one reason: the Matrix and sentinels’ program
are on one mainframe computer, which is senseless and
extremely dangerous from the point of view of data
processing and protection.
-
I
can’t believe they didn’t have a spare bucket of
microchips.
It
was the third time this day Link had a shrewdness spell.
It happens when you fiddle with an unknown object of
unclear form and function, your mind is trying to
simulate a situation where you can use it, but
subconsciousness stubbornly grasps the recognizable form
aiming at classifying it as a gift variant of a bottle
opener. First time it happened when he heard the record
of a conversation between Neo and The Architect. At that
time all attention was taken by the sense of the talk,
and an idea that some nuance looks very much like what
it can’t look like passed quickly though his mind as
an express train not leaving anything to dwell on.
Second time the brain storm together with Morpheus was
more successful taking him closer to understanding the
inner structure of their enemy. The third try was
misfired and Link sensed that some very important detail
of Matrix organization should now come to the surface of
his mind; and even if it doesn’t come, he can call it
there, if he doesn’t hurry and thinks a bit, trying to
analyze all the information he has.
But
plug at the back of Morpheus’ head started itching
already, he couldn’t wait to leave:
-
Link,
how can we hack into the Matrix if it is not stable?
Link
had a last try to involve Morpheus into theoretical
discussion.
-
Let’s
talk about the process of connecting to Matrix again.
You know it as well as I do. Technically Matrix is
realized at wireless standard of data radiostream
interference, in the same way as hologram is an
interference of light beams. Human brain works in such a
way, that all components of the many-sided personality
communicate with each other through a common bus. All
this stuff we easily convert into a digital equivalent
and put into a radiostream. Bus is controlled as usual
by a bus controller. To make a person alive in Matrix we
emulate the controller’s function within the
radiostream ( in fact, this is.an operation like program
copying ). The problem is that controller is constantly
changing the key of encryption within the bus. Nobody
knows its algorithm. It must be, that Mother Nature
tried to protect a man from hypnotic impact of a bad guy.
Then we stop the human controller not to have a conflict
of two drivers working with one resource. Thus we have
only the systems left functioning, which are controlled
by spinal cord, like breathing, blood circulation,
hidrosis, and so on. Everything happening to a man in
the Matrix is doubled in the brain cortex, but under
external control of emulated controller. To get a man
back from the Matrix alive we need to know the key of
encryption following the current one as it needs one
cycle of processor to start the man controller. That’s
why we need the telephone call inside the Matrix, but
not any call. We need a traced call. According to the
laws of communication the digital copy of a person,
communicating with a similar one in a duplex channel,
has to support the principle of data redundancy.
That’s why the controller generates 2 codes at once
– a current one and a future one. Then we start the
human controller, inputting the future code, which
becomes the current one to the moment the controller is
started. The controller checks the code with the
self-generated one and the man gets up from the seat (
if both codes are identical).
-
So,
can we get into the Matrix during Reload?
-
Yes,
but it can be empty.
-
If
it’s empty, there’s no way to get back, until
there’s noone to call. Prepare my equipment for
connection.
Link
couldn’t understand why Morpheus was so eager to risk
his life. But people of action have a special kind of
intuition, a presentiment of luck, some kind of feeling,
that all will end well.
Link’s
fingers were flying over keyboard at supersonic speed.
As most operators used to work with several monitors
Link had an excellent side vision and could see Trinity
was nervous. Her eyes were jumping from the monitor of
Morpheus’ body condition to his face. Suddenly she
bowed to Link’s ear and briskly ordered something in a
commanding voice of a ranking officer. Link obeyed and
Morpheus’ connection program started with a small
fishy prefix.
Everything
went as usual. Morpheus closed his eyes and relaxed to
smoothen a severe blow at all his nerve endings, which
was always accompanying connection to the Matrix. When
the pain subdued he was left with a strong feeling of
danger. He was squeezed in a small room with an agent
just in front of him. Morpheus was ceased with chilling
anger and took a stance. The agent made a false swing
and kicked suddenly with his leg aiming at solar plexus.
It was a simple attack and required a simple defense,
but Morpheus’ hand was just a split of a second late.
The last moment his self protection reflexes tried to
move his body aside but the agent’s shoe was already
entering his body pressing his stomach with a power of a
sledge hammer. Morpheus was thrown back with a huge
force that made him crash several walls, furnitur, and
having crashed through the facade of the building he
started falling from the height of a 65th
floor. In several seconds he recognized that he is
catching up with an object flying ahead of him with
almost the same speed. He could see it in detail only
when he smoothly landed on it. It was a mahogany
king-size bed with satin covers and velvet cushions
covered with oriental embroidery. Total unreality of the
situation was worsened by the Woman in the Red dress
lying next to him on a bed. She smiled seductively and
put a hand on his chest. Morpheus smiled back to her and
took out his cellular phone.
-
Link, I am either dead or you loaded me into the
Construct.
Instead
of a crash over the asphalt he felt only Link’s breath,
he was pulling plug out of Morpheus head. Trinity had a
cunning smile on her face.
-
Morpheus, you should know the rules, you set yourself.
You are not ready for a solo charter, so you will have
to take me with you.
Five
minutes for preparation, testing of brain bioactivity
converters, psychokinetic synchronization of paired
signals, and Morpheus and Trinity went to the Matrix.
Two,
falling in perpetual emptiness with only starry sky
around, – a theorem of loneliness of a man in Universe,
inferred from the axiom of infinity of space. That is
how Morpheus and Trinity looked when they found
themselves in Matrix. Suddenly out of the blue a blue
planet appeared under them and the soldiers of the last
army of human race having broken through the clouds saw
boundless turbulent ocean under them. The laws of
physics in Matrix obey the laws of psyche and the impact
value is not proportional to speed and mass, but to
one’s perception of these values. That’s why a old
guy driving Opel Kadett feeling like a highway hero can
crash to death colliding with a goat but a Formula-1
pilot meeting a baffle at 200 miles per hour can end up
with a broken gear switch. Psyche could always be
trained, so Morpheus and Trinity landed on water safely,
coming only several feet under water. The most
surprising thing was that water in ocean had no taste,
color or smell, it was so transparent the lifeless
bottom far below was clearly seen. But as Morpheus and
Trinity were coming up some small seaweed and fish
started to appear around them and closer to surface they
had to swim through thick layer of jellyfish. When they
finally were at the surface, several yards from them the
hase turned into a desert land. They easily reached the
shore and were standing at a huge sand beach. They were
followed by a trilobite fish walking on its fins.
Everything around continued changing at striking speed.
Sand was darkening, gigantic trees were growing on it,
dinosaurs and pangolins were running around,
pterodactyls and strangely familiar crows were circling
in the skies. Morpheus took out his cellular.
-
Link, what does all this Jurassic Land mean?
First
time in his life operator took a long time to think
before he answered.
-
I think the damn machines do not have the back up of the
computer model of human society of the end of the XX
century and to recreate it they started evolution from
the beginning on a separate island.
-
And how are you going to get us out of here?
-
We’ll have to wait till mister Bell invents his first
telephone.
Meanwhile
the wood became lower, dinosaurs were followed by
mammoths and soon right above them , out of the green of
a tree appeared agent Smith. Crooked, hair bushing out
of his ears and a short tail - that's how he looked. He
uttered a strange sound, jumped down and waved his club.
Cellular exploded trying to transmit operator’s
warning. Trinity pushed Morpheus aside and lifted into
the air toward this monkey with familiar icy eyes. In
this severe fight people had advantage in number, but
Smith had the primitive power, supported by the system
behind him.
There
are two kinds of movies equally simple and exciting on
the screen and extremely difficult when you need to
describe them on paper – these are fights and sex.
Blow. Block. Again a blow. And a block. Somersault.
Sliding blow. Block in overturn. Dive. Hook. Swing.
Kickback. And so on. On Link’s monitor these phrases
became a dance of power and skill performed by three
masters of combat arts, putting into every blow all the
mutual hatred of systems competing for the only place
under the Sun.
The
speed of the fight was increasing with the rapid
changing of the world around. Even Smith’s look was
changing: hair and club were followed by the stone axe
and a skin band, then bronze sword and fur coat, steel
crossbow and trousers, became a simple musket and
leather coat. Fantastic speed of decorations change was
striking the eye with too much visual information. Still
Morpheus noticed a strange technique Trinity used in her
fight – she was softening her blows as if trying to
make it easier for Smith. Then she suddenly stopped
helping Morpheus and the scheme two against one
transferred into a fight of three, each against each
other. A bit later he recognized that she was already
interfering with his fight and finally took Smith’s
side. Smith surprised not less than Morpheus, stopped
abruptly, lifted his hand and ordered loudly:
-
Freeze it.
Everything
around stop at once, including the rain, so the air
seemed stuffed with motionless rain drops.
-
Mister Morpheus (Smith’s voice was dispassionate as
usual) – You have a serious personnel problem. Your
employees flee more and more often.
Morpheus
looked at Trinity in total confusion, and she was
staring at Smith. Before somebody could do anything she
came to agent Smith and embraced him tenderly. Smith was
so stunned he could not utter a word. Trinity slowly
bowed to him and kissed his lips. The same moment agent
Smith’s head swelled and burst as if somebody fanned
high pressured air into it. When the smoke lifted
Morpheus saw Trinity in the arms of Thomas Anderson, the
ex-One of the previous Matrix version, who was better
known as Neo.
There
was no hearty welcome of two friends. Morpheus put a
blade against Neo’s chest and looked in his eyes, as
if trying to see what was on his heart.
-
Mister Neo, isn’t it you we have to thank for the
death of a nice underground city?
Neo
looked at Morpheus the way a teacher looks at a
negligent student.
-
We have to thank partly Bane, lying near to me in
medical room, whose person was changed by agent Smith to
his neural-interactive program, and partly you, mister
Morpheus. You as an experienced hacker have to know that
you can’t resist a computer system if you don’t know
the principle of its work, history of its creation and
its real function. You misinformed me from the very
beginning and it’s your fault I made so many mistakes.
Only now, watching the Matrix reload from inside,
reading the hidden archives and system files I started
to understand that its essence has nothing in common
with the bullshit you were telling me. I have to check
one more idea and I will do it right now if you give me
your cellular. I have a small question to the artificial
intellect to confirm if it is artificial.
Morpheus
held him his stylish cellular phone
-
Link, did you hear the record from Morpheus’ bug, he
put on me before I went into Source?
-
Yes, mister Neo.
-
Didn’t you have an idea to have frequency tomography
done of the voices to prove they are authentic, as most
conscientious operators would do?
-
Yes I had a suspicion. The computer is finishing the
analysis.
-
To increase reliability you can use the record from the
second bug I had in my boot. I took it in case Morpheus
forgets to activate his one.
-
It’s not necessary sir, the computer guarantees the
identification based on the material it has.
-
And who is talking there?
-
You, mister Neo and some other human, unknown to us.
-
Are you sure it is a human?
-
Doubtless it is a human voice, gone through the mimicry
program to make it sound like a computer generated voice.
-
Well, friends, as I thought we are fooled by somebody of
flesh and blood. Link, take us from this museum.
-
The closest exit is 1000 years from now.
-
Then put me in the chair, connect and wait us for lunch.
I learnt here something from Smith.
Neo’s
speech was so shocking, nobody touched the food, afraid
of loosing the unreal thread of Neo’s idea, which
connected all this upside down reality.
-
As they say, I have only bits and pieces of information.
– Neo smiled with his lips only. In the XXI century a
man needed only one thing – to increase computer
processing speed. Technology of artificial crystal
processors came to its natural limit, caused by
imperfection of materials. Parasitic induction and
parasitic capacity contributed to it. Besides the
scientists started to realize that the speed of light
was high maybe for Einstein only. Well, Pentium VII was
the last one. The breakthrough in this field was made by
pathologists. They were developing this theory about 10
per cent of brain capacity of the human being used.
Studying this theory literally by cut and try method
they proved that the other 90 per cent of human brain is
a powerful autonomous biocomputer running idle. Based on
nobody knows how powerful bioprocessor it left behind
any number of silicon transistors functioning at their
full speed. The spice of all this was that the
information from biocomputer was easily transferred to
those 10 per cent, which we earlier thought was the main
brain of a human being. But the data were transferred
only in one direction with no feedback at all.
Practically, biocomputer used these 10 per cent like a
videocard, so human imagination was turned into a Hi-End
monitor. It meant that every person was always carrying
a high-tech mainframe, which was playing solitaire. And
all this because the Mother Nature did not create the
input ports, thinking fairly enough, that the mankind
should first evolve from the nightmare factory to a more
civilized society. While the psychoanalysts were
discussing this point the commercial companies were
making money. Sometimes the implantation of a plug was
down to 200 dollars in illegal clinics. Immediately new
army of neural-programmers started to write all kinds of
neural-interactive systems and patches to them,
communicators were fighting for a uniform standard of
emotion transfer protocol, people started using
notebooks as trays for hot dishes and internet was
thought of as an archaism like a signal post. The nicest
thing of a human biocomputer was its incorporated
protection system, which eliminated the possibility of
damaging the system by a virus, program bug or
unauthorized access, as with any smallest bug the
connection was broken. The mankind was sinking into
continuous online existence. The first Matrix was
created as a popular neural game and participation was
fully free will. Coming home from work people were happy
to run from reality, thinking of Matrix environment free
from any limits and regulations as a best way to relax.
Matrix became a part of human life and doubts of
psychoanalysts were suppressed by positive statistics.
Everything was too good to last long. A bad day came and
an unknown evil genius wrote a code, connecting the exit
from Matrix with immediate death. He activated the virus
and broke firewalls of human brains at Matrix prime-time.
Everybody who was in Matrix was informed that they had
no return ticket. One fourth of the mankind became
hostage of its own gray matter. As you understood the
evil genius named himself later the Architect of the
Matrix. Being
afraid that some of the programmers could write an
antivirus he installed the program of resource sharing
limits for each brain. Half of it was left for the
humans and the other half he united into a network with
a common operation system. Thus he got the most powerful
biocomputer, its capacity proportional to number of
people in Matrix and hundreds of orders more powerful
than any individual smart guy’s biocomputer. This is
what gives him God’s power within this system. This is
why he needs people – not to get heat from them. To
have heat it would be easier to breed rabbits. It brings
us at last to the moment of truth – there is no
artificial intellect, and there are no mechanisms with
this AI inside. All those radio controlled hoovers
chasing us everywhere were created in Russian labs,
preparing for the third world war. After the Soviet
Union fell apart they were not manufactured anymore and
put to storage and the Architect got them in exchange
for ship of canned meat.
-
The crew looked like a class of the worst
students who were told that the exams are one week
earlier.
Morpheus
was the first one to wake up.
-
Do you want to say, that everyone in Matrix knows about
the real life?
-
Old people know. The victims of the Matrix gave oath to
each other not to tell the children.
-
How can they have children in virtual environment?
-
Those left outside the Matrix were feeling guilty and
gave in to threats of the Architect who was speaking
about mass murders if they did not fulfill his
requirements. To give the brain to every virtually born
child and to keep the bodies of Matrix victims they
built the incubator that Morpheus saw and the storage
with billions of capsules. This entire live cemetery is
maintained by primitive robots.
-
What do we do with Bane?
-
The only survived agent Smith was resting in Bane’s
body during the system fail. As he is an autonomous
module he is still hardwired to the Matrix with
resident’s rights. New Matrix version after reload is
trying to reload Smith and he has to make the system
stuck, that makes it restart again. Bane is access
channel for us. That is how I got into the Matrix and
got back with Trinity and Morpheus.
-
To let the Matrix load we have to kill Bane?
-
Being inside the Matrix I saw the lamer tries of the
Architect to block Smith. The Architect is old but he is
not nuts. He will finally get rid of his revolted agent,
but I think he will need at least 24 hours for that. We
can help him, screening Bane out and thus letting the
system load without him.
-
What will happen if Matrix loads?
-
The loading goes with single speed coefficient and I can
compete with the whole system, but when more and more
network drivers are installed the capacity increases, as
more and more biocomputers are connected. I tried to
overclock my brain, but it overheats my body. So I can
hold it only for a limited period. If we let Matrix load
completely it will use brains of all connected people
and work so fast that I would not be able to understand
it, and it will find the way how to eliminate us.
The question everybody wanted to ask from the
very beginning was uttered only now.
-
Those free people. Where are they?
-
After power seizure in the Matrix it was troubled time
on the plane. The Architect on purpose left for one year
a two-way communication between the real world and
Matrix slaves. It looked like talking to ghosts. A lot
of people tried to help and perished in the Matrix. Some
went there on their free will not to be parted with
families. Free people could not manage to find the key
to Matrix outside. So they went away in hope that
somebody will do it from inside. Maybe they are on the
other continent, or on the other planet. I don’t know.
-
Is there a way to beat Matrix?
-
It is obvious. And it is the only one. I need your
approval and your help.
This
scheme in its fascist simplicity was already in the air.
Everybody knew it but no one wanted to say it loud. They
were afraid to become the founders of this new ideology.
Not because those terminators were feeling pity,
hundreds of dead bodies were left by them inside Matrix,
but all of them wanted to participate in operation as
simple soldiers, obeying somebody’s orders. Neo was
making some calculations on a big old calculator.
Morpheus was sitting with a blank face. The rest were
pacing the room in silence. Neo finished and looked at
Morpheus.
-
How many per cent?
Morpheus
asked indifferently as if he was specifying the discount
in supermarket.
- Seventy. To
have thirty left. – Neo looked at others. –
Everybody will go except Link.
All
felt a bit envious, though participating in such thing
wiped off the border between the one who shoots and the
one who keeps watch.
Then a
discussion about the perspectives of mankind development
in one separate Matrix started.
-
My proposition is everyone who is over 35.
-
Why not everyone who is under 10?
-
Tax
inspectors first. And sects of all confessions. And we
should start with the scum.
-
Maybe we use the race criteria? Aztecs died
out…. Who cares?
-
If we use the race criteria we should leave only
chinese.
-
Don’t touch basketball players.
-
We can have a quiz, like “Earn a million”.
-
But this is too slow and ineffective. Why not
throw 200 megatons on all the megapolises and we’ll be
left with farmers. They are very nice people.
-
What are you talking about? Of course we have to
sort by IQ, or we will get the race of idiots.
-
We have to leave only women. They live through
any disaster.
-
Why not upgrading the Architect’s virus and
include into it a random-person generator. Luck loves
the strongest.
-
We have to explain everything to people Maybe
we’ll have volunteers.
-
You are talking about half-measures. We can cause
war conflicts and maybe even less than 30 per cent will
survive.
-
I have an idea. We declare blood sampling, then
kill everybody and after we win we clone them
-
By the way my aunt is there.
-
Well we can clone her twice.
No
hand were sweating. They were talking about the killing
of billion of people the way would talk about the
neighbor’s cat castration.
Neo
stopped all these nazi discussions, slaming his fist on
the table.
-
We’ll decide in there. Link, load everybody up.
All
rushed to their chairs, afraid to stop and start
thinking. Link was the last to go exchanging strange
looks with Neo.
Again
testing, synchronization and the operator's traditional
question to those going to Matrix.
-
Okay, so what do you need? – Link asked aloud
adding to himself – besides a clear conscience?
-
Guns. Lots of guns. – Neo answered for all and
pointed with his head to the his monitor. On the monitor
Link read the rest of the sentence – ONLY FOR ME.
Before
shutting his eyes Neo winked at him.
Middle
of the central stadium in England. Fresh green grass and
a soccer ball in the field. No players, no one there.
Only a group of sinister people in black robes. Neo
stepped aside and pulled out his Kalashnikov.
-
But I got a better idea. How about I give you the finger
and kill all of us? We have no right to decide who will
live. We are just a gang of punks who were made
dissidents by circumstances. They will live, even if it
is only a dream, and we, who know the reality, will die
in reality too.
Neo
raised the gun. Somebody was calling the operator.
-
Link, unplug Neo.
Link,
turned away from the monitor was making a noose with the
cables. He adjusted the hands free and said.
-
There’s no way I can pull this plug. I mean,
how can he be the One, if he’s dead?
Neo
cocked his gun and saw Morpheus smiling widely. Making
no attempts to protect himself he was talking to
Trinity.
-
We’ve done it, Trinity.
-
I hope, you are right.
-
I don’t have to hope. I now it. Do you believe
now, Trinity?
-
I’ve always been believing.
-
And he is beginning to believe.
-
To believe in what, Morpheus?
-
He tries to believe in himself, to believe he is
not simply the One, but he is the Best One. Unplug him,
Trinity.
Trinity
stepped forward and unbuttoned the coat, her hand
covered the holster. Her fingers cramped with tension.
Two ex-lovers started a wild west duel.
As
soon as Trinity moved her hand Neo pulled the trigger.
Trinity dodged bullet like an agent.
-
Good-bye Neo. – she said and fired back. Neo could see
the bullet, but it’s speed was so high, as if Trinity
was shooting from the fighter aircraft flying to Neo at
its full speed. The fastest man in Matrix had no time
for surprise. Neo fell to the grass shot through the
heart. He finally died.
Epilogue.
-
Welcome to the real world, mister Anderson. Ha-ha, why
did you call me old, I am only 50 and I am going to gym
regularly.
Neo
was lying on an old couch looking into a wet ceiling of
the dark bad smelling room. Next to him the Architect of
the Matrix was sitting definitely in a joyous mood.
Mischievous sparks of laughter were dancing in his eyes.
-
Mister Anderson, I can tell you the truth, My
fundamental project of criminals amnesty was on the
verge of closing. But I will show them your story (yes,
all three parts) and they will shut.
-
Am I dead?
-
Far from it. You are absolutely free now. No
kidding.
-
So I wasn’t free before?
-
Damn, this prison paramedical can never figure
out the right dose. Don’t worry, you will regain your
true memory very quickly. Of course, you were not free.
You are a murderer, Mr. Anderson. The old man was
speaking as if telling a funny story.
-
Who else did I kill ?
-
Well, literally you killed nobody. You hacked
into the database of a very respected bank. The bank’s
manager committed suicide. The court found you guilty.
-
What court? Where is Trinity?
-
There
is no Trinity right here. And the court was very real.
One year ago you were sentenced to 5 years of prison,
but I claimed you for my rehabilitation program. Nine
months under hypnosis we were trying to wean you away
from the bad behaviour, then we connected you to the
computer, replace your memory and sent you to the Matrix
to fight machine monsters. Well, you gave them a good
scolding, mister Anderson. My project is partly financed
by Hollywood, as they are always in search for a good
screenplay. This morning I had the representative of
Village Brothers (or Warner Roadshowers?). He saw
the material and screamed as a child. He said it could
be a nice movie.
The
old man bowed closer to Neo.
-
I
will raise a question about your fee, mister Anderson.
Of course, a man does his best killing ugly monsters,
although in a dream, and all that for free? But the main
thing is that your case is closed and you are declared
fit to come back to society. All this is because of the
last scene on this soccer field. You are a man of high
moral standards, mister Anderson. I will tell everyone
about it.
Neo
still looked like a retarded person.
-
Who am I?
-
Oh
God!
Maybe
you need another injection? You are Tommy Anderson, a
Microsoft program writer. You have a social security
number, you pay your taxes and you don’t help your
landlady carry out her garbage. The old man gave out a
lough again. You even have a wife.
He
took out an old notebook and digged into it.
-
Ah, here it is, Persilphone or Perkephone (I
can't figure out my scribbles).
-
Persephone?
-
You
see.
You
remember already. Please sign here. I will keep your
written agreement to neural-interactive amnesty. Take
your things (ha-ha, it’s a joke). Let me take you out
of here.
They
walked through a long well lit corridor. Along the walls
there were people hung on a ray with their heads down,
fixed by their feet. From the back of the heads the
cables braided down to a connector on the floor.
-
Are all these criminals?
-
In the recent past. Now they are the Ones. They
are saving the world, till they save it. This one, for
example. He has been hanging here for the third year
already. This way, please, Mr. Anderson.
-
Wait, I don’t remember anything except Matrix.
-
By
the way, you can keep this memory, or we can wipe it off
by hypnosis. There are two doors. The door to your right
leads to the psychoanalyst, the door to your left leads
out of the prison. The problem is choice. The old man
was really having fun.
Neo
remembered Trinity again, and then turned left again.
Coming down the stares he saw three déjà
vu characters sitting in a silver jeep. On the driver
seat there was Trinity wearing a red open-dress and
enormous high heels.
In the back of the car there were agent Smith
together with international leader Morpheus drinking
beer cordially. Both were wearing T-shirts and coloured
shorts. Neo started remembering something.
-
Uncle Smith? Brother Morry?
He
took the seat next to the driver and turned to Trinity.
-
Persephone?
-
My name is Trinity.
The
jeep dashed forward and got to the highway. All the cars
rolled obeying the traffic rules.
P.S.
To
the management of “Warner Bros. Pictures”,
“Village roadshow pictures”, to Wachowski brothers,
to each computer graphic effect in person and the whole
team of actors, who inspired me to this dubious written
experiment.
Explanatory
note.
Total
identification with your actual persons, places,
buildings and products is intended or should be
inferred. The author sincerely hopes that his humble
attempts will not be considered by the respected showmen
as a creative sabotage. Not seeking a benefit I tried to
bring Your PERFECT IDEA closer to many technically
minded people, including myself.
<<<
НАЗАД |
